#Fluid Label Focus

[moonlightsolo]

can you write neteyam and human reader you’re exploring in the forest and ends up losing you and when he finds you after searching for a long time you’re actually having so much fun gathering things and running around and it’s all cute and protective! ^.^

i looove nete n human reader it’s my weakness … i hope u like this!!!

“nete! c’mon!” you call out to your boyfriend as you run amongst the trees. you giggle as you leap over a fallen log in one fluid motion, somehow landing on your feet over the other side.

“hey!” your boyfriends accented voice cackles from behind you, but your feet refuse to relent. obviously, if he really wanted to catch up to you, he would. his long legs give him the advantage. your head dodges branches, and vines, and your legs hop over rocks as you sprint through the foliage.

something bright catches your eyes next to your swift feet, stopping you in your tracks. you’re finally able to take a deep breath as you slowly backtrack. right at the base of a tree trunk, three bright pink flowers sit buried in the dirt, rustling slightly in the wind.

a fwäkìwll; a mantis orchid.

the huffing and puffing boy catches up to you, his usual unruly braids are secured behind his head. with two that must’ve escaped that frame his face perfectly, “you’re nuts, you know that?” he laughs breathlessly.

“look!” you bend down to examine the flora, admiring the softness of the petals, “oh my, it’s so beautiful.”

neteyam can’t help but giggle at how you gawk over a simple little plant. something he’ll never understand, but he will always appreciate your fascination.

your hands reach into the small bag slung across your body to pull out a notebook, flipping to an empty page to sketch a rough draft of the flowers.

his large four-fingered hand rests on the top of your head to softly rustle your hair, pressing his fingers into your skin to slightly massage your scalp. your head angles up to look at him, smiling wide at your boy before stuffing your head back into your book.

your pencil scratches satisfyingly against the lined paper; instinctively bringing your lip between your teeth as you focus.

“i’ll be right back, okay? stay here, my love.” neteyam pats your head as you nod, but truly his words went in one ear and out the other. it was something about him leaving, but your attention is taken up by the flower.

once you have a few key points labeled on your little picture, you finally close the book. your eyes dart around to seek out the blue skin of your na’vi boyfriend, but something else catches your eye.

behind a wide tree trunk in the distance, you see the edge of a plant. the loreyu; also known as the helicoradian!! you excitedly spring to your feet, and creep toward the giant plant. ducking under thick vines and swatting at buzzing bugs.

on the way there, you stumble upon a small stream that has glittering rocks and gems under the water. obviously, you can’t help but snag a few and store them in your bag— but you can’t let yourself get too off track, so you continue forward.

the salmon-colored spiraled plant is almost twenty feet high, which is ginormous compared to your tiny human body. as you grow closer, you realize the one loreyu is surrounded by clusters of smaller and even bigger ones.

“oh my god.” you breathe out in shock as you carefully weave between the helicoradia; already having the knowledge that if they’re merely brushed against, they’ll retract into the ground.

you mindfully sink to your knees, folding your legs underneath your body as you lean back on your heels. you unlatch the notebook from being pressed against your chest, flipping through the used pages to find the one you’re looking for.

you’ve already observed this plant elsewhere in the forest, so theres a few notes and drawings written down already. you decide to perfect the previous drawing you have in the middle of your page, even sketching a close-up of the edge of the leaf.

you tuck your pencil into the crease of the book before closing it and sliding it back into the safety of your bag. you glance up into the sky, but you can barely make out the blue color from the plants that tower over you.

it’s so serene and peaceful; you’re hidden amongst these intimidating plants that are five times the size of you. it seems like nothing could ever hurt you, as if you’re shielded from the unforgiving environment of pandora.

you carefully lay down against the grassy soil. once your back hits the warm ground, you suck in a deep breath— mentally wishing you could breathe their air to be able to smell the fresh dirt.

although the oxygen mask is your key to survive, it’s also so suffocating. one of the biggest problems it gives you is that you’re unable to kiss neteyam whenever you want. only able to get inside the privacy of your room in the scientists shack, but even he needs his own mask.

wait, neteyam. where is neteyam?!

you abruptly sit up in your spot, suddenly feeling as if you’re claustrophobic from the menancing plants that surround you in every which way. oh god, you’re gonna throw up. your feet scramble to stand as you panic, causing your shoulder to brush against the tendrils of the plant.

with a pop, it sucks itself into the ground. the movement creates a chain reaction that triggers the entire field to recoil into the dirt. you watch as each plant disappears, waiting until the area clears entirely. everything around you looks the same, and absolutely nothing looks familiar.

something firm grasps your upper body from behind, strongly spinning you around to face them.

your frozen expression is met with wide, worried eyes that belong to neteyam, “what are you doing?!? where were you?” he lectures as arms tug you tightly into his chest. he briefly embraces you before pulling away just as fast to stare back down at you.

“i told you to stay where you were! why did you walk away?” his voice cracks from his raw emotion, his honey-colored eyes dart frantically over your face.

“i’m—i’m sorry, i- i didn’t realize i walked so far away… i was just taking notes and… drawing.” your voice stumbles over itself.

his shoulders drop slightly from your anxious voice, his eyes watch how your quickened breath slightly fogs the glass of your mask.

coldness washes over his body when he realizes just how harsh he sounds and the points of his ears droop from his realization, “you scared me. i thought i lost you.” his sharp voice has softened and his tight grip loosens on your shoulders.

you take a step forward to stand in between his feet to wrap yourself around his body, smooshing yourself into the warm skin just above his navel. “i’m sorry i won’t do it again.” you whimper out, your apology slightly muffled.

his hand soothingly cradles the back of your head as he holds you against him, “don’t be sorry.” he tsks, “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have left you.”

your head angles up to gaze at him, giving him a soft downturned smile, “well, i should’ve listened to what you were saying.”

“s’okay. you’re with me now, that’s all that matters.” his fingers toy with the elastic band of your oxygen mask, itching to rip it off and kiss you; but he knows that he can’t.

“oh! i uh- i found some crystals! i think you can use them for your clothing and your hair beads, ‘n stuff.. do you wanna see?” your hand wiggles your bag persuadingly with an excited grin.

neteyam stares down at you in awe and nods his head, “‘course i wanna see, ma yawntu. show me.” he nudges his nose in the air for you to continue.

your hands rummage through the weaved sack on your hip, pushing past your notebook to the little bag at the bottom filled with the rocks. you pluck it out to dump the contents into your palm, admiring how the multi-colored crystals sparkle under the sunlight.

“those are perfect. i must make you some jewelry out of them.” his eyes brighten from the idea, “what would you like? a necklace or somethin’ else?” one of his fingertips roll the rocks in your palm to examine them, careful not to push them off into the grass.

“really? you‘re gonna make me something?” your voice sounds surprised, which is shocking to him. of course, he is going to make you something; you’re his mate, his muntxate.

when he first courted you, he gifted you a handmade bracelet — which you’re currently still wearing and have no plans to take it off, and the weaved bag that never leaves your side.

“yes, for you, silly. who else would i make jewelry for?” neteyam rolls his eyes at you playfully, a sneaky smirk crawling it’s way onto his lips.

your eyes flit over his face, still surprised, even after all this time, that you’ve bagged yourself a tall, gorgeous, blue alien. something comes over your body, a sudden rush of adrenaline as you suck in a deep breath of your oxygen to hold your breath.

confusion twists over neteyams features as your hand grips the lower part of your mask to push it over the top of your head, “what are you-?” his question is cut off by your hands reaching up to grip the edge of his waist adornment to tug him down to you.

he happily obliges with a pearly grin, ducking his head down to your height to urgently pull you into a kiss. you smile when his lips move against yours and his hand presses into the small of your back to lean your body slightly backwards.

even though kissing him is a rare occasion in itself, it still feels like the first time— every. single. time.

his tail curls around his back to wrap around your upper thigh to hold your body in place, as if his hands aren’t strong enough to do so by themselves.

neteyam reluctantly pulls back, staring down to admire your beauty without something separating him from you. his hand sits heavy on your neck with his fingers curled up under your jaw. his thumb swipes down the bridge of your nose, and over your plump lips before pulling the mask back over your face.

your human features are so soft, and delicate; he can’t help but touch you without your mask whenever he gets the chance.

once the mask is firmly fitted over your face you suck in, a definitely needed, sharp breath. your chest expands as your lungs inhale the air, giving neteyam a small sad smile. “i love you.” you whisper once you’re finally able to talk.

neteyam’s face lights up from those three words, his lanky arms wrap around your tiny frame to lift you into the air to his height. it’s nothing new to express your love to each other, but whenever he hears those words it feels surreal to him.

the sudden change in height makes you squeal, and wrap your arms around his neck for support, “i love you.” he replies and presses his forehead to the glass, which you instantly lean forward into.

“let’s head back to camp. we can get some food, and just hide in your room and do nothing for the rest of the day?” he offers as he lowers you back down to the ground.

when your feet hit the softness of the grass, your hand reaches out to grab his. neteyam’s fingers practically engulf yours, so you decide to hold onto him the best you can.

“sounds like the best idea you’ve had all day.” your voice hums with a content grin.

neteyam gives you a little nod, before looking around to see which way he should go. he begins to walk to lead you back to his ikran, mindful to go slow since his legs are much longer than yours.

but not without his tail wrapping protectively around your leg. this time, he’ll make sure you won’t stray away from his side, not even a little bit...

-

stop this is so cute i’m in love w this 😭

[ftmtftm]

You will never identify in a way that pleases everybody.

No one ever will.

The whole point of identifying with a label or community is to say "this resonates with me and my experiences, so this is the language I will use to describe myself" and everyone else will have their own, different, reasoning for why it also resonates with them. And that's beautiful because the human experience transcends the language we use to describe ourselves. It's bigger than our words because words fail constantly.

But because of that - your reasoning for identifying with or as something will always be wrong in the eyes of at least one other person or group of people. Even if you play it by The Rules as much as possible because The Rules are made up and fluid and subject to change at a moments notice.

You will always be doing something "wrong" in the eyes of someone else so stop focusing on how to be "right" (unattainable) and focus instead on what makes you happiest and most comfortable (attainable).

[dyketubbo]

lesbian related discourse tires me out sm. first it was aro/ace lesbians then it was nonbinary lesbians then it was he/him lesbians and it/its lesbians and now its bi/pan/mspec lesbians like when are all of you going to realize that the lesbian experience is extremely diverse and has never been as strict as "women who only identify as women who love exclusively women who only identify as women". like this goes for many identities but lesbians end up at the forefront a lot and it makes me wonder if any of you actually give a shit about queer history because istg lesbian separatism has been reinvented like 50 times in the past decade.

stop convincing each other that the queer experience is nothing but strictly defined boxes and labels that can always be condensed into one sentence. lesbians can experience a lack of sexual attraction and a lack of romantic attraction and lesbians can be nonbinary and lesbians can be gnc and when you actually go into what those last two mean you should realize that yes this means sometimes lesbians are men because genderfluid and bigender and trigender and transmasc and whatever gender lesbians exist and when you actually goes into what THAT means you should realize yes actually people combining labels like mspec and lesbian makes perfect sense because of fucking course orientation and gender and whatever else you consider to be apart of your queer experience is all fluid its all up to personal interpretation

its not shit like bi lesbians or mogai or aroace people or gnc people or "trenders" or it/its users or whatever fucking bonafide weirdos that are ruining the community its the people who want to sort everyone into neat little boxes because they cant handle that sometimes you arent going to understand other peoples experiences. its fine if mspec lesbians dont make sense to you. its fine if it doesnt make sense to you how someone could use it/its, if it doesnt make sense how a lesbian could consider himself transmasc, if it doesnt make sense how someone could seriously mean "my gender feels like a star", if whatever queer experience you run into doesnt make sense.

someone's identity does not have to make sense for you to respect them as a person and realize that exclusionary behavior is nothing but a crabs in a bucket type mentality. not only have "weird" queer people existed since fucking forever, but even if they didnt the human experience is diverse and we still dont know everything about the world and why the fuck would you decide that no actually if it cant be understood it must be bad and you need to find out reasons for it to be bad. focus on the people who are actively hurting others, taking advantage of vulnerable people, dont become one of them. dont become one of the people who scorns anything they dont understand and hurts innocent people in the quest of getting rid of anyone who they deem is abnormal. its fucked up and being any type of exclusionist is fucked up.

bi lesbians, as an overall community, is just a bunch of people who decided that a complicated label fits their complicated attraction and thats Fine. it is literally fine. being a lesbian was never about being strictly a woman who strictly loves other women who are strictly women. its about loving women in a gay/queer way, whatever that means for the individual. if an individual person is using it in a transphobic way, then thats a fault of the person, not the label. but at its core, all the identity is about is about recognizing that attraction is complicated and identity is complicated and not everyone is comfortable putting themself in neat boxes for other people to scrutinize until they Get It.

to any mspec lesbians (and hell, any mspec gays) who are reading this: im proud of you and theres nothing wrong with recognizing that your identity is complicated and maybe even contradictory. its Your experiences and no one has the right to say that youre inherently a bad person simply because they heard some strawman arguments and decided to believe in fallacy over reality. and because its probably obvious why im making this yeah maia arson crimew is literally fine its an absolute legend actually and i hope that its okay. fuck anyone who was a piece of shit to it because they cant handle someone being openly complicated and contradictory and unabashedly "Weird"

[superhoeva]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘: 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄

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⬩ pairing(s) sexologist!francisco "frankie" morales x college student!female!reader

⬩ warning(s) very inaccurate scientific study methods (this could not happen in real life without someone going to jail, i think lol), language, flirting, sexual tension, scientific talk about genitals, safe sex practices, pcos (mentioned), endometriosis (mentioned), commentary on unbalanced male domination of sexual spaces, Spanish nicknames/pet names, smut smut smut, somewhat-guided masturbation, reader hs nipple pircings, dirty talk, mdom-ish!frankie, pussy drunk!frankie, consent checks, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), big hands!frankie, bodily fluids, doctor/patient relations, the whole "we want to but we can't but we might have to anyways" kind of vibes, some aftercare, pov switches (reader's pov uses "dr. morales. frankie's pov uses "frankie.")

⬩ author's note happy new year! starting 2024 off with a bang (literally, ha) of a new series. as mentioned before, this was inspired by an audio series created by anonyfun35 on the erotic audio site quinn (very much recommend the series and entire site if you're looking for more ethical alternatives to regular porn and able to spare a few extra dollars!), which is absolutely heavenly. frankie's been sitting in my heart recently after rewatching triple frontier, and now here we are! here is chapter one, as promised, and i can not wait to share the rest of this series with you all! (p.s. i know some people have asked to be tagged in this, but i no longer do tag lists. for those who want to keep up with new chapter, i'd recommend following the au: the study tag or just check back here regularly! heeds the warnings. let me know if i've forgotten any. drink your water. love you and hope you enjoy. <3

⬩ word count 6.4k(!)

The lobby is suspiciously comfortable for a doctor’s office. As if the chair you’ve been shuffling back and forth in for the past five minutes. You’ve decided to focus on the mint green tint of the walls to steady yourself. Your breath moves in and out of you in quivering streams, and you have to keep running your tongue over the flesh of your bottom lip to stop your teeth from drawing blood.

A sweet-looking brunette types away at the lobby desk, and she sends you a quick smile when you accidentally catch her eye. You hope the grin you send back doesn’t look as pitiful as it felt.

Straight across from you, there’s a poster of a vagina. Vibrant and contrasting nicely with the color of the wall, it labels each part of the genitalia with pretty, curvy letters. You read over each of them, laughing a little when you get to the clitoris. Maybe you should hang a copy of the poster over your headboard. Just to make it a little easier for those who need it.

Your eyes trail left. Another poster, this one with photos of different types of barrier methods for safe sex; on it is everything from internal condoms to dental dams and a short explanation for when it’s best to use them. You study it with a little more intent than the last one and become so engrossed that you don’t hear the receptionist at the desk until her third calling of your name.

You jolt a little, looking over at her with widened eyes.

“Sorry, yes?”

She smiles at the look on your face, shaking her head.

“It’s alright,” she promises, “that stuff’s actually pretty interesting, right? I just wanted to tell you that Dr. Morales is ready to start whenever you are.”

Ignoring the way your heart jumps a little, you rise from your seat with the best grin you can manage.

“Alright,” you nod, gaze flickering down a nearby hallway, “is it–”

“All the way down and to the right. Can’t miss it. And feel free to let me know if you need anything, before or after. I’m here for whatever you need me for.”

There’s something genuine in her voice that lets your shoulders relax. You smile again, and it feels real this time. “I think I’m okay right now, but I appreciate it, I do. Thank you.”

“No worries. Oh, and honey,” she pauses, taking a second to leave her seat and trot over in front of you. “Remember to breathe. Dr. Morales is a sweetheart, I promise. Wouldn’t work here if that wasn’t the case.”

Melanie the tag on her name reads. She gives you one last wink before returning to her desk. A warm feeling fills you nicely as you watch her for a few more seconds. 

Melanie is nice. You like Melanie. If you could, you’d stay and talk to her for a while, but no sense in keeping the doctor waiting.

As you head down the hallway, the walk feels like it lasts half a second and a thousand years all at once. Time here seems to work a little differently, but maybe that’s only because of how unbelievably fucking nervous you are.

The room is at the end of the hall on the right. Just like Melanie said. The knock you give the door is softer than you mean for it to be, but it pulls open before you get the chance to knock again.

“Hi, welcome. Come on in, please.”

Well, fuck. Fuck.

The first thing you notice isn’t the fluff of hair on his head, or his big, doe, brown eyes–it’s his voice. A deep, pleasing rasp that’s soft and stirring, all of it combining into a sensation that sits snugly right in the middle of your chest. And legs.

You take a second to swallow the spit in your mouth.

“Hi,” you all but mumble back, swallowing again. God, you hope he doesn’t hear the sharp exhale that leaves your nose when he steps to the side with a smile. Your eyes blow up, big and wide, but only for a second as you swiftly compose yourself. You’re here for a scientific study, damn it, not to gape at how fucking gorgeous Dr. Morales is. Even though he is fucking gorgeous. “You’re Dr. Morales?”

“Yes,” he answers effortlessly, and you bite your tongue when he rattles off your name. His voice. You barely remember to nod, and he smiles. Now that you think about it, he hasn’t stopped smiling since he opened the door, and it’s already building a bit of sweat at the back of your neck. “It’s nice to meet you finally. Been seeing your name on all the paperwork, so it’s nice to put a face to it. Especially a face as nice as yours.”

You swallow, again, and can’t hold back the grin his words bring. “Thank you and uh… likewise.”

Dr. Morales pauses and your heart stops at the way his face drops. Then his eyebrows raise slightly like he’s impressed, and he takes in a long breath himself. A gulp of air finally refills your lungs when his smile returns, more of a smirk now.

“Thank you.”

The two words are followed by a small silence. You take it as a chance to look around. Dr. Morales takes it as a chance to glance you over, and his teeth bite into the side of his mouth at the dress you’re wearing. It’s airy and short, stopping just above the middle of your thigh.

He sniffs, clearing his throat.

“Well, if you want to go ahead and get seated, I think it’s best we just start with some introductions to break some ice. Then a short discussion about the study itself, boundaries, things like that. And I know you answered a lot of those types of questions in your application, but I think more authentic answers can come about when speaking, you know, face-to-face. Plus it’ll give us both the chance to get to know each other a little better. Relax before we get to the actual… activities for today’s session.”

You blink.

“You’re doing the… the stuff?”

Dr. Morales blinks.

“Yes,” he starts slowly, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m sorry, was that not what you were expecting? I-It’s in the forms you signed, though I guess it is pretty easy to glance over if you don’t know where to look. But if that’s not something you’re comfortable with, I completely understand. We also have some female doctors participating in the study if you–”

“–I’m comfortable with you doing it.” God, you know interrupting was rude. But the words spill out of you before you can stop them. “Really, I’m okay with it. Just surprised me a little, considering…”

A hard clenching of your teeth doesn’t work to hold back the small grin that sneaks upon your face at the expression on Dr. Morales’s face. He’s gone from warm to faltering and back to warm again, with a hint of delight just in the past few moments. 

“Considering what?”

Dr. Morales squints his eyes as he asks the question. Watching and waiting for your answer with the knuckles of his fingers rubbing across his pink lips. You only let your gaze trail across the action for a short second. Any longer, and you’re sure you’ll melt away.

“Nothing,” you finally breathe with a soft laugh. The muscles in your neck tense and pull as you force your eyes upwards. Back to his eyes. “Sorry, uh… introductions?”

Something in his gaze shifts and he drops his hand.

“Right, right. Uh, feel free to take a seat here while I pull up your file real quick,” Dr. Morales tells you, motioning to the deep red chaise wing chair you didn’t notice until now. You nod, not trusting your voice, and settle into the large chair. It’s even more comfortable than the one in the lobby, and Dr. Morales just barely keeps his smile at how you subconsciously snuggle into the plush.

Other than the blood rushing past your ears, the clacking of his fast typing is the only sound in the room.

Much like the lobby, the room is rather warm for where you are, literally and figuratively. It’s a kind difference from something like the dentist or your normal practitioner. The opposite of the bright, sterile white you’d expected. You can tell the room was put together with the intention of being congenial for whoever steps inside. The velvet couch and nice rug that decorate the space tell you that much.

It seems that Dr. Morales dresses with the same purpose, white coat hanging forgotten on the back of his swivel chair, showing off the taupe button-up that stretches over his impressive set of shoulders. The shirt is tucked into a pair of thick, clean-cut jeans that hug around his waist.

“Alright,” Dr. Morales begins, sliding his chair over a few feet so you can see him a bit better. He smiles as he continues, reading off your name and age, to which you nod and smile back. You make sure the grin is big enough to cover the shiver that runs throughout your body and you don't notice that he didn’t even have to look at the screen when reciting the words.

“Great. Well, as I already told you, I’m Francisco Morales,” he chuckles, “one of the doctors here participating in this study you’ve so kindly agreed to be a part of. We’re really excited about all the knowledge we’re expecting to gain from the study. I, uh, we–we really appreciate you being here.”

“Oh, thank you for the opportunity. I’m also really excited. Never been involved in something like this before, so… yeah. I’m excited.”

Huh. Excited is one of the few words able to come to your mind as you bumble through the sentence. After only a few minutes with the doctor, you’ve found it’s somewhat difficult to form a coherent enough sentence. It’s even harder with him staring at you.

“What made you want to participate, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Um,” you start without thinking, “part of it was the topic of the study itself, I guess. So many of the things that have to do with sex, at least in my experience, are centered around men and their pleasure and what makes them feel good. So I think it’s refreshing to see something like this.”

“Oh, absolutely. That’s the whole reason for us doing this. I mean, we’ve got gynecologists, hormone specialists, endocrinologists, gender surgeons, and even sex therapists on my team all working together on this.”

“Oh, wow. That’s actually… really impressive,” you breathe out, but Dr. Morales shakes his head.

“It is, but I don’t wanna take all the credit. We’ve got a lot of amazing people working on this thing that’s gonna lead to ways to help women suffering from endometriosis, PCOS, trans women, everyone, really.”

Your eyes soften at the doctor’s words, and you straighten a little.

“Well, now I’m very happy to be here.”

Dr. Morales’s eyes squint with his smile this time. It’s the biggest he’s smiled all week.

“Good. I’m glad. And you’ve already filled out all the financial paperwork? Wanna make sure you get paid for this week’s session as soon as possible.”

“Oh, yeah. That was actually the other reason I signed up. Got some student loan payments coming up, and I could use the extra money.”

Dr. Morales laughs to himself.

“Loan payments are a bitch, aren’t they? Still paying mine off,” He shakes his head. Something about his curse pulls a small chuckle from you.

“Never heard a doctor curse before,” you tell him, and he laughs this time, raising his eyebrows with a shrug.

“Sorry. I’ll try to keep it at bay, but I should warn you… I can have a pretty dirty mouth.”

Whether he knows it or not, Dr. Morales’s voice seems to drop an octave as he speaks. The words are paired with his gaze clouding to something similar to a stirring ardor. It shakes something inside you, rumbling into the depths of your veins, heating you in a way that feels remarkable. In a way that has you clenching and reeling, eyes just barely watering.

He hasn’t even touched you yet, and he’s got you evaporating into a transcendent air of nothing. You brush your hands along the fabric of the skirt of your dress, arms stretching and trying to find some sense of relief. Dr. Morales stares into you, a burning observance of an action that your subconscious therefore controls more than anything. The look is hot and pointed and forces him to take in a long inhale. He squeezes the thin arm of his chair when you finally grant him a soft reply.

“I don’t mind.”

Dr. Morales pauses before letting out a huff. A smirk teases across his lips, and his mouth opens like he’s going to say something. He stops just short of whatever it is, opting to roll his seat a little closer to you while clearing his throat.

His elbows hit the top of his knees, gaze tilting to yours. Unable to hold it, you try to settle for his hands, but that doesn’t seem to calm you at all. You flick your eyes again, this time onto his thighs, but it’s no use.

Damn it.

“Um, so today’s session will revolve around cunnilingus and a some hand stimulation. Uh… sorry. Sorry, I–” Dr. Morales stumbles to a stop and your eyebrows furrow.

“You okay?”

He holds a hand out at the look on your face with a quick nod.

“Yeah, yes, I’m okay. Where was I? Uh… right, so like we talked about a little bit ago, I’ll be the one performing the… stuff, as you called it. And speaking of that, you’re still one hundred percent comfortable with me being to one to do it?” 

“Hundred and ten,” you promise with a bobbing of your head that makes him grin again.

“Okay, then,” he nods back, hands rubbing against the denim of his jeans. “Let’s get started.”

.・゜゜・

You’re going to be the death of him.

He had an inkling of it when you greeted him at the door, those eyes all wide as you took everything in. He was confident about it when you assured him that you’d be alright with the fact that he’d be the one ‘doing the stuff.’ He knew when you didn’t mind his dirty mouth. And he was certain when you'd asked if he was alright.

Dead. That’s what you’ll make him by the end of this study, and he’ll go happy. A little embarrassed also, given how he started sputtering through his sentences like he was twenty years younger.

Frankie’s breath catches a little when he returns to the room after washing his hands. You’re just finishing the tie on the robe he’d provided you with, and he doesn’t realize how flimsy it is until now. It maps across your shape damn near perfectly as you hang your dress on the side of the wingchair.

“Hi,” you breathe out, spinning around. Frankie rakes his teeth over his bottom row of teeth hard.

“Hi,” he blinks back, making sure to brighten his face with a small smile. “Ready?”

You shakily hum your answer, smoothing down your robe to busy your hands. It’s made of silk and feels incredible, but boy is it small. Just barely covering the cheeks of your ass, you might as well be wearing nothing.

“Alright. So, before I forget, let me go ahead and get a swab of the inside of your cheek, just so we have that on record.”

Frankie grabs a long cotton swab and its transport tube off his desk, stepping over to where you stand waiting. He swallows, ordering you to softly open. You obey with no questions asked, dropping your jaws.

Did you mean to stick out your tongue, too? Frankie has no idea, but whatever the answer is, he doesn’t care, not with the rustle he feels in his middle.

“Thank you,” he replies after a few scrubs of your mouth, eyes catching yours briefly before sticking the swab in the tube and placing it back onto his desk. He huffs, turning back around to you. “Now, let’s get you settled on the couch.”

Frankie holds out his hand for you to take without thinking. The regret that runs through him slips away as you place your hand into his grip and let him lead you. His other hand reaches for his chair, rolling it over as he walks with you.

He rubs a gentle thumb on the back of your palm as you sit, hand squeezing into a fist when yours drops from his. Frankie sits in his chair with a grunt, planting his feet on the group, making sure to face you.

The man softens a little at the sight of you, all bunched up into a ball of returned nerves, and he thinks for a moment.

“How about we start with a deep breath, yeah? Relax a little bit before we do anything else?”

You nod and Frankie’s head goes a bit fuzzy for a short moment. You’re so sweet, with your tiny robe and all your nods, like candy. You breathe in deep, just like he says to. Your chest rises with it, and Frankie almost forgets to take in the breath as well.

“Good. Now, how we go from here is up to you,” Frankie starts, hands folding together politely. “Robe can stay on, or you can take it off. Your decision–”

“Robe off,” you speak before he’s finished. He holds back a chuckle. “Sorry. I’m okay with it off if you are.”

Of course, you are. Of course, you are, and so is he.

“That’s absolutely okay with me. As long as you’re comfortable,” he states, and your fingers go to pull at the tie. He shuffles, waiting, and swallows when you pause.”

“Um, is my bra being off okay? I took it off with my dress, didn’t even think about it until now.”

Frankie’s head pivots back to the wine-colored chair. And so you did. There’s more lace than he expects, causing him to stare longer than he means. He turns back to you with his eyes darker than before.

“That’s perfectly fine.”

You nod again, fuck, and finally pull the ties. His heart nearly stops as the silk slips down your shoulder, exposing your naked skin to him, inch by inch.

God, you’re devastating. You devastate him, and he’s going to die a happy, happy man. It’s inappropriate, he knows that, but fuck. Yes, he’s a doctor, but he’s also a man with blood pumping through his veins and down into his cock, which he’s currently shielding with a subtle cupping of his hand.

Your robe continues to fall, and soon enough, nearly all of you is revealed to him. His eyes, working with a mind of their own, fall upon your breasts.

Of course.

“Wow,” is all he says, and the corners of your mouth pull upwards. You peek down, the tips of your barbell piercings shining with every one of your shaky inhales. “Wow, uh… wow.”

“Oh, these. Yeah, I got them a few years ago,” you reveal, setting the robe to the side. “Hurt like hell, but it was worth it.”

“While I definitely agree, I was talking about your… everything. You’re gorgeous, querida.”

Querida. The name is unexpected, yet received by you with dilating pupils. It’s not just the way he says it but the way he says it. You can tell that he means it, every letter. Every syllable, as it falls off his tongue, into your ears, and down to just inside the thin layer of your panties.

It’s the only piece of clothing left on your body, and you’re certain they’re soaked. You can feel yourself seeping through, needing for something to happen. Anything, or you’ll die.

“Thank you,” you murmur back, impatience inching you closer and closer. To what, you don’t know, but you think it’s something special. “Should I go ahead and…?”

Dr. Morales’s gaze oozes down you where you’re slowly parting your legs. It takes him a second to answer.

“Uh,” he interrupts himself with a short laugh, “actually I was going to have you do something else for me first. When you’re, you know, in the act of pleasuring yourself, how do you usually start? Do you… do you dive right in or is there some kind of build-up?”

Legs having paused, you blink. It’s almost impossible to formulate an answer, but somehow you manage.

“Normally, I’d play with my nipples.” God, it sounds so silly when you say it out loud. “Tease myself for a little bit until I’m ready to start.”

The doctor sits back in his seat, still covering his growing member.

“Why don’t you go ahead and do a little bit of that for me?”

There’s that thing again. With his voice, the thing that is causing your organs to convulse and squeeze. Has you scooting a little further back onto the couch with ease and a deep breath.

You hear Dr. Morales suck in one of his own as your legs spread a little further, revealing a large wet splotch in the very middle of your panties. It’s seeped a little into the couch, and you’re not even embarrassed. Your legs more because you want him to see it. You need him to.

A flinch jerks you when the tips of your fingers meet the buds of your breast. You twist and pull, and it feels good. Better than normal with the beautiful doctor watching you do it. They start to pebble around the metal and a few shocks through you.

Leaving your lips is a gasp. Soft and nearly nothing, but it tugs something from Dr. Morales.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

When you gasp again, he bites his lip.

“You like that? You like it when I say that?”

You nod.

“Words, querida.” No matter how much he likes the nod.

“Yes, I like it when you say that.”

“When I say what?”

You hear him chuckle at the small groan you release.

“A good girl.”

Your voice is even smaller now, hoarse with want.

“Good girl.” Another groan from you. “Now, I need you to move a little further down, okay? Slip those pretty panties off for me.”

Your turn.

“You really like them?”

Dr. Morales’s throat bobs at your question you ask while dragging your hand lower. They glide across your stomach to rest just over your center. Pushing onto your clit, your moan is muffled by the way your teeth catch the soft flesh of your lip.

“I do, muñeca,” he assures you. “I really do. They’re almost as pretty as you are.”

You can’t help the full grin that sneaks onto your face. You push against yourself a little harder, and your head falls to the back of the couch. Fingers hooking under the seam, you tug.

Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion at this moment. You raise your head back up, just to catch the reaction from the doctor, who’s already gazing into your pussy when your eyes refocus. His breathing changes from long, calming inhales, to unsteady suspires.

“Jesus,” he grits out just under his breath when you eventually throw your panties alongside the robe and fully open yourself to him. Clenching around nothing, you relax further into the couch, legs propped and feet settled against the velvet.

Your huffs push out hot when Dr. Morales finally lifts from his seat. You don’t dare look away as he steps forward, towering over you. He bends at the waist, face lowering near your own. He gets so close that, for a split second, you think he’s going to kiss you. Press his pouting lips into yours like you so badly want him to.

His breath fans across your face, but he pulls away before you get to bask in any of the warmth. In his hand is a pillow from the couch that he plops onto the floor.

“Bad knees,” Dr. Morales mumbles, smirking at the dazed look in your eye. You say absolutely nothing, only watching as he drops his knees onto the wide pillow, hands clenching the edge of the couch cushions.

All the doctor does for a tick is stare. He stares and stares, tongue darting out to wet his mouth.

“Keep rubbing for me, hermosa,” Dr. Morales orders. “Just a little more.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing when your fingers dip down and come back sticky with your wetness. A whine exits you, and your head falls again.

“Can you touch me now? Please,” you remember to add at the end, the ache between your legs forcing you to squirm. “Please, I can’t wait anymore.”

A hand on your thigh almost startles you. Your head tips back up to see his palm sitting heavy against your leg.

“This what you want?” He asks, another scalding touch planting itself on your other thigh. His hands give thrilling grips, thumbs landing at the very edge of your dripping lips.

A pathetic nod from you.

“Words, gorgeous,” Dr. Morales tells you, gaze completely unmoving.

Gorgeous. Hm. A new one, but just as effective.

You pant a few more times before pushing out “Yes, that’s what I wanted.”

“Good girl,” he praises, and you’re nearly done for. “Now, if I ask on a scale of one to ten, how turned on are you right now?”

It’s tough to think of an answer. His hands, so big and inching closer and closer to your heat, are melting your thoughts away at record speed. Everything you try to come up with leaves too fast for you to catch them.

“A… a seven,” you sigh, liking the way his eyes twinkle at your response. “Seven.”

Dr. Morales chuckles lowly, looking up at you.

“Seven?” Frankie grins. “I haven’t touched your pussy yet, and you’re already at a seven?”

He waits for an answer but only receives a long whine that makes him want to laugh again. Fuck, you’re cute. And wet enough that your juices ooze out of you with a pretty shine, and it’s all for him.

Honestly, the only reason he’s lasted this long is because this is for science. Because Francisco Morales is a medical professional and needs to have some kind of composure. It’s breaking, though. He knows it, and not just because of the way his hands crawl closer and closer to your pussy. Or because of the ache in his cock that’s straining against the crotch of his jeans. Sucking in a breath at the feeling of it catching against the tight fabric, Frankie scans you.

Your chest, those stunning tits, have a noticeable rise and fall and you watch him. Something in your gaze, an unexplainable force, finally pulls his face down. It’s as close to your pussy as it’s been. He tries to remind himself about the self-control he’s supposed to be possessing, but a few more seconds pass and it’s nowhere to be found.

He starts just off the left side. The first kiss, soft and careful to start easy. Figure out what you like, what you don’t, and what you really like.

Kiss after kiss, his lips press a little harder. Gliding across the skin of your thighs and pelvis, staying in a spot a little long when it elicits a sound or squirm from you.

The pecks turn to full smooches, and he soon enough finds himself right where he wants to be.

Eyes meeting yours, he sinks into you with a long, fiercely slow drag of his tongue. Frankie’s gaze ties into yours, he puckers his lips and sucks. It’s a supple thing that he pairs with a flick of his tongue right across your pearl.

“Oh,” you squeak, unable to continue with anything but another broken sound. When you arch, Frankie’s hand reaches higher to rest against your hip. He had his suspicions that you were a squirmer, but to see it like this, up close is something else. Something special. “Shit.”

God, you taste incredible. Better than incredible, and while he wants to tell you he can’t. There’s no way he’s pulling away from this, so he suffices for his own moan.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against you, mouth lifting to suck a bit harder. The hand not occupied on your hip reaches until his thumb sits just inside your opening. He rubs, delicately, all the way up, only pulling his mouth away to smooth it over the slick skin.

Another moan, this time from both of you when your hips grind upwards. He matches your movements, letting his head dip back down to continue his lick.

After a while, Frankie decides to up it a notch. Delve as much of his mouth as he can against you, lapping and slurping whatever he can catch before it leaks down onto his chin. The sound it makes, your pussy and his soaking lips, is disgusting. Loud, sinful squelches of wetness that he would give anything to hear for the rest of his life.

Yet somehow, what leaves you is even better. A combination of hitching breaths, loud coos, and cries for him to keep going. Just like that, fuck. So he keeps going, just as he is until he can barely breathe.

He yanks away from you with a grunt but makes sure to replace his tongue with his hand. 

“Such a gorgeous pussy,” Frankie husks out, pressing another kiss to your inner thigh while he finishes catching his breath. “What number now, princesa?”

Frankie makes sure to wait until you’re about to answer him when he snakes his tongue into your slit and fucks. His head bobs back and forth, tongue caressing as deep inside of you as he can. His fingers return to your clit, rubbing with ease thanks to the mixture of slick and spit.

“I don’t know, I can’t think of one,” you rush out, and Frankie chuckles. He gives you one last bold lick before pulling away. He has to hold you tighter when you squirm in irritation, nearly sobbing.

Frankie shushes you with a kind pat on your thigh. You don’t have a chance to whine anything out before he hooks an arm of your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the couch. One of your legs hangs just off the couch, so the doctor hitches it over his shoulder.

His eyebrows scrunch, and he focuses his attention on ghosting a few fingers just barely inside of you. He looks up at you and is met with you already looking back, ready and waiting for him to push further.

He pauses in a wait. Not ten seconds pass before you try to thrust his fingers further yourself, but he doesn’t let you.

“All you need to do is give me a number, baby, and I’ll fuck these as deep as you want.”

“Nine,” you whisper, and he spots your hands clench. You must want to touch him.

“Nine,” he repeated, thumb rolling a circle over your clit. “How many fingers to get you to ten?”

“Three, plea–ah,” you mewl out when Frankie slides his middle digit inside you. He lets out his own noise at the way you suck him in.

His hand bottoms out, and you’re already fucking yourself on his finger. “That’s a girl. Already taking my finger so well. Feel so fucking good around me.”

You’re truly a sight to behold as Frankie watches you, skin damp with a slight sheen, curving and grinding against his hand. Speed increasing, almost growls when he bends to lap at your clit. His tongue twirls against the bud of nerves, and he has to close his eyes to stop himself from reaching down and giving his painfully hard cock a squeeze.

Frankie slides in the second and third finger at the same time, and you break. 

You don’t mean to tangle his hair with your fingers, but they do anyway. It’s hard, but you tug them away, clenching the couch instead.

“Sorry. Sorry, I–” you blurt out, breath long gone, but Dr. Morales has none of it. He doesn’t lift from his licking and swirling to grab your hand and tangle your fingers back into his hair. “Fuck me.”

The rhythm he finds is relentless. He pumps knuckles deep inside you, sliding in and out, collecting a residue of thick moisture. He curls his fingers, searching and finding the spongy spot that causes you to tighten your grip on his hair. His fingertips drag across it, over and over, and you fall limp in his grasp.

“Good fucking girl,” he tells you, words slurring together in his pussy-drunken state. “So good for me. Now I need you to cum, alright? Need you to come for me, all over my fingers so I can drink it all up.”

Dr. Morales slurps messily, chin now nearly dripping as he eats at you. Savoring the tang and hint of sweet while his fingers drive with a steady vigor. There’s no way you can stay still now. You arch, twist, and grind into the doctor, propelling him even deeper. He’s reaching somewhere inside of you that you once thought impossible. Taking grasp of you entirely.

You’re close. You’re so close

“I’m clo–fuck, yes, I’m close. Please don’t stop, please,” you whimper.

“Yeah, you are. Squeezing all nice around me, like a good girl. Sucking you into my mouth. Love how you feel on my mouth, baby. And on my tongue and around my fingers. Never gonna forget how you taste. Shit, could come just like this, so I need you to come right now, okay?”

Frankie doesn’t even know what he’s saying, his rambles. They just pour out, some of it incomprehensible as he busies himself with circling and flicking your sensitive clit. 

You sob out one last moan before the damn breaks. He groans along with you at the way your clit throbs against his tongue. His fingers slow, but only a bit as they make sure to rub right against your g-spot.

A choking sound leaves you as you can barely breathe. The air sucks from your lungs almost as hard as Dr. Morales does down below, and your eyes clench shut. You see stars and space, world falling mute, and body quaking with a thick orgasm.

It rolls over you in drowning waves, the euphoric warmth, driving you with an unbearable bliss. You whine, crying out a few tears. Twitching and shivering under the strong hands of Dr. Morales. 

His hold is tender as you work through it, talking to you gently in the pauses he takes from licking you clean.

“Fucking look at you, querida.”

“Did so good for me, so fucking perfect.”

“Can’t wait to get you back in here next week.”

Only some of the words make it to your ears. The blood rushing makes it hard to understand, but just the sound of it is comforting enough. You feel more kisses press into you, this time just under your belly button, as the fingers inside you still.

The two of you stay like that for several minutes. Dr. Morales murmuring quietly to talk you down. Your leg still over his shoulder caressed by his free hand, while your own twirls at his brown locks.

“Fuck me,” you breathe out eventually, and Dr. Morales smiles against you. You can’t help but join him, chest warming at the final peck he places onto your knee before lowering your leg.

“Gonna pull out, okay? I’ll go slow,” he tells you. You nod, hand falling around his to touch at the warm skin. You huff out a short breath, mouth falling open as you stare at the wetness revealed when he begins to pull out.

Frankie whispers out his own damn, watching you until his fingers are free. Fuck, you’re pretty, aren’t you?

“I meant what I said earlier,” he declares, pushing away the thought. “Did great, muñeca. Incredible, actually.”

“I could say the same for you…” you mumble with a shy grin, and Frankie finds it touching. You’re divine. You’re precious. You’re… his patient.

The room is filled with heat and smells of sex. It clouds Frankie’s brain, but he knows he needs to keep moving. You can dwell, but not him. He’s got a job to do.

Frankie only lets himself stare for a few more minutes before he rises with a groan. His knees are aching, but he doesn't care. His face heats when you help him up the rest of the way, loose limbs and wet stains in all.

“Thank you,” he smiles, moving to hand you your robe with his untainted hand. “Let me go grab you some water and a towel, and then we can do your swab so you can get out of here.”

He’s turning to leave, heading for the bathroom across the hall to wash his hand–it’s still wet and shining, even now–but stops when he sees the look on your face.

“Is it required that I leave right away?”

Frankie is quick to answer. The small pout on your face makes it so.

“Of course not,” he shakes his head. “You’re free to take your time, take a breath. Sip on the water I’m gonna go grab you. Hell, you can even take a nap, if you want. I’ve uh… we’ve got rooms upstairs with beds and blankets. I think there are some snacks in there, too.

“Really?” You blink at him.

“Yeah. Gotta keep you all as comfortable as possible.”

Frankie sees that look again, the pout. He’s not sure you even know you’re doing it.

“I actually might take you up on that nap. I don’t think my legs have really come back yet,” you tell him, looking at him while slipping on the robe. When feels your eyes trail down, right to the bulge in his pants, he sucks in a rough inhale and does his best to screen the obvious.

“I’ll be right back with that water and towel,” Frankie rushes out, turning for the door.

His clean hand is sitting shaky on the handle when he hears you.

“Do you want me to…” you trail off, pausing for so long that he doesn’t expect you to keep going. “I could help you with that if you want.”

That. He knows you aren’t talking about getting water or towels, and it crumbles him. He grits his teeth, dick jumping at the thought of your–

No. No, he can’t. No matter how much he wants to, he can’t.

Frankie turns, digging deep for the strength to look you in the eyes.

“...we shouldn't, sweetheart. It’s against the rules, and we don’t want either of us getting in any kind of trouble, right?”

It takes a long time for you to nod. Way too long.

“Right,” you agree, but Frankie can smell the lie. He wonders if you can smell his, too.

© superhoeva

[emeraldspiral]

A venn diagram of the queer/neurodiverse content depicted in Invader Zim. I've already talked about the inherent queerness of Zim and mentioned a few times that there’s a big overlap with autism/neurodiversity but I thought this would make a handy reference. Note that “neurodiversity” isn’t just autism/ADD/ADHD but also includes mental illness, personality disorders, mood disorders, learning disabilities, and anything else that isn’t “neurotypical”.

On the queer side there is actual canon queer rep in the show and comics:

Irkens are canonically aroace and intersex.

Groyna from the comics was confirmed by Eric Trueheart to be a lesbian.

Commander Poki from the comics may be trans, as she has eyelashes normally only seen on female Irkens, but lacks the curled antenna every other female Irken is shown to possess.

Recap Kid's gender is deliberately ambiguous.

There are also many instances of queer-coding that can be seen throughout the show such as:

The homoerotic rivalry between Zim and Dib.

Red and Purple basically being Zim's two gay dads.

Zim and several other characters having campy and dramatic mannerisms.

Zim using Keef and Tak as beards.

Zim and GIR wearing make-up/cross-dressing and generally not concerning themselves with or even being aware of gender conformity.

That time Dib's personality was copied into the body of a female ship which became very distressed at being told it wasn't really a boy and changed its physical appearance to match its brain.

Other queer elements featured in the show include:

Female characters who aren't love interests/show no interest in romance.

Most characters showing a general lack of visible interest in the opposite sex or romance.

The Membranes being a non-traditional family (single dad with no mom, later acquiring two more dads in the form of Foodio and Clembrane). Irken society not being structured around family units at all.

Satirical depictions of nuclear family units (Zim’s roboparents).

Transhumanism.

Kink/Fetish content including tentacles, bondage, domination, tongues, sadism, mind-control, body morphing, gore, food/eating, bodily fluids/fluids in general, Giger-esque designs, etc…

On the Neurodiverse side we have:

Zim’s food sensitivity.

Zim’s germophobia.

Zim’s dislike of being touched or hugged.

Zim seeming to suffer from sensory issues in general.

Zim getting overstimulated on the bus in Walk of Doom.

Zim and Dib infodumping.

Zim’s idiosyncratic speech mannerisms.

Characters having high intellect paired with poor social skills/low emotional intelligence.

Hyperfixations and special interests.

Zim’s struggles with multi-tasking and keeping his priorities straight.

GIR being easily distracted and unable to focus on anything that doesn’t immediately interest him.

Characters having poor volume control.

Characters having mood swings or trouble regulating their emotions.

Zim’s issues with memory.

Dib hyperfocusing to the point of neglecting hygiene.

Zim’s “problem with listening”.

And in the middle where they overlap there’s:

Zim and Dib being outcasts, misunderstood by everyone around them, and only able to connect with other misfits like Gaz, GIR, Keef, each other, and random hobos.

Zim masking his otherness and putting on performative displays of “normalcy” and having a well-founded fear of the consequences of being discovered.

Dib being open about his otherness and looking for respect and acceptance in the face of overwhelming ridicule and contempt.

Dib being pressured by his father to conform in order to please him.

Dib finding that the social benefits of conformity aren’t enough to outweigh the pain of not being his authentic self in Mopiness of Doom.

Dib’s experiences and perspectives being trivialized, dismissed and medicalized as indicators of mental illness.

Dib actually being mentally ill, but only as a result of not being accepted or supported for being different.

The eugenicist dystopia of the Irken Empire, where Zim is labeled “defective” and sentenced to death rather than treated for the mental health issues caused by the society that created him.

Daddy issues/familial rejection/non-acceptance.

Zim and Dib’s struggles with depression.

Zim and Dib’s need to prove themselves to gain validation and acceptance.

Zim and Dib being victims of bullying and in turn bullying others to feel a sense of power.

Dib’s self-loathing.

Zim’s default state being paranoia and anxiety.

Zim and Dib’s self-image issues.

And of course the one thing that binds us all: alternative fashion.

[autistic-and-radical]

My thoughts on "LGB drop the TQ+"

As a bisexual woman, I fully support the LGB drop the TQ+ movement. Being lesbian, gay and bisexual is rooted in biology. If you're a lesbian, you're a female attracted to other females, if you're gay, you're a male attracted to other males and if you're bisexual then you're attracted to both males and females. And what is TQ+ about? TQ+ is about identity, self-expression and labels. The definitions are loose, too vast and fluid. Nothing is clear, nothing is simple, but everything is offensive. Our generation is so deep in an identity crisis and self-hate that they need a thousand labels and definitions to feel themselves. They don't focus on who they are as a person. In the 80s and 90s when teenagers were figuring out who they are and looking for an identity, they joined subcultures. Also, in that time all gays and lesbians and bisexuals were gender non-conforming and it didn't change their identity. The TQ+ is still growing, teenagers nowadays need labels to feel valid, heard and accepted, but it only confuses them more and instead of helping them find themselves. I know that, because I've been there, done that. A year ago I identified as a fem-aligned non-binary, abrosexual person. Now, when I find the root of my problems and self-hate? I realized that I'm just a bisexual woman. And I feel a lot better like this.

here's a really cool video essay on this topic:

[doumadono]

hiii!! i really enjoy ur stories and how u write, it actually inspired me to continue a certain story i left alone for 2 years < 3

my req : reader shows off her dress to dabi, and dabi shows no attention, yet when reader attempts to walk away, dabi pulls her in

this can be sfw or nsfw,, your option!! ❤️‍🩹

A/N: Please note that I'm currently only accepting emergency requests. Any requests not labeled as emergencies will be immediately erased

MASTERLIST

You walked into the room, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. The new dress you were wearing felt like a secret weapon to boost your confidence. You knew that Dabi was hanging out in the lounge area, and you were eager to show off your new look. As you approached him, you cleared your throat softly, catching his attention.

"Hey," you began, your voice laced with a hint of anticipation. "Check out what I'm wearing."

He looked up from the documents he was reading, his half-lidded eyes moving over your form. However, he didn't seem too interested, just offering a casual nod before returning his focus to his papers.

You bit your lip, a small pang of disappointment tugging at your heart. But you refused to let it get to you. Swallowing your initial reaction, you decided to play it cool. "Yeah, it's just a dress, I guess…"

Turning to walk away, you were suddenly pulled to a stop. Dabi's hand gently caught your wrist, making you look at him in surprise. "Hold on a sec," he said, his voice low and surprisingly gentle.

Confused, you met his gaze, only to be met with an expression you weren't expecting. Dabi's intense eyes studied you, seemingly appreciating the dress in a way he hadn't shown before. "You're really trying to impress, huh?" he commented, a corner of his lips quirking up in his signature half-smirk.

Your heart skipped a beat at his unexpected compliment, and a blush crept onto your cheeks. You couldn't deny that his attention meant more to you than you cared to admit. "Well, I thought I'd switch things up a bit," you replied, your voice a tad more bashful than you intended.

Dabi released your wrist, allowing his fingers to linger against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. "Don't go thinking I'm always that oblivious."

A mixture of relief and amusement washed over you. Dabi's aloof demeanor had initially thrown you off, but now you were starting to see through his façade. "I guess I'll have to trust you," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

Dabi leaned back against the couch, his lips curling into a smirk. "Smart choice," he quipped, his trademark cockiness resurfacing.

You took a step back, a smirk forming on your lips. "Well, if you're interested, maybe you should take a closer look," you challenged, your playful tone bolder than before.

Dabi's eyes glinted with intrigue, his lips curving into a sly smile. Without warning, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you onto his lap in one fluid motion.

You let out a surprised laugh, your heart racing as you found yourself straddling him, the fabric of your dress pooling around you.

"Is this close enough?" he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

You met his intense gaze, feeling a mixture of excitement and a hint of nervousness. The way his fingers lightly traced the hem of your dress sent tingles through your skin, making your breath catch in your throat. "Yeah, I suppose it is," you replied, your voice slightly breathless.

Dabi's fingers continued their lazy exploration of the fabric, his touch sending electric pulses through your body. His eyes never left yours, and you could sense a newfound intensity in his gaze. It was as if he was seeing you in a different light, appreciating the effort you had put into your appearance.

"You dolled yourself up, huh?" he commented, his voice still laced with that trademark nonchalance, but there was an undeniable undercurrent of desire beneath his words.

Your cheeks flushed at his compliment, and you found yourself leaning in a little closer, your heart pounding in your chest. "I aim to impress," you replied, your voice a mere whisper now.

Dabi's fingers curled around the curves of your waist, his touch sending a jolt of sensation through you. His lips were dangerously close to yours, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body. "You've definitely caught my attention, doll," he admitted, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race even faster.

With a surge of courage, you closed the remaining distance between your lips, capturing his in a passionate kiss. Dabi responded immediately, his lips moving against yours with a mixture of fervor and hunger. The kiss was electrifying, a culmination of the tension that had been building between you.

As you pulled away, both of you were left breathless, your eyes locked in a heated gaze. "So, what do you think now?" you asked, a teasing glint in your eye.

Dabi's lips curled into a wicked smile, his fingers finally releasing the hem of your dress. "I think I've underestimated you and your sense of style," he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

You grinned, a sense of triumph washing over you. "Well, it's never too late to learn," you countered, your fingers trailing lightly along his jawline.

Dabi's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in closer. "Maybe you could teach me a few things," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a promise of more to come. "I'm eager to learn, you know?"

[gay-otlc]

Transmasc Lesbianism

I'm a lesbian. I'm also a straight trans man. This might confuse you, but you may want to consider looking at perspectives of gender and sexuality that differ from your own and don't fit into neat little boxes.

A definition of lesbian that has been gaining popularity in queer spaces is "non men loving non men." This was meant to be inclusive for nonbinary lesbians, as an alternative to "women loving women." However, the phrase is very flawed. I've spoken about this elsewhere, but the main points are

It categorizes all nonbinary people alongside women. In this context, "non-men" comes off as "women or nonbinary people who are basically women." Not all nonbinary people, even if they're non-men will feel comfortable being labeled as a lesbian, since the term has feminine connotations and can cause dysphoria. It's unfair to put them in this box just because they're not a man.

Attraction is complex and cannot be divided into "attracted to men" and "not attracted to men." This disregards people who use the split attraction model (different romantic and sexual orientations), people who experience alterous attraction, people with fluid sexualities, and more.

Gender is complex and cannot be divided into "male" and "all genders that are not male." The identity most blatantly erased by this is multigender identities- people with multiple genders can be both male and a gender that is not male. There are also genderfluid people who are sometimes male, demigender people who are partially male, or nonbinary people who don't identify as male but may refer to themselves with masculine terms such as boy or man anyway.

The focus of lesbianism should not be excluding men. Mindsets like this are echoing TERF rhetoric that seeks to exclude transfeminine lesbians because TERFs wrongly consider them to be men. And it's annoying to make our identity about men or lack thereof, when we don't need to be talking about men at all- our community is about our shared attraction for women, because women are great!

Awesome, we've got that out of the way. If you're still reading this and going "but you can't be a trans man and a lesbian, lesbian means non men loving non men!!!!!", then I don't know what to tell you. Read the list again? Go through the other posts linked? Maybe log off tumblr?

If you read all that and you're willing to accept that not all lesbians will fit into "non men loving non men," and you don't understand but you're open to learn, read on! By the end you might still not understand, but you don't need to understand me to respect me.

For some context, here is a description of my gender and sexuality.

Gender: I'm a bigender trans man. To put it as simply as I can, my gender is primarily male, but I also have some of the female gender. I'm comfortable being seen as solely a man or both a man and a woman, but not solely a woman.

Sexuality: I'm sexually attracted to women almost exclusively. As mentioned at the beginning of the post, I describe myself as a lesbian (or gay, sapphic, etc). I also describe myself as a straight man (or straight transmasc, transhet, etc).

How can I be both?

That's where my multigender identity comes into play. I'm a man and a woman. I'm attracted to women. This makes me both a man attracted to women and a woman attracted to women; a straight man and a lesbian.

Like I said earlier, male is my primary gender and being female is more secondary. So, I'm primarily a man attracted to women, and to a lesser extent a woman attracted to women. Internally, I perceive myself as more of a straight man than a lesbian. I get a lot of gender euphoria from calling myself a straight man, and the feminine connotations of lesbian can sometimes make me uncomfortable.

So, why do I still identify as a lesbian?

Although I consider myself and my attraction to be mostly transhet, that's not really how I interact with the world around me. I'm out as bigender to some people, but I'm also closeted in many contexts, and I don't pass very well even where I am out. This means I navigate my life as someone generally perceived as a woman, who is attracted to women. Even if I don't always consider myself to fit fully with lesbianism, a majority of people will interpret me that way when they find out I'm attracted to women.

Lesbianism is a label I found my home in, for many years, and it still means a lot to me. I spent a long time defining myself as a lesbian and existing in our community, and it's a significant part of my identity.

The way I experienced my attraction growing up was a lesbian experience, not a straight experience. I consider myself a straight man now, but I didn't grow up interacting with the world as a heterosexual child. I was expected to have crushes on boys and was mocked for not fitting into that. I was called a lesbian in a derogatory way when I was ten, and I found power in reclaiming that. When I realized I was attracted to women, I spent years feeling like a freak for it until lesbians communities helped me to be proud. Lesbian is the label that most accurately describes my history and my experience as a young queer.

Also, although the label lesbian sometimes causes dysphoria, I sometimes get euphoria from referring to myself or being referred to as a lesbian. I especially get euphoria from being a butch lesbian. I take so much joy from my butch identity. And while referring to myself as lesbian in a joking manner, with phrases like "I'm so gay for her" or "not to be a lesbian but oh my god," might not count as gender euphoria, saying them makes me happy, and that's enough for me.

So, why do I identify as a man? Because I am one.

Why do I identify as a lesbian? Because it describes my past experience and the way I interact with the world as someone perceived as a woman. Because it's important to me. Because I want to.

Why do I use these labels that contradict each other? Because these are the labels that are right for me, and I have every right to have a confusing identity.

Thank you for your time.

[flints-black-spot]

I've recently seen a few people talking about media literacy in relation to Flint's sexuality and labels and figured I'd throw in my two cents on the discourse that seems to pop up every few months.

Because, I honestly think it does a disservice to Black Sails as a whole to focus on "gay vs. bi Flint" because like... does it matter? if Flint only has attraction to men, that doesn't change the fact that he's canonically, willingly, had sex with women (namely Miranda). But, on the other end of the spectrum, it's just as important to recognize how, societally and culturally, gender is a construct, which will inherently mean that sexuality is fluid! Flint can be a gay man with some level of attraction to women (hell, the majority of the fandom agrees that Anne is a lesbian, yet she's clearly in love and has sexual attraction to Jack, and that doesn't take away from her lesbianism!), and that attraction doesn't make him any less of a gay man! Or he could be bisexual, and that doesn't take away anything from the overarching narrative of his queer relationship with Thomas! The focus on a single 'correct' interpretation of his sexuality, in my mind, takes away from what the show is really trying to say about sexuality, which isn't the "this way" or "that way" to be queer, but the overarching connection that struggle and strife can bring to a community. (For a similar issue, see James Baldwin's response to critics arguing whether the main character from his novel Giovanni's Room is gay or bisexual, his response is incredible.)

And, on the other hand, it's also not entirely accurate or even fair to try and ascribe modern labels and perceptions of queerness to a character that existed long before those terms were even coined? In Flint's time, homosexuality was something a person did, not who a person was. While, yes, his queerness is inherent to his journey as a character, and he very clearly views it as a part of his identity, it's also very much worth noting that two things (homosexual love and desire, and heterosexual love and desire) can coexist, and not either way take away from his narrative as a whole.

Finally, then, there's the common thread of 'media literacy' in determining Flint's label (which, again, I honestly think is just a non-issue because it has such little impact on anything in meta discussions?). To present an opinion like "Flint is gay" is an example of an interpretation, one which can and should exist among others! To have a single, 'correct' interpretation of a piece of media, especially one like Black Sails, is an inherently flawed idea, because every interpretation should have its own merit on its own. Flint can be both bi and gay, and both arguments have perfectly equal weight, but in the end, it doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of Black Sails meta. Either way, Flint is queer, and that queerness was a defining feature of his character for the rest of the show. To assign such importance to "gay or bi" just feels unimportant.

[raavenb2619]

Does coming out lead to too much focus on labels?

(I don't really have a main thesis I'm trying to convince anyone of, I just had a thought and wondered what other people thought.)

When I had recently figured out I was ace/aro/nonbinary, I really cared about finding the right labels for me. And the aspec community in particular has so many unique perspectives and labels that you can apply to yourself. What kinds of attraction do you feel, how do you label your orientations and attractions, what model do you use to think about attraction, how do you think about relationships, how do you feel about sex/romance/relationships, etc. It was super eye opening to learn about lots of different terms, and different ways of thinking about things, and things I'd never even thought about or thought I even could think about, and I ended up applying lots of labels to myself.

But, it's been many years since then, and over time I've grown less interested in applying specific labels to myself. I'm still queer/ace/aro/trans/nonbinary/polyam, but I don't really use other labels. (And depending on the situation, I might end up omitting labels when vagaries work fine.) That's not to say that I don't have affinity with other labels, whether that's "I'm similar to what this label describes" or "this label provides an interesting perspective that I like", I just...don't use other labels to define my identity. If I'm comfortable enough talking about something that I could use a label for, I'll just describe my experiences directly, instead of saying "I'm [blank]".

And, I wonder if that shift from specificity to vagary has to do with coming out. For a young aroace like me, part of why coming out was so nerve-racking was that I felt like I had to prove that my identity was real, and having specific labels I could point to and say "look, this is real, I'm not making this up, other people are like this too" was super helpful. But, it's been many years since I've come out, and I'm more confident and know who I am, and that insecurity that I fought back with fistfuls of labels and well-rehearsed explanations is gone. (With the potential exception of QPR-related discussions, which feel kind of like coming out again; I might make a post about that some time if people are interested.)

Every time I've ever come out, or seen someone come out in real life or in media, it's always been "I'm [blank]", but I've never seen someone come out as "I'm not cis/straight". It's always a declaration that you are a specific thing, never a statement that you aren't something someone thought you were. I remember really wanting to make sure I knew exactly what I was and didn't come out as one thing and then change my labels later, because it would mean I'd have to come out again and it would be embarrassing that I got things wrong and maybe people would start to doubt me and not believe me when I said I was something in the future. But, people don't have to be a fixed, immutable set of labels forever; I'm comfortable with using vague labels for myself and letting myself be vague and nebulous and fluid without frantically trying to label every single part of myself. (And, in fact, I did technically get my labels slightly wrong the very first time I came out, and everything turned out okay in the end.)

So, maybe coming out puts an undue pressure on finding specific labels and making sure they're exactly right; maybe coming out should also be able to be "I'm not cis/straight". What do people think?

(This is not to say that specific labels are bad, because they can often be very helpful! Specific labels were helpful for me when I used them, and their existence can spark conversations and lead to new perspectives and learning. Even as I'm finding vagueness and nebulousness to be better for me right now than specific detailed labels, other people can be finding that specific detailed labels give them a sense of belonging and community and identity. But, I still wonder if coming out placed an undue burden on younger me to find all the right labels when vagueness could have worked just as well.)

[astrolovecosmos]

Planets' Detriment

When a planet is detriment in a sign that planet is uncomfortable, it is hard for its energy to be expressed. Some describe a planet in detriment as being weakened. There are a lot of challenges for these placements, but every placement has its strengths. The detriment can be like the planet is playing on hard mode, sometimes the planet's influence or area of life can feel like a test. But there can be unexpected advantages and insights by overcoming and understanding the detrimental position pros and cons.

Sun is detriment in Aquarius, finding that it spends a lot of its time thinking about others, especially their peers. Despite Aquarius being famous for their independence and aloofness, their humanitarian trait and focus on the group can make them less self-focused. The Sun is about self-expression and when in Aquarius that expression becomes unconventional. It's interesting that the Sun (personality, ego, vitality, self-expression) is detriment in a sign associated with individuality. But the Sun is a warm, gregarious, generous, powerful, authoritative, possibly traditional, leading planet. The Sun wants to be the influence, the change, the heat. Aquarius is about innovation, the unknown, unpredictability, curiosity, and progress. Sun in Aries is confident, action-taking, and self-focused and Sun in Leo is exuberant, brave, and proud. The self is potent and defined in these two fire signs, whereas in cooler, chaotic Aquarius the self or personality may be hard to understand by others. Aquarius may have times of being confident and sure of their personality, they can be willful, stubborn, and opinionated - I would not describe them as being subtle or fluid but they are extreme, windy, and their desire for change can bring misunderstanding, recklessness, and loneliness. This desire for change or even mayhem coupled with their focus on the group can also make them a passionate and devoted follower of trends, ideas, beliefs, maybe people. Their follower side brings a huge detriment to the royal Sun. But this placement is still highly emotionally and socially intelligent + traditionally "book smart" or academic as well. They are original and has a keen intuition for trends, technology, and general societal changes. The Aquarius-Leo axis is all about leadership, individuality, society, collective vs. individual. Aquarius can still be an amazing and inspirational leader. They can be charismatic, convincing, a visionary, supportive, utilitarian, intelligent, communicative, observant, ready, and accepting. Aquarius is the leader you want during unsure times. When the Sun is in Aquarius it experiences both being with the in-crowd and being the misfit, it has a chance to plug into the hivemind as well as complete disconnection. Here the Sun must live inside and outside labels.

Moon is detriment in Capricorn, here it feels restricted. When the Moon is in Capricorn there is an attempt to control emotions. Moon in Capricorn is self-disciplined, pragmatic, critical, and tends to try to control their home and family. The Moon here struggles to tap into intuition, express feelings, and may brush insecurities and sensitivities under the rug. Unaddressed issues are likely to be common. Moon in Capricorn's internal world is an attempt to dry out or contain the ocean. Moon in Capricorn can see their emotions as a weakness or as unimportant. The detriment for this placement is clear - surrounding control and emotional blockage. Moon in Capricorn should aim to be a lighthouse or sturdy boat vs. an attempt to silence, calm, or direct their own waters. It is important to note Capricorn Moon does not struggle to understand and feel their emotions or inner, private self but struggles with accepting, expressing, and utilizing it. The Moon is a symbol of the magic and power that comes with our emotional self. While Moon in Capricorn can face many challenges, they are still dependable, loyal, hardworking, and responsible. Capricorn's seriousness, logic, and sense of duty when accepting of their vulnerabilities and willing to listen to their intuition can be insightful, resourceful, calm, patient, and maybe even wise and imaginative. Capricorn like a lighthouse can help guide others, be a mentor, leader, protector, or provider. Capricorn is adaptable, dynamic, and enduring - they can be an unsinkable ship on a wild ocean, but they can only do this by getting familiar with their own waters vs. ignoring or trying to control them. All of these positives are associated with growth, even without active growth Moon in Capricorn can have a unique perspective in terms of the emotional world. They try to manage themselves entirely, leaving little room for mistakes. They are hard to embarrass, intimidate, and shake. They have strong survival instincts. They tend to be good listeners, can take their character or integrity seriously, and at the end of the day they are the least likely to allow their emotions to blind them. While other signs may be more in tune with their emotions, Capricorn at least won't drown or be impulsive.

Mercury is detriment in Sagittarius, pushed into asking the big questions and operating in a broad, abstract, and spirited way. Even though Mercury is a flexible, curious, and sometimes scattered influence, it still tends to deal with the factual, details, logic, and what is said or shared. Sagittarius is a sign of theory, philosophy, beliefs, ethics/morals, truth, exaggeration, storytelling, impatience, risk, and freedom. Mercury is about the words said, the facts from the textbook whereas Sagittarius is the meaning or intention behind the words and the impression or belief surrounding a text. Mercury rules over all communication, the mind, and learning but it is most associated with gossip, tact, wit, debate, eloquence, humor, persuasion, friendliness, and reasoning. Whereas Sagittarius is all about being forward and blunt, their honesty can be brutal. Sagittarius can be an eternal student or student of life and has plenty of traits or associations that can keep up with this high-energy planet, but they are brazen and are always looking to the future or asking "what ifs". Mercury in Sagittarius frequently puts their foot in their mouth, may be clumsy, could lack manners or just tact, they can trip over words or frequently interrupt others. But I should be careful not to paint a picture of this placement as being purely awkward, rude, and/or a bad communicator. The challenge or weakness Mercury has in Sagittarius is more about the sign's expansive nature and always thinking within uncertainty and the intangible. Mercury in Sagittarius can fall into hypocrisy, bigotry, self-righteousness, haughtiness, can become opinionated, be zealous and overbearing with their beliefs, may develop a temper, and may face challenges surrounding factual truth vs. personal truth. Sagittarius is closely connected to both an open mind or a closed one. Mercury in Sagittarius struggles to focus, can be insensitive, can have a forgetful side, is hard to satisfy or calm, may be carefree or unbothered by how things work which can offer a unique perspective on things but also be an area of restlessness or nervousness. Mercury in Sagittarius can also be motivating, optimistic, funny, catches and keeps others' attention, can be a great teacher, inquisitive, deep, exciting, playful, trusting, and sometimes honest to a fault. Mercury can learn to be adventurous and brashly confident in Sagittarius. Here Mercury must rely more on instinct, action, and luck than knowledge.

Venus is detriment in Aries, becoming self-focused, not afraid of conflict, and at times may prefer separation, independence, competition, and confrontation. Venus in Aries tends to be attracted to those who are a challenge or "hard to get"- a reward or competition to win. They can also be attracted to those who are confident, passionate, and Aries-like. This placement also finds flattery, admiration, attention, and being desired attractive and some may define these as a must in their relationships. At the center of this placement is the love for the self and/or pursuing one's desires. Venus does not like conflict, tends to not be the most competitive, is all about attraction and magnetism vs. action, and finds itself strained and heated in Aries. Venus in Aries can struggle with cooperation, compromise, rejection, and is known for being a selfish partner. But Aries is also known for generosity. This placement can be very ardent and romantic and is famous for having a high libido. They are known for falling in and out of love fast. They tend to burn through relationships quickly, can easily confuse lust for love, gets carried away in new relationships, and gets bored easily. Venus is about relating, persuading, connecting, charming, attracting, loving, and intimacy. Venus in Aries weakness is in struggling to join and relate. They have no problem standing on their own and may need to learn how to listen, give, relate, and sympathize in their relationships. They need to be more open to depending on another or taking care of others. But Venus is also about rivalry, and Aries has this down. Venus being about relationships does not always = a good relationship, harmony, or peace. Venus in Aries embraces competition in the social realm and in love but needs to be careful of always competing against or fighting with their loved ones. They can also be bossy and demanding of loved ones. But Venus in Aries can be a powerful placement for self-love, boundaries, and may have a lot of strength and motivation to leave a toxic relationship. When devoted Venus in Aries will always keep the passion burning, can be adaptable in relationships, can be fun and spontaneous, has confidence in their partner, and may find surprising joy in pleasing a partner or feel needed and important in relationships.

Mars is detriment in Libra, finding it hard to assert themselves and act decisively. Here Mars wants peace and harmony and while this can be positive, this Mars placement struggles with conflict and pressure. Mars in Libra can be easygoing and patient. They can give into people pleasing or may be highly evasive. Mars in Libra may swing from being changeable to opinionated easily. But Mars has a chance in Libra to become persuasive, cooperative, compromising, and understanding. Justice being associated with this sign gives Mars a chance to play judge or lawyer. They can have great mediating and/or networking skills and are usually logical and level-headed. While they may struggle to stand up for themselves, with confidence, and putting other's feelings, impressions, or needs above their own, Mars in Libra is usually not easily excitable, intimidated, or shaken. Mars in Libra may protect themselves through a laidback exterior, a dispassionate or detached approach, or with adaptability, distraction, and deflection. Mars in Libra also gives this fiery, passionate, sometimes brutal or aggressive planet an appreciation, maybe confidence, and intensity or willpower behind beauty, romance, giving, connecting, and equality or complementing. Mars in Libra could have a dependent side but the air element does crave independence and space, having a balance of this is very important for this placement. Being an air sign conflict typically lives in the realm of intellect, gossip, communication, arguing, ideas, and social issues or socialization. But Mars in Fire and especially its native signs Aries or the maelstrom Scorpio wants to win or conquer in conflict. Mars in Air and especially Libra wants to tie, compromise, debate, solve with rules, laws, maybe even boundaries, and sometimes make a deal. Mars in Libra - a sign associated with Venus the planet of love, lust, and desire can be something the planet Mars can relate to. Mars is also connected to intimacy, lust, desire, and romance. While Libra/Venus represents many opposites to Aries/Mars even when Mars is in detriment in Libra it can fall deeply, quickly, and recklessly in love or infatuation.

Jupiter is detriment in Gemini, here Jupiter may feel weighed down by the mundane or technical, or find it hard to stick to one path or continue to move forward. Jupiter in Gemini can be scattered with growth, individuals with this placement may struggle with patience, listening, or focus. Jupiter in Gemini can struggle to not only stick to a goal but find one. Jupiter is the planet of growth, abundance, luck, prophecy, religion, travel, indulgence, knowledge and wisdom, optimism, generosity, and faith. Here Jupiter lacks ambition, belief or trust in others, a system, or self, and possibly bravery or passion. Jupiter in Gemini at times may struggle to see the big picture or gets easily distracted by everyday stresses and worries, curiosities, learning, trends, or short-term fascinations. This age group may be very familiar with flakiness, gossip, petty drama, talkative people or conversationalist being admired or common, obsession or concern with social status, experiences the pros and cons of rivalry, fears misunderstandings, isolation, or exclusion, but also may have many friendly people, could frequently be supportive of one another or causes, embraces new ideas, can easily understand and get on each other's wavelengths, and may value community, friendship, education, and open or free communication. Jupiter may find itself unsure and find it hard to learn lessons in Gemini, but it still can find luck, positivity, and/or growth by being open-minded, flexible, social, staying curious or constantly learning, and playful. Jupiter is an indulgent and spirited planet that acts on instinct. Gemini is spontaneous and energetic. When Jupiter is in this buzzing, quick-witted sign it can be impulsive or reckless. Jupiter in Gemini can overpromise, tell tall tales or exaggerate, be mischievous, hypocritical, and opinionated. One of this placement's biggest weaknesses is a struggle to plan and commit. They may be opportunist, have an entrepreneurial spirit, maybe have con artist tendencies, fit in well within the gig economy or temporary work, and may have a knack for networking. Jupiter in Gemini may be forced to live in the moment a lot. They need to make change, excitement, and newness their comfort zone. Jupiter in Gemini finds confidence in intellect, sciences, or studies, and may live a life of constant growth through change.

Saturn is detriment in Cancer, frequently struggling to leave behind the past. Saturn is the planet of maturity, growth, boundaries, responsibility, purpose, and structure. When in moody, watery Cancer Saturn can find it hard to keep up their boundaries, may give into immaturity, childish selfishness, or insecurities. Saturn in Cancer puts their emotional wants and needs above all else. In some ways Saturn in Cancer's devotion is to emotional wellbeing and stimulation, coming in 2nd after that is devotion to loved ones. They may not fit into society's standard of "maturity, authority, or success". Saturn in Cancer also easily gets stuck in sulking, self-pity, nostalgia, and grudges. But this placement has an amazing ability to embrace and even use their vulnerability as an advantage. They can get in touch with and heal their inner child. Saturn in Cancer likely cares more about their family than society, community, career, or reputation. Cancer makes Saturn more imaginative, gentle, introspective, and intuitive. Speaking of intuition, following their heart or hunches may be key to maturity and survival. The responsibility of caring for others may be a hallmark for them. This may be a group of protectors and healers. While discourse may exist from subjects of betrayal, abandonment, family drama, and general bad blood, they can be an adaptable, cooperative group who mostly value patriotism, loyalty, hard work, practicality, and compassion. Saturn can surround important themes of protection and providing. In this way Cancer can fit in almost naturally despite all the detriment the placement can bring. Saturn can feel out of control, messy, unbalanced, and hypersensitive here, but there is stability and wisdom in Cancer's connection to heritage, tradition, roots, and family love.

Uranus is detriment in Leo, finding that themes of arrogance, selfishness, and abuse of power are common. The most confident and charismatic with this placement tend to make waves and changes during this age or in this part of a generation. Uranus in Leo can also find a new appreciation and fuel for creativity and originality. This time period or people may ask a lot of questions about individuality, taking care of the self, needs vs. desires, and self-love and empowerment. When Uranus is in Leo the planet of change and chaos brings upheaval in leadership, politics, royalty, power, influence, and fame. Uranus's weakness in Leo is in the separation and division of a collective or a person's ability to not be part of a group due to competitiveness, cocky behavior, a feeling or belief of superiority, being bossy, and maybe a temper. But Uranus in Leo has a lot of willpower, and these individuals will likely make a major or unforgettable impact with their lives. Uranus in Leo is all about independence, freedom, personal authority, and self-expression. They can be brave and inspiring but most with this placement tend to act alone or are purely motivated by self-interest. Those with fragile egos, who struggle with speaking their mind, the timid, overly trusting, open-minded and open-hearted, and blunt or overly honest may struggle a lot during this time period or with this placement. But this is a time or placement that shows how important people are on an individual level and the power they hold. Artistic freedom or celebration, recreation, passion, respect, affection, generosity, and the promotion of joy and excitement are all tools that are important to any rebellion or revolution this Uranus placement brings. Those topics are also helpful for healing after the mayhem. Uranus's exaltation is in Scorpio who is a group or time that focuses on the regeneration of the self, psyche, and collective emotional understanding. Uranus's detriment in Leo focuses more on a group's ability to stand on their own with outer power. Both are actually very self-focused. But Leo is a sign of creation, life, rule over life and Scorpio is the sign of death and rebirth. Change, transformation, and liberation usually are surrounded with themes of death in our stories and beliefs for a reason. But even with this common idea, Uranus in Leo signifies change that is usually hopeful. An example is all of the celebration, hope, excitement, and liberation but also power struggles of the late 1950's and the early 1960s.

Neptune is detriment in Virgo, finding this structured, organized sign feels restrictive or tiring. Neptune in Virgo tends to swing from being hypercritical and overly realistic to getting lost in unrealistic expectations and fantasies of perfection. Neptune may feel less imaginative, soft, or fluid when in Virgo. Neptune in Virgo may get easily impatient or disappointed with their peers and loved ones. Neptune here doesn't like to bother with the random, ridiculous, taboo, or impolite. Neptune in Virgo finds that in their search for truth, purity, and goodness or wholesomeness there can be a lot of illusions, distortion, and surprises. It is in Virgo's rationality, logic, attention to detail, and its association with the mundane, reality, or everyday life that makes Neptune feel or express weakly. Neptune was in Virgo during the crash of Wall Street and filled the 1930s with harsh reality checks and struggles. But this time frame also gave way to needed changes and policies. This generation is now known for their strength, frugality, and cooperation. Neptune is about higher causes, dreams, illusions, sacrifice, spirituality, imagination, and more. When in Virgo Neptune is pushed to focus on intellect, facts, and discernment. In general when Neptune is in an earth sign, there is an opportunity to become a generation that makes dreams a reality. There can be a complementing dynamic of imagination, visionary ideas and being practical. Neptune in Virgo individuals can be giving, self-sacrificing, and understands how to work with others towards a goal or may have a desire to help their fellow man. Neptune in Virgo can have a knack for teaching or guiding others, they are supportive, and gives constructive or helpful advice. Despite Neptune in Virgo's troubles, this is a placement that gives back, is adaptable yet tough, likely made up of two extremes of being down-to-earth or highly uptight and proper, and has powerful healing, serving, and crafting capabilities.

Pluto is detriment in Taurus, finding that it is frequently pulled to play it safe. Pluto in Taurus can find it hard to let go of the past or current situations, can be materialistic, may have a vain streak, is cautious, practical, and values security, stability, and possibly loyalty above all else. Change is hard during this time period and a generation with this placement may be highly resourceful - and this may come from being forced to be resourceful. Pluto hates predictability, stagnation, passiveness, indecision, or hesitation. It is the planet of power, rebirth, compulsion, obsession, elimination, destruction, and regrowth. It is a planet that demands action and transformation. In Taurus though things take time. These individuals can be persistent, enduring, practical, and will likely have a good eye for quality. This may be a time period where the real, high-quality, or sincere is asked for. The economy, wealth, and possessions will likely be greatly transformed under this placement. Pluto in Taurus can become grounded, is hard working, stubborn, maybe opinionated, and extremely determined. Pluto in Taurus may ask questions about values, what is valued, worth, beauty, and security. Taurus is known as a peaceful sign, associated with contentment, attraction, and relaxation. But Pluto will always be about death and rebirth, the last time Pluto was in Taurus was during the American Civil War and during industrialization. The changes, suffering, and power during this time may bring some form of peace or it may improve standards of living, but it won't spare a generation of transformation. Even though Pluto feels weak or strange in Taurus, this placement embodies willpower. The beliefs these people hold will be guiding, they may overcome challenges or make changes by sheer force, necessity, and perseverance.

[cola-grey]

i've been informed that it's Aromantic Awareness Week which means it's the perfect time for me to inflict upon the internet a rare Thought™

the thought is this: i understand why aroace people sometimes push QPRs as the aroace version of romantic relationships (the usual reason that queer people try to put themselves and their community into clean, sanitised boxes: for legitimacy in the eyes of the cisheteropatriarchy) but. but it's not and we're kinda doing ourselves a disservice by treating it like it is, at least amongst ourselves¹.

QPRs are not, fundamentally, Aro/Ace Dating or Dating Lite™. they can function that way or feel that way, but they don't have to. QP is a label for life long best friends, people who gave been mistaken for dating so long that they don't bother correcting it anymore, people who would marry for tax benefits, roommates who are never planning to part ways. it's for people who are always invited to each other's family gatherings even though they're not related or dating.

it's for people who'd go to jail for each other. it's for people who are each other's emergency contacts even though they're "just" friends. it's for alloromantic allosexual people whose most important relationship/s are platonic.

it's for FWB who are never ever gonna catch The Right Feelings but are gonna be BFFs. it's for people whose feelings are fluid, or who can't label their feelings and honestly can't be bothered trying to anymore because the exact nature of them doesn't matter.

asking someone if they want to be QP is just a way to say "hey, you're one of the most important people in my life" — it's just a relabelling for what's already there. it's a shorthand for "we come as a package" in a society where everyone is always trying to tell you that that package is meant to contain a specific kind of feeling that it never will.

and a final, bonus thought: i really don't think QPRs should be A Thing That Should Be Sought Out.² it's extremely understandable to want A Relationship given the whole amatonormativity thing³ but I don't think that desire is ever the basis of a good relationship. if you'll take my advice, put the QP label in a drawer for if you ever need it, and focus instead on just being a good friend, and finding good friends who deserve your good friendship. spend more time with the people who are always excited to run into you. let ordinary friendship be important to you, instead of looking for happiness in a box.

¹obviously it it makes your life easier to call it dating when talking to straight people/your family/strangers, do what's best for you, I'm referring specifically to the Discourse™ in Queer Spaces™ here

²although, i don't think romantic relationships should be either, so

³this Tara Mooknee video is a good primer on amatonormativity if you're not familiar

[watermelinoe]

To this day, I have yet to find more compelling peaking material than Rachel Dolezal. I can’t believe radfems haven’t made a habit of bringing her up in every single anti-trans argument, regardless of topic. But every time she’s brought up, TRAs obscure the argument by splitting hairs about race and culture and ancestry and gender and biology and spectrums, until all their allies simply go silent in confusion and fear, not feeling convinced but too scared to ask for clarity. All arguments they come up with in response choose to focus on why race and gender are different, or why Dolezal is just lying for the attention, but that distinction is completely unnecessary and misses the point as to why people rejected Dolezal in the first place. Black people didn’t reject Dolezal because they thought gender or sex was inherently more fluid than race or ethnicity, or because they thought Dolezal was lying about what she believed herself to be. They rejected her solely because of the harm and insult it would cause black people for a member of the oppressor class to be permitted to disguise themselves as a member of the oppressed. It would obscure your ability to talk about racism where it happens, it would take away opportunities for actual black people, and it would reduce black people to a racist caricature that anyone can vibe with, rather than human beings with a vast range of opinions, interests, and features.

They don’t continue to reject Dolezal because of some purely biological, scientific reason; they reject her because of the potential for harm it would create, reasons which are deeply emotional. Because that’s really the deciding factor on why we tell people they’re not allowed to do something: because it will bring harm to others or themselves. So don’t ask them: “How are race and gender different?” That only gives TRAs the opportunity to get everyone lost in the weeds. Instead, keep an unwavering focus on this single question: “Who would it harm if we recognized Dolezal as black, and how would that harm manifest?” There is literally no answer that TRAs can give to that question that doesn’t also apply to recognizing men as women. Either Dolezal is just as valid as trans people are, or they’re both invalid. Either way, TRAs have to take the L on something, or else just keep spitting death threats and burying their heads in the sand, insisting that white people are an oppressor class but men aren’t. But the point of focusing on Dolezal isn’t to peak the zealots, it’s to peak the normies listening in who’ve probably never been confronted with such a massive cognitive dissonance before. The point is to make the fence-sitters start feeling uncomfortable about not being able to defend their own beliefs, which will compel the braver ones to start asking even more questions that TRAs damningly can’t answer. Eventually, trans allies will get tired of getting rage and accusations of bigotry instead of actual answers, and maybe then they’ll finally realize they’re better off leaving and seeking out their own answers.

everything you've written is spot on, but i've seen this debate happen several times and inevitably the answer is just, "you're racist for even making this comparison." or, when terry crews (a Black man) made this comparison, "you're transphobic for even making this comparison." most liberals are so scared of being labeled as either that they will simply back down rather than demand a reason why it's supposedly racist/transphobic, and that's what transactivists are really counting on. that's kind of their entire game plan. they need to make it so everyone is so terrified of being labeled transphobic that they don't dare ask any questions let alone criticize the ideology.

[lavendertales]

Temptation - Javier Peña x f!reader**

Chapter 9 of the Unholy series

summary: Javier finally cracks the mystery surrounding your father’s demise. But breaking the news to you turns out to be hard.

word count: 3k

WARNINGS: semi-public action, blowjob, tension.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @cindymooons​ 

series masterlist | AO3

As usual, Javier wakes up alone. He knows that you did not expect him to spend the night, nor would you have wanted him to. Javier is too set in his own lonesome ways to care about having another human being infiltrate his personal space, and so are you.

Yet he cannot deny that this morning, he does feel lonely. For the first time in who knows how long, he feels lonely in that bed.

Once or twice he woke up with some of his former flings, but they made themselves scarce before the sun was up in the sky. He liked it that way. It was peaceful, an easy transaction and a passionate exchange of fluids. Yet this morning, he feels lonely.

But he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on all of the dark thoughts swimming at the back of his head. He has work to do.

He does his usual morning routine, ignoring the ache from his cock, still sore, and the subsequent memories that it carries along.

But it’s so damn difficult to bury them. He can’t just bury the lingering memory of the harsh, yet tender grip he’d had over your flesh, its pillowy warmth spilling in between his fingers, or the way he buried himself inside you to the hilt, taking you however he could.

Six times. Six times he’s made you fall apart on his tongue and on his cock. Needless to say, Javier feels sore this morning, though he cannot say this time that all of his needs have been sated, which is ridiculous to think about.

Physically speaking, yes, he is beyond satisfied. But, in an odd turn of events, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Like sex doesn’t scratch the basic itch. Like he requires something more to add to that fulfilment.

What he does know with certainty is that he admitted to you that he was jealous, and that he railed you into near oblivion last night because he wanted to be with you.

It’s bullshit.

It’s not just a means to an end.

I’ve never seen in anyone’s eyes what I see in yours.

You feel really good.

He has to stop dwelling on those words before they physically choke him out.

Besides, he’d much rather do that to you.

God, stop it. Stop, stop, stop it. Stop this fucking madness.

If I don’t end this now and go back to being strictly professional, I’m so fucked.

He has work to do. He has to focus on that.

So he dresses up, drinks the dreadful instant coffee he’d made a few minutes prior, and rushes into the embassy. He faintly listens to whatever angered speech Wysession has for him, whatever shenanigans Steve throws at him, and dives straight into work. He does his best to keep it confidential since it falls below the “official” label.

No one noticed him taking those folders out of their dusty shelf. Why would they? After cases have been cataloged, chances are no one will even remember or give a damn about the poor civilians who lost their lives for Escobar’s drug war.

He sits comfortably in his chair, browsing the files. Once upon a time, the pictures of the bodies might’ve triggered some uncomfortable reactions out of him, but not anymore. He looks at them with an impenetrable coldness; his eyes glaze over every word with utmost attention. He doesn’t have much to go on except a name, but it’ll do.

“Hey, Jav, a hand?”

Steve’s voice coos next to him, but it irritates. Javier looks up and sees his partner setting up his desk with plenty of boxes. Huffing, he puts the folder away, careful not to reveal it.

“How the hell did you manage to collect so much shit?” he asks Steve.

“It’s not mine, jackass. These are case files. Escobar’s victims.”

“Light reading, huh?”

Steve chuckles, arranging his desk to the best of abilities. When he hears Javier sigh, he looks up. “What?” he questions.

“Seriously, in front of me? I don’t spend enough time looking at your face?”

“Thanks, I’m flattered.”

Steve takes notice of the crusty folder in Javier’s hands, as well as his focused expression.

“What you got there?”

“Case file.”

Steve knows better than to put pressure on him, so he drops it. At least verbally. His eyes glance once in a while over at Javier, almost as if searching for a change on his face. But his partner remains ever the impassible, steel hard man.

Who could blame Javier? With all the changes going on in Colombia, and in the embassy, everyone’s patience was stretched thin. Compassion was almost nowhere to be found, and happiness much less so. All the agents were running on caffeine, cigarettes and a sole desire to catch the most prolific drug dealer. Some even used hatred as either coping mechanism or fuel to their fire. In any case, times were tougher than ever, and it showed.

Javier reads dutifully, ignoring everyone and everything. He’s trying to find a conclusion, some sort of clarification that would explain what happened. It couldn’t have been impossible. The name was right there in ink, there had to be something—

Hang on.

That’s my signature.

At the bottom of the report stands, indeed, Javier’s rushed signature. He had signed the report. Which means he was the one in charge of this case and subsequently, the file. Which means—

I know who he is.

I know what happened to him.

“No,” Javier murmurs after a while. “Fuck.”

Steve lifts his eyes from his desk and notices a pale, almost sickly looking Javier staring at the folder in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” Steve checks. “Jav. Hey.”

But Javier doesn’t respond. He’s speechless, utterly disarmed by the conclusion he reaches.

With cold, heavy hands, he stands up, stuffing the folder in his jacket. He tunes out the rest, even Steve’s increasingly desperate calls of his name. In this moment, he craves a cigarette. A cigarette, a drink, and you.

But when he does see you outside, smoking and chatting with Sofia, all color drains from his skin, and he swallows harshly around the massive stone newly formed in his throat.

Guilt.

Shame.

And most recent, pain.

Sleep eluded Javier.

Two days later, he feels exhausted, unable to consume anything. Every time he’s made eye contact with you, his stomach twisted itself into an agonizingly tight knot and he felt sick. He avoided you like the plague, leaving you to wonder and speculate about the possible reasons why he’d voluntarily back out of a good old bickering.

After four days, even you became worried.

Especially when he dropped by your desk specifically, gulping and wearing an undeniable countenance of guilt.

“Could you leave us a minute, Sofia?” he asks.

Surprised, Sofia nods and leaves you two.

“Isn’t this an interesting turn of events?” you smile wickedly.

Normally Javier would make some sly comment or even go as far as to say how much he’d like to wipe that smile off your face in the unholiest ways, but right now, he feels too gutted to do any of that.

“Javier Peña, looking absolutely defeated, groveling right in front of me,” you say.

Your tone is cocky and oddly proud, a stark contrast with Javier’s mood.

“I guess you heard the news then,” you continue.

Javier frowns, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh. Well then, I guess I can still have the pleasure of saying it right to your face. I got intel that Blackie and his personally operated mini gang will be at some sleazy bar downtown this weekend, so we’re planning an undercover mission and raid for that.”

You stand up, approaching him with a big, proud smile on your face. For a fleeting moment, Javier can soak up the image and his heart swells in his chest. He forgets the temporary pain and shame, and all he sees is your happiness, your pride in knowing you made great progress in the case.

“Oh, and there’s more!” you keep going, unable to contain your excitement. “La Quica blabbed, revealing some personal information about Pablo, which means that—“

“You win.”

In your happiness, you manage to notice his petrified stance, reflecting nothing more but that. Cold stone. Not even anger, or disappointment, nothing of the sort.

“Not even gonna fight back or anything?”

“You win,” Javier repeats, seemingly in a trance.

“What?” you ask slyly, needing to hear the words come out of his mouth.

“Everything.”

You furrow your brows, feeling more puzzled than ecstatic.

“What’s up with you? You look sickly.”

Javier opens his mouth, yet nothing comes out. Not a word, not a sound.

“Wait, if you didn’t know about this, then what did you came here to tell me?”

He fails to speak once more, heart aching at the mere thought. How can he disclose such sensitive information to you in the middle of your proudest moment so far? It is an incredible achievement and progress, and he cannot take that away from you.

It’s not the time.

She’s so happy and cocky about it.

“Congrats,” he clears his throat. “It’s good work.”

“Good? Try great.”

Javier lowers his head in the ground, indirectly divulging more than defeat.

Shame.

Guilt.

Then he hears you huff, and he sees you moving closer to him in an unexpected turn of events. He hasn’t been this close to you in the office’s open space and he feels nervous, even nauseous to some extent.

“I will admit, you did help,” you whisper to him.

Javier shivers when your warm breath touches his earlobe, your eyes staring deep into his soul and way past his earthly confinements.

“How?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“Well, your last stakeout gave us the last known location of Blackie, and when I interrogated La Quica, I questioned him about it. He confessed it’s true, and told us where he’ll most likely be next.”

“Oh.”

He gulps. The more he stares at you, the more he feels his skin burn again, an unquenchable thirst consuming him from inside out.

But he can’t. There’s too much guilt, too much he has to repent for.

“Look, I wanted to tell you—I found something—“

“I know. It was useful, as much as I hate saying it. So… thank you. I guess.”

“Okay, that’s not what I wanted to say.”

“You know, just this once, I’m feeling very appreciative and generous.”

Javier pulls away, gulping yet again and staring at you bewildered, already ruined and broken down in a million and one pieces.

“What do you mean?” he asks, suddenly feeling very exposed.

“I mean, I am having a very good day, which is a premiere, and I am feeling grateful for the little help you gave towards me and this win of mine, so I’d like to do something nice for you.”

“Well that’s unheard of.”

You smile insultingly. “Don’t get used to it.”

You walk ahead, leaving a dumbfounded Javier behind. Then, you turn to give him a suggestive glare, and he trails suit. He’s not sure where you or his legs are taking him, but all he knows is that he has to follow you. All he knows is that if you want him to do something, he’ll do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

He has never known a greater danger than that.

His heart stops when you both reach the evidence room. You take a quick scan around, making sure no one sees you get in, and you rush to shut the door behind you. You stare at him with the same lustful glare from whenever you’ve shared your sins, and Javier is weak.

“We can’t,” he mutters, failing to believe his own words.

“Didn’t stop you when you ate me out in this very room.”

Fuck, he does not need that memory back into his mind, not now. But you’re all about being fair and square, and if he’s thinking what you’re thinking, he is so screwed.

So fucking screwed.

“I figured I’d return the favor,” you clarify.

There’s no more saliva in his mouth and no air to be propelled in his lungs.

“Unless you don’t want me to, in which case, I won’t do a damn thing.”

He’s exasperated and tired and stressed and thinking about that gives him a headache and an erection. He’s a loser in that game.

“Now you’re talking crazy,” Javier tries to joke.

“So is that okay? Is that something you’d—“

“Are you asking me if I want you to fuckin’—blow me? Please. I just—“

You smirk, approaching him again and thus causing him to lose his words again. Javier’s heart threatens to burst out of his chest completely, but, to his shock, you choose to kiss him first.

It’s not sloppy and rushed, not really; it’s more tender and wet, deep and passionate in a sense, like you are finally taking your time in exploring each other’s mouths, and it’s oh so heavenly. You cup his face, pulling him close to you, and he reciprocates in an instant, his own hands going to your waist and remaining there. He’s never thought about how intoxicating it feels to simply kiss you, to have you close to him.

But then, one of your hands drops to his nether area and starts palming him through his dress pants, and Javier groans. He groans even louder into the kiss as you subtly push him into the shelves, your free hand working against his belt.

After a few more torturous seconds, you decide you need both hands, so you break the kiss and remove his belt and unbutton his pants right under Javier’s blown out eyes. His breaths are ragged and out of control already, and you’ve only just kissed him. He knows deep down that he shouldn’t be doing this, not now when his conscience weighs heavily on him, but it feels too good to stop now.

And when he sees you on his knees before him, curling your hand around his cock and starting to jerk him off, he’s fucking gone.

“F-fuck,” he grunts, forcing himself to stay as quiet as possible.

“Shhh,” you coax him sweetly, teasing the tip of his cock, using a combination of your thumb and your tongue.

His hand instinctively goes to grab a handful of your hair, the other holding onto one of the shelves. A regrettable word leaves his mouth next: your name. He hears it, and you do too, but it only determines you more. You stroke the base of his cock, the rest lathering in saliva and sucking attentively, as if it’s the most important task. And perhaps right now, it is.

Javier closes his eyes, consumed by one too many feelings to be even mentioned, indulging into the forbidden moment. What was another sin to add to the list, after all? And there’s none more delicious than you, no other torture sweeter or more desirable.

When he makes the mistake of opening his eyes and looking down, his eyes find yours, and he nearly shatters right then. He’s probably not going to last long anyway, but the mere eye contact is deadly enough to make his insides burn and his body crave yours all over again.

“You’re so—fucking good, Christ…” he can barely say those words as it is.

The feeling of his cock in your warm mouth, licking expertly at the right time, is explosive, and your name staining his lips, a longing desire. In this moment, he’s powerless, a pawn at your will.

“Why are you doing this, fuckin’ hell—“

He smirks, long gone past the edges of sanity, and tugs on your hair to make you attentive.

“Oh yeah, you can’t talk with your mouth full,” he teases.

That’s the Javier I know, you think in some sort of bliss yourself.

You retaliate by deep throating him, as much as you can, and you’re beyond delighted when Javier grunts, the sound serving as warning. But you don’t care: you keep sucking him off as hard and as deep as you possibly can.

That is, until Javier pulls you away, staring at you with darkened eyes. He wraps his own hand around the base of his cock, the other on your jaw.

“Open your fucking mouth, now,” he barely gets out as he strokes himself to completion.

You follow the instruction, eyes locked with his and mouth waiting for the treat it’s about to receive.

Sure enough, seconds later, Javier’s face is scrunched in inevitable ecstasy, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he messily spills his cum over your lips and jaw. The feeling empties him completely, leaves him in shambles, and he knows it does no good for his mental state. But it was also craved, notoriously needed.

While Javier wrestles his conscience and inner demons, his breaths slowly return to normal. He watches you stand back up, cheekily removing the excess arousal from your jaw with your index and taking it to your mouth, sucking slowly.

All while staring right at Javier.

“You’re welcome,” you say smugly.

He doesn’t have any clever remark. Not now, not anymore. He’s told you what you need to know: you won everything.

You won the bet, the case, and him.

And Javier was the sore, bitter loser, with nothing more but a heavy conscience and unrequited feelings.

previous | next 

[the-genderflux-experience]

What it means to be genderflux (and how it's different from genderfluid)

The main difference between genderflux and genderfluid is that people who identify as genderfluid typically fluctuate between genders and focus more on that feeling of changing genders, while genderflux people feel the intensity of xir gender(s) change more and focus on that experience as opposed to the genders themselves changing.

Genderflux is generally considered as being under the genderfluid, nonbinary, and trans umbrellas, though genderflux people may or may not identify with those terms.

Genderflux people are typically fluid between xir gender(s) and agender, meaning sometimes xe experience xir gender(s) very intensely, and sometimes not at all.

A genderflux person can experience gender fluctuations between any genders, whether that be the binary genders or nonbinary genders.

An interesting thing I noticed while researching the differences between genderflux and genderfluid was this:

Which basically just says genderfluid is an identity more focused on the expression of gender and extreme expression, while genderflux is more focused on a feeling.

As far as that's concerned, I think that's for people who use the labels to decide themselves, but I think it's an interesting take, and something I have noticed personally and around me.

In general I have seen genderfluid people being very passionate about how xe present, but as a genderflux myself I never feel too much need to express anything except the masculine parts of my identity, and overall I haven't heard many genderflux people talk about presentation as much as genderfluid people do.

But the thing to remember with the labels genderfluid and genderflux (or any lgbtq+ labels for that matter) is this: the labels are what you make them, and not a stereotype to conform to. Whether you identify as genderfluid, genderflux, trans, nonbinary, or something else, just use what labels are comfortable for you, and make the labels be a form of expression without gatekeeping them from others or having them restrict you. You are not "not genderfluid enough" or "not genderflux enough". If you feel comfortable with the terms and feel they describe you, go right on ahead and use them!

That's all, just an info dump of things I'm learning about these labels, and things I hope will be helpful, fun, informative, or all of those. Thanks for reading all of that! Remember that you're an awesome human being, no matter how you identify or present.

(Also I'm practicing with xe/xem pronouns too, please correct me if I used them incorrectly.)

[handsofdarkness]

WITHIN TEMPTATION To Release New Single, 'A Fool's Parade'

Dutch metallers WITHIN TEMPTATION will release a new single, "A Fool's Parade", on April 5. The track features a guest appearance by the Ukrainian alt-rock/metalcore artist Alex Yarmak, who has been steadily growing his fanbase since 2021.

In a fall 2023 interview with Metal Kaoz, WITHIN TEMPTATION singer Sharon Den Adel spoke about the band's decision to release its latest album, "Bleed Out", independently, having parted ways with the Vertigo label. She said: "I did this participation with [Dutch trance DJ] Armin Van Buuren once — I wrote a song together with him — so we tasted a little bit of the dance music and we saw that they were doing things so differently, knowing him, knowing the scene and starting to watch what they were doing. They were actually just doing it so not traditionally, as in rock music is known for and metal music. So they are way more fluid in when they can release something. They say, 'Oh, I'm gonna write a song and I'm gonna release it two weeks from now.' They can do that. It's because they think differently and it's a different ballgame. And we felt, like, 'Why aren't we doing that? Why are we always restricted to writing a complete album? And then writing certain songs that you feel are essential or in the moment that you have to release now, because if it ends up on the album, three years later, everybody has talked about it; it's not important anymore.' And they're, like, 'Oh my God. Are they still talking about that? That was three years ago.' That really feels stupid to me. And so we told the record company, 'Can we please just release some songs? Because the album's not going to be out there yet, and we're going on tour with EVANESCENCE. And they said, 'No. We can't do that, because we're traditional. We don't know how to cope with that different way of releasing.' And they still had an option for a new album. And we said, 'Well, then we would like to break up the contracts and go our own way.' And they said, 'Well, maybe you should, because we don't see how we can do this with you.' And we were happy they let us go."

She continued: "[2019's] 'Resist' [album from WITHIN TEMPTATION] was very successful for [the record label], but still, I think that they would not have had happy campers in their company with us [being around]. [Laughs] We're not the easiest maybe also. But in the end, it was the best way and I'm really happy it went the way it is. And it gave us the opportunity to do it our own way. On the other hand, it is more work, because we have to hire now people to do the job that a record company normally does. And you have to think about budgets and stuff like that. Who are you gonna do interviews with? How many interviews? Organize press agents all over. It's, like, oh my God. It's a company on its own. But, luckily, we have a management that does take most of that away. Of course, we have to come up with the ideas and give the goals and everything, but they work it out for us. And so we are not involved in that part, because it takes so much energy away from writing music and being creative, of course, which, you as an artist, never want to [deal with]. You just want to [be], like, 'They do that.' And I'm so happy they do that, because they're good at it. And I don't wanna do this. But then, now it's forced upon us again to do those things as well. And it gives you more freedom, and that's what we wanted."

"Bleed Out" signifies a bold leap forward for the band. From contemporary, hard-hitting, and djenty riffs to soaring melodies displaying their symphonic roots, WITHIN TEMPTATION has created a sonic journey that fuses diverse musical styles and thought-provoking themes. This is an album that is as epic as it is unflinchingly outspoken, and now more than ever, this is a band who isn't afraid to make a stand on issues the members care about.

Since the start of the war in Ukraine, WITHIN TEMPTATION have shifted their focus from writing about personal emotions and societal subjects to tackling global injustices and reflecting the tumultuous state of the world in a way that other artists seem unable or unwilling to do.

While songs such as "Wireless" and "We Go To War" examine the authoritarian aggression on display in Ukraine and other warzones, the title track itself addresses the plight of women fighting for their rights in Iran after the murder of Mahsa Amini.

The album also grapples with the complex issues around a woman's right to choose in recent single "Don't Pray For Me" and throughout, this impassioned and political focus is reflected in the intensity and heaviness of the music. Embracing a new era of musical exploration and lyrical depth, WITHIN TEMPTATION have pushed boundaries and showcased their artistic evolution, delivering a fist-in-the-air proclamation of both their moral convictions and their fearless approach to music.