#and no me existing and sharing labels with you is not 'making it your problem'

[icannotgetoverbirds]

saw an exclusionist post so here's a reminder

specifically in reference to transmasc lesbians and trying to draw lines in the sand on who can and can't claim the lesbian label, about how being a lesbian is exclusive of loving men, with someone referring to the people they're attempting to exclude as "fandom gremlin transmascs and neo-mogai crazies."

I don't have the spoons for a proper response but i do feel like i need to make something clear.

on this blog we support fucky genders, fandom gremlin transmascs, and neo-mogai crazies. reblog if u love ur fellow fandom gremlin and neo-mogai crazy queers.

[strawberryya]

notice me!

pairing: jihoon x reader

synopsis: Your boyfriend has a hectic life, but he usually has at least a little time to spare for his girlfriend. Now it has been two months since he last spent some alone time with you and you're losing your mind just a little over it... luckily, angry make-up sex can solve any problem!

word count: 2.1k

genre/cw: smut, angry sex, also make-up sex, established relationship, feeling neglected in relationship and bad ways of handling said feeling, unprotected sex, manhandling, light choking, fem reader, musician/producer! woozi.

rating: 18+

a/n: I had a moment a couple weeks ago where I wrote this whole thing in one hour in the middle of the night, and then I forgot about it and now I'm in shock just a little bit... anyhow, yay angry sex with wooziiii

network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

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You watched your boyfriend of two years looking at his phone, scrolling mindlessly across whatever app he found more interesting than his girlfriend sitting on the other end of the couch. You were barely wearing anything, a large t-shirt barely covering the sexy lingerie you had put on for tonight. 

“Jihoon, it’s been two months.” 

You wanted him to notice you. He had barely been home at your shared apartment for weeks. You knew his work was demanding, and that he gave it his all no matter what. But you have been feeling neglected lately. He had been coming home late, crashing on the couch instead of sleeping in your bed. Only giving you a chaste kiss before running off to work the next morning with a groggy “Sorry I missed dinner last night,” as a greeting. 

He hadn’t touched you in two months. You had counted the days, and after three weeks you were wondering if he wasn’t stressing too much about the latest album. After six weeks you had been feeling too horny for your own good, and your toys weren’t fulfilling your needs anymore. You wanted to feel him again. It didn’t matter how many times you came. It didn’t hit the spot. After two entire months of him being abstinent, you had begun getting snarky at the smallest things he did wrong. 

Jihoon looked up from his phone at your statement. He carelessly scratched his chin, making your pussy clench at the memory of those perfect hands being all over your body once upon a time. “Two months? Of what?” 

“Of you acting like a damn nun,” you said, dead serious. 

“A nun?!” He gasped out. 

“Yes! A nun!” You shouted back at him. 

He looked you over, sitting at the other end of the couch, dolled up more than usual and staring at him as if he had offended yuo great grandmother by existing. Then it seemed to click in his mind. “Oh,” was all he said.

Two months? Had it been that long? He knew very well that he had been resisting his urges, but he had managed for two entire months? He had been so busy with the new album, he had been staying late at the studio every day and waking up rushing back to the studio to put the new ideas he got during the night into reality. Two months without sex, and a pissed off girlfriend because of it. 

“I’m sorry?” 

You looked at him like he was an equation, mouth open just a bit as you stared at him in shock. “You’re sorry? What the fuck does that mean?” He was so clueless, you thought as you watched the dumb face he was making. (You still wanted that stupid handsome face of his to eat you out until you cried, but that was besides the point.)

Jihoon knew he had fucked up, you were pissed off and picking a fight, and he hadn’t made it better by not even knowing that he hadn’t slept with you in two whole months. 

“Do you even care? Because you don’t seem to care one bit about it since you didn’t even know! Do you not like me anymore? Are you not attracted to me anymore? Are you in love with someone else? Why the fuck would you go and cheat on me?!”

He stared at you in complete surprise. Cheating? “Hold up- hold up! What are you talking about?!” He said, flabbergasted at the way you seemed to have drawn the most far-fetched conclusions to this problem you could’ve possibly thought of. “I’ve been busy with the comeback! Please, baby, why are you acting crazy?” 

He shouldn’t have said that, he knew it the second the word left his perfectly plump lips. 

“Crazy? Did you just call me crazy? You haven’t seen crazy, you fucking asshole!” You shouted as you stormed out of the room. You were packing your bags, if he didn’t want to be with you anymore you wouldn’t be the one to stop him from moving on and sleeping with whoever else he wanted. Because it sure as hell wouldn’t be you after he had just called you crazy for noticing that he wasn’t interested in you anymore. 

“What are you doing?? Why are you messing up the apartment? Are you leaving?” he shouted, seemingly surprised that you didn’t feel like staying in an apartment that he was hellbent on making a girlfriend-free zone. 

“Yeah, I’m fucking leaving,” you grunt, shoving some shirts into your bag. You wouldn’t be able to grab it all but at least you could make it with the stuff you were throwing into it for a while. Y9ou could always borrow your friends’ stuff until you could get back all your clothes. “You’re pissing me off and I don’t wanna hate you.”

Jihoon was by the bedroom door now, hands pushing his hair out of his face as he watched you angrily packing your bags. How had he fucked up so badly that his girlfriend wanted to leave him like this? 

“Hate me? Baby, I really don’t know what I did to mess up this bad…” 

Of course, he didn’t understand, because apparently, your boyfriend was a freaking master at staying “pure”. He hadn’t even spent a single thought on you and what he could do with you. He only cared about his music. And you wouldn’t be the one to stand in his way if thats how he truly felt. 

“You don’t know?! Look at me Jihoon!” You threw the t-shirt off your body in an angry fit, making your boyfriend’s eyes widen. “I’ve been waiting for you to notice me, to care even a bit about me- about us- for months!! And tonight, I just can’t do this anymore. I’m losing my mind because you won’t fuck me, how stupid is that?” You nearly sobbed as you made it clear that you were frustrated in more than one way. You were so mad at him, and still, you couldn’t help but admire the way he looked so hot even now, his long black hair falling in pretty curls around his face and his lips shiny and pink. He looked so kissable it was like he was teasing you just by existing. 

“You got me all addicted to your cock and then you fucking left me to go through some kind of twisted withdrawal.” 

He gulped, his adam's apple moving in his throat, you didn’t even care to look at him anymore, you were angrily throwing your shit into the bag on the bed yet again, bent over and flaunting the tiny piece of fabric that tried it’s best to cover your ass. “You don’t even care,” you rumbled as you stuffed more things into the bag. He took in the way the lace set hugged your curves deliciously, he had been so busy with everything he hadn’t even noticed his own cravings. He had ignored it all for so long. 

“Shut up.”

His voice was deep, and commanding. Your breath caught in your throat, surprise and need mixing in an arousing blend that went straight to your head. “Excuse me?” Your movements paused completely. When you heard his footsteps approaching you hastily you looked at him, his gaze was darkened, and your core clenched around nothing as he pulled the bag from your grasp. Throwing it on the ground before he pushed your barely clothed body into the bed. 

“You think I don’t fucking care anymore just because you haven’t gotten dick in a couple weeks? Are you that desperate to be stretched like a little whore?” He growled in your ear, his bulge evident in the way he pressed against your ass. “I care, and I see you. So shut up.” 

You gasped at his harsh movements, neediness soaking your panties in record time. God, you were pathetic. 

“I haven’t eaten, I haven’t slept, and I sure as hell haven’t let myself even think about this sweet pussy of yours. I’ve been denying myself it all. But you’re right…” his hand pressed against your throat where you laid face down on the bed, “I’ve been neglecting you. You wanna know why? It’s because I knew that if I so much as looked at you, or held you in my arms while you slept so innocently, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything but fuck your tight little pussy all day and night.” His growling voice set off all kinds of sparks in your core. You needed him, now. 

You pushed your ass up against him, eating a groan from your boyfriend. “Such a little slut,” he mumbled, letting go of your throat and pulling himself back from you completely. You were dizzy from the hold around your throat, his perfect hands remembering just the way you liked to feel them around you. You were about to whine when his touch left your body when you heard the familiar shuffling of his clothes falling off his body. You wanted to see it, take his form in properly after all these weeks. But he was faster, pushing you back down against the bed before you got up. 

His erection pressed against your heat, making you moan as he prodded against the soaked fabric covering your entrance. 

“Jihoon, please,” you mewled, wiggling underneath his firm body. 

“Wanna shut up and let me fuck you then since you’re so fucking needy?” 

“Please, yes! Anything! Please fuck me!” You almost cried as you pleaded with him. 

“Sobbing over cock, you really are such a dirty girl for me.” He groaned as he let his pretty hands smooth over one of your asscheeks, smacking down hard and leaving a burning sting after him. Even that felt good. You needed him more than you had ever needed anything in your life. 

You felt him pull the sticky fabric from your core, pushing it aside in favor of pushing the head of his hard cock against your messy pussy. “I’m about to drown in you later tonight, just you wait.” He whispered before pushing past your entrance, slipping inside, your walls lubing his cock up as he entered. He ignored the way you were so tight it almost hurt to push all the way inside, your moaned pleas for him to go deeper, and the way you were gripping the sheets while he pushed all of himself inside of your dripping heat enough of a reason to push through. It had been so long since he had felt your walls gripping around him that he could’ve spilled his seed into you right then and there. 

He pulled himself together soon enough, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. Your ass which you had pushed up to meet his hips at first had been completely overpowered by the sheer force he was fucking you into the mattress with. You were coming for the first time within minutes. Screaming and sobbing as you finally came around him. He continued, repeating to you what a good toy you were, and how good of a girl you had been for holding out for him this long. 

When you were moaning again, closing in on a second orgasm he told you to come again. Lifting your ass up to balance you on your knees and chest, one of his arms wrapping around your hip to reach your clit, pressing down on it while he let his cock slip in and out effortlessly. Your arousal dripped down your thighs. You came undone and sobbed as he continued to overstimulate your abused cunt. 

He continued fucking you until he couldn’t take it anymore, his own orgasm crashing into him with such force it knocked the breath from his lungs. 

“That was one hell of an apology,” you said, breathless and still leaking cum, exhausted after having all your pent-up frustrations released all at once like this. 

Jihoon chuckled, a sound you had missed these past weeks as well. He really had been unusually absent in your life. It wasn’t just about the sex, you had missed him a lot. “I’m sorry for not being around as much,” he said, dragging a gentle hand over your back. You hadn’t had the energy to move a once from the position he had dropped your hips from once he had pulled out. 

“I just missed you, I’m sorry for lashing out.” 

“Don’t worry about it, just… next time you should just ask me to fuck you instead of threatening to leave me.”

You were embarrassed now, you had acted like a complete maniac, but my god - if that’s how he fucked a maniac, you wanted to stay crazy for the rest of eternity. 

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

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[halomtano]

the thing is is that recently the system community, even the parts that dont use plural terminology, still show an alarming trend where newly recognized systems feel expected to label every single part of their system, keep track of every switch, use pluralkit all the time, and tag every post in a way that can be unhealthy and ultimately harmful. this is a disorder that is designed to be covert and unknown even to itself, yet by every single system blog under the sun listing every member with their role and pronouns and by the most popular youtubers making ten million meet my alter videos (for the enjoyment of a predominantly singlet audience as well), weve created a community that isnt actually... covert-friendly at all.

its okay to just like... exist. you dont need to know who is who all the time if its distressing. you dont need to log every switch when this is a set of disorders specifically about memory problems and dissociation. these may be common therapy tactics, and i would know because my own therapist has suggested them to me before, but that doesnt mean they will work for you because the very basis of being a system is that they were formed under the very specific traumas you went through as a child. and you especially dont need to share such private information on the internet. i know many systems (myself included) who have tried these methods and only ended up feeling more heavily dissociated, confused, distressed, and even have worse headaches as a result. we need to stop teaching people that microlabelling and monitoring every single part of your system is the only way to be a healthy system and start teaching people how to deal with their specific detrimental symptoms that interfere with their quality of life

[vinxhwrites]

I've had this idea in my drafts for a long time and only finished it today because I was procrastinating on the many many assignments I have for this week. I've never written smut before so I don't know what I'm doing, also I'm very sleepy so maybe it sucks, but here it is:

ghost x f!reader x soap

nsfw, +18

word count: 8.2k

cw: nsfw! lots of fluff, tiniest bit of h/c, smut in the end, unprotected sex (don't do it!); alcohol consumption, quite long descriptions of anxieties I guess; also not proofread, sorry

You enjoyed existing in the liminal space between something romantic and something purely friendly. You wanted to get to know every aspect of love, feel it from all directions, in all its forms.

You always wondered what exactly was the tipping point to make one thing turn into another. You wondered if it even existed, if experience could ever be restrained to one set type of relationship, if love could be divided into sections, named and labeled, put into existence and then put to death once things ended, instead of just being the overflowing unconditional force that you hoped it was.

In reality, of course, love can't be limited or restrained by words that aim to define, control or organize it. In practice, you've found it within yourself as something stronger, more nuanced, and freeing than you could've ever hoped it would be.

Ghost first heard Soap refer to you as his "nap buddy" over breakfast one day. He frowned, the first thought to cross his mind being whether the two of you were skipping work to take naps. But Soap went on, telling Gaz about how he'd been creeping into your bed at night when he couldn't sleep. "I feel like a baby, I swear" Ghost overheard him say "she'll just tell me stories until I fall asleep."

It all had started almost two months prior to that conversation, when you bumped into Soap in the corridor one night. You were both sleepy but suffering from insomnia. He shared little tips with you on what usually helped him: walking around, counting sheep, breath exercises; although he admitted this time none of it was working.

You explained your problem was the crippling anxiety that came with the insomnia sessions. You hated being alone with your thoughts during the dark moments of the night, which filled you with unreasonable angst.

You two walked around outside for a while. It was a cold night and you both started to shiver a bit. Soap rubbed his hand on your back in an attempt to warm you, but you concluded it was best to go back to your rooms. Then, as you approached your door, right beside his, you had an idea:

"Hey, I hope this doesn't sound too weird...but would you like to try to sleep with me?"

He smiled at you and accepted the invite.

At that moment, you navigated the perfect moment of sleepiness when rational thoughts can barely form, all that is left are the primary ideas, informed only by your senses and memories. The anxious voices of decent social conduct are far too tired to interject with your thoughts at this point. Anything can seem appropriate, nothing feels real and there is true bliss to be found somewhere.

That's why it felt so natural to curl up in bed with Soap that night, you rested your head on his shoulder and he held your hand. He caressed your hair before saying something nice about the way you smelled and closed his eyes. You surely talked for a bit, in whispers, but neither of you would be able to recall what the conversation was about if someone asked. And just like that, both of you were able to fall asleep in a few minutes of comfort.

It quickly developed into a habit for difficult nights, you now depended on these moments as if they were some kind of medicine. It surely didn't make the issue go away completely for either of you, but it sure was nice to find some comfort in each other's company. Having someone to talk to was a good distraction from your racing thoughts, it was easier to relax when you were with him. Plus, he didn't seem to mind how you jumped effortlessly from one topic to another, talking about anything that came to mind.

Soon, Soap started looking for you even before trying to fall asleep by himself, "preventive care" he explained with a smile when you'd open the door relatively early at night, looking a bit puzzled. You got into the habit of telling him stories, real and made-up, creating nice scenarios for his dreams.

You've let him kiss you a few times, but it never really went much further than that, even though it was no secret that he liked you as a bit more than a friend.

Part of the reason for your contentment with kisses was that both of you were almost always too tired to invest in more than that, but part of it was because of your resistance to changing your relationship dynamic. What you had built with him felt so stable in its tenderness that you were scared to risk losing it.

You've always felt, previously in life, that sex complicated things. Especially with men, especially when you thought they were your friends first, to later be heartbroken by the fact that they really just wanted to fuck you, and had no love to give. You really wished it would be different with him.

But Soap was well-versed in love, he wasn't scared of it. He fully embraced it, actually. Sometimes, while you played with your fingers through his hair, he'd make a point of telling you about his love, the depths of it, how much he could give you of it if you'd let him.

"But it's perfect like this" you cried, anytime he brought up the topic of sex, fearing the inevitable low after the high. Yet, to him sex was irremovable from love, it was the best way he knew how to demonstrate it.

He once told you that you made him feel like a teenager again, saying you were like his prudish high school girlfriend.

The furthest you've gone at this point was letting him finger you one night, just because he begged and whined so much. "I need to feel you" he said, out of breath from kissing you, and you just couldn't resist. It wasn't like you didn't desire him, you were scared doing it would make you want him more. And it did.

He licked his own fingers afterward, which made a moan escape from your mouth. He kissed you again before resting his head on your shoulder. Didn't ask for anything in return. Soap was a lover by definition. And the fact that he respected your boundaries made you treasure him even more.

"You know you can sleep with other people, right?" you assured him, afraid that he'd resent you if you kept him waiting.

"Yeah, but it's not the same thing" he replied.

You were on a first-name basis now, you called him Johnny and, when the two of you were alone, he called you "baby", even letting it slip in front of other people sometimes.

Ghost reprehended you for it one day when he heard it. Not Johnny, you. It was inadequate, he said, and made you apologize to him.

You thought Ghost was scary. It was in a similar manner to which you used to think your linguistics professor at University was scary: in a hot, sexy but very menacing way. You desired his approval and had the impression that you were never going to get it. His mere presence made your legs weak. Maybe it was the authority aspect that messed with your mind, or at least that's what you tried to justify to yourself.

He intimidated you more than anyone, constantly making you feel inadequate just by looking at you. It felt unfair to not even be able to see him properly most of the time, it made you feel naked in every interaction when he could see you so clearly. And on top of that, there was the constant staring: You were always under his watch if he was around as if he was constantly waiting for you to do something wrong. Plus, he seemed to be way more critical of you than he was of others, always questioning you or anything you did, and complaining about your skills or your lack of punctuality (even if you were late by just a minute).

"I think he hates me," you told Johnny one day. "I really do".

He chuckled in response. "He doesn't hate you. He's just really bad at expressing...anything"

"I think he's really good at expressing his hatred for me" you whined back "He doesn't treat you as badly".

"Well, baby, but you can't compete with me!" he smirked proudly "He loves me".

The truth is Ghost loved hearing you say "I'm sorry, sir" in a soft and exhausted voice, it tickled something inside him that he couldn't quite name. It was equally exciting and disturbing to him. But you didn't know that, which is why it caught you by surprise when he showed up at your door one night, as you were about to fall asleep.

Ghost wasn't one to sleep together, not even with the random people he had sex with on occasion. Sleep had always been a solitary activity to him, something he struggled with by himself.

The idea of having someone to sleep with, of it being such a comfort hadn't left his mind ever since he heard John talking about it at the table weeks before. He started to catch himself fantasizing about it, thinking about the warmth of having someone's body so close to him, if it'd be something to shield him from his nightmares. He started to wonder about how soft your skin must feel.

It was a foreign feeling to him, this yearning for something so intimate, but it got to a point where he just had to try it.

"Ghost?" you were confused. He wore sweatpants and a long-sleeved grey t-shirt, and still had a black balaclava on. He closed the door behind him.

"Johnny said you let him sleep with you sometimes" he cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable.

"Right" you responded, waiting for him to scold you for it. But he just stood there in silence "Would you like to sleep here too...?" you guessed amused after he let the silence hang for a bit too long.

He took a deep breath, "May I?" he asked.

"Sure, come here." you moved closer to the wall to make space for him. You couldn't help but smile as you felt him sit down on your bed, the heat coming from his body already making you want to get closer.

"You know I don't have sex with him, right?"

"I didn't come here for sex" he answered immediately, sounding almost offended, then sighed "I can't sleep''.

"OK" you said, already regretting having opened your mouth in the first place.

He laid down on his back beside you exhausted and took a deep breath. He removed his balaclava and put it on your nightstand. You noticed you were holding your breath, terrified of ruining this moment of intimacy.

"You'd better not snore" he said in a low voice, adjusting himself on your pillow with a hand behind his head and the other on his chest.

You chuckled a bit, letting yourself relax by his side. "I don't snore." you assured him "at least, not that I know of".

Ghost didn't answer you this time, and even in the dark you could see he had closed his eyes.

"Permission to touch you, sir?" you asked in a whisper after a few seconds of collecting your courage, craving to feel his skin.

That first night, he let you hold his hand while you two slept. It felt tiny and fragile on his. When he woke up sweating in the middle of the night, as he often did, his heart rate eased when he felt your presence by his side, it did feel different.

He avoided you like the plague for three days straight after that night, you thought he'd never look at you again. You thought you've done something wrong and scared him away. In reality, he was scared he'd poisoned himself by getting a taste of something so novel to him, and feared he'd become addicted to it.

He tried to go back to his regular routine, but now the emptiness of his bedroom felt even more evident, his bed felt colder. Then, when you were starting to become at peace with the anxiety that had built up in your stomach at this point, he showed up at your door again.

This time he didn't say anything after you agreed to let him in, feeling absolutely defeated. He laid on his side, his back turned to you. You asked if you could touch him once more and when he agreed you threw your arm around his torso, cuddling him. He felt a goosebump as your breath touched his back.

And he wouldn't tell you, but when he woke up he couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good night of sleep.

You told Johnny about it the next day as casually as possible, fearing to find a trace of jealousy in his eyes. But instead, they seemed to brighten with delight. "See, I told you he didn't hate you" he smiled.

For the next few weeks, your lieutenant started being kinder to you, albeit in his own way. He stopped reprehending you for stupid reasons, gave you a little pat on the back when you did well during training, and even made you a cup of tea once when he heard Gaz comment that you had a cold one day, putting it in front of you at the table and walking away without saying a word.

You discovered him to be someone more playful than you previously imagined, witty even. The affection you had for him grew stronger with each passing day, as your impression of him morphed into something new, and you just couldn't keep it to yourself. But, unlike Johnny, who loved being touched, Ghost had serious boundaries. Most times you could tell you'd overstepped. He'd let you know it immediately: removing your hand from his face if you touched it, clearly stating "don't" if you ever dared to try to touch his hair, he'd move his hand away when you started to mindlessly draw circles on it with your fingers, and - the only aspect that didn't make you feel completely rejected - pushing you away slightly in bed if you ever got close enough to feel the solid volume in his pants.

For him, physical touch tended to be a utilitarian exchange: maybe he'd get a pat on the shoulder for doing a good job, he'd get kisses and caresses when someone used him for sex, he'd get injured during combat, but your touch was something new: it made no practical sense, there was no transaction to be made, no endpoint, it was just affection for the sake of affection. He didn't know what to do with it.

As your intimacy deepened, Ghost revealed to you that suffered from terrible migraines every once in a while and got into the habit of coming to sleep with you on those days, although he did complain every single time that your constant rambling on different topics made his head hurt even more. He'd retract the statement as soon as you stopped talking though.

One day, when he was in a particularly terrible mood, you offered him a massage. "What good will that do, huh?" he grunted "You just want to touch me"

You chuckled "well, that is partially true, sir" and he smiled behind his balaclava. But you insisted, proceeding to explain how the tension on his neck muscles could be causing the headaches, or at least making them worse, and that was enough to convince him to let you do it.

"It doesn't work if you don't try to relax" you said, pressing your fingers to the base of his neck. You were sitting on the bed, back rested on your pillow, with him between your legs, his back turned to you.

"I'm trying" he mumbled.

"Come on, deep breaths," you said, and you knew immediately that he was probably rolling his eyes. "Come on" you insisted patiently, massaging just the right spot on the back of his shoulders as he let out a low moan, letting his head rest forward.

"See, isn't it better?" you said enthusiastically.

"Stop talking" he grunted, which you did, continuing to massage him in silence.

It took you by surprise when you felt his thumb lightly caress your right ankle, it was a timid touch, and you felt afraid he would stop if you moved, even though that leg felt a bit numb already.

You could feel his body melt under your touch bit by bit, letting more of his weight rest on you. He forgot about his headache, only focused on the delicious slumber that took over his body now.

"You're gonna have to do this every day now" he muttered, eyes closed.

"I'll gladly do it" you assured him, treasuring the way he seemed so relaxed now. You had to fight the urge to put a kiss on his neck with all your might.

That night he held you like a pillow, resting his head on your stomach. You slowly pulled his mask up, waiting to see if there'd be any resistance, but there wasn't.

He shivered when you then touched his hair. It felt soft. You scratched his head gently with your nails and he savoured the foreign feeling that it caused.

"You little demon" he whispered, surrendering completely to your touch.

Ghost knew what love was supposed to look like. He just wasn't that sure about how it felt to receive it anymore. The more he thought about it, the more he was under the impression that he lacked the vocabulary to express it.

Once, when working in complete silence next to him, filling and writing reports, you asked:

"Can you take a look at this, sir?" you held the paper in front of him.

"You know you can call me Simon" he said, eyes still fixed on his papers.

"I didn't actually." you said and he looked at you, you could notice a quick smile appear on his eyes.

"Ok, now you know."

You smiled and he moved his gaze back to the papers in front of him.

"Can you take a look at this, Simon?" you repeated, and this time he looked up and happily took the paper from your hand.

Simon had never really tried anything besides actual sleep with you, and you were terrified of initiating it yourself and getting rejected. But sometimes you could feel the imminence of something, nothing clear or distinct, just the way the silence of the room felt different, a change in the pace of his breathing or a slight shift in the atmosphere. On these moments you'd feel like he could turn you over and fuck you at any second. It fed the anticipation in your chest, but it never happened.

You wondered, at times, if you were somehow able to read his thoughts in cryptic ways and that's how you'd know he was thinking about fucking you.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked in a whisper one of these nights.

"Why do you care?" his response was immediate, defensive. Your fantasies definitely weren't supported by his lack of attention to your romantic attempts.

"Just wondering" you shrugged. "Are you not going to tell me?"

He looked at you, and even in the dark you could tell he was smiling "No".

You prayed that he would kiss you, just a little bit would be enough. But, of course, he didn't.

"I was thinking about you, in case you were wondering," you said casually a few moments later, gazing at his face. You were getting sloppier with hiding your feelings for him, he couldn't possibly not see it.

He chuckled quietly at your response, "Stop flirting with me" he said and you felt your cheeks turn red, "you should get some sleep" he suggested then, shutting off the conversation. And, as if he intended to get you a bit more confused, he lightly caressed your hair.

Sometimes you'd wish he'd just reject you once and for all so you could move on. But the more you thought about your love the more you wanted to cultivate it and share it with him, the same way you felt you could share with Johnny. And if Simon didn't want it, so be it. It felt like, and it was, a big act of bravery on your part. At least you'd be able to comfort yourself on the fact that you loved, it grew and flourished inside you, and it was a beautiful thing.

It got to the point where one of them was occupying your bed almost every day of the week, people were starting to catch on to it. You knew the day would come when they'd both show up and the thought alone made you nauseous, at least until it actually happened.

You held your breath when you heard Johnny's steps approaching your door, even before he knocked on it.

"Come in" Simon said before you could even react.

Johnny tilted his head for a second, looking amused at the scene of his lieutenant cuddling you. He closed the door behind him and took off his slippers, then he approached your bed to lay down beside you.

You held your breath when you saw Johnny rest his neck on Simon's extended arm so nonchalantly. Simon didn't move his arm. You couldn't exactly name what is it that you feared at that moment, the next few moments of silence translated into nervousness within you. Johnny took your arm and casually put your hand on his chest.

"So," he said, looking at Simon playfully "Are you trying to steal her from me?"

Simon chuckled "Didn't know she was yours to steal".

The tension you felt was not shared between them.

"You could've come to sleep with me, lieutenant," Johnny said, he sounded almost offended that Simon would have preferred to sleep with you.

"Back at you, Johnny" he murmured, closing his eyes, making Johnny smile from ear to ear.

You knew your bed surely wasn't made for three, but you managed to make it comfortable. You woke up lying on top of Johnny like a baby, your chest to his, while Simon laid on his side with one arm thrown around you.

That night, Johnny could almost feel his heart flutter and twirl inside his chest. It was perfect. He had so much love to give, he couldn't wait to share it. To him, Love was generous and ever-giving, it was infinite, it overpowered him and he gladly let it.

To Simon, on the other hand, Love was a terrifying force he feared would take over him completely if he let it. He feared it could destroy him, or, even worse, he would destroy it. But, at moments like this one, he couldn't help but let love overflow in his heart, couldn't resist the warmth both of you shared from entering his own body.

Throughout the whole following day, you felt a sweet anticipation for something in your stomach, being only able to think about how nice it had felt to be surrounded by both of them. How you wished you could stay in that state forever, unmoved.

At night, Johnny curled up in bed with you, resting his head on your chest after a tiring day. He seemed almost disappointed to find you alone when he came in, he smiled while he kissed you nonetheless.

He inundated you with questions that gradually turned into whines: did you sleep with him? what do you mean you don't even kiss? what are you doing? don't you find him attractive? why don't you just ask him? do you think we should go after him? why not? let's knock on his door! why not?!

You were able to dissuade him from these impulsive thoughts eventually, stroking your fingers through his hair and recommending that he do the same as you and try to stop thinking about it. It was for the best, you assured him, trying to convince yourself of it, too. He yielded at last, but he wasn't pleased.

"Do you even want me?" he asked with a sigh

"Of course I do." you replied, almost offended at the question "You know I do."

"Doesn't feel like it sometimes" he muttered.

You took a deep breath before taking him through your typical monologue, practically memorized at this point, on your reasons for keeping things as they were - no sex - would be better. The more you talked, the less you found yourself believing in your own words. Still, you tried to make him care for the utter shape of your relationship as it was, in an eternal transient state of a romantic friendship that never lost itself. "That sounds terrible, bonnie" he said, but you insisted he just didn't understand.

"I'm sensitive, Johnny." you tried to explain yourself "I can't stand the thought of ruining what we have."

"Seems like you can't stand the thought of improving them" he sighed.

You knew he had been sleeping with other people, and the thought soothed you more than anything. He never lied to you about it when you asked, and it was comforting to see his heart still belonged to you. You tried to imagine yourself as something separate entirely.

He traced his fingers down to your waist, then hips, and back to your shoulders, letting his hand linger on your breast.

"Don't you want it, baby? Not even a little bit?"

"I do, Johnny" you admitted, not immune to the desire that kept itself alive inside you.

"Haven't you been dreaming about it...?" he continued, his voice lower than before as his fingers played with your hair "Huh? You, me and Simon?"

Your eyes widened at his words, even though you had, in fact, been thinking about it constantly ever since the first night that Simon slept with you.

"That would be a mess" you murmured, telling him what you kept telling yourself.

Johnny chuckled, "a hot, delicious fucking mess?" he suggested.

"Just a regular mess" you lied.

"Just think about it, alright?" he eventually said, resting his head back on your chest.

"Okay." you promised before turning off the light on your nightstand..

"I love you, baby. Truly." he whispered in the dark "There's nothing for you to be afraid of."

"I love you too, Johnny"

Part of you knew it was a silly decision to insist on depriving yourself of pleasure, things were already messy enough. There was no saving any naivety of a friendship that hadn't been merely a friendship from the start, and refusing to admit that you did, in fact, have physical desires toward them was, perhaps, just making things worse. You made a mental note to search for a therapist when you got back home, perhaps dig into whatever religious guilt you seemed to have inherited to drive your decisions.

Nevertheless, you were able to remain firm in your decision. At least until two days later, when everyone went out for drinks at night after a long day.

The sky was dark grey when you left the base to go to the bar. The space was crowded, but comfortable. You knew almost everyone there and quickly settled with some friends.

After one and a half beers Johnny was already getting touchy with you by the counter.

"Have you thought about what I said?"

You nodded and he got closer to you, hands on your waist, "And will you let me make love to you?" he asked softly in your ear.

"Maybe I will" you confessed, already feeling a bit tipsy.

"Come on, bonnie" he insisted, hands on your waist "You know I've been dying to fuck you."

You felt as if your legs would melt right then and there. And, even with your back turned to him, you felt Simon's oppressive stare on you. You turned to find him across the bar.

You both looked at him, sitting at the table next to Price, who seemed to be talking to him, even though his attention laid somewhere else. His hair was covered by a black hoodie, but he didn't cover his face. He grinned at you playfully, taking a sip of the cold beer in his hand.

Johnny followed your gaze and smirked at Simon, then looked back at you with a devilish smile. "I'm gonna get Ghost to come with me" he said and you froze in place.

"I don't think that's a good idea," you plead, already feeling the palms of your hands sweat. What is it exactly that you feared? You didn't really know. It felt childish to be this scared of your own desires.

"I think he's into it" Johnny said, winking at you.

"I don't think so." you grew a bit nervous "I don't think he wants me like that"

Johnny just chuckled in response. "Sure" he said sarcastically. "I can't believe you think that's possible, baby".

You looked around the room nervously, the idea made your stomach turn.

"Tell me you don't want it." he said, suddenly looking at you with a serious expression "Just tell me you don't want it and I won't say anything to him. I'll drop it."

But you couldn't say anything, which made him smile before taking another sip of his beer. Johnny pecked a kiss on your cheek, before leaving you to sit at the table beside Simon.

Although you couldn't pinpoint what exactly caused you so much anxiety, you did notice that it mixed into a twisted excitement.

You watched as they interacted with each other, leaning closer to talk, smiling, and laughing lightly. They looked so pretty you couldn't believe such a dreamy scenario would become a reality to you. Johnny touched Simon's arm and whispered something to him, he grinned and looked at you.

You tried to pretend you hadn't been staring at him the whole time, suddenly feeling a lot of interest in the bottle in your hand and then the conversation that took place between the colleagues beside you.

You tried to distract yourself the rest of the night, interacting with other people and trying your best to focus on different subjects, other people's lives and problems, it was very hard considering that yours seemed to be about to become so much more exciting than anything your friends had been up to.

Johnny didn't seem to want to leave Simon's side anymore, they were engaged in conversation with Price and Gaz at the table on the corner of the bar for what felt like hours to you.

It was pouring rain outside by the time you gave yourself a little tipsy pep talk in the dirty restroom mirror. You told yourself you looked attractive enough, beautiful even. Nothing to worry about.

When you came back, you were so immersed in your own thoughts that you didn't even notice when Simon sat on the barstool beside you.

"What are you thinking about?" you heard his low voice behind you.

You turned around to look at him, feeling blood rush to your cheeks "Didn't see you there"

"Are you not going to tell me?" he repeated your words from the other night with a playful smirk, to which you frowned. He leaned a little closer to you to whisper in a high-pitched voice "I'm thinking about you".

"I don't sound like that"

"Yes, you do" he chuckled.

You took a deep breath before answering, echoing his own words back to him: "Well, you should stop flirting with me"

"I don't think you want me to stop" he grinned, and you wished you knew exactly what Johnny had said to him. "Do you?"

"No," you said frankly "no, I don't."

It was almost 2am when Johnny pointed his head to the door, signaling it was time to leave. Simon was already outside, and you were already soaking wet even before you left the covered environment of the bar.

You thought your heart was trying to jump out of your chest when Simon opened his bedroom door later that night, and felt both of the men you loved follow you inside.

You closed your eyes when you felt both of Simon's hands hold you by the shoulders from behind, as he got closer to you "are you OK, love?" he asked against your neck, the softest you've heard him speak, with the remains of alcohol on his breath. He placed a kiss on your shoulder and you rested your head against his chest.

You nodded, your body burning in anticipation. "Will you guys stop if I don't feel well?" you asked, your voice was almost a whisper.

The anxiety about the implications and consequences of this was already set on your chest. Now there was nothing else to do, no escaping the disturbance this would cause to your life. At this point, stopping would be much worse. Your desires had already manifested, they had been spoken, and transformed, there was nothing left to do but give in to it.

The violent rumbles of lightning bolts shook the sky outside, and sudden flashes of light illuminated the room at an unpredictable frequency. Your eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the room, and the darkness felt comforting, providing an atmosphere of otherworldliness to the room, you could almost imagine this scene took place in a different reality and try not to worry about it.

"Of course" Johnny answered and Simon nodded with his face on your neck.

Johnny kissed you first while Simon held you, his familiar lips searching urgently for you in the dark. You had one hand on his neck, while the other held tight to Simon's, afraid to lose his touch. Johnny looked at him with a smile before grabbing you by the waist and turning you around so that you faced Simon.

"What do you want me to do to you?" Simon asked, looking deep into your eyes, his tone was soft, the question genuine.

“Will you please kiss me?” you cried.

He took your hands in his and kissed them, the small sounds of his kisses covering your fingers and wrists. Then, finally, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You felt your heart could explode at any second. You cupped his face with both hands and caressed his skin.

The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant. His tongue was warm and smooth on yours and he tasted like beer and cigarettes.

You heard when Johnny unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants behind you, grabbing and pulling your hips so you could feel the volume in his underwear, you moaned into Simon's mouth.

Johnny left wet kisses on your neck, making you shiver as he pulled up your t-shirt. Simon cupped your breasts in his hands as soon as he saw them, quickly struggling to free them from your bra, peppering kisses on your chest and nipples.

Simon kneeled in front of you and pulled your pants down, helping you remove your shoes along with them, then smiling at you before kissing over your panties.

You rested your head on Johnny's chest and trusted that his strong grip on your waist would be enough to keep you in place because you barely made any effort to stand anymore.

You hummed when Simon's tongue first touched you, drawing small circles around your clit. Johnny groaned in your ear, pressing his hips against yours, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this horny in his life. His hands danced around your body until, feeling very bold from the alcohol, he moved one of his hands down to stroke Simon's hair.

"tastes so good, doesn't she?' he asked, to which Simon nodded, burying his face deeper between your thighs.

Your mind seemed to finally quiet, you wouldn't be able to form a coherent thought if you tried now. You could feel Simon's desire to devour you.

He slipped a finger inside you, moaning back when you did. He moved his lips back to your clit, sucking it with just enough intensity to make your legs tremble. And, as if he knew, just as you were about to come undone on his touch, Simon stopped, standing up again to kiss you, you whined in protest against his lips, but it was useless.

They exchanged glances and Johnny wet his own lips.

"Let me see you ride him, love" Simon whispered in your ear, eyes fixed to his. And you obeyed.

Johnny quickly removed the rest of his own clothes and lead you to Simon's bed by your hand.

He laid down, but you stood there looking at his body for a moment. He looked so beautiful lying naked in front of you, the low light that came from the window was only enough to highlight the contrast of his features. You couldn't believe you had actually been this stupid to deny yourself from him for so long. You bit your own lip at the sight, his eyes brightened with passion. "Go on" Simon encouraged behind you.

You spread kisses to his chest before sitting on him. You tried to do it slowly, making him roll his eyes back, getting used to the size of it little by little. You both gasped with pleasure when you finally took him in completely.

“You’re so tight, baby” he groaned when you started to move.

You could hear Simon ditching his own clothes somewhere behind you. Then you felt him behind you, one of his big hands gently holding your waist. Simon used his other hand to put one finger in your mouth and you sucked on it, making Johnny audibly moan under you.

You froze immediately when you felt his naked body touch yours, his hardened cock poked the skin of your lower back.

"Relax, I won't do anything you don't want" he assured you in a low voice against your neck. You received wet kisses on your back and shoulders.

Johnny moaned, his fingers tracing your thighs "Feels so good like that" he purred, and you nodded in agreement. He grabbed your hips but Simon quickly slapped his hands away.

Johnny blinked, confused, but then smirked when Simon started to guide your movements by the hips, slowly and gradually changing the speed to fit what you seemed to respond better to. He guided your body on Johnny in a way that made his cock touch you precisely in the right places. You barely had to do any work, so you rested your head on Simon's chest, only opening your eyes to watch Johnny's face under you.

Johnny rubbed his thumb softly on your clit, making very small movements around it. You moved accordingly, enjoying the way the pressure created a response deep within your stomach. You panted on top of him, exhausted but eager to continue, your body guiding you toward release.

The obscene sounds you made were thankfully muffled by the heavy rain outside. You felt your orgasm reach you with the growing rumbles in the sky, which eventually resulted in a violent lightning, not that far from the window. You let your body rest on Simon's chest after the wave of pleasure washed over you.

"You did so good, bonnie" Johnny sat up to kiss your face, and laid back down.

Simon pulled your hips back gently, indicating you should stand on your knees. Intuitively, you positioned yourself so that you could put your lips around Johnny's cock. He closed your eyes when you did.

"Look at her, Johnny" Simon ordered.

He held your hips firmly in place, then pressed into you slowly, savoring how the wet heat between your legs welcomed him.

Johnny had his head resting on one of his arms, his free hand lazily stroking your face as he watched you struggle to fit him in your mouth. He tried his best to be obedient and focus only on you, but his eyes kept looking up curiously, dying to watch Simon's face as he fucked you.

"God, you feel so fucking good" he whimpered before he started moving his hips, filling you completely with every thrust. You could feel his length messing up your insides and you were grateful to have Johnny's cock keeping you silent.

Simon traced his fingers down your spine, around your waist, then back to your neck. He gently stroked your head and grabbed your hair. You thought he'd pull it, but Simon just pressed the back of your head deeper on Johnny's cock, pulling you back when you gagged, then repeating the same movement again and again. Johnny closed his eyes in an effort not to come so soon from the view alone.

You gave up on your own body for a moment, forgot it was yours to control in the first place, letting it be taken by all their movements like one gets taken by the current at sea.

"'m gonna cum if you keep this up" Johnny announced in a low voice, and you weren't sure if he was talking to you or Simon, but the latter let go of his grip on your hair, unsure of what you wanted to do with that information. You kept going on your own now, until you felt Johnny pulse inside your mouth.

He let out a soft moan as he watched you swallow it. His body finally relaxed on the bed and you felt his fingers search your head and caress your hair.

Simon's movements became slower, almost nonexistent, and you anxiously moved your hips against him to alleviate the desire in your core.

"Don't stop" you begged in a small voice, resting your head on Johnny's thigh, but he did stop. Simon gently pulled your hips back and switched your body so that you were facing him.

"Lay down" he instructed, "I wanna see you".

Johnny's arms guided you to lay on top of him, your back to his chest. He kissed and caressed your head lazily while Simon spread your legs, sinking into you with a grunt.

You moaned loudly when you felt him entirely inside you again.

“Shh!” both of them reprehended you, and Johnny quickly covered your mouth with his hand.

"You wanted him to fuck you like this, huh?" he asked close to your ear and you nodded, unable to speak anything other than little moans that were muffled by his palm. Simon looked at you directly in the eyes, his face subtly contorting in pleasure with every little sound you made.

He pushed into you slowly, delighting himself in the warmth of having you wrapped around him. He tried to memorize the feeling of having your skin against his so he could dwell on it later.

Johnny uncovered your mouth to kiss you, moving his hand to hold you at your waist. The familiar feel of his tongue was both comforting and exciting, your lips searched for his with noticeable hunger. You didn't think you could possibly get more aroused at this point.

You rested your head on Johnny's shoulder, closing your eyes and feeling your body relax now that you've gotten more used to Simon's size inside you.

"Eyes open, love" Simon demanded, and you obeyed.

He kept his gaze on your eyes until he couldn't resist moving on to Johnny's anymore. They looked at each other for what felt like too long, Simon's thrusts into you got more intense, and it made you wonder if you were simply the vessel through which they fucked each other at that instant.

Johnny, who had his hands wandering around your body, now moved them from your breasts to caress Simon's chest on top of you, at first in shy quasi-accidental strokes, and then shamelessly grabbing at his waist, scratching nails on his back once he got a positive reaction.

He pressed his hand against the lower part of your stomach, right where you could feel Simon's cock attempting to tear you open with every thrust, you moaned into Simon's mouth as you felt Johnny getting hard under your body again. Your arousal was dripping down his crotch, his chest already wet from your sweat.

"Hm you're taking him so well, baby" Johnny whispered in your ear and you watched as Simon's eyes darkened at the sound of the words.

You’d lost track of time and sense of space completely. It was so unbelievably indulgent it almost felt wrong, as if you couldn't possibly be allowed to experience this much pleasure all at once in life.

You felt you’d reached some new sense of consciousness in which you did not belong to your body anymore, you've transcended into something else, something in complete harmony with them and their own bodies around you. You were certain for a moment that, if you tried or wanted to, you'd be able to read their minds and communicate without words.

The utter feeling of Love just invaded you in the form of radiating happiness, an epiphany planted in your heart, as if you had been stung by Eros himself and you felt yourself capable of reaching an orgasm without your body. All of a sudden the whole universe seemed to become clear and there were no questions you couldn't answer if you wanted, any doubt you had was gone, and any anxiety dissipated. You almost felt like laughing, relishing - for what was probably the first time - in the wonder of cloudless thoughts.

Simon dropped the support of his hands to his forearms, getting impossibly closer and resting his torso on top of you, the cold and metallic touch of his dog tags against your chest sent a shiver down your spine. Johnny’s hands moved from his waist to your hips, grinding you on top of his hardened cock in search of some relief, which was positioned between your ass cheeks.

You drunkenly intercalated kisses between the two of them, feeling absolutely in control until Simon locked your neck in place with his hand, choking you a little before placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Open” he demanded and you did.

He spit saliva into your mouth and, before you could swallow it, Johnny urgently pulled your face to kiss you, desperately licking your tongue.

"Fuck, Johnny" Simon grunted, digging even deeper into you, attempting to get even closer, making your toes curl. He leaned over and kissed Johnny, and you felt him instantly melt under you. His hands left your body to cup Simon's face.

They moaned into their kisses. You almost felt inadequate being there, as if you weren't supposed to witness that much intimacy, but the thought quickly died down when Simon's lips found yours again, leaving Johnny breathless, and he sealed you back into their little universe.

Your back arched when Johnny moved his fingers to your clit again, you barely needed any stimulation at this point, your legs were tense locked around Simon's hips.

"Come on, baby" Johnny purred in your ear "Let me see you cum all over his cock".

Almost as if on command, you did. The high building up in your lower stomach finally reached its breaking point and crashed into your body in waves of ecstasy. Simon moaned as he felt your entire body pulse and relax under him, he jerked faster into you and then quickly pulled out.

Johnny moved you away from him so that your back rested on the mattress with both of them towering over you, stroking themselves. Simon's eyes rolled back as he came on top of you, a heavy moan leaving his throat as he covered you with the warm gooey liquid that dripped from him.

The sheer sight of it, along with your little moans, was almost enough to get Johnny off immediately, and it only took a few strokes to make him cum again.

You watched them as Simon gently cleaned a bit of his own semen off of Johnny's abdomen with his thumb. He brought the finger close to his face in an offer, and Johnny obediently opened his mouth and sucked it off, receiving a pat on his head and a satisfied smile from his superior afterward.

You laid there exhausted while they cleaned you with tissues, getting little gentle kisses on your skin every once in a while. Simon turned you around on the bed and wiped a soft tissue on your face, removing the remains of mascara you had under your eyes.

It took you a few minutes to eventually get up and use the bathroom, Simon had one all to himself, which meant you didn't have to put your clothes back on.

When you came back, they were both still naked on the bed. Johnny was already asleep, a permanent smile stamped on his face, being only partially covered by the sheets.

"Come here" Simon whispered to you, and you gently climbed over Johnny's body to rest in the space between them.

Johnny sleepily arranged his arms around you, one over your waist and the other under the crease of your neck, his fingers reaching to caress Simon's hair.

Simon kissed your forehead. "This feels nice" he murmured, almost too quietly for you to hear. You looked up to kiss his lips again and rested your head on the pillow, wishing you wouldn't have to get up the next morning.

(now that this is out of my system I can finally move on with my life).

[i-hold-horrors-hand]

Something I've noticed in the Ghost fandom (and others) is some fans feeling "unrepresented" in fanfiction...and thinking that this is a huge moral problem for which they must receive compensation. Which. No.

Does feeling unrepresented in fanfics (and fan art) suck? Yeah, it does. Been there, more than once. Hell, I'm not even really represented in my own actual real life. Does that entitle you to essentially demand that other people make fan works for you, lest they be labeled as "bigoted" or "bad" or otherwise uncaring? No. You're not entitled to people making things that appeal to you, just because.

You're entitled to want this, to feel like you're getting the short end of the fandom stick (and you might be, not gonna deny that), but other people not catering to you doesn't really say much about them at all.

There's solutions to this problem, though. One of them is seeking out people who are already making the kind of fan works you like, that appeal to you/your demographic. Granted, they may be difficult to find (and you may have to look off Tumblr and in more obscure places to find them), but you can't just give up without looking. Look for them, and if you find them, try to develop a friendship or friendly mutual-following-ship with them. (Sometimes easier said than done, I know. Idk how to people, either. But an attempt must be made. God's peed or however that goes.). And hype them up! Promote them! Share the joy with others!

Another solution is making the fan works yourself. You see the stuff that's already here, already made, already in progress? That stuff largely exists because a fan said "I wanna write/draw this", and they went and did it. You can do that too, and in fact you should! Engaging in the creative process is part of the fun of fandom, and you should know and experience this. Now, your skill level may not be where you want it to be or what you think it should be...but since when has that actually stopped anyone? (It certainly never stopped me lmaooo). You have an idea that you'd like to see realized? Draw it. Write it. Who cares if it's "bad"? Everyone's gotta start somewhere, and why shouldn't you let yourself start? Maybe your fan works won't be as popular as others, but who cares? (I never do. Also, fuck popularity. That means you get Perceived™. Gross.). Fandom ain't about popularity. It's about fun and community.

And in order to have that community, you have to participate in it. Even if you're not confident, even if you're awkward, even if you don't think you're as skilled or talented as other people. You gotta do it, and you gotta do it for the love of it.

Teal Dear: In order to get the things you want out of a fandom, you gotta be proactive. Go forth and make some stuff that appeals to you specifically. Be unapologetic about it and have fun. (That's what I do, and I love doing it!)

Okay. I'm tired. I'm going to bed 💤

[cock-holliday]

"Does the parody of this gender make me NOT this gender?"

but... all gender IS a parody. that's why the patriarchy invented it. and why gender doesn't exist in any form outside of human society. gender is stereotypes and parody and an axis of oppression. everyone on earth should be genderqueer/nonbinary. socialisation is the thing that stops this. the end goal of gender rights is the complete abolition of gender, not whatever you're doing in that post. you seem like you're really rightwing and trying to hide it by mis-using leftwing terminology...

You sound like a deeply unpleasant person.

"everyone on earth should be genderqueer/nonbinary" As a genderqueer person...no they should not. People should be free to identify how they want, not have labels forced on them, and not have to be punished for falling into any particular category. The problem is not the existence of gender and identity labels but rather the power other axes of oppression have to influence it---namely white supremacy and colonial standards.

Gender is not uniform across different societies. It is wholeheartedly made up, sure, as is any other form of categorization! And like any other form of categorization there is shared history and community and the ability to shape it into what you want just as much as the ability to form a sense of nationalism tied to it. And what makes up men, women, and other is different across time and location. The problem is assigning roles and status along a hierarchy, not in putting labels on yourself.

"the end goal of gender rights is the complete abolition of gender, not whatever you're doing in that post" hmmmm can't tell if you're misinformed or gender crit, either way, what a presumptuous take. There are plenty who reject gender abolition in favor of gender liberation.

There needs to be an end to oppression based on gender, on restrictive pressures placed on various genders, on hierarchies (based in gender and others) and an end to the gender binary, but gender abolition is a pretty shit path, imo

Anarcha-genderism only requires, at minimum, non-participation in the legal and social enforcement of unjust hierarchies which revolve around the gender binary.

Gender should be a choice--yours and yours alone. And it should mean what you want it to mean. Forcing a new metric for gender and forbidding use of terms is just as reductive under an """abolitionist""' lol perspective as it is under patriarchy.

I'll give you some credit if you're coming from a nihilist perspective on gender abolition--their critiques of liberal feminism are super correct, but I think their conclusion is flawed, namely in thinking there is no value to identity words.

Abolition is for systems, not ways people describe themselves.

Also please for the love of god read Judith Butler, even the nihilists do

[genderkoolaid]

It’s weird because I love my non-binary and genderfucked siblings, I have two friends who have “weird” “cringe” genders and I love them and I think they do gender so well. But I’m scared that by “demolishing” the gender binary, I won’t get to be a binary man anymore. What does that mean? I want people to see me on the street and think “he/him”, I want people to think of me as heterosexual when I show affection to my girlfriend. I want to be a binary man, and I don’t know how to do that in non-binary world

Playing with gender and fucking with it is good and I fully support people doing that. But I do not want to be seen as anything other than Pure 100% man, I have been constantly called “they” as a way to undermine my masculinity and refusal to gender me properly by people who know my pronouns. I don’t want to be seen as anything other than a Man. I want to be associated fully with masculinity, I don’t want to seen as a lesbian, I don’t want to be seen as anything other than a heterosexual man. Not even that I don’t want to be seen as a lesbian, I don’t want to be associated with lesbians. I’m a trans man, I’m a MAN and my attraction to women is heterosexual, and I cannot accept ideas that tell me otherwise because that would cause me to misgender myself, and I’m tired of being seen like that When I say I’m a man I don’t mean “butch boy girl lesbian” etc etc, if someone wants to be that and fuck up everything, I appreciate it, but I feel uncomfortable with them saying they’re a trans man because when I say I’m a trans man I mean a MAN as in binary man

I think its very good that you started this by acknowledging that this is a product of fear and anxiety. Its important to understand that that is where this is coming from.

You are insecure about your manhood. That is not an insult. Its entirely understandable to feel that way, especially as a trans man. There was a post a little while ago where I talked about how trans men can fall into toxic masculinity, not because its a product of being a man, but because trans men more than cis men (solely in terms of gender) have their manhood scrutinized and devalued. Manhood is a rat race & trans men are fucked over from the start, so we have to try 10x harder to be seen as Proper Men. That leads to a constant pressure to perform "proper" masculinity to the fullest extent possible to try and avoid having your manhood discredited, which can be not only emotionally damaging but legitimately dangerous.

But you need to understand, and I say this with love: this is a you problem. It is not other people's responsibility to change how they identify to soothe your insecurity about your manhood. Other people's identity, in fact, means nothing about your own. Someone else using a label you use to represent a different experience does not mean you must also share that experience, or that you cannot use that label to describe your own.

You are, understandably, fearful that your manhood (which is already constantly being scrutinized and attacked), will be further devalued if "trans man" can also mean "lesbian". You share a community and a label with those men and as a result, their genderweirdness feels dangerous. They feel like a threat to your being. This is not dissimilar to how cishet men react to visibly queer men in their communities and families: "how will people think of me, as a man, if they associate me with a man like that? I need to stop him from being a man or make him be a man right in order to protect my own manhood." This is how the patriarchy functions; make every man constantly compete with each other, under the threat of violence if they fail. Its not your fault you feel this way- you are made to feel this way on purpose because of the patriachal panopticon that makes us self-regulate- but it is your responsibility to work on yourself and resist the urge to view other men as a threat to your manhood.

"Bi lesbians" existing does not mean that people will/should assume every lesbian is bisexual, and for men to use bi lesbians as an excuse to harass lesbians is lesbophobic but not the fault of bi lesbians. In the same way, "lesbian trans men" existing does not mean that people will/should assume every trans man is a lesbian, and people using lesbian trans men (or nonbinary people for that matter) as an excuse to misgender straight trans men is transphobic but not the fault of lesbian men. In both cases, lesbians who have felt pressured to be attracted to men and trans men who have felt pressured to be lesbians see this new fusion identity as a threat to their own as a traumatic response. That fear is valid, but we need to understand that its our own fear. Its not their fault that bigots tried to pressure you to be a certain way, and their identity does not mean that those bigots were justified in any way. Other queer people are not the enemy.

If you care about your genderweird friends- and I don't doubt that you do- its important that you recognize where this fear is coming from and take steps to confront & cope with it. I don't like when people use "fragile masculinity" as an insult; fragile masculinity is part of what keeps the patriarchy running, and men with fragile masculinity need the compassion that the patriarchy will not give them. So please know that when I say you are insecure about your masculinity, I'm not saying you are doing a Bad Thing. You have been made to have a fragile masculinity as a way of controlling you, and now you need to work on healing that in order to have productive and healthy relationships with other queer people (and people in general). You can't support other queer people while also viewing them as a threat to your own manhood, even unconsciously. It requires a process of strengthening your identity as a man and not letting anyone or anything make you feel like it can be taken away because you (or someone you are associated with) Did Manhood Wrong.

You might want to check out @gay-otlc. He's a straight trans man who's talked about the issues straight trans men face, while also being supportive of lesbian trans men, and his blog might help you out with dealing with these issues. In general when it comes to identity issues, I think its very important to see and interact with other people of your identity, especially those who are confident and able to confront/cope with bigotry in healthier ways. I wish you the best, anon.

[creatingnikki]

What I've learned in 2023 (part II)

x. 2023 shattered my glass on my highly sitcom/books/pop culture tinted glasses through which I have been seeing life. Of course I am the main character of my life and of course I am both a writer and a romantic. But it's dangerous to think of my life as a story and to subconsciously do things for the plot. Okay I don't even think that's what I have been doing. I think the main issue is that I have the cognitive distortion of "should". Shout out to my therapist for making me finally see it. I'm constantly like but I should do this, I should think this way, I should feel this way, it should have been that way. She asked me, 'But should according to who or what? Which is this invisible rulebook of yours? And honestly I didn't have an answer then. It took me months to finally see it. My 'should' rule book has been one from pop culture. I like the idea of things being a certain way, playing out a certain way that's poetic, profound, meaningful, or rounded but that's the thing, right? Real life is not like that. It also does not have this well-written script that people I am interacting with will follow. And I cannot be so disheartened or disappointed with that.

xi. This year has also been the year where I can finally see that asking someone for something that they are either not capable of giving or willing to give and have clearly communicated that to you is a form of self-harm. If you keep repeatedly asking them for that or expecting/hoping that one day they will, it's a sure shot way of making yourself go crazy and feeling so very bitter, resentful, and frustrated. You have to let people be who they are and decide if you want to have something to do with them.

xii. Your feelings will not kill you. Sit with them or simply self-soothe. Don't constantly reach out to an external force for temporary relief (i.e., other people, esp the ones you want to move on from). So if your self soothing means lying on the cool marble floor like a starfish, do it. If that means watching a Hindi soap with your mom, do it. If that means making a list of things distressing you, make it. If it means crying, cry. If it taking a shower + crying + listening to sad music, do it. I want you to start relying a little more on yourself + regulating your emotions instead of feeling like you will absolutely die if you sit with yourself.

xiii. Had a full blown panic attack when I realized this one morning after an exhausting night with a situationship (tw: sexual abuse). Most of my relationships with men as an adult were me finding myself in equations where I feel dirty, where I feel mistreated, unloved, used, and unloved. Subconsciously repeating patterns because it's one of my biggest traumas/wounds. Because this is how "intimacy" was introduced to me at 15 when I was abused. That's what I keep recognizing as love? Unlearn. Unlearn. Unlearn.

xiv. If someone is pointing out something about your personality or you and labeling it as a problem that's a problem especially when it has nothing to do with them. Unless you label it as a problem they shouldn't be doing that. That's presumptuous and somebody who is harshly judging you. It's not a safe space.

xv. Human behaviour is fickle. That's why boundaries exist. So they can guide your present actions and make sure they are aligned with your personality/values/etc. It's very easy to be "in the moment" and do something that makes no sense given the bigger picture. That's why boundaries exist, so that you don't find yourself in such moments. iykyk.

xvi. You do not need to share everything that's happening in your life, that's going on in your mind, etc., with absolutely anybody. And that's not any form of betrayal or secrecy. It's really just realizing that no one needs to constantly be updated on everything in your life. It's exhausting, it's unnecessary, and it breaks your sense of clarity and confidence with regards to your intuition and perspective on most things. Cutting out the noise cannot begin if you keep feeding into it.

xvii. Here's my permission slip to say no and not back it up with a reason. You are a people pleaser. You want everyone to be satisfied and try to pacify them as much as you can. You make it about you so they don't feel bad. You justify your nos so much. But this must stop. When you want to go pee and you ask someone where the restroom is, do you feel the need to tell them why you are asking or why you have to pee? No, right? Just like that with a lot of things in life, you don't need to dish out explanations and elaborate on what you say. Especially when it comes to saying a no. Especially when it comes to saying a no to men. When you don't want to sleep with someone, be their girlfriend, go on a date with them, etc., you can just say no. The ones who don't respect that or don't get it - ghost them.

xviii. I know, I know you hate the concept of ghosting. But sometimes that's the only way. Be straight, communicate, yes. But then when the person isn't even listening to what you're saying, is completely disregarding you, then baby, just fucking ghost the fuck out of them. Them ignoring your no and constantly calling you, texting you, etc., is harassment. You don't need to put up with that. Don't put up with that.

xix. You've arrived at the problem areas for most things but not the solutions. This year you figured out most of the questions that need answering. But you are yet to begin figuring out their answers. That may not be as simple or as final as you'd like. Maybe the answers will come in layers too, from different sources, in varied ways. Focus. Trust your intuition. Don't let feelings dictate your decisions. Only feel your feelings. Let the decision making happen based on your lessons, values, and objective thought processes. You've done it before. You'll do it again. It's you, my love. And what can you not do once you've set your mind to do it?

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

For several years now I’ve been wanting to buy a knotted dildo (why do they never have smaller ones) but my dad often helps me with finances because I’m really bad at math and I would be super embarrassed if he found out. I doubt he would be mad at finding out I’m a monsterfucker, but it WOULD be super awkward, especially since a lot of knotted ones are labeled “dog” I don’t want my family to have an even worse impression before I can explain! Maybe it would be easier if I could drive and try to find in-person shops and pay in cash, but I have a health problem that makes me driving illegal sometimes, so that’s not a practical option. I know you aren’t supposed to use things that weren’t designed to go inside of your body, but I’ve been using an old detachable razor handle for years because of this. I don’t know what to do! I don’t think my dad pays much attention to what I buy but if something is flagged as unusual by the bank, they will sometimes call him about it. I’m not sure what I should do. I haven’t even bought a regular sex toy because I’m self conscious about this, let alone one like that!

I’m the “my dad helps me balance my checkbook and I’m terrible at math but I want a dildo” anon, and you don’t have to post this part if it’s too uncomfortable. That’s why i didn’t include it in my first ask. But the only time I had a friend offer to help me buy one that friend later died before it could happen so… I don’t really have anyone around to ask for assistance in… this. I know these aren’t your usual confessions, but i don’t really know where else to confess to this. The only other friend I think might possibly have helped me, moved a state away and i don’t want to bother her about it. I joke about being a freak sometimes but I really doubt my older family who might have heard me say that actually expects me to consider “freaky” something beyond oral. I’m not… I’m shy and wasn’t raised by people who were into much extreme stuff (my parents didn’t even swear around us until we were all over 16, and even now they don’t do it much! There are slurs I didn’t even know existed until senior high and my parents never used them! For obvious reasons. Which is good, but gives an idea of what I mean when I say not extreme. Even my grandparents are/were like this) so I’ve been told that it’s surprising when i tell a friend about these things for the first time. Coming out as demisexual wasn’t nearly as stressful to be honest, that might be weird but admitting my (admittedly not super exciting among this community) kinks feels shameful and humiliating for some reason. Telling a close friend is different I guess. My parents aren’t conservative people, not politically or in many other ways, but they definitely don’t know much about kinks. I can say that with confidence, I’ve read the romance novels my mom had lying around and I’ve seen them react genuinely shocked when something a little crazy happens in a show we’re watching. I just think I might have super vanilla family (in the 25 years I lived with them the most spicy things I encountered were those romance novels and what might have been lube) and I’m sure they would react, if not badly, just awkwardly. It would be super uncomfortable. They are the kinds of people to hear about that, look slightly horrified, say “okay” and just avoid talking about it after that, but every time a conversation gets too close to that everyone is awkward and avoids it. It’s like when someone is trying to talk about politics and everyone has to kind of bite their tongue or a shouting match will start while we’re trying to watch the mandalorian, just less aggressive, so not exactly the same, just similarly uncomfortable. This one also got longer than I meant it to. I don’t expect that my parents would disown me or anything, but it would change some things (although because my mom and I accidentally shared a kindle account when I was in highschool I’m pretty sure she knows I’m into monster romance novels) sex isn’t really a taboo topic, but it’s also not a comfortable one

[anendoandfriendo]

So, we have a LOT of gripes with this post but more just want to address then individually without giving the OP any harassment so:

These first and second paragraphs is fine honestly, we won't tell people how they should feel about their own experiences.

The problem starts at the next part where OP starts trying to tell people how they should feel about their own brain.

--------

Also we just REALLY need to get this out of the way woth no other comments —

"We don't label [implied word is diagnose] personality types"

LMAO try saying that to uhhhh — *checks notes* — people with PERSONALITY DISORDERS.

--------

People who generally live life functionally but who every now and then are reminded that they’re disabled and need help in very specific situations. Like somebody who doesn’t struggle much socially and who doesn’t need supports at school or work but who sometimes doesn’t have as much energy for doing the dishes because they’re exhausted from living as an autistic person in an allistic world.

Did you know that therapists require a diagnosis to see literally anyone, ever? At least in the United States?

By your logic the neurotypical idea that "nobody is normal" actually exists. Why is someone who goes to a therapist and is forced to get like, let's just say a depression diagnosis for the ease of thos conversation. Why are they allowed to get that diagnosis, do the therapy, then consider themselves completely neurotypical but an autistic person isn't allowed to do that?

Please make that make sense.

And if you didn't realize everyone who's ever gone to a therapist loses their neurotypical card and is lying to you (using YOUR OWN LOGIC these people would be lying/faking neurotypicality) then don't worry about that! We didn't know that either until this year.

Anyways, that leaves us two options: either everyone is disabled or these people are allowed to choose their neurotypes in spite of the system labeling them otherwise. We sincerely hope why you realize the former is more shitty and we do not have to explain to you even bodily autonomy you don't like is still an inalienable right.

--------

So if you’re like me, please don’t speak over higher support needs people. Recognise that, if you can generally live independently, you are lower support needs than a LOT of others.

Is this about the assholes who went "waaah!! Don't call yourselves nonverbal!!! You share the same brainbody!!!" yes and as a plural system, we are still DIFFERENT PEOPLE. SOME OF US ARE NONVERBAL AND CANNOT SPEAK WHEN FRONTING WITHOUT ADDITIONAL ASSISTANCE FROM ANOTHER HEADMATE. SOME OF US HAVE TO BODY DOIBLE EACH OTHER JUST TO GET THE DISHES DONE YOU DESCRIBED IN THIS POST.

YES WE DO STILL HOLD A JOB TAKIMG PHONE CALLS. BECAUSE THE VARIETY OF AUTISTICS IN OUR HEAD MAKES. IT. SO. WE. ARE. COLLECTIVELY. NON-DISORDERED.

We may be endogenic, but we would still not, in any way, survive the world as a singlet. We are low support needs on a fucking technicality because they confirmed us as an autistic person when the brainody was two!!!

Just because you do not benefit from a purely social model of disability doesn't mean there are autistics who straight up wouldn't have issues anymore if people just..accepted them and society in general was less shitty.

The ONLY!! WAY!!! We have seen this kind of statement be used is to gatekeep people like us who try to describe their experiences of plurmisia and its intersectionality with ableism.

We are a non-disordered autistic collectively with specific members in our system who ARE in fact disordered autistics. The only reason we don't have people who describe themselves as neurotypicals in this system is very specifically because they do indeed feel a change in them when they arrive here.

Yes! We are a lot lower in support needs! To the point we do not consider ourselves such! Because of our multiplicity. Not because our autism "isn't that bad" or anything like that.

------

TLDR:

Stop fucking telling people how to feel about their own experiences.

If youre trying to gatekeep what we think you are trying ro gatekeep, you're an asshole and need to stop. Maybe we are just lucky, who knows, but we have NEVER seen this kind of sentiment occur in a way that does not have an undercurrent of plurmisia and/or other ableism.

You can in fact be a nondisordered diagnosed person. It happens all of the time, otherwise therapists as an institution couldn't exist lmao.

Additionally, as far as we are concerned, there are, in fact, situations you can be simultaneously non-disordered and disordered.

How about you follow the advice you said to everyone else, and not tell no-support and low-support autistics how to feel about their experiences? You're a fucking hypocrite OP!

Someone or somesys with more experience analyzing this kind of thing from a mad pride lens and/or a bodily autonomy lens is absolutely free to add onto this but we're just. Tired. And also kinda we have to be at work in likeeee 10 to 20 minutes.

[bidisasterevankinard]

Fuck it Friday 🎸

which is actually already saturday for me

tagged by @buddierights @wikiangela @jesuisici33 @devirnis @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @wildlife4life @jeeyuns thank you lovely people 💖💕

tagging if the want to share @alyxmastershipper @the-likesofus @transbuck @911onabc @heartshapedvows @heartbeatdiaz @lover-of-mine @thewolvesof1998 @cowboy-buddie @heartshapedvows @translasso @mandzuking17 @bekkachaos @rogerzsteven @housewifebuck @caroandcats @firemedicdiaz

more enemies to lovers (I give big snippet because maybe i will be out fo tag games participation for a while. please don't stop tagging me I LOVE read what you have)

The next day after he made coffee for Diaz to start the truce they needed to go through the weeks of working together, Buck found himself in Bobbie’s office again.

“No one heard any screams or sounds of a fight yesterday, and you both are alive so I guess you two finally bonded?” Bobby asks the moment they both sit in the chairs like two days before.

“Well, it’s hard to call it a bond, but we made a truce till we work with a song,” Buck answers when Diaz nods to his words.

“I would prefer the truce to stay after too,” Bobby stays up and moves to his coffee maker. “Buck out milk latte, Eddie just black?” He looks at them from the corner and they send him “yes”.

Buck would always be impressed by how fantastic a person Bobby is. And how he really cares about his singers and musicians. No other boss could tell you what coffee you drink and make it for you.

“Let’s not run too fast, Bobby. Let us end the song and we can talk about prolonging the truce” Diaz says and Buck agrees. 

For now, they can promise only weeks for songwriting and recording. But working with Diaz after their little high school experiences sharing wasn't really bad. Buck with bitterness can admit it really felt good. No other musicians or singers were ever so interesting to work with. 

Diaz is a talented asshole, and he quickly understands Buck’s even really raw ideas he can’t even normally verbalize. 

Maybe, if this jerk would stop being so not real and drive Buck crazy constantly they can co-exist in the label more peacefully after doing too.

Well, perhaps they should try if they don’t want to work together again to save their image.

“I’ll take what I can have for now,” Bobby comes back to the table with two mugs and gives them to them, then takes the tupperware from the little fridge he has here and puts it between them. “Found a new receipt yesterday. Made too much for Athena and kids, so I decided to take some to my work kids too. Eat and listen to our next moves.”

You never should tell Buck twice to eat if he can eat Bobbie’s food. 

The first bite of fantastic chocolate cookies makes Buck almost moan from the deep and rich taste. Cookies literally melt in his mouth and with an oat milk latte, this is the perfect breakfast even if not the healthiest. 

Looking at his side Buck can say Diaz enjoys cookies no less. Well, at least they can have another thing to talk about. How blessed they were with Bobbie’s love of cooking.

Bobby sits looking at them proudly and fondly with a little smile on his face for a second then starts.

“Happy you both enjoy it,” then he puts the smile down, changing it to his professional manager's face. 

“Hen has some planned content for your accounts you would need to post. Also if you can post something while working together to make it more real it would be fantastic. Hen will talk about it with you later. Next, tomorrow you two will be guests on Taylor’s Kelly show,”  Diaz makes an offended sound on that. 

“You have problems with this Eddie?” Bobby raises his eyebrow and looks at brown-eyed like an angry parent and Buck feels smug like a sibling watching the other one being grounded.

“I’m ok with it all, but should we actually go to the show of that redhead? She’s the most unprofessional and rude interviewer I've ever worked with. I still can’t understand how she got her show.” Diaz rolls his eyes. “Could we have some other variants?”  

“No, Eddie, sorry. Her show is one of the most popular now, and it’s the best option to close the gossip about your fight so fast.” 

Diaz rolls his eyes again.

“I’m sure Taylor is not bad,” Buck intervenes in the conversation. “She seemed interesting and professional. She is also really principal and chases her goals.” 

“If by principal you mean she’s ready to walk over anyone to get the information she wants, put to pour a ton of dirt on people just for the sake of information and to get into the personal lives of people who have specifically said MORE THAN ONCE that this is CONFIDENTIAL information, then yes. She is principled. This woman once was ready to pay my bodyguard to find out if I’m single or not,” Diaz says it all, and Buck can feel the poison in his voice and he can't help but feel sorry for Eddie. 

Taylor can really be willing to do a lot for the sake of information. He knows his experience when she tried to know more about Bobby from him. But he didn't know that she could do something like that. It's overstepping the bounds completely. It's a good thing they didn't start anything after their hook-up in the bar.

[impunkster-syndrome]

Pinned post time I guess.

Edit: I deadass forgot a name. I got so many. Just go with BlackBox or Kunikos (they/them plural).

22. Angry queer cripple.

Conditions:

DID

BPD + AvPD

ADHD

Something on the schizospec

hEDS

Some disordered eating

POTS

MaDD

Seizure disorder, either epilepsy or PNES

Trauma-based paraphilic intrusive thoughts or paraphilic disorder

Celiac

Shellfish allergy

Some ego issues (Likely some NPD traits)

Hypoglycemia

Trying to figure out ASPD traits

lactose intolerance

If you ask for proof of diagnosis or demand that I be in agony constantly to be "valid" in my disability, go fuck yourself! You're ableist!

I'm cripplepunk, on the fringe of neuropunk, and a few other things.

Instead of a DNI, I'm making my stances clear:

- Disabled people can romanticize their own disorders and are not required to cater their existence to that of ableists. It becomes a problem when people who do not have that condition romanticize it or want that condition.

- Almost all media is problematic and part of that makes it great for analysis and discussion of culture. A lot of media is a mixed bag and is catered to specific audiences. But, that doesn't give you a free pass to post shit wherever without warning or to share content that is fanfiction of real people or other things that can cause harm or be used for grooming out in the open. You can write dark shit as a coping skill without sharing it with everyone you meet. Not proship, not antiship, but a literal adult with bigger struggles than online fights that everyone is an asshole in.

- Mspec queers are welcome in this house. Neopronouns, xenogenders, endogenic systems, too. If you're a detransitioner who found that transitioning didn't work for you but still support trans people, you're welcome here.

- I do not have to be nice to bigots or people spouting bigotry. Generally it's good to be nice to people even if you dislike them. But if someone is spouting genocidal and/or fascist rhetoric I will beat the shit out of you with my crutches.

- I'm an anti contact paraphile due to trauma and potential programming. No, it's none of your business what my paraphilias are. Just that I am anti contact. I will talk about my experiences here. If you think people like me should die for what trauma did to us, save your breath and fuck off.

- You are not entitled to any information about me, my system, or disabilities. Everything here is information I choose to give.

- Radqueers are not fucking welcome here. Get offline and actually talk to the minorities you say you want to be like. Not only the ones that agree with you.

- Gore and suicide-adjacent edgeplay blogs are not welcome here. I'm reporting your shit if you don't have your content tagged and community labeled properly.

closted-punk -> crippled-kunikos -> impunkster-syndrome

[helicarrier]

If someone asks me about my issues with DNIs, I think I’ll just refer them to this post from now on.

Tumblr, as a website, is designed for quick, casual content sharing. You can follow blogs, then immediately like and reblog posts from them. New posts are even recommended to you directly on your dash, so you don’t even need to look at their originating blogs to interact with them. DNIs put a wrench in this intuitive manner of using tumblr. They force someone to stop and detour and read a page before they touch any posts from a blog they don't know, and that contradicts how tumblr is intuitively meant to be used. If you see a post and you like it, and if there’s an icon right underneath it, your first reaction is to click the icon. I’m sure most of us have instinctively clicked “like” (or “reblog”) on a post we found interesting.

DNIs prevent this kind of “casual” interaction. Their existence means you have to stop yourself before you interact (in any way) with a cool post, find the DNI page of the person who reblogged the post and, if applicable, find the DNI of the person who made the original post as well (because they’ll also receive the notification, unless they deleted the post on their blog), read it, then return to the post. Nothing about DNIs are baked into the functionality of tumblr in an intuitive way; if anything, the only real “do not interact with me” function you will find here in tumblr’s infrastructure is the block function.

Because DNIs are so antithetical to how tumblr functions, they're an inherently futile way of preventing interaction with certain groups of people, too. Most people aren't going to read my rules or my pinned post before they interact with my content. I would not expect them to, because it doesn't occur to many people, and it's a lot of wasted time. Even people with certain kinds of users in their DNIs routinely interact with posts made by those very people, proving this point. It is so inconvenient and absurd to read a page every time someone so much as likes a post by a random blog. Those people you don't want interacting with you? They're probably reading your blog; liking your posts even if they don't expressly say they're x group from your DNI. They're doing the same to my posts, too. That's just the price we pay for being in a public space focused on content sharing. And I accept this. Other peoples' behaviour is completely out of my control. I just block people when needed, because it is my responsibility to curate my space.

And that is the crux of the matter: I refuse to pass the responsibility of curating my space onto strangers. I refuse to make it someone else's problem when they are using tumblr in the way it was meant to be used. Ideologically and functionally, it does not make sense to me.

Just think about it: tumblr is a public website. Unless your blog is password-protected, people can find it anytime, and if they really want to interact, they'll interact regardless of your DNI. It’s not like most people will say, "oh, drat, I'm a racist, I should leave!". Maybe they’ll just interact because the labels you dislike are not visible on their blog, so they'll fly under your radar. And at times where peoples' labels or behaviour are visible, the good ol' block button is the golden standard. It always has been.

If I become mutuals with someone, sure, we'll agree to scratch each others' backs, and tag whatever the other person needs tagged. But that's different from expecting every stranger who comes across my content, wherever it shows up, to follow demands that are all the way over here, on this blog. If someone reblogs one of my photosets way over in the Stranger Things fandom, and people see the reblogged post, they shouldn't need to come to my Marvel/Random Shit™ blog and read my pages before clicking the stupid little heart button. But imagine needing to do this with every single person, every single post of theirs. Sure, maybe you’re familiar with the DNIs of the people you follow. But what about all the posts they’ve reblogged? Those posts have OPs. Do the OPs of those posts have a DNI that’s favourable to you, too?

DNIs aren't even optional reads now, and everyone suffers because of that. The proliferation of DNIs has made a culture where if someone accidentally forgets to read a DNI, doesn't know that DNIs exist, or misinterprets the contents of a DNI, it’s considered acceptable to harass them for it. It's anxiety-inducing.

“...Shit, I forgot to like their DNI.”

It doesn't help that I never know what "basic DNI criteria" means, or what the "etcetera" means either, because it changes from person to person. Folks, I’ve seen homophobes with “basic DNI criteria” in their pages. That aside, you can say "bigots DNI", but a lot of transphobes don't believe they're bigots, so you could still get radfems liking your posts. You could say "bullies DNI", but many fanpols don't consider themselves bullies, because they believe if someone writes fanfiction from the perspective of Hannibal Lecter, of course their reaction to it isn’t “bullying”, it's just justified shaming!

Everyone is the hero of their own story, and everyone thinks they're the exception. They will be the exception to your DNI, too. Again, this all goes back to the "you can't control who interacts with your content" thing. It's maddening to try and think of all the angles, all the ways to "catch" people, all the ways to plug up all the holes. You may not want to hear it, but you never will. You can get the broad strokes, but you’ll never get everyone, you won’t even get close. Even if you do somehow manage to fit all the exact terms into your DNI, and you end up with a DNI longer than a CVS receipt, you’re still going to run into all the people who... Simply don’t read it. Meanwhile, you look a little too preoccupied with who’s looking at your blog on a public website, and even if a well-intended person comes across your blog, they may just check out because they’re uncomfortable with the micromanaging.

...If they can read the DNI. Look, I’m all for creative formatting, but I see so many DNIs (and carrds in general) that have hot pink writing on a red background, or baby pink on baby blue, or yellow on lime green, and I can’t read any of it, not to mention it’s a migraine risk among other things. I’m not reading dozens of these pages every other day.

It doesn't help that many DNIs are rude, angry, hostile pages that tell people to kill themselves. That's not right. When someone volunteers to read an information page, they are doing that person a courtesy. It is shameful people need to read things like "kill yourself", "swallow a knife", and other verbal sewage. It doesn't matter if it's directed to them or not. Simply looking for people to follow and interact with, simply liking a post, should not be an exercise in mental fortitude. Needing to read awful threats over and over again should not be a requirement for engaging on this site. Imagine having depression, intrusive thoughts, and so on, where this stuff could land twice as hard. It's gotten to the point where my eyes immediately gloss over when I open a DNI, because my mind simply doesn't want to see any more shit and is trying to protect me. I'm at the point where I don't want to open DNIs at all.

But as you guessed, there's a problem with that. Because DNIs are almost compulsory on tumblr now, ignoring them has two possible outcomes: one, you annoy a ton of people, because maybe their DNIs say they don't want you around, but you're interacting with their stuff anyways. Maybe you get labelled as the person who ignores DNIs. Two, you stop your browsing in part, or as a whole, meaning almost nobody gets likes or reblogs from you anymore, because you’re trying to not waste your time, you’re trying to preserve your sanity, etc. And this hamstrings content creators.

One of the biggest flaws in DNIs is that nobody is obligated to reveal information on themselves. Minors can easily hide their age. Bigots can hide their bigotry. People can remove info from their description until they're clear of someone's initial "new follower vibe check", then put it back. Nobody knows you're a dog on the internet. It's naive to assume people will be honest about themselves, and adhere to a DNI.

DNIs are often so incredibly vague and their attitude so charged that people can't even ask for clarification, because the writer of the DNI could be radicalized and have very unhealthy views, and absolutely attack someone for reaching out. A DNI might say, "don't interact if you support incest", but it never clarifies in real life, or fiction. There has been an enormous uptick in moral panic over fiction lately, so lots of people might ask for clarification, but if they do, the person could say "in real life and fiction, duh!", flame them because they "didn't know something so obvious, it must mean they're sus!", then flame them again because they viewed the poor person's blog and saw lots of mature content they think people shouldn't write. It's absurd, but unfortunately, that kind of panic has spread. Many people use DNIs as extensions of their unhealthy interaction, media consumption, and browsing habits.

So I usually avoid DNIs.

All in all, I don't mind if someone politely asks other people to not interact, or if they say they block for certain stuff, if there’s a clear awareness that it's not a be-all, end-all solution, and that people will still interact. As long as they put the onus on themselves, rather than other people, to curate their space, it’s cool. For example, if someone is an 18+ blog, and they ask minors not to interact? Cool, if they don’t “punish” or otherwise attack minors who find posts of theirs on other blogs, and “like” them from there without going all the way over to the OG blog to see if they’re allowed to do like it. Because again, that’s a bit of an unfair requirement to impose on people. And whatever.

Because people shouldn’t feel like they’re playing minesweeper when they want to click a heart. Between the terfs, racists, and all the other issues, we have enough on our hands already.

[makima-s-most-smile]

Trigun Maximum 3 Part 1

Tumblr hit me with a You're-too-naughty-label for my Trigun Maximum 2 Part 2-Post, so here have a link to it, because you can't find it otherwise. (There is nothing sexual in there... Tumblr, wtf! I reblog naughtier pics than what I wrote about the manga) *cries*

I should maybe to a header for all of my Bookclub posts... hmmm... later...

01: Reservoir Dogs

Oh, this page! The situations with Vash that are the most impactful for Wolfwood, the ones where he felt with him (blue) and the ones where Vash was explicitly inhuman/above human to him (red). All coming down to the panel in the lower left where both of them share a nonverbal quip, in which Vash most likely appeals to Wolfwood to not kill the people who made him suffer so much. And Wolfwood has to make a decision! Again. From how Wolfwood starts the fight, yeah, he tries to keep Ninelives alive by disarming him. He tries so hard to find a compromise between them. All while being in fucking freefall, btw. 

Ew, human body parts scorpion puppets! (The grammar program wanted to desperately change this outcry to “human body parts are scorpion puppets…” Thanks for making it worse!)

I think it is interesting that nearly everyone around them has problems dealing with the twin’s humanity. But still the glaring difference between Knives and Vash is obvious to them.

I think it is also interesting that Leonof’s point of view is based on how they deal with suffering. He suffered in the past and broke from it. His real body starts to inflict self harm upon itself at the mere mention of that, while the puppet he controls states the plant’s resilience as a glaring example of their inhumanity. And he reasons that he wants Vash in his collection for that very reason. Maybe to learn from him how to be that resilient. 

Such a bitter outlook. While Leonof has his little ideological crisis just by Vash existing, Wolfwood fights for his life, again, and again internally against his deeply rooted cynicism. 

I love how so much of Wolfwood’s inner beliefs are directly contrary to his existence. The nihilistic bastard says nothing changes, all good is for naught and ideals don’t matter. Without giving us much context, we can confer much about his life. He had no one to really look up to, even if he was in a safe place it was in constant danger of disappearing or he had experience with that just happening, he has seen good people die and their goodness being for nothing in the long run. But then here he is, still willing to dirty his own hands so he can make sure that orphaned kids have that safe place that he didn’t have. He changes their future. But he is completely unable to see it.

And Vash does. I love how the panels drive that down. Vash is not deterred by Wolfwood’s cynicism. Vash is not deterred by his own experiences. If it is the right thing or not remains to be seen.

WHY ARE THE TOMA CRYING?! QQ BABIES! NOOOO! Meryl, what did you do to them? (And while they are the horses of No-Man’s-Land, we now know they can barf. I’d like to see the No-Man’s-Landers reaction to the German idiom: “Well, horses have been seen throwing up.” Which kinda means: You never know. All is possible. And I just want to know their reaction to it! They don’t know horses and they don’t know the idiom and they would know even less likely that horses are unable to vomit. *cries* I am suddenly emotional about this scene. AHHHHH! I wanna see Meryl and Wolfwood being completely confused, Milly just accepting it and Vash being like: Huh? But Horses can't vomit...)

02: Cement

“This is my business.” What do you mean, Wolfwood? Your decision and you standing by it? Or you being unforgivable? 

*sees Ninelives opening their mouth* I am not gonna say the whole thing but it ends with dentata… Thanks, Freud.

I have problems following the whole action, but damn. It is bloody, gory and feels so personal. And it fits Wolfwood’s state of mind, battling with the feeling of dread by Vash, his own mortality and his struggle being trapped in a No-Win-Situation. All odds are against Wolfwood and are towering over him. David against Goliath. Wolfwood is so small.

Nightow is able to give us that sense of Wolfwood being small and a punching bag. But he still is able to add those moments that show how fucking quick Wolfwood’s deduction is and how fast he acts to it. 

I love the way Nightow draws Wolfwood here. He seems to be less there than Ninelives with how part of his body is not drawn. And it reminds me so much of the page of Wolfwood’s past where he was shot the first time.

“I don’t want to die!”

And that is what it comes back to again and again with Wolfwood.

Sassy!

Did I mention that I love the way how Nightow draws body language? You really do get the feeling that Wolfwood is barely able to stay on his feet.

Well, Wolfwood said he’d disarm him. And, look, that way he didn’t have to kill Ninelives! Even though Wolfwood desperately fought for his life, he was able to hold up Vash’s ideals here. He tries so hard, man. I feel for him.

“The rest of them will come... That's for sure... Like demons risin' from hell…” While Wolfwood enjoys his (earned) victory (too early), he is already thinking about the consequences of his decision and what further strife it will bring him.

Oh, fuck, I didn’t realise the arm was moving! I needed to take a double take when I saw it holding the up button in the next chapter. Ew! Ew! Ew! Maybe it is me not being able to take in all the detail that Nightow draws. Good that I am reading the manga in discussion mode.

3: No Escape!

Damn, the chapter title. No escape from what? No escape for Nicholas from his fate? Is it an omen that Nicholas’ struggle to escape his bloody lifestyle is doomed and that he has to kill again and again? That though he tried his best to upkeep Vash’s ideals that he has to decide between Ninelives’ and his own life? Is this foreshadowing that he will be unable to escape his place between a rock and a hard place and end up squished? 

Nicholas’ third gun, the fucking rocket launcher.

Vash hears Wolfwood’s struggle, but we don’t get any insight into what he thinks. Worry for Wolfwood? Surely. But what more? Does he reflect upon their talk here? Is he considering that Wolfwood is risking his very life for Vash’s home right now? For him? How that explicitly contradicts Wolfwood’s very reason to be at his side? As a traitor to be and follower of Knives.

As another user said, Wolfwood’s fight is a close combat one, all dark and claustrophobic. It is David against Goliath. Vash is in open space. His struggle is not for his life, not really, his struggle is to reach Leonof and get through to him. By switching between their fights, Nightow stresses the difference. That's such a brilliant way to story tell.

Please correct me. I have a really big problem reading Wolfwood here. Why is he grinning? I read it as defiance and a dare against the thought of something being immortal and thus being unable to be reached by a mere mortal like him. It is as much a challenge towards Ninelives as it is towards Vash. But I am not sure and I need other perspectives!

And just a quiet, little panel between Wolfwood spearing and shooting Ninelives, shows him being drenched in blood, looking weary and tired. And the way the blood smears under his eye, looks like he is crying. The panel is so full, you barely see it and you barely see it on the page. You need to pay attention to see it. And damn, if that doesn't summarise Wolfwood's plight and arc perfectly. I think it is my favourite panel out of the volume, there are so many cool ones, but this is so quiet and sad between all those loud and cool fighting ones. Wolfwood is drowning, someone please rescue him!

And while Wolfwood’s fight is bloody, explosive and incredibly loud, Vash’s is quiet and dreary. It plays with our feeling of foreboding and your knowledge that what he fights is the corpses of close ones.

Baby with a gun!

“I see beneath that cold, calculative expression of yours.” Interesting, Leonof. A chapter ago you said that his cold stare hides a void full of suffering. What more do you want to see? Are you mocking him? Or are you trying to relate?

And the chapter ends with Vash declaring Leonof’s real name and that the game ends. No escape for Emilio, either!

04: Emilio the player

Hi, Brad! Those aren’t only puppet parts! :3 Those are body parts of the people you grew up with. Joy!

The puppet master reacts to the name. Leonof registers the name as his own, but his puppet seems to deny it! His puppet is his way to keep a distance from himself and reality.

Vash knows the name of everyone he has met. (I cannot even remember the name you just told me. Vash superpowers! Well, that, but it also makes him so incredibly inhuman for me. He knows everyone, but connects to no one. It reads like such an artificial bond. He loves humanity, but like I love Pokemon. (without the fighting system)) But damn, Leonof’s breakdown is so creepy. 10/10 sleep paralysis demon. Good work, Nightow.

Hi, Doc. ;C

“All according to keikaku!,” is what I think about when reading that sentence.

But seriously, I read up guignol and was kinda shocked that it is comparable to the German Kasperle theatre and had a bit of a culture revelation. *hugs their French brethren*

The same page has Vash connecting the dots and forming a plan on how to defeat Emilio without killing him. I love how we get the foreshadowing without realising it.

Gosh, I have a thing for wet hair Vash. He just looks so much better with his hair down! 

I know that No-Man’s-Land doesn’t have the best dentistry, but, Emilio, your teeth shouldn’t shatter like this.

Sorry, Brad, but that is no puppet. :/

[multigenderswag]

Survey Results: Anything Else Relevant

In the open ended question “share anything else you find relevant about your multigender identity,” 72 participants (4.88%) stated that being a system was a relevant part of their multigender identity, and 24 participants (1.63%) stated that being intersex was a relevant part of their multigender identity.

Some other responses that stood out: 

"Gender is diverse and vast. It is beautiful and it's often whatever makes me happy. My experience of gender cannot be the same as anyone else's and I like that. It's part of who I am at my core and is proof that even that part of me is not static."

"I am who I am. If other people want to assign me a gender, that's their problem. Sometimes I wear a gender like an outfit, sometimes it's who I am, and sometimes I resent the whole concept. My body and my clothes are a way to express my creativity, and gender is one of the paintbrushes. I contain multitudes."

"1. I prefer a different definition of bigender. I use it in the same way people use bisexual: that I am two OR MORE genders. 2. I technically use all pronouns but I only put my primary ones in the survey. 3. I haven’t seen a term for this before but I see my sexuality as being “straight both ways” meaning that I am attracted to men as a woman and attracted to women as a man. My only attraction that feels gay is any attraction towards other nonbinary people."

"I eat gender for breakfast lunch and dinner!!! I'll eat you too!!!!!!! Watch out!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"If I visualize my gender it's as if I am wholely a girl. My girlness is a solid sphere. My boyness is softer and hazier and surrounds the sphere. That's the best way I have to describe it!"

"Despite fitting the 'definition' of nonbinary as in 'not binary man or woman' I genuinely hate using it as a term for myself and only use it through gritted teeth as just quick shorthand. It's mainly because 'nonbinary' in the public eye has become less of an umbrella term and more of a 'third gender' with its own 'gender role' (not too masc, but not too femme, unless you're 'making a statement' and usually society treats those folks as complete jokes) There was a comic I saw about boxes. First there are two, then there are many, but finally the main person says 'ARGH!! NO MORE BOXES!!' That really captures how I feel. I hate having to put labels on myself and when i can feel people figuring out what box to put me in. I'd like to just BE ME and slide between whatever role and presentation I feel fits at the moment without people thinking I'm 'lying' or 'faking' or 'too queer' or 'not trans enough"' I hate all the labels and gender essentialism that comes with it. I just can't work in this binary framework, and I don't WANT to have to be an activist just to have permission to exist. I just want to live my life. At this point I just state my identity based on which flag I think looks nicest at the time."

"Gender is a highway and I'm riding down it the wrong way on a tricycle"

"I never really understood gender in general, and as such identity with aspects of many. I think that everyone’s gender fluctuates every so often and that it’s A-okay to not fully understand your own gender."

[silvery-bluish]

@wonda-fhr gave me free reign to yell about Arsinoe some more but I’m actually gonna cheat a little and answer two questions because I ALWAYS want to yell about Arsenic & Themmy and Telepathy so questions from here and uuuh under the cut—

3. What is their villain name? why did they choose it?

Arsinoe is wearing Anathema’s name. It’s— a lot of things, some of which are about Anathema and some things that are really about themself.

Anathema died. Anathema died and Arsinoe’s never been able to put them down or put the grief down, their dearest friend who died in front of them and they couldn’t do anything to stop it. So it’s— carrying Anathema with them, in a more tangible sense, because then at least some part of Anathema, even just their name, gets to be there when Arsinoe gets them justice. Keep them from forgetting Anathema, too. Make sure they don’t forget why they’re doing what they’re doing, turning their actions and their self into a sort of memorial to Anathema. They don’t think it’s a memorial Anathema would want, but it’s what they can manage.

And nobody— fixed the problems that led to Anathema’s death. Just another dead hero, shuffle the real cause (the farm, the corruption in the government, etc) under the rug. Put up a memorial. Forget about them. Move on. Wearing Anathema’s name is a rallying cry, a refusal to let people continue to forget what actually happened. Anathema crawling out of the grave because they were not truly put to rest. Destroy the hero exhibit at the gala. Memorials don’t do shit, fix it instead.

(And it’s easier, to make it about Anathema, about the other people they love who have been hurt, than it is to admit that they were hurt. That they deserve justice, or to be avenged. But they’re wearing Anathema’s name, so in a way they are Anathema, so— some of it can be about them without it having to be about them, you know? Hiding inside Anathema instead of being looked at directly.)

Arsinoe would give the name back in a fucking heartbeat, if they could. It’s a mantle they wear, a shield they use, but it’s never been their name. The name I’ve tentatively earmarked for if they either manage to pry themself out of the guilt and grief or if they do get to give the name back (🤞) is Lacuna. The missing piece that completes the narrative, the hole left for them that they can sit inside of. A gap left for something to arrive later. A shell of a name that Arsinoe is obscured within. The absence of true definition allowing them to be More, left in an undefined state.

22. How do they feel about their telepathy? is it a gift? a curse?

Arsinoe is a telepath first, everything else second. It’s hearing-sight-touch and more than those, their first impulse and their last defense. They look around with their telepathy before they look around with their eyes, a lot of the time. I’m fascinated by the concept of, in a way, telepathy being their first language? They’ve been a telepath as long as they’ve existed and been aware, before they were given language, and. Okay. If you know two people with the same name, when you’re thinking to yourself in your head, you don’t have to differentiate between Robert-my-classmate and Robert-my-dentist, but if you just say “Robert” aloud, nobody else knows which one you mean without more context. Telepathy as something that picks up that internal second layer of meaning everything has.

To. Segue slightly to the place where AI chip meets Telepath Brain. A computer doesn't know what a house is, it just knows it as the component parts that have been labeled as "house" (and each of those component parts is made of other component parts, etc) and a telepath unmoored from language and experience and understanding doesn't know what a house is either, just the unfiltered building-home-safe-growth-mine-shared-cold-impermanent-family-warm tanglemess of Associations thinking about a house can bring up, with the association of 'house' loosely wrapped around everything a house can be for different people, even when they’re contradictory. Especially when they’re contradictory.

So. Sometimes they can’t wrap words around things, or wrapping the word around it feels wrong or like it’s missing part of the whole. It’s intrinsic to how they think, how they interact with the world, and they genuinely never even thought about trying to hide that they were a telepath in their villain persona— I don’t think they hid it terribly long, comparatively, as Sidestep, either. Telepath first, everything else second.