#and am only now properly realising i am trans?

[officialspec]

can you pleeeeease post your dm sexuality/gender hcs on here.... 🥺 i don't have a twitter but i wanna know. it's like a pandora's box to me now i'm like scratching at the door. let me in

heres the link 2 the thread (mild spoilers btw) ill post a transcript under the cut for ppl who dont have twitter

first off i think laios relationship to sex is super removed for like 50 reasons without even getting into his actual sexuality

he grew up in a place with very repressed ideas about sex and has a lot of fear about asserting his presence in situations

his special interest takes precedent over any social interactions he has and the level of closeness he feels towards people

he has a hard time figuring out his feelings towards other people both bc hes autistic and bc he has freaky deviantart fetishes that make sex in his mind a very abstract concept <- this one is me projecting mostly

that aside, i feel like gender-wise hes attracted to ppl so infrequently it may as well be entirely case-by-case

the idea of him being gay appeals to me from the 'raised with traditional values he Does Not fit into/hasnt begun to question it yet' perspective, i lauve characters who put a lot of stock into performing a role thats expected of them and fail miserably for unknown (gay) reasons

from his perspective tho i dont think he would ever really label himself anything. hes going to pride parades in the shirt+shorts Ally Fit to clap for his friends

hes also 'cis by indifference' imo... i love tmasc laios hcs it just doesnt mesh w his personal history to me. i do think hes got some kind of therian gender thing going on (not trans or nb but a secret third thing) but i cant see him changing anything abt his appearance/pronouns to accommodate that post-canon. hes just doin his thang

falin is in a similar boat for gender. i LOOVE tfem falin but the village repression thing has been bugging at me so i dont think i subscribe to it anymore (canon purist sorry) BUT if u hold that hc i am clapping and cheering regardless

instead i was propagandised to a while back and i LOVEEE the idea that being fused w a male dragon and the residual traits she has after being revived have given her a type of gender euphoria she didnt realise she was missing. a little boygirl swagger if u will

sexuality-wise i also dont think she would care to label herself, shes a lesbian by virtue of only being interested in One woman and zero other people. without marcille i do think shes still exclusively attracted to women, and i like to imagine she might experiment around a bit during her travels post-canon (pre-relationship). hearing abt it might put marcille on the news though

marcille is very simple That is a transfem lesbian. she cant get pregnant, shes obsessed w being femme and all that combined w her half-tallman struggles to be seen as 'properly feminine' by elf standards reads very transfeminine to Me. also her bookboy crush REEKS of comphet its not subtle

i think a more comfortable marcy might have the space to experiment w being elf butch like her manga boys but thats mainly self indulgence for me. utena could have saved her

senshi is gay his whole thing is abt not being able to perform dwarven masculinity to a proper standard (soft hearted, not as strong or rugged as his peers) which is like gaycoding 101. also hes a bear. homosexuality be damned by boy can work a grill

adding onto this i rly think senshi got some type of euphoria from being an elf in the changeling chapters. he was feeling himself so much i think he was using it as an outlet to have fun being a little fem and fruity without needing to justify it. do u understand

i dont have any particular opinions abt him gender-wise beyond that. his bulge is an essential part of his character design but i also saw a transmasc senshi a couple days ago that made me nod my head thoughtfully so i could go either way

chilchuck is cis and bisexual this is just canon. not even just his old man crush on senshi altho i do think thats very funny but they put his ass on a cover themed like hes in a dating sim with all the men and women in the cast and then slapped it in front of a chapter called "bicorn". i simply cant pass up that kind of overt signaling. its so fucking funny what else is there to say truly

izu to ME is a transmasc aroace lesbian (this one has the least basis in canon i just know it to be true) shes a little genderfluid with it nd uses he/she i think. i like to imagine she consistently uses masculine personal pronouns to refer to herself either way tho (boku, ore)

i think izutsumis gender/sexuality is entirely secondary in priorities to her body dysphoria. she has a lot of learning and acceptance 2 do before that kind of self discovery is on the docket and in my mind eschewing gender on some level is part of that. get sillay

shuro is cishet but at least he feels bad about it. next listen listen to me i dont think he would ever actually examine this but i need u to put on ur tin foil hat with me for one second. i think estrogen could have saved her. i have more thoughts on this but im not gonna propagandise too much on this post just know that im right

kabru is a transmasc bisexual this is also practically text. his whole thing of being treated like a doll by milsiril to put in pretty dresses, plus i think it would be pretty easy for him to stealth in the west since tallmen are seen as inherently more masculine than elves

(i also think changing genders is just more common for elves. theyre androgynous enough that it wouldnt be hard and like who in their right miiiiind would be the same gender for 500 years. dwarves too)

i think he started presenting as male socially in the west but didnt need to consider medical transition until he moved to a more mixed culture where other races might see him as a woman

i dont have to explain the bisexual part. have u seen him

namari is a butch bisexual this is just canon straight up. shes not transmasc but i think the default settings for dwarven women is like 4 years of T regardless. shes a hit at all the local cruising spots despite her renfaire nerdisms i know this

and just bc im thinking abt em kiki and kaka are identical and kiki is tfem :} theyre both attracted to women but kaka is a sub so i forgive him

THATS ALL 4 NOW theres a lot of characters so i cant have thoughts abt all of them at once but i hope this was good. im right about everything forever as per usual

[audhdbuck]

fic requests you say? where's bongo cat.

anyway i'm throwing my hat in the ring and ask for trans!mickey after too surgery (and ian taking care of him, because mickey is being a little stupid and tries to do everything himself).

not sure that's what you're asking for but it's what came to mind.

(also, can you imagine trans!mickey realising he has an excuse to wear his hawaiian shirts now and also when he realises he can just leave them open now because his chest his flat. i am experiencing emotions.)

this got longer than needed, anyway, love ya, bud, hope YOUR recovery goes well!

nosho!!!! when i say i am in love with this prompt...

this also ended up being a little longer than planned so uh. oops? or you're welcome.

----------

“C’mon, let me-”

“I got it, Ian!” Mickey huffs.

It’s been two weeks since Mickey’s top surgery, and much to Ian’s dismay, is trying to do everything himself. Stubborn-ass, Ian calls him. Currently, Mickey is trying to reach for a coffee mug in their cabinet.

“Mickey, you could tear your incisions. Please, just let me do this one thing for you. I’ll let you make the coffee, but the doc said no reaching for a few weeks. Please.”

Begrudgingly, Mickey relents. 

“Fuckin’- fine. I hate this.” Mickey says with a sigh.

“I know,” Ian says softly, grabbing Mickey’s favorite mug from the shelf and setting it on the counter, “but if you want to heal properly, you’ve gotta listen to the doctor.”

“Feel so… useless and shit. Can’t even get a stupid coffee cup. Feels like I can’t do anything, man. Just wanna be done with this shit.”

“It’s only a few more weeks, you’ll make it, I promise. You’ve made it this far, you did such a big thing, and the payoff will be so fucking worth it.” Ian tells him, reaching to rub Mickey’s back gently. 

“Yeah, guess you’re right. Just tired of bein’ in bed all the time and cooped up like this.”

Mickey leans into Ian’s touch for a moment, then grabs a coffee pod to put in their new Keurig coffee maker. He pops it into the top of the machine and sets the mug underneath the brewer before pressing the brew button. Soon, the comforting scent of coffee fills the air. 

“Can I grab the milk for you, your highness?” Ian asks with a small smirk. 

“Fuck off, man. Fine.” Mickey retorts, a small smile in return to assure Ian he’s not actually mad.

“Hey, don’t forget, you get those annoying bandages off later today. I think you’ll feel a lot better,” Ian tells him, pouring the milk into Mickey’s coffee.

Mickey glances down at his chest, smoothing one hand down it and smiling a bit to himself. 

“Can’t believe I finally did it,” he says in a whisper. “Felt impossible, y’know?”

Ian softens at that. 

“You made it, Mickey. And I am so fucking proud of you. I love you.”

“Love you too, sap,” Mickey says, leaning over to give Ian a peck on the lips.

*******

Mickey can’t believe it. He stands in front of the mirror at the doctor’s office, seeing his unbandaged chest for the first time. The scars are still red and pronounced, but the doctor assures him that over time and with proper scar care, they’ll heal up nicely, and may even fade. A permanent reminder of how far he’s come, and the feeling of freedom is overwhelming. Tears start to form, but he rubs at his eyes to keep them from falling. 

“Holy fuck,” he says on an exhale. “It’s… that’s fuckin’ me.”

The doctor smiles, and gives Mickey and Ian a rundown of scar care, and leaves the room to give the two of them a moment together.

“You did it, Mick. I am so proud of you for doing this.”

“I - fuck.”

Before he can get too overwhelmed, Mickey reaches for his shirt and carefully pulls it on, turning to Ian. He leans into him, wrapping his arms gently around Ian’s waist, burying his face into Ian’s shoulder. Ian hugs him back, rubbing up and down his back.

“C’mon, let’s go. Let’s go get you something to celebrate. I’m thinkin’ milkshakes. What do you say?”

Mickey huffs a laugh, and nods against Ian’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

*****

Six months later finds Ian and Mickey at the shores of Lake Michigan, the two of them lounging in beach chairs. Ian shirtless, Mickey with an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt (that he definitely did not steal from the laundry room in their apartment complex). Content smiles on both their faces, hands clasped together between the two chairs. Years ago this seemed unfathomable to Mickey, laying side by side with someone who’s loved him unconditionally throughout everything, who’s been by his side through thick and thin. Let alone, laying (mostly) shirtless on a beach with that same man, watching as the sun reflects on matching silver bands on their fingers. 

“Didja ever think we’d make it here?” Mickey whispers.

“Always.” Ian says with a squeeze to Mickey’s hand.

[notquitedeadpod]

Today Not Quite Dead turns 365 days old!

A little over a year ago, feeling very disheartened and a little depressed, I decided to take the story about vampires I'd been piddling away with in the background of making Spirit Box Radio and turn it into a single narrator audio drama.

When I did that, I came up with a bunch of anti-rules:

I'd only work on episodes when I felt like it would be fun to do so

I'd make decisions about the story based on what was most emotional to me in the moment, rather than letting myself get stuck in the process of writing something with very restrictive plot goals

If I wasn't asking myself if I'd gone too far at the end of every episode's writing process, I wasn't going far enough

And so, the show was born.

This approach is radically different than pretty much every other writing project I've completed, and that's by design. At the time I started making NQD, I'd faced a pretty big set back with SBR and was struggling to work on it at all. I had a very clear vision for the show which at times made writing it very challenging and restrictive as an experience, and when I was faced with altering that vision, though I'm now convinced it worked out better that way anyway in hindsight, it was really difficult. It made me really rethink my entire approach to working on audio drama.

Writing NQD this radically different way was really good for me. I felt excited and giggly most episodes, and it was the first time I started to feel partially confident about my vocal performances. I noticed it was having a positive impact not just on my relationship with the writing on SBR, but how I felt about its quality overall. By working on something so different that required such a different energy, I came to value SBR more, and by the end of the show's run, I was in love with it the way I was at the beginning.

There's also the fact that I absolutely LOVE vampires. I always have. They're my favourite horror monsters, for reasons which are probably obvious to those of you who have listened to the show. They are almost indistinguishable from humans at a glance, they can live among us undetected, for the most part, but they are NOT human. They're different in importnat and unresolveable ways. As someone who has always struggled to fit in, this has forever resonated with me, and for most of my adult life, I've had an unserious vampire project or two being whittled away at in the background.

There were also some problems with how I wrote season one. NONE of the dates, times or ages lined up properly, and I frequently found I'd written myself into very boring, unfunny plot corners I'd have to spend a lot of time reasoning my way out of, which is no fun at all.

Something interesting, but not really good OR bad, is that LOTS of people found the show felt very trans to them, though none of the characters are transgender in canon. I'd not written the show this way intentionally, but it was very cool to see that other people had found this thematic thread buried in the story.

By the time I got to the end of Season One, I had to admit to myself that despite my best intentions, I had written a show with plot and themes. This was entirely an accident, but I was pretty happy to realise it. I also found that this show, something I'd written primarily for myself, had a real audience. This was a delightful thing to realise. You're all freaks, and I adore that for you, and I hope you're incredibly proud of yourselves, and I mean this entirely seriously. I am a freak too, otherwise I would not be able to write the show at all.

Anyway. We're over halfway through Season Two now, and my approach to the show has changed quite a lot. Though it has remained a project that is predominantly vibes-led, I've also found it exciting to spend some serious time thinking about the show's arcs and future and really indulging in making it As Much As Possible. As you will see over the next several episodes, that is So Much, actually.

On this year's first anniversary of Not Quite Dead, I find myself once again disheartened and depressed, because it's the slow slide into the long nights of winter, and as much as I love the cold and the dark, I struggle with my mental health year-round and this particular change of seasons is the one I feel is the hardest. But I'm also damned proud of this show, and not despite it's silliness, but BECAUSE of it. It's made me a stronger character writer, a better performer, and it's been a disgusting amount of fun.

Here's to another year of this ridiculous show about vampires.

Live. Laugh. Bite.

[ohmytamara]

This post, if ever finished, will have potential triggers: mentions of transness, mysogyny and submissivness tied together into impossible knot I am still untangling.

I happen to be wee bit older than most of you, and grown up on eastern fringes of humorously so called western world, not originally english speaking, in broken family where any sex talk was repressed. For all these reasons I was already adult when I figured out being trans is a possibility, and even older when I realised I'm one. Our sex ed was non existent and our internet was shitty. Way before any social medias mind you, for all good and bad it brings, it brings similar people together. There were no similar people for me.

On other hand, many years before my egg cracked I already knew I'm masochist. Like, my first ever wet dream was about kidnapping. Of course, there could have been signs for both. Like, more or less at the same time I became equally interested with how will my mum's tights feel on my legs, and with how will that hammer from tool drawer feel tied to a string, tied to clothspins, hanging heavy from my nipples. Both felt amazing btw. Yeah there were signs my future sex life will be complicated.

Complicated all in all meant: I did not have orgasm until I was 22. Like, my genitals were so alien to me I could not jerk it properly until I was adult. I did not, as they define it for boys and men, "lose" my virginity until I was far into my twenties. And as much as I loved woman I was with, I swear, fucking her with tool she wanted was not pleasure. Her reactions were. But as for me, I might as well wear a strap.

I kept looking for what I like. Turns out I might have went all way around. Back as a teenager I kept searching (was it googling already? not sure) for 'bdsm' and whole new world showed to me. Took inspirations. I tied my knees, I hurt my nipples, spanked myself all it was fresh and glorious. Still it took me time to admit to myself that yes, I identify with subs in these scenarios. Still then I could not get over the fact that subs I watch happen to also be women. Took me next many years to finally admit that yes and I'm ok with that.

Following years were spent on untangling submissiveness and femininity. In my situation I just could not accept they are same and it took time to admit they can be circumstantial. Only when I worked through and could say confidently that I am not drawn to femininity because it's submissive. I am drawn to feminity AND I am submissive. These two things exist in me and both are real and while they can interact, they are not interdependent.

So now this is, apart from my trauma stuff, is what I'm working through with my therapy.

[walkingstackofbooks]

DS9 4x06 Starship Down thoughts (I’m re-watching, so beware spoilers for future episodes!)

[29 June '23]

Dax and Kira both rolling their eyes at Worf's "this is unacceptable" grumbles - same, ladies

"I'm fasting." Oh, interesting! Love an unexpected tidbit of Bajoran culture

"It's the anniversary of the Emissary's arrival." Oh

"Benjamin's never been one for ceremonies..." you don't say XD

Dax and Kira working side by side so much :3

"I made the mistake of letting my brother Rom execute these contracts." Rom is always the scapegoat, oh Quark. At least you're consistent XD

OH, THIS IS THE ONE WHERE THEY HAVE TO DISPOSE A BOMB!

"You cheated me, Quark, and you haven't even have the courage to admit it." Nice, I like this guy

I remember very little of this, actually! It's always fun to come into an episode not remembering much

"How long?" "Twenty minutes." "You've got ten." O'Brien's sigh... he sure does Have A Job

Julian pushing doors open like he's strong or something :P

Ohhhh, Sisko will think Dax and Bashir are dead 💔

"She did it." Oh, Kira's complete strickenness is heartbreaking

Quark's still trying to scheme... Of course

I can never see Quark's pink blue and white suit as anything but his trans pride suit XD

The fact Kira's eyes are still wet and Sisko is still so quiet and cut off. My heart.

"Something tells me they may be closer than you think." Good instincts! Only a little too late!

"Save your breath. I don't think there's anybody left alive up there." Gosh, this episode is hitting everyone hard.

I keep remembering what happens incrementally - now Kira's gonna keep Sisko alive by talking, right?

"It's very important that you listen to me, because there's gonna be a test later." Oh dear, Kira, you're doing your best and I love that this is your best <3

"Remind me to hold my breath next time." XD

"Is there anything else I should know?" "We only have a few hours of breathable air." "Thanks, anyway." XD Oh dear

"A year ago if you'd have done something like this, I would've thought you were just trying to be a hero." "And now?" "Now that I know you better I realise it was just a really stupid thing to do." I love these two so muchhhh. Her joke and his chuckle <3 <3 <3

Is Quark actually going to convince this guy to be more ferengi-like?

"They are not laid out properly." WORFFFFFFF. This is an emergency, things don't have to be perfect, just functional!!

Miles' uneasy look of I hope he doesn't say anything too bad that completely pisses off and disrespects my engineers

"What am I doing?" Oh, Kira <3

"Nerys?" !! I haven't got this far in my spreadsheet-data, but this is possibly the first time Sisko calls her by name??

And she responds "Yes, sir?" Going more formal the more informal he is!

The Federation mindset had so rubbed off on Quark - "It's up to us." Of course this is partly distrust that anyone will come and save them - but I think he's been influenced by hero-mindedness too

"If you don't mind my saying, Julian, that's a very strange fantasy." XD

Jadzia Julian friendship is the world to me tbh

Okay, I wasn't expecting Worf to actually take Miles' advice on board. Good for him!

"This can't happen. You can't die!" Oh, Kira. 

"I'm going to pray because I don't know what else to do." oh kira. Oh, Kira. This moment is so precious to me, I can't explain why. 

Oh boy, how is there SO MUCH going on in this episode that I had completely forgotten the Quark disabling a torpedo thing??

"I thought you said you never sold substandard merchandise. THis was supposed to explode on impact, wasn't it?" "Maybe I should offer them a refund." XD XD incredible

Their hysterical laughter to avoid thinking about their fear

"You just have to reach in.... and pick one!" JEEEEEZ QUARK WOW I KNEW IT WANT GONNA BLOW BUT STILL THAT WAS TERRIFYING

"Come on, Hanok. What do you say? You want to keep playing?" That was so flirty of you, Quark

The engineer's startlement at the bomb XD

"Just because one loses a bet, doesn't mean one gives up the game." Again, this was kinda flirty, no?

Odos pleased hm at Quark losing XD

What is wrong with Julian? "It's been nice.. talking... to you." That was not a human way of speaking 😅

"Thank you for rescuing me." "Now we're even." The second he takes to process that and then his outraged face! 

"Proceed at your discretion, Mr Stevens." Okay, this is nice :3 Worf gets character growth!

"Oh, you can do it in twelve." O'Brien dishing out the treatment he usually gets XD

SISKO'S GONNA ASK KIRA TO A BASEBALL GAME

AAAAH HIS HAPPY SMILE

HER HAPPY SMILE

THIS IS THE CUTEST

"NERYS" AGAIN!

I LOVE THAT HE JUST HAS SPARE HATS IN HIS OFFICE

FFFFFF SO CUTE SO CUTE I CANNOT

Okay, how on EARTH had I forgotten that episode so much??? It's incredible!!!!

[fatfables]

Lyle & Kyle

My thoughts on my favourite online fatties by Jason.

According to Mark Twain, “Denial is not just a river in Egypt.” And it’s not. It’s a ghost town in Arizona. Only it’s spelt Denile. Only that’s not true either. I just made that up. It sounds like it could be though. I can just imagine a lone gunman played by someone like Clint Eastwood or John Wayne standing outside the saloon in Denile, twelve noon, eighteen hundred and seventy three, staring down the barrel of a gun, aimed straight at them by a man in a black hat. “Fuck you,” Clint Wayne would spit at his dark refection, John Eastwood. Who would fire and miss. Though no one ever said, “fuck you” in a John Ford movie. But they would in Denile. People in denial always say “fuck you.” They can’t accept any self blame. Awareness is shameful.

My name is Jason. Jason Tile. A strange name for a strange guy. I am ADHD but not a bit aspergers. No matter what anyone else says. My intense interests are the Wild West, Egyptian history, and words that rhyme. I also use the Oxford comma. My obsession, though, is fat guys. Did you know that there’s a correlation, if not a direct causal relationship, between neuro-diversity and adipophilia? Adipophilia means a sexual attraction to fat people. I made that up as well. Not the meaning of adipophilia, that’s correct. I mean the correlation between neural-divergence and like gaining and feeding and all that stuff. I made that bit up. Though that doesn’t make it not true. I suspect that it may be true. I don’t think anyone has ever researched it properly. A lack of facts doesn’t disprove something, it means just that; that there is a lack of facts.

People who are into gaining tend not to like researchers and psychologists and the like. They seem to distrust them. They tend to ban them from their websites as if they don’t want to understand the reasons why they are like they are. I think that they think that I think that because they are worthy of study that there must be something wrong with them. But that’s their own bad. I think that they are scared of their own difference, and are afraid to admit it. 

Intersectionality becomes irrelevant when you’re a gainer because gaining goes against all social norms. It doesn’t matter if you’re hetero or homo-normative, black, white, yellow, arab, cis, or trans. Or even a cis-phobic pan-Arab, like say, Gamal Abdel Nasser in a dress. That man was ahead of his time. Isis would have approved. It’s not situational either. Time and place have no relevance in this equation. It may be linked to personality. That is state or trait. Maybe it's genetics? It may be because you have low self-esteem? Because Mommy didn’t love you enough? Or maybe, Daddy loved you too much? If you get what I mean? Like say if like, Uncle Bad Touch, loved you too hard? Now you get it. Sorry if that was insensitive.

Maybe it’s genetic? Maybe it really is your sexuality? Or maybe it’s a kink that you developed cos you happened to fall down that particular online rabbit hole? Sexuality is nature and kink is nurture. That’s what Daddy told me. Joke.

I’ve just read back over the last paragraph and realised that I mentioned Isis. I of course mean the Egyptian God and not the murderously insanely genocidal islamist cult. They didn’t approve of anything as far as I can tell. God knows what they did to the gainers? 

There must have been some gainers living under the Islamic State between 2015 and 2019? I mean they controlled an area containing like twelve million people. It must be a statistical certainty. Unless of course purposeful weight gain is caused by environmental factors? In which case being brought up in Hershey, Pennsylvania is more likely to cause you to bust a nut to a fat guy than like being born in like Fallujah is, right?

I hope no gainers suffered under the tyranny of the Islamic State. They have enough bullshit to deal with already. If I could do my Phd then I would like to study this. Not the islamic state thing, that would be impossible. I mean like the link between neuro-diversity, social normativity, and gainerism. But I can't because I’m still in high school.

Lyle and Kyle are from Carlisle. Not Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Which is just west of Harrisburg, 36.3 miles from Hershey if you take I-81. No, they are from Carlisle, Cumbria. Which is in the north of England.

Carlisle, Cumbria , is a shit hole. Not my opinion, but the opinion of the internet. I’ve never been there, obviously. I just looked it up. It looks miserable. The sort of place that the Islamic State wouldn’t bother with under the assumption that it was already fucked. No wonder they’ve chosen to eat themselves to death. I think that Osiris might live in Carlisle.

To the best of my knowledge Lyle and Kyle don't have any interest in the Wild West. Not even Spaghetti Westerns, despite their apparent love of pasta. They don’t seem to be very culturally aware and their names don't suit them. Too Americanised by far. It makes them sound like they are from Denile, or maybe Scottsdale.

Not that I’m saying that anyone called Kyle or Lyle, who happen to be from Scottsdale are culturally aware. Clearly not. Stereotypes exist for a reason. Those guys are still eating plain pepperoni and laughing their asses off to Borat DVD’s despite the fact that it’s 2024. Like they don’t understand what cultural superiority is. Because they don’t. As an American I’m offended by everything that Sacha Baron Cohen ever did, and rightly so. Fuck that guy. Wayne Eastwood should shoot him in the balls. And I don’t mean secretly from behind a side door, like in, The Man that Shot Liberty Valance. I mean straight in his fucking face like some damn bad ass nigga from Straight Outa Denial.

Anyway, back to Lyle and Kyle. I struggle to focus sometimes, unlike the eye of Horus. They lived in denial in Carlisle. In Cumbria. In the north of England. Close to the Scottish border. In a grey council house (grey is British English for gray). A council house means like a government subsidised house. Their names didn’t suit them. They should have been called something more like Derek and Clive. Their parents lived on welfare and hence so did they. Yet they were both fat as fuck, but that’s European socialism for you. Funding the gaining life through tax payer pounds or euros. Being fat may be an American lifestyle choice but in England it’s subsidised. McDonald’s ala socialism. A license to print money.

I found them on TikTok (at least that’s an indication of entrepreneurship, right?). They only had like a hundred followers but I like became addicted to them anyway. They wore terrible training clothes, despite the fact that they’ve clearly never even heard of a gym. Kind of like some people in the southern states do. Only worse. Elasticated waists are cheap and comfortable for the overweight class. They dance, provocatively, shaking their tracksuited fat asses. I love it. It never occurred to me to ask who was filming. With every clip they got fatter. I love it. I hope that Anubis will take care of them.

Anyway, here’s my poem, Mr Stanton (552 lbs). I hope you like it. I really want to get an A in English.

Lyle and Kyle lived in Denial

Though they came from Cumbria

Not from Arizona or Pennsylvania 

I don’t think they liked Westerns

Although they were like my best uns

They had appetites like Dionysus

Though they didn't work like the rest of us

Living in an un-American world of welfare

In later life they would’ve needed the free health care

(That the British state provides ‘um)

Time spent eating they liked to beguile

Sexy fat asses and bellies from Carlisle

Their innocence I would’ve liked to defile

Lyle and Kyle x

It’s not me but their Dad or uncle that should be on trial

I’m age appropriate so no complaint you need to file

It’s whoever laid them under the patio that’s the fucking peadophile

www.fatfables.com

[lillys-shadow]

Also

Ive been feeling pretty down lately.

I wrote an essay detailing a bunch of problems I've been having and how they've been fucking over my life for like the past three years. And I used DDLC to contextualize some of it, mainly because it was hugely influential in my ability to like think. emotionally. So when I send it to mother and her response is along the lines of "So... a game made you trans. Are you sure this isnt just an ADHD thing?" (which A. I have not been diagnosed for ADHD, she just has a hunch that I have it because my brother and father have it, and i have some of the characteristics commonly associated, and B. what the fuck, I just spilled the shit thats been affecting my mental health the worst and your response is "are you sure you didn't just make it up" what the actual fuck) not to mention I told her that I am trans (properly this time, instead of just going "oh hahah i have gender dysphoria thats why i wrote this entire vent piece E.P about how your attitude towards gender has fucked over my self worth" like that wasnt enough. Theres literally a song called "fault" literally saying its her fault I dont want to talk to her about things. And then "waltz of the night" which says things like "summer, what if you could die. summer, wouldnt be nice" played BACK TO BACK. And the first song being about how "summer" is just a placeholder for *me* but the gender fuckery has taken hold) and I told her I go by Lilly (she/her) I EVEN SAID THAT I WOULDN'T BE MAD IF SHE DIDN'T USE MY PROPER LABELS (mainly to soften the impact but whatever) AND SHE STILL RANTED ABOUT HOW ITS UnFaIr ThAt I bE sOmEoNe ShE dOeSnT kNoW mE aS.

And its just like, what do I even do here. So I tried to clarify the problems and she responds with "you had a bunch of contradictions, btw no amount of money could make you look like a woman" without telling me any of the supposed contradictions IF YOU HAD OF JUST TOLD ME THEM I WOULDVE CLARIFIED WHAT I MEANT OMG and acting as if passing trans women dont exist (I know passing shouldnt be the goal and its completely valid to not pass, I just want to for dysphoria reasons i guess, and I mentioned that we probably dont have the money to start HRT or a psychiatrist or to get any sort of surgery (which the latter I probably couldnt get anyway). And THEN she has the FUCKING AUDACITY to set the email to spam so I cant respond. And says "You will keep believing what you want to believe despite the evidence" (without citing a single FUCKING source of evidence, at least I quoted Judith Butler and Philosophy tube in my ramblings (I wasnt even trying to prove anything either, just that I shouldnt have to fight ma on how other people who are not her should refer to me if they tell me i need her approval)) and its like what do i even do at this point. So I shut up and just try to ignore her presence (which is really bloody hard because she and I were regularly really close). And she still hasnt brought it up, its been a goddamned week and Ive been home alone with her for three days in a row now. not a single word. I cant bring it up cause Im scared shell get mad or Ill say something incorrectly and shell use it as ammo to further fuck over my dysphoria. And Im not sure but Im like 60% sure she said something like "and then i realised, hes probably just faking it" which I shouldnt be mad about because A. im not even sure it was said B. I dont have any context C. it was said over the phone at 2am. But it was the day after I had sent it, I was absolutely fucked mentally. Like I know its not fair for me to be mad at her for, but nonetheless it still fucking hurts.

I mean not too long before (maybe a month or so) I literally thought "what if mum still thinks of me as a boy" and 3 hours later I have the worst cuts I had given myself. And now I know how it is, I know she does, and theres obviously nothing I can do. And certainly nothing I should do. And the only real emotional pillar I have had lately is my gf and I dont wanna vent too hard on her, I obviously want her to be happy (if youre reading this i love you <3), so ive felt kinda trapped idk. I swear to god the moment I turn 17 im buying a van and leaving, idrc about the specifics, just not here. (ill prolly back out of that before I turn 17 but i dont really give a fuck a girl can dream).

I gave her a quote of something she said, that was innocuous but had caused me a great deal of pain (she had told her friend that I wanted to go for "book week" as catnus everdeen because "I like attention" which was false, but also from her perspective she was talking about my goddamned whining persistance. But I took it as a judgement on the crossdressing I was dabbling in at the time (which catnus everdeen really wasnt lol but hey younger me was younger)) and her responce was "You took that out of context and youve written how it effected you in a cruel manor." and its like. THAT. WAS. THE. FUCKING. POINT. I kkknowww it was out of context, but it still fucking hurt, I only talked about it because it legitimately hurt me regardless of the actual context, and so that she doesnt do the same thing this time. AND SHE IMMEDIATELY THROWS AWAY THAT LINE OF THINKING FOR but thats not faiiir its not myy fault you misintirrpret things and its like, no its not but could you still be mindful that your words can AND WILL fuck me over if theyre not handled correctly.

I just- eugh. It would have been fine if she had of just had a conversation yknow. Like if we had've talked it out and got to some sort of conclusion. Instead of you will never think *spam*. Like I get to sit here instead with an unhealthy caffeine problem, horrible gender dysphoria, a cutting problem (both sexual and not so), and the fact that the person I looked up to most doesn't want to talk to me about the thing that has pretty much ruined my life and the steps that need to be taken to rectify those things.

Also the crippling insomnia its 3:20 now for gods sake.

[12-dooley]

nobody:

me: uses other pronouns than just he/him, doesn't tell anyone though

me: mildly confused when people only use he/him

[somanyfuckedupiftruebooks]

Today I will pretend that I am working on my fic by nailing down my headcanons for TMA S1 clothing and outfits.

Jon

At work he is always in professional officewear, always put togther, has a sharp haircut. Rarely a full on suit but sometimes the elements of one, like a vest with no jacket. Always a tie. Gravitates toward white shirts and dark everything else because he thinks dark colours all automatically match each other (they don't). No patterns. No accessories. Always looks uncomforable in his own clothes, like they were bought for someone else. No one ever taught him how to dress himself nicely so he is doing his best approximation of what others are doing and it only mostly works (it would never occur to him that his belt and shoes should be the same colour, for example). He irons everything on laundry day but then wears clothes for multiple days in a row because he has no time/is secretly living in the archives for most of the week, so his overall look is far more rumpled than he realises.

At home (on the increasingly rare days that he isn't at the institute) he just dresses in his old uni clothes, which lean towards alt and gnc stuff. This has more to do with the fact that he cbf to upate his wardrobe (shopping is hell) and less to do with it actually reflecting how he wants to present himself now as an adult, but it's fine because he never goes anywhere. There's some skirts in there, and merch for weird indie bands that no one's ever heard of. "Somehow" he got custody of a few of Georgie's old shirts in the break up and he will wear these to sleep in because they are soft and loose and comfy on him (the air quotes are because he is in denial about being a clothing thief). He owns eyeliner that he doesn't wear anymore because he's convinced himself that he's too mature for it now. He has a jacket covered in pins for various causes that he also never wears anymore but he loves it too much to get rid of it.

Martin

Also professional, but a much softer version. Like Jon he is afflicted with desperately-need-to-look-like-I-know-what-I-am-doing-even-though-I-don't disease, and that reflects in his clothing choices. He always wears multiple layers and his clothes all trend towards being too baggy, both for trans reasons and also the dismal realities of shopping for plus size clothing on a budget (more often than not, you just have to buy whatever you can physically put on your body even if it will never look right or fit properly). His default setting is a collared shirt with a cardigan over the top, but the collar still visible. Prefers cooler colours because warm tones bring out the red in his skin and he worries about looking flustered all the time. Paints his nails sometimes when he is feeling a bit gender. His mother had his ears pierced when he was little but he never wears earrings.

His at home clothes are exactly the same as his work clothes. Martin doesn't have spare cash for extra outfits; he has to buy nicer things for work, so when something becomes too worn to get away with in the office he just wears it around the house until it's too faded and full of holes to hang onto. He will patch or darn things that he particularly likes or thinks he can get some more life out of. Taught himself how to do this by watching youtube videos and is actually pretty good at it; some of his patched clothes could almost look trendy! He probably has a handful of clothing items that are actually good because he bought them for himself as a treat, like a dress shirt in a colour that matches his eyes, and some pants with a particularly flattering waistline. He wears these things when visiting his mum because he wants to look put together but also because he usually needs some cheering up on those days.

Sasha

She's a woman trying to be taken seriously in her profession, so she dresses seriously. Lots button downs tucked into high waisted skirts, a few dresses but nothing too feminine. Nothing with hemlines above the knee or anything that shows her shoulders. Nothing too form-fitting, and she's also usually wearing mutliple layers. Subdued but nice patterns. She walks a fine line between not wanting to look like a grandma but also avoiding anything too modern (lots of old fashioned types in academia). Always considers her appearance and puts together outfits where everything matches and looks flattering. Prefers muted but warm colours, browns and oranges and yellows. Jewellery is always simple and understated, like some small gold hoops that are okay to wear every day, and maybe a necklace. Always wears her hair up off her face and natural makeup. She gets herself french manicures when she has the spare cash and feels like treating herself.

Outside of work, she has a really defined style and it's much more modern and less understated. A go-to outfit would be all fitted black clothes but dressed up with bright heels, belt and chunky earrings all in a matching colour, like an eye-catching red. Her hair is usually down and curly.

Tim

Strays a lot closer to the 'casual' side of business-casual than anyone else is comfortable with. He's received warnings for dress code violations before (none of the others ever have). Tends towards close-fitting clothing, dark slacks matched with shirts that have lots of colour and patterns (but rarely anything that clashes or veers too far away from office-appropriate). No hawaiian shirts or jeans. He used to have coloured hair and matching nails but was told it violated the dress code so he stopped doing that back in his research days. Always wears earrings and often they are 'fun', like a set of studs that look like little birds or something. Also has some rings, and a nice watch that his parents got him as a graduation present.

Outside of work, yes hawaiian shirts and jeans, and maybe he fucks around with some jewellery or makeup if he has a date or is feeling a bit gender. That would be his go-to leaving-the-house outfit. He is someone who has very distinct 'outside clothes' that look good and he will let people see him wearing, and 'inside clothes' which do not look good and no one but Danny and Sasha have ever seen him wearing. His inside clothes tend to be old mismatched workout clothes with the elastic starting to go. He will wear these all day even if he has no intention of working out.

Elias

Always impeccably tailored three-piece suits. Definitely not afraid of colour, but he would never wear anything remotely close to being described as 'flamboyant'. Prefers solid colours over prints or patterns, but definitely owns some pinstripes. Always matches his shoes to his belt. No jewellery other than the occasional wedding ring (it's always a different one and never lasts more than a few months) and a series of very expensive watches and tie pins (he must own dozens of them). Doesn't go overboard with eye imagery; restricts himself to cufflinks that have either eyes or the institute logo on them (he has several different sets because, like the watches, they are often anniversary presents and he has so many anniversaries). He will sometimes wear some subtle eyeliner because he wants to frame his eyes, but this is only for special occasions. Never looks anything less than 110% put together, and overall his aesthetic is what Jon's is trying (but failing) to be.

Outside of work, he is still always in very expensive clothes (because Peter pays for his entire wardrobe) but not suits, just the dressier side of casual. He does the annoying rich person thing where all of his clothes are tailored to fit him, so even his casual wear looks effortlessly amazing. A normal outfit for a relaxing day at home would be something like grey slacks and a black turtleneck (but in a distinctly whoreish way).

[late-to-the-party-81]

Sweet-Cheeks

AN: Hi folks, this is a bit different to my normal fics. Firstly, it was written as a gift for a dear friend, who isn’t on Tumblr, and has already received their copy. Secondly, whilst I have written WLW fics before (and will again), in this story our reader is specifically a Trans!Woman. If this is something you don’t want to read, please walk on by now. If this is something you are against, please unfollow this blog.

Are you still here? Thanks! In this story our reader was AMAB but has only recently come to the realisation that she’s a woman, so she’s still at the relative beginning of her journey, both emotionally and physically. Every trans person’s experience is unique to them. Some are comfortable involving their birth genitalia in intimate situations, some are not, and both choices are valid. In this story our reader is comfortable, to a certain extent. That may be different at another time, but suffice to say her partner is accepting of her choices. I hope that you enjoy this story. I believe that every person has the right to representation in all forms of media.

Thank you to @midnightf and @mobbucky for beta-ing this fic, and a non Tumblr friend for performing a sensitivity check. Divider by the wonderful @firefly-graphics

Pairing: Nebula x Trans!Fem reader

Wordcount: approx 3k

Explicit content, minors DNI

CW: Mentions of dysphoria, mentions of torture (carried out on Nebula in the past), self-confidence issues, friends to lovers, breast worship cunnilingus and fingering, pussy job, one mention of the phrase ‘girl cock’, cuddles.

Find my master list here

Sweet-Cheeks

“Sonofa…piece of crappy…aaggghhhh…cheap hunk o’ junk!!!”

You smiled to yourself as you sauntered through to the engine room of the Benatar, which also doubled up as Rocket’s tinkering area.

“I am Groot?”

You heard the questioning note in the young tree being’s voice.

“Nooooo, you cannot help. What do you know about the intricacies of these sorts of things?”

“I am Groot!”

You heard Rocket sigh.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, it was nice of you to offer and I am being a grump.”

You rounded the corner and found your small furry friend crouched in the middle of a pile of machine parts and wires that, to the untrained eye, looked like a pile of rubbish. To be honest, to your trained eye, it still looked like a pile of rubbish. Groot sat to the side, on top of a crate, earbuds pressed into divots in his bark covered head, tapping a long root covered foot against the metal, in time to some music he was listening to.

Rocket sifted through the pile in front of him until he lifted up a spanner with a triumphant shout.

“Ah-ha!”

It was then that he noticed you, smiling at him

“Here’s the help I need! Lovelace, get your butt over here and hold this.”

He pointed to two pieces and when you took hold of them he started to tighten a nut and bolt.

“So, R, what you doin’?”

“Aah, you know, nuthin’ special. A small bot for Quill’s birthday that can carry stuff around for him, shift things to and fro. Was wunderin’ if you’d help with the coding? Live up to your nickname?”

Letting go of the now secured pieces, you tossed your hair over your shoulder. It was really growing out now and it made you happy, the way the lush waves framed your face. You looked down at your nails, neat and tidy, despite all of the various physical work you were involved in, and picked a small speck of dirt out from under one.

“Tell you what, R, I’ll supervise Groot doing the coding, he needs the practice.”

You turned to the sentient tree.

“How’s that sound buddy? Wanna up your coding game?”

“I am Groot!”

The reply was full of excitement, an unusual thing for him, given the depths of teenaged moody-ness he seemed to be in most of the time.

“Alright, fine…he can help you Lovelace, but I tell ya’ if it’s not ready, and working properly, there’ll be hell to pay.”

You rolled your eyes at him, and moved over to one of the side tables, rummaging through the items on it until you found your diagnostic pad, the reason for your foray down here in the first place. Turning back around you teased your friend.

“Don’t give me all that. We all know your bark is worse than your bite.”

You reached out and gave him a scratch behind his right ear, making him sag against you briefly, before you skipped out, hearing him shout from behind you.

“That’s cheating, Lovelace! Cheating!!!!”

Your chuckle echoed down the metal hallway as you made your way back to your quarters.

“Neb? Nebbbbbbb! You here?”

As you walked through the door you shouted out to your bunk mate. Whilst you got on well with all the rest of the crew, it was with Nebula you felt most comfortable. She’d accepted you exactly as you were, understanding that a person’s exterior was never a true reflection of their inner self. You both had days where you disliked how you looked, but when that happened, you buoyed each other up with encouraging words and silly jokes. You could honestly say she was your best friend, and you were glad that you had each other.

However, despite all the strides she had taken in accepting herself, she couldn’t get away from the fact that the Mad Titan had altered her, disfiguring her with mechanical parts to make her stronger, turned her into a sentient weapon, sometimes as a ‘reward’ and sometimes as a ‘punishment’. This unfortunately meant she needed regular diagnostics of those parts. Initially, it had been Rocket who’d carried them out, but after Thor and Drax had rescued you from a backwater planet, where you’d been forced into using your skills to support an intergalactic mobster, you’d taken over the job.

“I’m here, Sweet-cheeks.”

You laughed at the nickname that only she used, given to you after a disastrous attempt with make-up, that she said left you looking like you had two gumba sweets stuck to your face. She sashayed across the small space from your shared bathroom, flopped down onto her bed, pulled up her skin tight purple top and opened the access panel on her abdomen.

You perched next to her legs, connecting up the diagnostic pad and running through the programme you had designed.

“Any strange feelings in the last month?”

You were intent on watching the read-outs, so you didn’t see the strange look that briefly passed over her face.

“Erm, no. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

You nodded and disconnected the wires before you motioned her to sit up. You rose up onto your knees and shuffled closer so you could take readings from her optical implant.

“No dizziness or blurred vision?”

Nebula sucked in a breath before answering.

“No, none at all…”

“Perfect then, as usual.”

She gave you a weak smile as you stowed the pad on top of the small bedside table. You brushed a lock of her blonde hair out of her eyes (a new addition she allowed herself, as part of her route to reclaiming her autonomy), before drawing her into a hug.

“What is it, Neb? You can talk to me, you know that.”

She lay down, pulling you with her, arms around each other, with you pulled in tight to the side of her tall, slim frame. You sighed lightly into her shoulder as she absent-mindedly stroked your hair.

“We’re friends, aren’t we Sweet-cheeks?”

“Of course we are! Why would you question it?”

“It…it’s just that…I’ve never had a friend before. Every time Gamora and I got close Thanos would find some way of driving a wedge between us again. And then, just as she and I were really connecting Voromir happened. And I know I sort of still have her, but it’s not the ‘her’ that I started to feel a connection with.”

You hugged her tighter.

“Oh no, Nebs, it could still come. I’m sure you will get your sister back.”

“I hope so. But, you’re still, really, my only friend, the only person I’m close to.”

She pulled in a few deep breaths.

“…And…that’s why I’m scared…”

You moved slightly, to lie on your side and prop yourself up on your elbow, so you could look at her.

“Why are you scared? You can tell me…honestly.”

Suddenly, she pushed up from the bed, away from you, and started pacing.

“All these stupid feelings. Make me pathetic, make me weak.”

Reaching out, from where you were knelt watching her inner turmoil, you grabbed her hand as she neared you, halting her progress.

“Neb, we’ve talked about this, feelings don’t make you weak and pathetic. That’s your trauma lying to you.”

“But what if I’m wrong? What if I ruin everything?”

You were sure you had missed something, you were so confused.

“What are you going to ruin? You’ve lost me.”

She rushed you then, caging you in with her arms against the wall and her knees on the bed in front of you.

“No, I can’t lose you, but I…fuck!”

Nebula took you by surprise as she pressed her lips to yours, in a quick, and nervous, kiss. Realisation hit you. This beautiful woman, your friend, this tortured soul. You loved her.

Fuck! You loved her!

You already did your utmost to make her smile every day. Told her how beautiful, how worthy she was. You loved the way she did the same to you. There was no one else you’d rather spend your time with.

You looked back at her, searching her face, and the expression that met you was one of worry.

“Fuck… I shouldn’t have done that, I…”

You pressed your finger to her lips to quiet her.

“Shhhhh. You absolutely should have.”

Before you could overthink it, you wound your arms around her neck and pulled her back in, kissing her this time. In return, her arms wrapped around your back and bore you to the mattress, her tongue demanding entrance to your mouth, her legs straddling yours.

You were no shy and retiring virgin, by any stretch of the imagination, but this was your first time of any meaningful intimacy since you had opened up to yourself and began living your life as the true you, so you took time to just experience what was currently happening. The soft urgent-ness of her lips, the firm grip of her arms, the weight of her body atop your hips. The smell of her soap and her own unique scent, the sound of her soft moans and sighs amongst the wet smacking of your lips against each other.

Her hair tickled your cheek and you could feel her heart beating against yours where your rib cages touched. Her breasts were pressed to yours and you were thankful that she wasn’t wearing her leather top today, so you could feel them better as they brushed back and forth. The movement made your nipples peak within your own top, frissons of pleasure darting down between your legs.

More moans sounded in the relative quiet of the room, and you realised they were your own. How long had you wanted this? This yearning buried deep within yourself. You had been worried, the same as her, unwilling to make the first move in case it spoiled what you already had. But, now in this moment, if you never had anything more than kissing her like this you would be happy. The way she was making you feel was better than any fantasy you’d ever allowed yourself.

When she pulled back from your lips, you chased hers, needy and whining at the loss. She chuckled in response before kissing her way down your jaw and onto your neck, sucking lightly at your pulse point, which caused you to gasp and arch up towards her. Your arms moved of their own accord to skim down her body, slim and womanly, to settle briefly on her hips, before sliding up under her top, to press your hands to the warm skin of her back. You wanted, no needed, to feel more of her.

“Neb…..”

Your spiralling feelings pulled her name from your lips with a reedy cry.

“I’ve got you, Sweet-cheeks. I’ve got you…..”

She moved to sit up, still straddling you, and you helped each other remove your tops. She was bare under hers and the glow from the lamp highlighted the contours of her bared body; her perfectly formed breasts, her toned abs, as well as the implants forced upon her by her ‘father’. She was beautiful, and you felt ugly compared to her. You didn’t even realise you had wrapped your arms around yourself, protecting yourself from her gaze, until she tutted, took hold of your wrists and gently pulled them away.

You risked looking up at her face and had difficulty comprehending the emotions you saw there.

Hunger. Desire. Lust.

Your breath hitched, causing your chest to jerk up and drawing attention to your small breasts, encased within a black bralette.

“Don’t hide yourself, princess. Not from me. Never from me.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone, trailing across the top of your chest until she reached the other side, before pulling at the lace over your shoulder with her teeth and letting it snap back. Her fingers skimmed up under the fabric, pushing it up and off over your head. Her warm lips made a path down the centre of your chest, over your sternum and her hands rested on the mattress either side of you.

“Please, can I kiss you? Can I make you feel good?”

Unable to speak, all you could do was nod at her, and in a flash she had captured your right nipple in her mouth and was gently rolling the left between her fingers. You arched your back into her touch and a cry of pleasure left your lips as your fingers sought her hair of their own volition, holding her to you. Your nipples were so much more sensitive now, although you had always enjoyed them being played with. You could feel her smile around your soft flesh before she pulled off with an obscene ‘pop’ and swapped her attention to the other side.

When she pulled off again you dragged her slightly up your body so you could latch on to one of her breasts. Her skin was delicious, her scent intoxicating. Your hands roamed her skin, feeling every bare inch, but it still wasn’t enough. Taking her by surprise you flipped the pair of you, pulling down her tight trousers and underwear, baring her to your gaze. She was as exotic and alluring as you’d imagined and you couldn’t hide the excitement in your eyes as you carefully pulled her apart with your thumbs and dipped in with the tip of your tongue to taste her.

The way she shuddered and whined under your touch made your own arousal that much stronger. You licked again, a broad stripe from her hole to her clit and she cried out loudly.

“Fuck, ‘so good, princess!”

Emboldened by her praise you hooked her legs over your shoulders and moved in closer. You lavished attention to her pussy, licked and sucked on every fold, before you latched onto her clit. Her hips bucked up, pushing her core against your face, so you placed your hands on her to hold her steady. You cast your eyes up, observing her reactions, the way her body, glistening with a sheen of sweat, writhed under your touch. Her hair was a messy halo on the pillow, as she palmed one of her own breasts with one hand and gripped the sheet with the other.

She was glorious, even more so when you pressed your first two fingers inside her. You twisted and turned them, learning the feel of her, which movements made her moan in pleasure. Then you found it. Your crooked fingers pressed against that spongy spot, making her wail incoherently. You doubled-down then, losing yourself in her softness, her wetness, her smell. You licked and sucked at her, stroked her insides until her thighs tightened against your head and you tasted her cum on your tongue. You slowly withdrew your fingers and lapped gently at her, as she came down from her high. As she relaxed into the mattress she tugged at you, pulling you off her pussy and dragging you up her body.

She kissed you deeply, moaning as she tasted herself on your tongue.

“I’ve got to touch you some more, Sweet-cheeks. Is that okay?”

“Very okay, Neb.”

You let her turn the pair of you back over, and she pulled down your trousers and underwear. It took all of your self-control not to try and cover yourself, to push all your insecurities to the back of your mind. You were hard and throbbing between your legs, so aroused by her that you wanted her to see. When you looked up at her face you were met with her coy smile. She brushed a thumb over your tip, smearing the sticky fluid she found there across your sensitive flesh, making you shiver.

She straddled your body again, sitting over your hips so her warm, wet core covered you, pressed down onto you. It felt so unbelievably good. She took hold of your hands and placed them onto her hips.

“So, I’m going to sit up here and rub off on your girl-cock. I’m going to make you cum and that’s going to make me cum. Okay?”

You responded with a whimper as she ground her hips down on you and began to rock back and forth. Your fingers tightened their grip as you helped to guide her, her slick mixing with yours to ease the glide. You were so on edge and she felt amazing, sat as she was on top of you. Her hands came to rest upon your chest, playing with your nipples again.

“You going to use me to get yourself off, lover?”

“Yes…” The confirmation was pulled from you, your eyes fluttering closed as you revelled in the sensations, her pussy leaking over you, the delicious friction her movements caused, all heightened by pinched pleasure darting from your chest. She was so completely wonderful. You turned yourself over to the pleasure, just letting yourself feel, just…experience.

“That’s it… that’s it! Take what you want Sweet-cheeks… such a good girl for me… making me feel so good, baby… you going to cum?...Going to make me cum?...Fuck… I’m close, so close, princess…”

She shuddered and whimpered above you as her second orgasm wracked her body, the bucking of her hips sending you over the edge and you came with a dizzying shout.

You were aware of Nebula collapsing down onto you, her weight pleasant and reassuring, her breasts pressed to yours and her head buried in your neck. Her fingers found your hair and stroked through the strands. You floated for a while in the post-orgasmic haze, just enjoying being with her like this. When she finally disentangled herself and made her way to the bathroom you shivered from both the loss of her closeness as well as the warmth her body had provided. She returned quickly though, damp washcloth in hand, wiping you down.

When she didn’t immediately get back into the bed you were concerned, but it only lasted a moment as she took hold of the edge of your bed and pulled it across the room towards hers where you lay. You laughed, jumping up to help her and moving the small side table out of the way, so she could push both your beds together. You grabbed a couple of spare towels and shoved them into the space between the two mattresses. You could both sort out something better at the next stop at a major space port, but it would do for now.

You both flopped down onto your new, combined bed and smiled at each other. She drew you into the circle of her arms, her forehead pressed to yours, gazing into your eyes.

“I love you Sweet-Cheeks.”

“Love you too, Neb.”

[sparrowlovesskittles]

In the past, trans Mothwing has been a controversial headcanon/AU. There's nothing inherently wrong with it of course, but every time I've seen it it's been used primarily as an excuse for Leafpool to have kittens while in a lesbian relationship, but most people who use this AU don't bother to consider how being trans would actually affect Mothwing.

I've always felt this AU has a lot of potential. Being trans actually fits quite well into Mothwing's story, and I haven't seen anyone explore that yet... So I decided to explore it further. I created a video about trans Mothwing which doesn't even mention Leafpool's kits.

Under the cut I have copy/pasted the video description. It includes a document which explains some of the meanings behind the symbolism and such. If anything in the video confuses you, I suggest taking a look <3

--

Video cw// Transphobia, animal death (not graphic)

2022 edit: I had this unlisted for a couple years. I wasn't proud of it and was still sort of unsure I properly represented the struggles many trans people face. I think part of the reason I worried about that was simply because the video is a bit fast-paced and relies heavily on symbols, so it's a bit confusing and the message is kind of hard to get across.

The drama behind the trans Mothwing headcanon is something I feel strongly about, though. So I've decided to make the video public again, and I have written up a doc describing the video bit by bit, to hopefully help clear things up. Here it is, take a look if there's anything you didn't understand, or if you'd just like to learn a bit more about the symbolism and stuff:

Now, on with the rambles-

2021:

OOOH BOY IT'S HERE and oh boy do I have a lot to say-

So first of all- I'd like to thank Unofficially-Ace, who made the 'Rainbow' trans Mothwing PMV here:

https://youtu.be/vzhqNvE1Hkc

This PMV was what planted the idea in my head in the first place. They talked in the description about how the Trans Mothwing headcanon/au has been really problematic, since the only reason people ever make Mothwing trans is so she can have biological children with Leafpool, and it never really changes anything about her character. And yeah- that's a gross thing to do.

Being LGBTQ changes us, in ways we don't even realise- that's simply the truth. It changes the way we think and interact with people, like for example, weighing in whether or not it's worth mentioning your partner's pronouns in a conversation. Or as my sibling mentioned the other day - trying to decide whether you'd rather make yourself look cis and feel uncomfy, or go out as you are and risk getting hatecrimed. It feels weird to stick the label 'trans' on a character simply to support your own storyline, especially without giving them character motivations, development, or story to make them actually feel trans.

Unofficially-Ace mostly explored how it would affect Mothwing's relationship with Hawkfrost, but I wanted to take a different approach. I wanted to showcase how it would affect Mothwing's entire life up to AVOS, and completely exclude any mention of kittens with Leafpool.

Anyway, I read up on how badly the trans Mothwing idea has been represented so far, and the more I looked into it, the more I thought about it, the more I realised holy crap, this idea has SO MUCH potential, how has anyone not done anything with all this yet?? And so, with pride month coming up (though it's basically over now, but that's okay, because pride goes all year)… I did! I whipped this up in about one month. I did however honestly struggle back and forth a lot about whether I should even make this. I am not trans and so I have no real voice to talk about trans issues - but in the end I thought it would probably be okay as long as I handled it carefully, which I tried my best to do. I tried to show that acceptance was the most important thing, drew inspiration from real-life scenarios, and consulted with my trans friends before making this video public. I am not making any money from this video. If anyone is still uncomfortable with anything I will try my best to fix it!

A few extra notes:

The art is rushed and messy but I kind of like the style of the finished product. It was quick, easy, and isn't hideous. Nice.

The blue in Mothwing's eye is just a design choice, it doesn't mean anything :)

I also have to credit this CRIMINALLY underrated Mothwing PMV for inspiring a few of the shots, and also being part of the reason for my love of Mothwing, and ALSO for being my favourite PMV ever:

https://youtu.be/1PUIY7EFI0o

[homosexuhauls]

15 JUNE, 2021 by Chimamanda Ngozi-Adichie

IT IS OBSCENE: A TRUE REFLECTION IN THREE PARTS

PART ONE

When you are a public figure, people will write and say false things about you. It comes with the territory. Many of those things you brush aside. Many you ignore. The people close to you advise you that silence is best. And it often is. Sometimes, though, silence makes a lie begin to take on the shimmer of truth.

In this age of social media, where a story travels the world in minutes, silence sometimes means that other people can hijack your story and soon, their false version becomes the defining story about you.

Falsehood flies, and the Truth comes limping after it, as Jonathan Swift wrote.

Take the case of a young woman who attended my Lagos writing workshop some years ago; she stood out because she was bright and interested in feminism.

After the workshop, I welcomed her into my life. I very rarely do this, because my past experiences with young Nigerians left me wary of people who are calculating and insincere and want to use me only as an opportunity. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I thought that was worth making an exception.

She spent time in my Lagos home. We had long conversations. I was support-giver, counsellor, comforter.

Then I gave an interview in March 2017 in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, (the larger point of which was to say that we should be able to acknowledge difference while being fully inclusive, that in fact the whole premise of inclusiveness is difference.)

I was told she went on social media and insulted me.

This woman knows me enough to know that I fully support the rights of trans people and all marginalized people. That I have always been fiercely supportive of difference, in general. And that I am a person who reads and thinks and forms my opinions in a carefully considered way.

Of course she could very well have had concerns with the interview. That is fair enough. But I had a personal relationship with her. She could have emailed or called or texted me. Instead she went on social media to put on a public performance.

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it. But I mostly held myself responsible. My spirit had been slightly stalled, from the beginning, by her. My first sense of unease with her came when she posted a photo taken in my house, at a time when I did not want any photos of my personal life on social media. I asked that she take it down. The second case of unease was her publicizing something I had told her in confidence about another member of the workshop. The most upsetting was when she, without telling me, used my name to apply for an American visa. Above all else was my lingering suspicion that she was a person who chose as friends only those from whom she could benefit. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I allowed that sentiment to over-ride my unease.

After she publicly insulted me, it was clear to me that this kind of noxious person had no business in my life, ever again.

A few months later, she sent this affected, self-regarding email which I ignored.

Friday September 15 2017 at 4.35 AM

Dearest Chimamanda,

Happy birthday. I mean this with all my heart, even though I know I have fallen (removed myself?) from your grace. It would be impossible for me to stop loving you; long before you gave me the possibility of being your friend you were the embodiment of my deepest hopes, and that will never change.

I think of you often, still – stating the obvious. I grieve the loss of our friendship; it is a complicated sadness. I’m sorry that I caused you pain, or to feel like you can no longer trust me. There’s so much that I wish could be said.

I pray this birthday is the happiest one yet. I wish you rest and quiet and abiding stability, and of course more of the kind of success that means the most to you.

I hope mothering X is everything you hoped and prayed for and more.

Have a wonderful day today.

Love always.

About a year later, she sent this email, which I also ignored.

Thursday November 29 2018 at 8.42 AM

Dear Chimamanda,

I realise this is long overdue and vastly insufficient, but I’m really sorry. I’ve spent so much time going back and forth in my head and my email drafts; wondering whether to write you, how to write you, what to say, all kinds of things. But in the end, this is the thing I realise I need to say.

I’m sorry I disappointed and hurt you by saying things publicly that were sharply critical, unkind and even disrespectful, especially in light of all the backlash and criticism you experience from people who don’t know you. I could have acted with more consideration towards you. I should have, especially given the privilege of intimacy that you had offered me. There are many reasons why I chose to behave the way I did, but none of them is an excuse. And I clearly realise now, after many, many months of needless sadness and angst and hurt and actual confusion, that I did not treat you as a friend would—certainly not as someone would to whom you had offered unprecedented access to yourself and your life.

You’ve meant the world to me since I was barely a teenager. It’s been very hard navigating the emotional fallout of the past several months, knowing you were displeased with me but truly not quite understanding why, then deciding I didn’t care, then realising that would never be true. I’ve always cared. But I was too mixed up about the situation to be able to make sense of it, or properly see past my own justifications. I’m sorry it took me so long to grasp how I let you down.

I realise that I don’t have room to ask anything of you, but I would be grateful for a chance to say this in person. Still, even if I never get that, I really hope you believe me.

Congratulations on restarting the workshop, and on all the other amazing successes of the past several months. I think of you often; it would be impossible not to. You look so happy in your pictures. I really hope you are well.

All my love,

I hoped never to hear from her again. But she has recently gone on social media to write about how she “refused to kiss my ring,” as if I demanded some kind of obeisance from her. She also suggests that there is some dark, shadowy ‘more’ to tell that she won’t tell, with an undertone of “if only you knew the whole story.”

It is a manipulative way of lying. By suggesting there is ‘more’ when you know very well that there isn’t, you do sufficient reputational damage while also being able to plead deniability. Innuendo without fact is immoral.

No, there isn’t more to the story. It is a simple story – you got close to a famous person, you publicly insulted the famous person to aggrandize yourself, the famous person cut you off, you sent emails and texts that were ignored, and you then decided to go on social media to peddle falsehoods. It is obscene to tell the world that you refused to kiss a ring when in fact there isn’t any ring at all.

I cannot make much of the hostility of strangers who do not know me – fame taints our view of the humanity of famous people. But the truth is that the famous person remains irretrievably human. Fame does not inoculate the famous person from disappointment and depression, fame does not make you any less angered or hurt by the duplicitous nature of people. To be famous is to be assumed to have power, which is true, but in the analysis of fame, people often ignore the vulnerability that comes with fame, and they are unable to see how others who have nothing to lose can lie and connive in order to take advantage of that fame, while not giving a single thought to the feelings and humanity of the famous person.

And when you personally know a famous person, when you have experienced their humanity, when you have benefited from their kindness, and yet you are unable to extend to them the basic grace and respect that even a casual acquaintanceship deserves, then it says something fundamental about you.

And in a deluded way, you will convince yourself that your hypocritical, self-regarding, compassion-free behavior is in fact principled feminism. It isn’t. You will wrap your mediocre malice in the false gauziness of ideological purity. But it’s still malice. You will tell yourself that being able to parrot the latest American Feminist orthodoxy justifies your hacking at the spirit of a person who had shown you only kindness. You can call your opportunism by any name, but it doesn’t make it any less of the ugly opportunism that it is.

PART TWO

When I first read this person’s work, which was their application to my writing workshop, I thought the sentences were well-done. I accepted this person. At the workshop, I thought they could have been more respectful of the other participants, perhaps not kept typing dismissively as others’ stories were discussed, with an air of being among people below their level. After the workshop, I decided to select the best stories, edit them, pay the writers a fee, and publish them in an e-magazine. The first story I chose was this person’s. I wrote a glowing introduction, which the story truly deserved.

They sent this email.

Fri, Aug 7, 2015, 8:20 AM

Thank you so much for that introduction. It means so much to me and I’m going to keep reading it to get through the rest of my stay at Syracuse. I sent it to my mother and she got nervous about the piece because you said ‘it disturbs’, said she’s not sure how she’s going to feel when she reads it. But she’s also one of those ‘let’s leave the past in the past’ people. My sister approved, which meant a lot because our childhoods were each other’s.

All that to say, I’m so grateful you gave me the space to write the short version of this piece, the encouragement to write the longer piece, and now, a platform for it. I definitely have plans to write more about Aba.

Thank you, with all my heart.

PS- I wanted to sign off gratefully + gracefully in Igbo but I said let me not fall my own hand 🙂

About a year later, they sent another email to let me know that their novel would be published.

Wed, Jun 8, 2016, 8:20 AM

Greetings!

I hope all’s been well with you this past year. Belated congratulations on the baby’s arrival, I hope she’s being a delight (I’m sure she is), and on the Johns Hopkins honors.

I was thinking about how this time last year, I’d just received the email from you about Farafina and I wanted to reach out with a quick update. I’ve just accepted an offer for the novel I excerpted as my application and it feels like the workshop was a catalyst for the events that’ve led me here. So, thank you, for the workshop and your words and the Olisa TV series and listening to me babble on about my story at the hotel. I deeply appreciate all of it and you.

All my best,

Before the novel was published, I spoke of it to some people, to help it get attention. I had not been able to finish reading it. I found the writing beautiful, but the story false-hearted and burdened by bathos. When I spoke of the novel, however, it was the former sentiment that I expressed, never the latter.

After I gave the March 2017 interview in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, I was told that this person had insulted me on social media, calling me, among other things, a murderer. I was deeply upset, because while I did not really know them personally, I felt they knew what I stood for and that I fully supported the rights of trans people, and that I do not wish anybody dead.

Still, I took no action. I ignored the public insult.

When this person’s publishers sent me an early copy of their novel, I was surprised to see that my name was included in their cover biography. I had never seen that done in a book before. I didn’t like that I had not been asked for permission to use my name, but most of all I thought – why would a person who thinks I’m a murderer want my name so prominently displayed in their biography?

Then I learned that, because my name was in the cover biography, a journalist had called them my “protegee” and they then threw a Twitter tantrum about it, calling it clickbait, viciously disavowing having received any help from me.

I knew this person had called me a murderer, I knew they were actively campaigning to “cancel” me and tweeting about how I should no longer be invited to speak at events. But this I felt I could not ignore.

I sent an email to my representative:

From: Chimamanda Adichie

Date: Wed, Feb 14, 2018 at 2:06 PM

I’m writing about X

She attended my Lagos workshop two years ago and I selected hers as one of a few pieces I published after the workshop.

Apparently I was referred to as her ‘mentor’ and/or she was referred to as my ‘protege,’ in some articles, which led to her tweeting about it. Her tweets were forwarded to me by friends. In them, she reacted quite viscerally to my being called her ‘mentor’ and her being my ‘protege.’ To be fair, she is not technically my ‘protege,’ and it is perfectly fine that she feels this way, but her ungracious tone and the ugliness of the energy spent on her tweets surprised me.

I recently received her book and noticed that my name was included in her official book bio. I was stunned. Surely if she is so strongly averse to my being considered a person who has been significant in her career, (which is my understanding of the loose use of protege/mentor) then it is unseemly to make the choice to include my name in her bio. I found it unusual, as I don’t think I’ve seen it done before in a book bio, but I also now find it unacceptably cynical.

It is only reasonable for a person who sees my name as it is used in her bio — ‘her work has been selected and edited by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’ — to assume some sort of mentor/protege relationship.

To publicly disavow this with a tone bordering on hostility and at the same time so baldly use my name to sell her book is utterly unacceptable to me.

I’d like you to please reach out to her publishers and ask that my name be removed from her official book bio. I refuse to be used in this way.

After contacting her publishers, my representative wrote:

They have asked whether your preference would be to remove the Acknowledgment to you in the back of the book also, in future reprints.

I replied:

I don’t think that is my decision to take, and so will not answer either way, although it would be ideal if she herself made the decision to do so.

On the subject of how to go about it, I was absolutely determined not to be used by this person, but I was also sensitive to the costs the publisher might incur, as this was not in any way the publisher’s fault. Instead of pulping the already printed copies, I asked that the jackets be stripped and rebound. To my representative I wrote:

I’m completely determined that I not be used in this opportunistic and hypocritical way. But I want to make sure to proceed reasonably.

I was assured that my name would be removed and I moved on.

But from time to time, I would be informed of yet another social media post in which this person had attacked me.

This person has created a space in which social media followers have – and this I find unforgiveable – trivialized my parents’ death, claiming that the sudden and devastating loss of my parents within months of each other during this pandemic, was ‘punishment’ for my ‘transphobia.’

This person has asked followers to pick up machetes and attack me.

This person began a narrative that I had sabotaged their career, a narrative that has been picked up and repeated by others.

The normal response would be to ignore it all, because this person is seeking attention and publicity to benefit themselves. Claiming that I have sabotaged their career is a lie and this person knows that it is a lie. But if something is repeated often enough, in this age in which people do not need proof or verification to run with a story, especially a story that has outrage potential, then it can easily begin to seem true.

My addressing this lie will indeed get this person some attention – may they bask in it.

Here is the truth: I was very supportive of this writer. I didn’t have to be. I wasn’t asked to be. I supported this writer because I believe we need a diverse range of African stories.

Sabotaging a young writer’s career is just not my style; I would get no benefit or satisfaction from it. Asking that my name be removed from your biography is not sabotaging your career. It is about protecting my boundaries of what I consider acceptable in civil human behavior.

You publicly call me a murderer AND still feel entitled to benefit from my name?

You use my name (without my permission) to sell your book AND then throw an ugly tantrum when someone makes a reference to it?

What kind of monstrous entitlement, what kind of perverse self-absorption, what utter lack of self-awareness, what unheeding heartlessness, what frightening immaturity makes a person act this way?

Besides, a person who genuinely believes me to be a murderer cannot possibly want my name on their book cover, unless of course that person is a rank opportunist.

PART THREE

In certain young people today like these two from my writing workshop, I notice what I find increasingly troubling: a cold-blooded grasping, a hunger to take and take and take, but never give; a massive sense of entitlement; an inability to show gratitude; an ease with dishonesty and pretension and selfishness that is couched in the language of self-care; an expectation always to be helped and rewarded no matter whether deserving or not; language that is slick and sleek but with little emotional intelligence; an astonishing level of self-absorption; an unrealistic expectation of puritanism from others; an over-inflated sense of ability, or of talent where there is any at all; an inability to apologize, truly and fully, without justifications; a passionate performance of virtue that is well executed in the public space of Twitter but not in the intimate space of friendship.

I find it obscene.

There are many social-media-savvy people who are choking on sanctimony and lacking in compassion, who can fluidly pontificate on Twitter about kindness but are unable to actually show kindness. People whose social media lives are case studies in emotional aridity. People for whom friendship, and its expectations of loyalty and compassion and support, no longer matter. People who claim to love literature – the messy stories of our humanity – but are also monomaniacally obsessed with whatever is the prevailing ideological orthodoxy. People who demand that you denounce your friends for flimsy reasons in order to remain a member of the chosen puritan class.

People who ask you to ‘educate’ yourself while not having actually read any books themselves, while not being able to intelligently defend their own ideological positions, because by ‘educate,’ they actually mean ‘parrot what I say, flatten all nuance, wish away complexity.’

People who do not recognize that what they call a sophisticated take is really a simplistic mix of abstraction and orthodoxy – sophistication in this case being a showing-off of how au fait they are on the current version of ideological orthodoxy.

People who wield the words ‘violence’ and ‘weaponize’ like tarnished pitchforks. People who depend on obfuscation, who have no compassion for anybody genuinely curious or confused. Ask them a question and you are told that the answer is to repeat a mantra. Ask again for clarity and be accused of violence. (How ironic, speaking of violence, that it is one of these two who encouraged Twitter followers to pick up machetes and attack me.)

And so we have a generation of young people on social media so terrified of having the wrong opinions that they have robbed themselves of the opportunity to think and to learn and to grow.

I have spoken to young people who tell me they are terrified to tweet anything, that they read and re-read their tweets because they fear they will be attacked by their own. The assumption of good faith is dead. What matters is not goodness but the appearance of goodness. We are no longer human beings. We are now angels jostling to out-angel one another. God help us. It is obscene.

[littlemixnet]

To me, a good ally is someone who is consistent in their efforts – there’s a difference between popping on a pride playlist or sprinkling yourself in rainbow glitter once a year and actually defending LGBT+ people against discrimination. It means showing my LGBT+ fans that I support them wholeheartedly and am making a conscious effort to educate myself, raise awareness and show up whenever they need me to. It would be wrong of me to benefit from the community as a musician without actually standing up and doing what I can to support. As someone in the public eye, it’s important to make sure your efforts are not performative or opportunistic. I’m always working on my allyship and am very much aware that I’ve still got a lot of unlearning and learning to do. There are too many what I call ‘dormant allies’, believing in equality but not really doing more than liking or reposting your LGBT+ mate’s content now and again. Imagine if that friend then saw you at the next march, or signing your name on the next petition fighting for their rights? Being an ally is also about making a conscious effort to use the right language and pronouns, and I recently read a book by Glennon Doyle who spoke of her annoyance and disappointment of those who come out and are met with ‘We love you…no matter what’. I’d never thought of that expression like that before and it really struck a chord with me. ‘No matter what’ suggests you are flawed. Being LGBT+ is not a flaw. Altering your language and being conscious of creating a more comfortable environment for your LGBT+ family and friends is a good start. Nobody is expecting you to suddenly know it all, I don’t think there’s such a thing as a perfect ally. I’m still very much learning. Even recently, after our Confetti music video I was confronted with the fact that although we made sure our video was incredibly inclusive, we hadn’t brought in any actual drag kings. Some were frustrated, and they had every right to be. You can have the right intentions and still fall short. As an open ally I should have thought about that, and I hadn’t, and for that I apologise. Since then I’ve been doing more research on drag king culture, because it’s definitely something I didn’t know enough about, whether that was because it isn’t as mainstream yet mixed with my own ignorance. But the point is we mess up, we apologise, we learn from it and we move forward with that knowledge. Don’t let the fear of f**king up scare you off. And make sure you are speaking alongside the community, not for the community. Growing up in a small Northern working-class town, some views were, and probably still are, quite ‘old fashioned’ and small-minded. I witnessed homophobia at an early age. It was a common thought particularly among men that it was wrong to be anything but heterosexual. I knew very early on I didn’t agree with this, but wasn’t educated or aware enough on how to combat it. I did a lot of performing arts growing up and within that space I had many LGBT+ (mainly gay) friends. I’ve been a beard many a time let me tell you! But it was infuriating to see friends not feel like they could truly be themselves. When I moved to London I felt incredibly lonely and like I didn’t fit in. It was my gay friends (mainly my friend and hairstylist, Aaron Carlo) who took me under their wing and into their world. Walking into those gay bars or events like Sink The Pink, it was probably the first time I felt like I was in a space where everyone in that room was celebrated exactly as they are. It was like walking into a magical wonderland. I got it. I clicked with everyone. My whole life I struggled with identity – being mixed race for me meant not feeling white enough, or black enough, or Arab enough. I was a ‘tomboy’ and very nerdy. I suppose on a personal level that maybe played a part in why I felt such a connection or understanding of why those spaces for the LGBT+ community are so important. One of the most obvious examples of first realising Little Mix was having an effect in the community was that I couldn’t enter a gay bar without hearing a Little Mix song and watching numerous people break out into full choreo from our videos! I spent the first few years of our career seeing this unfold and knowing the LGBT+ fan base were there, but it wasn’t until I got my own Instagram or started properly going through Twitter DMs that I realised a lot of our LGBT+ fans were reaching out to us on a daily basis saying how much our music meant to them. I received a message from a boy in the Middle East who hadn’t come out because in his country homosexuality is illegal. His partner tragically took their own life and he said our music not only helped him get through it, but gave him the courage to start a new life somewhere else where he could be out and proud. There are countless other stories like theirs, which kind of kickstarted me into being a better ally. Another standout moment would be when we performed in Dubai in 2019. We were told numerous times to ‘abide by the rules’, which meant not promoting anything LGBT+ or too female-empowering (cut to us serving a four-part harmony to Salute). In my mind, we either didn’t go or we’d go and make a point. When Secret Love Song came on, we performed it with the LGBT+ flag taking up the whole screen behind us. The crowd went wild, I could see fans crying and singing along in the audience and when we returned it was everywhere in the press. I saw so many positive tweets and messages from the community. It made laying in our hotel rooms s**tting ourselves that we’d get arrested that night more than worth it. It was through our fans and through my friends I realised I need to be doing more in my allyship. One of the first steps in this was meeting with the team at Stonewall to help with my ally education and discussing how I could be using my platform to help them and in turn the community. Right now, and during lockdown, I’d say my ally journey has been a lot of reading on LGBT+ history, donating to the right charities and raising awareness on current issues such as the conversion therapy ban and the fight for equality of trans lives. Stonewall is facing media attacks for its trans-inclusive strategies and there is an alarming amount of seemingly increasing transphobia in the UK today and we need to be doing more to stand with the trans community. Still, there is definitely a pressure I feel as someone in the public eye to constantly be saying and doing the right things, especially with cancel culture becoming more popular. I s**t myself before most interviews now, on edge that the interviewer might be waiting for me to ‘slip up’ or I might say something that can be misconstrued. Sometimes what can be well understood talking to a journalist or a friend doesn’t always translate as well written down, which has definitely happened to me before. There’ve been moments where I’ve (though well intentioned) said the wrong thing and had an army of Twitter warriors come at me. Don’t get me wrong, there are obviously more serious levels of f**king up that are worthy of a cancelling. But it was quite daunting to me to think that all of my previous allyship could be forgotten for not getting something right once. When that’s happened to me before I’ve scared myself into thinking I should STFU and not say anything, but I have to remember that I am human, I’m going to f**k up now and again and as long as I’m continuing to educate myself to do better next time then that’s OK. I’m never going to stop being an ally so I need to accept that there’ll be trickier moments along the way. I think that might be how some people may feel, like they’re scared to speak up as an ally in case they say the wrong thing and face backlash. Just apologise to the people who need to be apologised to, and show that you’re doing what you can to do better and continue the good fight. Don’t burden the community with your guilt. When it comes to the music industry, I’m definitely seeing a lot more LGBT+ artists come through and thrive, which is amazing. Labels, managements, distributors and so forth need to make sure they’re not just benefiting from LGBT+ artists but show they’re doing more to actually stand with them and create environments where those artists and their fans feel safe. A lot of feedback I see from the community when coming to our shows is that they’re in a space where they feel completely free and accepted, which I love. I get offered so many opportunities to do with LGBT+ based shows or deals and while it’s obviously flattering, I turn most of them down and suggest they give the gig to someone more worthy of that role. But really, I shouldn’t have to say that in the first place. The fee for any job I do take that feels right for me but has come in as part of the community goes to LGBT+ charities. That’s not me blowing smoke up my own arse, I just think the more of us and big companies that do that, the better. We need more artists, more visibility, more LGBT+ mainstream shows, more shows on LGBT+ history and more artists standing up as allies. We have huge platforms and such an influence on our fans – show them you’re standing by them. I’ve seen insanely talented LGBT+ artist friends in the industry who are only recently getting the credit they deserve. It’s amazing but it’s telling that it takes so long. It’s almost expected that it will be a tougher ride. We also need more understanding and action on the intersectionality between being LGBT+ and BAME. Racism exists in and out of the community and it would be great to see more and more companies in the industry doing more to combat that. The more we see these shows like Drag Race on our screens, the more we can celebrate difference. Ever since I was a little girl, my family would go to Benidorm and we’d watch these glamorous, hilarious Queens onstage; I was hooked. I grew up listening to and loving the big divas – Diana Ross (my fave), Cher, Shirley Bassey, and all the queens would emulate them. I was amazed at their big wigs, glittery overdrawn make-up and fabulous outfits. They were like big dolls. Most importantly, they were unapologetically whoever the f**k they wanted to be. As a shy girl who didn’t really understand why the world was telling me all the things I should be, I almost envied the queens but more than anything I adored them. Drag truly is an art form, and how incredible that every queen is different; there are so many different styles of drag and to me they symbolise courage and freedom of expression. Everything you envisioned your imaginary best friend to be, but it’s always been you. There’s a reason why the younger generation are loving shows like Drag Race. These kids can watch this show and not only be thoroughly entertained, but be inspired by these incredible people who are unapologetically themselves, sharing their touching stories and who create their own support systems and drag families around them. Now and again I think of when I’d see those Queens in Benidorm, and at the end they’d always sing I Am What I Am as they removed their wigs and smudged their make up off, and all the dads would be up on their feet cheering for them, some emotional, like they were proud. But that love would stop when they’d go back home, back to their conditioned life where toxic heteronormative behaviour is the status quo. Maybe if those same men saw drag culture on their screens they’d be more open to it becoming a part of their everyday life. I’ll never forget marching with Stonewall at Manchester Pride. I joined them as part of their young campaigners programme, and beforehand we sat and talked about allyship and all the young people there asked me questions while sharing some of their stories. We then began the march and I can’t explain the feeling and emotion watching these young people with so much passion, chanting and being cheered by the people they passed. All of these kids had their own personal struggles and stories but in this environment, they felt safe and completely proud to just be them. I knew the history of Pride and why we were marching, but it was something else seeing what Pride really means first hand. My advice for those who want to use their voice but aren’t sure how is, just do it hun. It’s really not a difficult task to stand up for communities that need you. Change can happen quicker with allyship.

Jade Thirlwall on the power, and pressures, of being an LGBT ally: ‘I’m gonna f**k up now and again’

[thedemonstherapist]

Update Time! Where I've been, what's been happening & the future of this blog

Well, as you can guess by the title, this is gonna be a bit of a long one, so please trust me on it. I wanted to give you a bit of an update, as I have not been properly active for a while, and a lot of stuff has happened in my life, including my writing. I'll mark each section, so just jump to the ones you want to read, but context will be your friend in most of the cases.

Love you!

Where I've been:

Technically, I just came back from a month long trip to Spain, as I attended a language course in Andalucia. In a grander sense, I finished my general schooling (Abitur) in March and had been busy prepping for an entrance exam for the entirety of April and May. All of my university applications have been handed in and now I'm waiting to see what I'll be doing for the rest of the year. If I do not get accepted, which is possible, as Psychology courses at the schools I applied to have quite strict requirements, I currently only have ideas on what to do. I might do an Au-Pair Year to better my spanish, might work and then travel, might do a kind of paid internship at one of my (hopeful) universities psychiatric facilities. I have a lot of options but am currently undecided and a bit scared to make definitive choices.

Original Writing:

After playing with multiple novel ideas for years and years, I've been setteled on one specific idea for a long time and have been working on it here and there between my schooling. As I now have had proper time to sit down and really THINK about what I'm writing, how I want to plot this book, etc., I've realised that I have the potential to do it seriously and properly. It's always been my dream to write and publish a novel, so I'm actually sitting down and doing it now. I'm very excited, but also very nervous, as I desperately want to myself and this story justice.

FanFic Writing:

I'm slowly getting back into Fanfiction, specifically Genshin. It's been a bit rough, but I genuinely have a lot of ideas and stories I want to tell. And to help inspire me, my requests have been open for a long time! So if you have headcanons, ideas or just indestinct rambling you'd like to see me expand or see my take on, now's your time!

What is, in general, happening with this blog?

Well, I'm trying to revive it along with my creativity. As I said, requests are open and I have, after a lot of back and forth in my mind, opened a Ko-Fi. So if you'd just like to give me a small tip for my work (as soon as it picks up again), I'd be very, VERY thankful. Please, just stick to small tips. I'm in no desperate need for money, there are people and causes much more deserving and important. I'm also thinking of taking on paid requets in the future, where I'd write a 5,000-10,000 word story based on your prompt with deadline and all. All of that is very much speculative and again, I want to give you guys some good, free content before I even consider being paid for it.

TLDR: I am reviving this blog, and am also thinking about monetizing some of my work, but I will NEVER put any of it behind paywalls. Any money you'd be willing to give me stays on a completely voluntary level, and if you have money to spare, look up causes like abortion funds, Trans Rights Campaigns, Black Lives Matter, War Relief funds for all the countries in crisis before you donate to me.

Missed you guys! I will be taking my time exploring Genshin again and re-engaging with the fandom and it's WONDERFUL creators.

[doyelikehaggis]

i’m still gay im still mentally ill i’m slightly less hungover and i couldn’t think of a new way to start this ask

jody in wonderland!!! the superior dream episode *glares at the dumping ground island*

may-li!!! she’s here, she’s queer, she’s an absolute icon!!! wait shit was she the first canonically queer main character??? because i don’t think elektra counts as canonical :((

i will forever have such a soft spot for jody in wonderland. it’s such a fun episode yet so important to jody’s character development. and also oddly full of surreal horror

oh this is also the superior musical episode *glares at joyless division*

hey wait why the fuck does jody side with chloe so often?? you’d think she’d get a bit pissed off that chloe acts like ryan is the worst brother in the world when kingsley exists. dammit now i’m mad that jody and ryan didn’t get more of a friendship

tyler’s character being the one to say “it’s family. you can’t throw it away” just has so many layers to it

crack headcanon: rick being the duchess means that rick’s trans

s2 e1 time, time for baileyyyyyy

here’s an interesting question: where do you think the divide between tbbr and tdg is?? obviously it’s between the two shows, but tdg s1 still feels like tbbr at first. to me, it’s either when gus gets fostered or s2 e1

*sudden realisation i only have a season until ryan shows up* oh god oh fuck i’m not mentally prepared

honestly this is probably one of the most heartbreaking tyler plots in the show?? and they don’t even do it properly??? like if they were gonna do an episode plot about him thinking he’s fat they could’ve at least bothered to actually play it seriously instead of making it another siLLy B-pLoT because the end result has some. concerning implications

mike is great and all but he’s seriously shit at listening to the kids. it’s like he doesn’t actually follow the advice he gave tracy in s1???

grievous bodily harm counter is now at 6!! possibly more!!

entirely valid! iconic intro! why fix what isn't broken?

god, yeah. while I love Tyler figuring out that he likes Jody, 'The Dumping Ground Island' just doesn't quite hit the mark like 'Jody in Wonderland' does. it is iconic and forever will be, as horrifying as frog!mike and walrus!kingsley are. I love that it has Jody use a classic kid's story to help her process the emotions she's going through about giving a witness statement against Kingsley. it feels really accurate to how kids tend to think when dealing with really difficult situations? or maybe that was just my experience, but I think the writers were really smart about how they did it.

unfortunately, Elektra does not count, you're right. while queer characters don't always have to SAY they're queer, simply putting a pride flag in her room doesn't feel like enough. so yeah, May-Li was our first canonically queer character!

that's what I'm saying! the episode is crucial to how Jody grows as a person, and that is a key point in her development. she makes a choice and she goes forward from it stronger than she was before. and yeah, the surreal horror is... surreal. whenever Kingsley shows up, but especially when Jody is stuck in the cage and he's walking towards her smirking? feel like my heart stops every time and this is the moment where you are trapped in fear with the heroine of the story.

now, I may have to disagree on that one; I am actually a bit of a sucker for 'Joyless Division'. while the plot of the episode is a bit odd and doesn't really do much for me, and the songs are a bit cheesy-sounding, there's just something about it that gets me whenever I rewatch it. the songs are stuck in my head for days because they're so damn catchy, whereas I'm always left slightly disturbed and horrified by the songs in 'Jody in Wonderland' lmao.

hm. that is an interesting point you raise. I can't really say why Jody sides with Chloe so often. she might not want to get pissy at her for being so cold with Ryan sometimes because, well, while she knows that there are worse brothers in the world (i.e. her own), it's not her place to tell Chloe how she should feel about her own past trauma? just a thought, I dunno, might be more of a mistake on the writer's part and not actually that deep. maybe Jody felt some empathy with Chloe in a way for how she felt about her brother (not that the situations are at all comparable) and combining that with how often Ryan pissed her off, maybe she found it a bit hard to be too sympathetic toward him BECAUSE of her relationship with Kinglsey. but it could've been nice to get some deeper interactions between the two of them rather than always kind of being at each other's throats and leaving Tyler stuck in the middle kjghdkjh

ooh, damn, yeah, Tyler getting that line uhh makes me have feelings.

baby we are on the exact same page, I have been secretly headcanoning Rick as trans for some time now, and I'm so happy you see it, too. I love the choice to have him as the duchess.

BAILEY!! MY BOY!!

honestly, while I do agree that Gus' leaving episode does feel like a big divide in a way, I don't actually Feel the divide in the two shows until s3 e1. there's something about s2 that still has that kind of gritty TBR vibe to me, especially with 'Experience', 'Finding Frank', 'Be My Girl' and 'Hope'.

RYAN!!

I do definitely think that they could and should have handled that storyline with Tyler better. there should have been a better conclusion to it as well, and honestly I think that maybe that feeling should have stuck with him for a few more seasons just like his concerns about having bipolar disorder like his mum did. it should have been the main plot of the episode, not the b plot, BUT on the other, more positive hand, I do appreciate them doing this storyline with Tyler. there's very little representation of boys/men with eating disorders or body dysmorphia without portraying it in a concerning gym-bro kind of way that's meant to be played for laughs. it was a bit honest about how kids, especially ones who are just at the beginning of becoming a teenager, can pick up a remark about their body and become overly focused on it in an unhealthy way. like I said, I do think that it's a storyline that should have been done over the course of more than one episode and season, so that it's not just a toss away moment, but I also do really like that episode.

yeah, it bugs me how little Mike actually does listen. he used to be pretty good at it, but the writers seem to lose their grip on their character's voices a bit, especially because of how long Mike has been in the Tracy Beaker universe, so sometimes things are going to get a bit out of character. really annoying.

oh wonderful!!

[mlm-writer]

Feel Good (Vernon x M!Reader)

Pairing: Choi Hansol/Vernon x Male Reader (NOT trans-friendly) Rating: Explicit Words: 1509 Summary: It’s the first time you have sex and Hansol is more than willing to show you the ropes.  Note: This is a repost. It was originally posted on @lgbt-kpopimagines​, but that blog died. Reposting to get everything properly in my masterlist. Tags: first time, fluff, communication, anal sex, topping from the bottom, riding, oral sex and protected sex (I’m a big fan of safe sex).

When I entered the bedroom, my heart was hammering in my chest. My hair still dripped onto my face, but I didn’t have the patience to properly dry it. Hansol and I have been talking a lot about our first time together and while I really wanted to have sex, the thought also terrified me. I saw my love playing on his phone when I came in, still half-clothed. I, too, had put on some boxers and a shirt, before coming in. Just prancing in naked seemed a little bit too much.

“All clean?” He asked with a gentle smile. His hair was still damp as he walked up to me with a towel. He threw it onto my head and started drying my hair casually. It was comforting, as if tonight was like any other night. I hummed and waited for him to be done. When the towel was off my head, I wanted to say something, but I found it hard to find words. “Hey, we can just postpone and cuddle tonight. I really don’t mind.”

I shook my head. “No! I am just…” Now was the best time to be honest and upfront. “I don’t want to disappoint you.” He smiled and took a gentle hold of my head, bringing our lips closer, but giving me enough time to pull away, if I wanted to. His soft lips moved eagerly against mine, tongue inviting me in. He was gentle with me, but also made it clear that I was in control of the situation. We kissed all the way back to the bed. He pulled me on top of him, let me take his shirt off and then took off mine.

I kissed him with eagerness, feeling the tension leave me each time our tongues brushed together. I didn’t notice we were grinding on each other, until his hips bucked up a little more violently and his bulge met mine. We moaned into each other’s mouths and I pushed myself up. “Can I take your underwear off?” I whispered, feeling breathless at the sight below me. Hansol nodded and lifted his hips as soon as I got off him. I slid his last garment off his legs and watched as his hard cock was revealed.

Hansol took my hand and wrapped it around his length. “I am all yours.” He guided my hand over his cock, letting go after a while and allowing me to decide for myself what I wanted to do. I bent down, nuzzling the hot flesh and sticking my tongue out to gingerly lick just below the head. “Need some guidance?” Hansol breathed out after a short while of me shyly getting small tastes of him. I looked up at him with a boyish smile and nodded. I felt like I knew what I wanted to do, but I was not sure what my boyfriend was okay with.

“Okay, just… please take me into your mouth. Not much, just… whatever you’re comfortable with.” I followed his instruction, wrapping my lips around him. It felt much bigger in my mouth than what it looked like. I didn’t know how much I was taking, but Hansol seemed to be enjoying it regardless. His hand rested on my shoulder. He squeezed from time to time, making sounds of pleasure in between his instructions. He told me when to suck, when to lick where to do it, until he could not take it anymore.

“Come on baby, I want to make you feel good too”, my boyfriend whined as he pushed at my shoulder. I lifted my head out of his lap and looked at him with saliva dripping out of the corner of my mouth. I watched as he sat up and patted the bed to make me lie down there.

“It would surprise you, how good it feels to have you in my mouth and hear you enjoy it too,” I mused, stealing a kiss before lying on my back. He rested his hands on my hips, waiting for a signal that he could go on. I lifted my ass off the bed and let him take my underwear off. I didn’t know I could get hard from just sucking someone off, but then again, that someone was the possibly cutest boy on earth. Said boy was now rolling a condom on me, eyes trained on my member like he was being presented a meal from the heavens, garnished by God himself.

When Hansol straddled my lap, my hands automatically ended up on his sides, caressing the soft skin as he rubbed his dry hole over my cock. “Don’t worry about prepping me; I did it while you were showering. Thought that would make you less anxious.” The soft look in his eyes brought tears to mine. I reached up to pull his face down to mine. I pushed myself up with my other arm, meeting him halfway. There were no words to express how thankful I was for his consideration, but the soft moans leaving his lips indicated that the kiss was portraying it perfectly.

We kissed like that, feverishly with mouths open, tasting one another. I had not noticed him reaching for the bedside table and pouring lube onto his hand. I assumed he did, when I felt his warm hand wrapping around my length and wetness covering the thin material around my cock. I moaned around his tongue in my mouth and bucked into his hand. I could no longer keep myself up when I felt him rubbing the head of my cock over his hole. I fell back, chest heaving. Hansol stared down at me with the most innocent upturn of the lips. “Are you ready baby?” I nodded, breathless, speechless. “I will make you feel really good,” he keened with a deep pink colour dusting over his nose and cheeks.

And he did. He pushed until the tip was inside and then lifted his hips up again. He kept teasing me like that until I could cry. “Feeling good?” He inquired with a playful tone, but I could hear the awe in his voice, the hint of admiration he always showed me. It made everything even better and I nodded. His lips connected with mine and I felt him sinking down on me completely. I gasped and grabbed his hips.

“Oh good Lord,” I whispered under my breath. Hansol paused, when he was basically sitting on my cock. I was glad he did. Never before had I been inside someone and the sensations were overwhelming. I looked up to see my boyfriend with his head thrown back and his mouth slightly open. At least I was not the only one having a good time. “Come on, babe, show me a good time,” I whines as I rubbed his sides, hoping it would encourage him to move. As good as it felt, I needed more to reach my climax.

Hansol started out slow, but gradually picked up pace. I just lied there moaning, until two hands grabbed mine and put them on slender hips. I opened my eyes, met with the sight of a sweaty boy, looking down at me in the most sensual and intense way. Hansol lifted his hips without losing me and rested his elbows next to my head. “Please fuck me,” he whimpered with hooded eyes.

I took a firm grip on his hips and bucked mine up. It took a little while, before I got the hang of it, but my boyfriend encouraged me with every moan and whimper leaving his lips. Soon enough I was fucking up into him with the same pace as he had been riding me. Our moans mixed, filled the room and echoed off the walls. I didn’t realise how close I was, until I found my whole body convulsing, orgasm shaking through every muscle. I reflexively pulled Hansol down on my spasming cock, groaning through every drip leaving my length. When I started coming down from my high, I felt wetness on my stomach.

I opened my eyes, seeing my boyfriend’s hand furiously flying over his own hard cock and spilling semen over my body. Hansol looked so perfectly ruined, his innocent face displaying pure pleasure, hair sticking up in some places. When he was down as well, he fell forwards onto my own damp body. The semen on my abdomen felt disgusting, but there was no room to focus on that with my lover leaving lazy kisses in my neck. “Thank you,” I sighed, head tilting to give him more room, but instead he just planted his face there, nuzzling my hot skin. He looked so cute, so happy. I could not help but say it. “I love you.”

I felt his breath hitting my skin, as he chuckled. “I love you too,” he murmured, hands finding a comfortable place. I wanted to tell him we needed to maybe clean up first, but I could already feel his breath slowing down. Guess we could get a nap first.