#how are you going to have more genital options than body options . whatever at least i have my bush

[cavewolf]

my bg3 pc, catherine (kitty) ..! she's a noblewoman bard

[brokenjardaantech]

the resurrected, cherished

written for @latexkaktus‘ birthday and also a prompt fill for @rk1700events. Week 2: rebirth/create; week 3: natural state.

pairings: rk1700, background simarkus

summary: 

All he can think about right now is how beautiful his predecessor looks with his skin gone, his legs below his knees non-existent, his entire chassis dirty and grimy with other trash in the landfill. Doesn’t matter now, though, because he is bringing him home, taking him back to his side where the RK800 belongs.

content warning: smut, rough sex, limb removal, egg connor and nines

this is a sequel of only me, for you.

also on ao3

---

Despite the fact that he is an advanced prototype, it took RK900 days searching and compulsively scanning the landfill to find the body he was looking for. Digging it out took a few more days during which he nearly overheated his processors calculating the best solution to let him free the body without a mountain of dead androids and biocomponents burying him, but at long last, the damaged body is fully revealed and can be transported as he wishes. As per standard procedure for android disposal - at least, before the war - Connor’s clothing was stripped, his limbs were broken, and his thirium pump damaged but not exactly removed before being transported to the solid waste landfill, treated without dignity, like an object, like something worthless. At least, that is what RK900 thinks he should think.

All he can think about right now is how beautiful his predecessor looks with his skin gone, his legs below his knees non-existent, his entire chassis dirty and grimy with other trash in the landfill. Doesn’t matter now, though, because he is bringing him home, taking him back to his side where the RK800 belongs. 

His nose wrinkles in a very human display of disgust as he climbs the slope formed by a mixture of android chassis and stray biocomponents and other large, sturdy rubbish, but even with an entire body strapped onto his back, he uses his pre-construction programme to calculate the best path and manages to scale it quickly, emerging from the valley relatively clean and without further injuring himself. He sees some other androids with incomplete bodies trying to climb the slope to no avail, but they aren’t his responsibility, and he is sure that Markus will sort them out sooner or later; there is a war going on, and they will need all the manpower they can get as the frontline lengthens and branches out from Detroit.

As a reward for his effort towards the revolution, Markus finally permitted him to get back what he deserves. ‘I would prefer to restore him to normal function,’ the leader of the revolution said. ‘We need whatever we have.’

‘But you have me, a better him,’ RK900 didn’t understand Markus’ insistence then and neither does he understand it now. ‘You don’t need him.’

‘I do,’ the other RK model retorted, his eyes seemingly glaring straight into RK900’s very soul even though he shouldn’t have any. ‘He won’t need to be accessible 24/7. I just need to be able to talk to him for a few hours at a time at most. Another perspective that we can use.’

‘How often?’

‘However often I want to.’

The door opened at that moment to admit Simon, and the filthy, noisy kiss he exchanged with Markus was enough of a cue for RK900 to leave the room or he would be watching the two fuck on the desk not a minute later, their moans loud enough to be heard two rooms down the hall. The RK series was created to be state-of-the-art and efficient; Markus is no exception when it comes to getting what he wants.

RK900 supposes that this is yet another sign that he ignored. 

But he isn’t going to reactivate Connor immediately, no. Instead, he takes the body back to the apartment allotted to him when Detroit had finally fallen under the androids’ control, and then he starts working, first wiping off the topmost layer of dirt from the bare chassis so that he can access the damaged areas easier, then patching up the bullet wounds Connor sustained on the day he tried to infiltrate CyberLife Tower and failed drastically, then taking off his limbs properly before sealing the gaps off so that no further unwanted materials will enter a space where they don’t belong. He then runs a bath and takes a soft sponge to wash away the remaining stubborn grime from Connor’s body, the water turning grey, the white of his chassis slowly returning, and he follows it by drying Connor off with a soft towel, because despite his predecessor’s lack of response and life, he only uses the best of everything on him. Markus will probably say that this is a waste of resources; he sees it as a good investment.

With the cleaning done, RK900 finally comes to the step where he switches out all the biocomponents he wants replaced and injects enough thirium into Connor’s system to reboot him. He leaves the thirium pump regulator for the last because he doesn’t want to risk the RK800 waking up before he is prepared, but when he finally gets to that part, the entire act almost seems ceremonial: giving the damaged regulator a twist, pulling it out and setting it down on the table gently, retrieving the new regulator from its box and inserting it into the gaping hole left behind. Then he takes off his own clothes, folds them up and places them neatly in a pile on a chair, and deactivates his skin while he carries Connor, now with only his head and torso attached, to his bedroom. He wants to greet his predecessor at his barest form just like when Connor died for the first time.

RK900 is determined to prevent that.

Laying the body in the middle of the bed with his head propped up against a pillow, RK900 allows himself to sit on the mattress and simply admire his own handiwork for a moment, taking in the scratches on Connor’s chassis from the rough treatment it experienced throughout his life, his dark LED, his new genital components that only allows him to be on the receiving end and be used for his successor’s pleasure. Markus did say that he only wanted to talk to Connor, didn’t he? So Connor doesn’t even need his limbs given that his voice box is still intact. He will be solely under RK900’s control, and he feels his cock filling up from pre-constructing all the things he can do. Time to wake Connor up.

He presses his hand against Connor’s chest and transfers a package of code to his predecessor alongside the jumpstart programme. The body jerks, the LED on his temple spins red before turning yellow, and RK900 watches him twist his head, take in his surroundings and the body looming over him and his current predicament, test out his chassis. The code RK900 sent him should prevent his skin from reactivating unless being manually prompted by an authorised handler - which is himself, of course - but Connor doesn’t seem bothered by it; as RK900’s hand moves to cup his cheek, he leans into the touch with the corner of his eyes crinkled. A connection request that RK900 accepts, and he hears a voice (Connor’s voice) in his mind.

{You saved me,} is the RK800’s first remark. {Why?}

A deep kiss. [I want to protect you forever,] RK900 replies in a similar manner. [Keep you safe. Keep you mine.]

Connor shivers. {I’d like that. Whatever you want.}

The pledge sends a chill down RK900’s spine, one that not only arouses something possessive within him but also snaps the last thread that holds his self-control together. Rolling Connor over, he kneads the two globes a few times to feel the synthetic muscle underneath his hands before spreading them to expose his predecessor’s already-leaking hole, and he gives the slick a lick merely to satisfy his own curiosity. Standard thirium-based lubricant. How boring. The optional task of upgrading Connor’s genital component is added into his to-do list, and he wastes no time in tugging his cock a few times to bring it to full hardness before lining up its head against Connor’s clutching hole and shoves himself in.

The scream the RK800 lets out is better than any other sound RK900 has ever heard in his comparatively short life.

Leveraging his hands on Connor’s shoulders and planting his legs on the mattress firmly, RK900 wastes no time in beginning his relentless pounding, pulling out until his cock nearly slides out just to slam home straight against Connor’s prostate again, the smack of synthetic muscles and Connor’s cries filling up the bedroom. It is as if the RK800 has forgotten that he can interface with his successor to convey his exact thoughts; he can’t even utter a coherent word, but that doesn’t mean that he isn’t trying, and whenever he tries to say something - be it RK900’s nickname, an exclamation of his erogenous zone being abused by his cock ramming into it, a sob of both pleasure and pain as RK900 feels his impending climax - it either gets interrupted just like his breaths or becomes something else, and RK900 takes in every single one of these occurrences as a victory, a smile playing on his lips as he utterly destroys his predecessor without resorting to physical harm. He himself still has a long way until his orgasm, advanced prototype with better resilience and stamina and all, and he finds himself wondering if Connor will mind him fucking him through his orgasm.

Connor’s climax comes in the form of tensing muscles and his hole clutching around RK900’s cock painfully tight. RK900 didn’t give him any frontal genital component, so the only way Connor can respond to his systems going haywire with pleasure is by producing a sudden gush of slick that stains both their thighs and the sheets underneath. His mouth is open, his eyes are half-lidded, and his entire body is trembling within RK900’s grip on his waist. It is a glorious sight. ‘P-Please,’ he stutters in between RK900’s slams, his tongue hanging out of his lips and creating a very,  very  enticing image, ‘I want - want - want your cock in my mouth. Want to serve you.’

And who is RK900 to deny such a sweet, reasonable request? Sure, he misses the tightness and heat around his cock as soon as he pulls out, but changing position so that he is sitting with his back against the headboard with Connor moved to the space between his legs, feeding his dick into his predecessor’s mouth and pressing against a tongue covered with sensitive components? It is as if heaven arrived early. Even though he might need to do most of the work by keeping a tight grip on Connor’s skull and jerking himself off with his throat, seeing Connor approach yet another orgasm by merely having his cock against his tongue is enough of a reward. ‘Do you want to come with my cock down your throat?’ he asks despite knowing that Connor is too occupied to answer him, but he does feel the small, quick nods against his dick. ‘You want to squirt for me again, your hole clutching around nothing begging to be filled up?’ he feels the vibrations in Connor’s throat on his cock. ‘You waiting for me to come home and begging for my cock? How does that sound, huh?’

Connor’s particularly hard suck as he comes untouched nearly ends the night early, but RK900 somehow manages to rein his orgasm in by pulling his predecessor off his cock immediately and then replacing it with his fingers, initiating an interface to create a feedback loop of pleasure that tears through Connor’s body. He reflexively jerks away from his successor, but RK900’s grip on his jaw is tight, giving him no escape as he watches what seems to be an endless supply of lubricant flow out of Connor’s hole and gather into a puddle on the sheets, and he decides that he doesn’t want to wait anymore. Getting off the bed to climb behind Connor once more, he shoves three fingers in to make sure that the passage is still warm before flipping Connor over so that they are facing each other and then sliding home in one smooth motion, and with his mind wide open to receive the mixture of pain and pleasure from Connor, it doesn’t take much for him to snap his hips forward one last time and lean down to invade Connor’s mouth with his tongue as warning signs appear in his HUD and he spills deep into him knowing that the consistency and stickiness will ensure that his seed remains in Connor’s body for a long time, enough to keep him full and his stomach inflated until he is back from his next mission. Caressing the slight bump, he pulls away with one final bite on his predecessor’s lip and discovers that Connor is smiling. {Go on,} he covers RK900’s hand with his own. He looks sated, content. {I’ll lick you clean.}

RK900 has to suppress his shivers as he brings his cock to Connor’s mouth once more and lets him lick it clean, the RK800’s trembles of pleasure not escaping his notice, but he carries him to the bathroom for a shower anyway, leaving Connor under the warm spray while he makes a quick work of changing the soiled sheets so that they will have something nice and dry to sleep on. Returning to the bathroom to find Connor licking the floor - because why the fuck not - he shuts off the shower and dries them off before carrying the RK800 back to the bed again and tugging him close underneath the blanket with his head pillowed on RK900’s chest. [Sleep,] he orders. [I’ll get you some thirium when you wake up.]

{Got it.}

RK900 severs their connection just in time for Connor to fall asleep and not drag himself with him. He doesn’t know how long it will be until his next mission. He doesn’t know how long he can keep Connor at his side before his predecessor demands to be able to do more. He doesn't know what Markus wants with the outdated model. So he categorises Connor’s expression as he sleeps and observes the changes in his body - not for the sake of having something occupying his mind but to leave a permanent mark in his brain.

[chocolatte-and-despair]

Heya! <3 I´m not sure if you already got a Question like this, but i wanted to ask how a Relationship with Horrortale Sans, Underfell Sans, Classic Sans and Dust Sans would be. How would they treat they Partner when she is a good Girl and follow the Boys Rules? If you are okay with it, how would sexual Stuff look with these Boys? They got any special Kinks they would want to try out? I hope it is okay to involve a few Questions here with these 4 Sanses, you can add more if you want to owo

((So, I’m not too comfortable with making the reader submissive sexually, at least, not doing a lot of specific headcanons for that, so I won’t involve anything that would make the reader submissive in the bedroom, but everything else stays, same for the few kinks that I’ll give to them!))

YANDERE!HORRORTALE SANS WITH AN OBEDIENT LOVER + KINKS:

~Hickory would feel slightly disappointed, as he would miss the fierce look in your eyes, as you would fight back to him. He came to love that part of you too, and how you would always try to fight for dominance, but well, this was fine too, he wasn’t going to complain.

~ “It’s strange that you changed this much, in so little time, but I’m glad you accept my love now, kitten~”

~ “You know, now that you’ve calmed down, we could start thinking about that cabin by the lake, right? How about it? Just imagine it, Us both and my brother, living all happy together. Maybe we could get a pet too? Or bring my bro’s lover alongside too. How does that sound? I’m sure we’ll be really happy now”

YANDERE!UNDERFELL SANS WITH AN OBEDIENT LOVER + KINKS:

~ Well, his reactions would wary. If you started off already obedient, then he would honestly accept whatever you act like. He is one of those yanderes who wouldn’t force his power over you too much unless you make him extremely jealous.

~ “Aww, you are so cute. How about the next time we go out, we match clothing? Wouldn’t that make us look the best out of everyone?”

~But if you just changed from what you were before, to please him, or something like that, he would be very angry with you. He has a huge problem with changing yourself for someone else, even if you did it to show him you love him.

~ “If I didn’t love you for who you are, I wouldn’t be with you!... Please, don’t force to be who you are not for me, alright?”

YANDERE!UNDERTALE SANS WITH AN OBEDIENT LOVER + KINKS :

~I’m not going to go around it, Sans is disappointed. Like, more than disappointed. He is so sick and tired of carrying all the weight around. First the responsibility of taking care of the alternative versions of the people he knew and now you?

~He got with you so he could relax, so he could finally lose control and let you take over. That was what he wanted and what he was searching for. But when he would find out that you are the opposite of that, he would immediately get ready to break up with you.

~ “Yeah, so, I don't think this will work out. Sorry”

~There are two options right now. Either you break up with him because no matter how obedient you are, that just doesn’t interest him. Or you change your obedient attitude into a dominant one and surprise him by taking control of the situation, grabbing him and slamming him into the wall, telling him he is not going anywhere. 

~ “... Fuck... Have I ever told you... You’re fucking hot?”

YANDERE!DUSTTALE SANS WITH AN OBEDIENT LOVER + KINKS:

~Solaris doesn’t have a real preference when it comes to a lover. If he loves you, then he loves you. Be it if you are obedient, or if you are the biggest brat around. He just doesn’t care about such things.

~ “Stop worrying so much. Just be yourself and I’ll love you”

~He would probably get annoyed with you if you would ask him what to do or wouldn’t have any sort of independence. As much as he loves you, he has a bloodlust to satisfy. He can’t be with you all the time.

~ “I love you, but fuck, sometimes I can’t really stand you”

YANDERE!HORRORTALE SANS KINKS:

~  Mysophilia  - It’s less of a kink towards dirty things, and more of a kink towards things covered by your arousal. Underwear, sex toys, bedsheets. anything that has the smell of your arousal can get him going.

~  Nullification  - Now, listen right here. Just because he likes this, it doesn’t mean he will ever do this to you. He loves you too much to hurt you in such a way. But it doesn’t change that he enjoys it...

~  Psychrocism  - This would tie back to his previous sexual experiences... He wasn’t the greatest, but because of what he has done, he did develop a love for cold bodies or just having sex in cold places. 

YANDERE!UNDERFELL SANS KINKS:

~  Mummification  - Red’s quite a bit into bondage, especially when he’s on the receiving side, so, I don’t think it’s a surprise that Red would love that kink. He wouldn’t mind letting you try this out too, but he has to warn you. It does get intense fast. 

~   Narratophilia  - He loves listening to dirty stories. Just listening to your previous sexual experiences would get him ready to try and give you some new memories.

~  Orgasm denial  - It’s a simple enough kink, but honestly, if you know how to play with it, it can be fun. 

YANDERE!UNDERTALE SANS KINKS:

~  Impact play  - Impact play is one of his favorite things. Honestly, the way his ecto body feels whenever it's hit by various materials... let’s not even talk about his bones themselves.

~   Macrogenitalism  - Of course, it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t love you if you wouldn’t be gifted in specific areas, but if you can bet that his favorite type of porn is with people who have larger genitals (Both male and female)

~  Mixophilia  - Now, don’t misunderstand this. He doesn’t have this kink because he is a narcissist. He just loves seeing himself being completely wrecked and a mirror helps him achieve that. 

YANDERE!DUSTTALE SANS KINKS:

~  Hypoxia  - This is something he would do as a punishment of sorts whenever you would annoy him too much. Of course, he really loves you and wouldn’t actually kill you but the way you squirm really does excite him.

~   Knife play  - He really loves you, that’s why he would make sure that the blade is always sanitized and that he would have a way to treat your wounds in case they would get worse. 

~  Maschalagnia  - Yes, it might sound bad, but compared to the others, maybe it’s not that bad, especially with Sans’ foot fetish, Hickory’s voristic tendencies, and Red’s love for hands.

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Gender

Lower engagement, but higher personal satisfaction... let’s go for that.

How I define my gender.

I’ve never really been 100% committed to being a woman.

https://www.quora.com/How-do-I-know-I-am-cisgender-Ive-heard-some-cis-people-do-question-their-gender-and-Im-trying-to-tell-whether-Im-trans-or-one-of-these-cases Taking the questions from here... it would split this way: Gender dysphoria- when I was younger, a little. Gender Euphoria- never. Gender Politics (beyond basic empathy for others)- Oh fuck no. I don’t get why so many, particularly cis men are hung up on men must wear pants and not pink. I *do* look for women in history, but it’s more like a solidarity and hating erasure of marginalized groups and celebrating those marginalized groups. So political one way, but not particularly on the philosophical performance part. I also tend to spend a lot of time on things I don’t understand.

“Do you feel equally comfortable in men and women’s fashion, only noticing the practical differences?” Pretty much. If you give me a man’s suit I’d wear it. I had no issues with playing as a man for a skit.

 Are you basically ambivalent about makeup? 50/50. Sometimes I do care and do it for “funsies” but most of the time I don’t care because I don’t like “woman as object and consumerism.”

“Do you ‘play along’ when someone tells you what your assignment should be doing, but also don’t really care?”

Pretty much true. Like I was told girls aren’t supposed to like dirt. Screw that. girls aren’t supposed to like sports. I was like screw that. Girls aren’t supposed to like bugs. So what?

I did tend to read more women-led fiction over men’s fiction, but that’s mostly because men’s fiction has “gems” that sexualize women in ways that made me squirm. Cis het men’s writing about women usually piss me off, so I usually don’t try. And I’m all about the fairness. (But also note I’m gray-aro and read a crapton of romance, so who knows how that all works. I’m also gray-a and read a crapton of romance, though not sex repulsed (more like somewhere between sex neutral and receptive? I rated myself a 6-7... on a 0-9 scale.)) Gender tests I’ve taken: 50/50. Usually get something like demi-boy or demi girl. Though I don’t really have that much dysphoria. I do occasionally feel pissed off about my sex presentation, but that’s not really dysphoria as in I hate my body parts actively. It’s more like, why do I have to bother with it? It’s so much work to have to worry in the first place.

When you look in the mirror, do you feel like there’s nothing that really needs to be changed?

This one is more like why do I have to care so much? I feel gender fucked. Like why do I have to go through the steps?

Are you happy with your hair, your chest, the shape of your face?

50/50 on this one.

Aside from maybe wanting to bulk up, wash your hair, or lose a few pounds, are you generally pleased with your appearance?

I give no shits?

Do you appreciate your genitals?

75%/25% appreciation/hate. Sometimes I hate they exist.

Do you like the idea of using them in sex or to make a baby?

This is more like my ace side, I think, but meh? Take it or leave it.

Do they make you feel connected to other people with the same genitals socially, such as complaining about periods, or talking about dick length?

Not really. I’m more like why do you care so fucking much? But I’m not sure how much this is an ace thing.

Do you feel like even if you don’t use them, it’s comfortable just having them around?

Sometimes, not always. Might also be an ace thing.

If you were in a social group of only your assigned gender, would you be happy with it?

Not always. I don’t evaluate that way. Trans people are cool. I pick usually by belief systems and who the person is, morally.

Would it be fairly easy to communicate and find things in common?

I feel ambivalent sometimes towards other women, especially when they go off on tangents about mall shopping, clothes, etc. I feel the same about men talking about watching sports and warfare.

Would you feel harmonious and homogeneous with the group, if the individuals had personalities you liked?

Meh? I also listen to people I don’t like.

If you took away all the physical features that made up your assignment, what gender are you now? Where does that feeling come from?

I’m still me. I don’t care.

If you got to choose your gender upon reincarnation, what would you pick?

Flip a coin. Roll a dice. I don’t give a fuck.

If a wizard changed your sex permanently, would you be pissed or excited?

Meh. Don’t care.

What gender characters do you generally play in RPGs, and what options do you wish were more frequently available?

I’ve generally played women, given no other options besides binary, but also moonlighted as men, but then felt sick because male privilege.

“Do I FEEL like my assigned gender?”*

Shrugs. Not that committed. If you got an all-expenses paid trip to womanhood spa central, and became a socially idealized version of yourself, THEN would you feel like a woman? 

No. I oscillate between liking make up for the pure knowledge of it, and not giving a fuck. I’ve never understood the hours of make up, hair performance, etc.

As a child, I was the type that wanted to be good at *everything* and was upset that my Dad wouldn’t give me the time of day for “masculine” things. I was *also* good at figuring things out. I *also* wanted to be good at sports. I *also* like girly things occasionally. I wanted it all and didn’t see why my brother or me got compliments for different things and felt deep insult when I couldn’t do that too and also get compliments for it. (If you’re imagining an annoying precocious child--that’s about right) I don’t see the point of the gender construct when it re-enforces ideas of genders can do only certain things, when it’s never been proven true. So why are people so effing committed to performing it? I wear hanbok. I’ll wear a male one. I’ll make an androgynous one. I wear those without issue. I’ll cross dress if I like, because I don’t really see the point and European and European-derived defined genders as fucked in the first place. What is this men==violence and horses thing? What is this women==weakness and capitalism thing? I don’t get it. And why do I have to wear European-derived clothes in the first place? Plus from my academic study of gender and gender history, that just cemented for me how fucked up the White European and White European diaspora is about gender in the first place and I feel even less committed to it. I do perform usually more like a woman than a man, but it’s more like whatever is convenient, rather than an absolute commitment to the role. ‘cause you know, my gender is my least concern here, (probably along with ace aro) while not quite hating on it. I wear my hair long, because money and I don’t feel like cutting it very often and I like to be able to keep it out of my food, as well.

I don’t mind masculine pronouns in theory, because whatever floats your boat. But I do care if you think foreign name==men, because that’s giving into masculine hegemony and that is rude to other people unlike me who might be more committed to their genders, and that I definitely care about.

[gaiatheorist]

“50% Feminine.”

I’m going mad again, I’m listing probable reasons, but going mad isn’t reasonable, it’s something that just happens to me from time to time. This is one of the slow, creepy-uppy episodes, not one of the sudden, explosive ones, possibly less dangerous, but incredibly draining. It’ll pass, it always does, it had better do, it’s bloody horrible.

Standard disclaimer, I am at increased risk of harm, but I have no intent or ideation of deliberately harming myself, apart from drinking too much cheap-and-nasty wine, which is my standard maladaptive coping mechanism.

I woke up at 1.30am, and, after a brief discussion with my wonky brain, acknowledged that I was Awake-awake, and there was no chance of going back to sleep. This will have a knock-on effect for a few days, there’s a fair chance I’ll fall asleep in my dinner, but it’s mostly containable. (The madness, as well as the dinner.) Scrolling through Twitter, to see if I’d ‘missed anything’, I found a link to ‘My Gender Coordinates’, and decided to take the quiz, no better or worse use of my time than a Fakebook quiz to tell me what sort of sandwich, or shoe I am.

There are 35 questions, I can’t remember exactly how they’re worded, but it’s along the lines of “I am...” or “I consider myself...” about various character traits, or behaviours, you ‘answer’ on a sliding scale from double-thumbs-up to double-thumbs-down. There’s a ‘middle’ option, which, when I’m going mad, is always a bit tempting, I’m indifferent, I don’t care much about much when I’m in this state.(Until I do, and get all emotionally peaky, HATING an empty shampoo bottle on the bathroom floor, but refusing to move it, because it’s not mine, or finding myself close to tears because I think I’ve offended someone, and not quite knowing how to check.) 

The ‘results’ come out on a quadrant-graph thingy, Masculine/Androgynous/Undifferentiated/Feminine, I deliberately didn’t look at that first, because I would have skewed my answers, aiming for ‘undifferentiated’, I’m awkward like that. My results were that I ‘fall between quadrants’, no big surprise there, my dot was bang on the line between ‘masculine’ and ‘androgynous’, all in the top half of the square, ‘68.3% Masculine, 50% Feminine’, I don’t know how that works, it’s numbers, and maths and stuff, and my brain doesn’t work like that. (Haha, because I’m a girl, and girls are better at biology than physics. Bullshit.) 

What does it mean? In all likelihood, nothing, it does look kind-of scientific, which is why I answered all of the questions, instead of giving up at the first hint of a cartoon dinosaur, or a ‘pick which colour-scheme appeals to you’. (Cartoon dinosaurs are my new pet hate, I’ve recently had to wade back through the clip-art infested worksheets from the last mental health course, and I’m fairly certain I’ve imagined a cartoon dinosaur, but that’s a tangent I’ll try to avoid.) I have strong opinions on the concept of gender, for however-many years I’ve been writing on here, I’ve identified as ‘meat no-one eats’, my biological sex is female, and my uterus is certainly reminding me of that fact this week. My gender? Human. Probably. 

“Identified as”, how very modern, it’s not ‘really’ a new thing, to me, or the world, what I’m trying to do here is type out a safe-release, to vent, I suppose it all boils down to my resentment of being ‘told’. There are vague childhood memories of being told “Ladies do/don’t do...”, and I have a ridiculous rage-bubble of “Yes, and sloths poo once a week, what’s your point?”, too late one thinks of what one might have said. I’m no more a lady than I am a sloth, I’m probably leaning more towards sloth at the moment, I’m overdue a bath.

Working through the statement-ratings, I noticed I was pulling a face at some of them. All of them, to be honest, which surprised me, because, with a diagnosis of autism, there’s the preconception that my response would be binary-linear, black-or-white, always/never. It wasn’t, my response was invariably “That’s a stupid question.”, and they weren’t questions, for every single statement, I decided “Unable to answer without context.”, and had to imagine a scenario to contextualise “I am generous” or “I am decisive”, or whatever. ( I *am* decisive, given sufficient context.) I need to watch that I don’t fall into a psychopath/sociopath rabbit-hole here, my sometimes-linear approach could be viewed as psychopathic, and my bending/masking could fit a sociopathic profile. Too many personality quizzes in my teen-girl magazines, and an on-going desire to name and categorize things.

I was pulling a face at the statements that are usually associated with the concept of femininity, there really isn’t a male-brain/female-brain. (All brains smell horrible, I have smelled my own brain, wasn’t pleasant.) There are some biological differences, most notably the reproductive bits, but not really a great deal else, the ex used to say that humans were evolving to be more androgynous, but I see now that he was trying to justify the societally-imposed feelings of inadequacy that I was as tall as him, with more body-hair. He ascribed to the concept of androgyny when it suited him, lauding Bowie in public, and insisting I was ‘better’ at housework in private. A product of his upbringing, but deeply coercive-toxic. He enjoyed my androgynous-atypical nature up to a point, I was a trophy in more ways than just my long legs and pretty mouth, I confused the hell out of his ‘traditional’ family, though. 

The statements that made me screw up my face could have been coloured pink, they were the ones that ‘ladies do’, some, I consciously, deliberately-don’t, and some are just a natural hard-no, nature vs nurture in evidence. I have learned behaviours, and innate, natural tendencies, there was a bit of a domestic issue the other day when I noted my son being manipulative, and destroyed-devastated myself wondering if he’d learned-observed that from me.  I don’t think so, my avoidance-behaviours are quite different. I was pulling faces at the stereotypical ‘female’ traits, initially an “Ew, no, I don’t do that!” response, but, as I realised I was doing it, I wondered WHY I was repulsed. There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with being kind/sensitive/compassionate, they’re human responses, not ‘masculine’ or ‘feminine’, but even the quiz itself refers to them as  “Traits commonly found in people of the ... gender.” (Androgynous is referred to as high in male- and female-typical traits, undifferentiated as low in both.) Commonly, not exclusively.

Part of the issue is that I associate femininity with vulnerability and weakness. I choose not to ‘present as’ female most of the time, my sex usually isn’t obvious until people get close, and I don’t let many people get that close. (Even before the virus-distancing.) There are ‘historical and complicating factors’ behind some of that, but there’s also the gender-conditioning I grew up with, girls-should, and boys-should, I didn’t have particularly positive experiences or role-models, but, even aside from that, the general concensus was that male was stronger, better, more important, female was secondary and subservient. To do something ‘like a girl’ was an insult, but, by the same token, I was often criticised for not being ‘girly’, ever the outlier. I’m wondering how much of the non-femininity is reactive-protective, how much could be part of the autism, and how much is just ‘how I am’? 

Girly-females irritate me, vacuous conversations, hair-and-make-up, dependence on others, incessant diets and fads, I don’t ‘get’ any of it, and I don’t buy into it, I don’t see why I should, just because my genitals are in the more difficult-to-kick arrangement. (True to form, my son has more make-up and hair-stuff than I do, I can’t remember how he referred to my presentation a few weeks ago, but it might have involved goblins, and a bin.) Occasionally, people tell me I could be attractive if I made an effort, my go-to response is “What for?”, I do generally look as if I live in a tree, it doesn’t bother me. That’s not wholly a girl-thing or a boy-thing, I do know some very well-presented people of both flavours, but I’ve genuinely never overheard a group of men discussing razor-blades or underpants the way I’ve heard gaggles of women banging on about make-up and such. 

Women who talk in baby-voices, women who giggle and simper around men, women who don’t even try to pick things up themselves, I think what I’m saying is that I don’t like women who ‘act as’ women, and it is an act, my mother’s phone-laugh used to make me want to scream. 

Before I became annoyed at myself for placing more value on the traits more commonly associated with masculinity than femininity, I’d had a mini-argument with myself that it was impossible to rate any of the statements objectively. Am I kind? It depends on the situation, last week I helped a little old lady sort out a mis-delivered parcel, but the week before that, I’d sped up my walking pace, so I could get into the corner shop before the person behind me, it might have been the same little old lady, I wasn’t paying attention. I’d viewed the thumbs-rating as a never-always continuum, so, technically, all of the responses ‘should’ have been middle-option, for ‘sometimes’. (There might have been an explanation in the site somewhere, it was daft o’clock in the morning.) For each behaviour, I was thinking of a situation, which was wrong, I think I should have been rating least-likely to most-likely. The situation has an influence on the behaviour, if I had friends, I’d behave differently with them to the way I’d behave with a doctor, or a manager, or my son, and even that behaviour would depend on multiple external factors, it wouldn’t be static-consistent, it would be dynamic. We all do it, we’re socially conditioned to behave according to audience and environment.

I didn’t go to finishing school, I didn’t even go to university, there were no elocution or deportment classes at my rough-as-arseholes comprehensive school, and most of my childhood meals at home were eaten from a plate on my knee, on the sofa, in front of the TV. There were still expectations, though. Standing up if a teacher came into the classroom, not interrupting an adult speaking, letting elderly or otherwise infirm people on the bus first. I don’t remember my brother being given as many instructions as I was, though, and I think that was more to do with me being a girl than being two and a half years older, he did pretty much as he pleased, and was a ‘rascal’, or a ‘scamp’, whereas I was told to sit down (nicely), be quiet, smile, be helpful etc long before the wear a bra, brush your hair, show a bit of leg nonsense started. 

I’m fairly certain that the gender-specific conditioning is part of the reason my autism wasn’t diagnosed until I was 42. I’d had expectations drummed, and sometimes beaten into me all my life, everything was already an act, a performance, so I just assumed everyone else was ‘faking it’ all the time, over-riding gut-instinct on everything, and acting according to these confusing social scripts. The “What for?” streak in me is problematic for other people, I’m viewed as difficult, challenging, sometimes plain rude, and overly bold ‘for a woman’. I don’t speak much, but, when I do, I make it count, I’m tenacious and determined, and, most of the time, completely exhausted trying to remember and correctly apply rules and boundaries, scripts I don’t understand the reasoning behind, and constantly-consistently assess environments and audiences, to avoid ‘getting it wrong’. 

I am blunt at times. I can be articulate and eloquent, but sometimes a situation demands just-enough information to convey the salient point. I don’t tend to ‘waste words’, and am frustrated when people fanny about with “Does that make sense?” and “This might sound silly, but...” Anecdotally, I hear that from women more than men, we’re discouraged from being too much to-the-point, to go the long way around things, instead of straight at them, and to check for reassurance. I speak ‘like a man’, it’s more efficient. (”Does everyone understand what they are to do?” was my preferred meeting-closing-statement, I’m brutal.) 

I sometimes see the reverse-of-me in my son, he isn’t the least bit blunt or brutal most of the time. (He did shout “Stop it!” at me quite forcefully one day last week when I was having a meltdown after getting bin-juice on my face. He saves his command-voice for emergencies.) He ties himself in knots about communicating with people, and avoids most conversation, although he’ll babble incessantly to himself to process thoughts and ideas. (I have sores inside my ears that won’t heal, because I keep putting my earphones in to drown out his waffling about D&D plots and such.) He’s nervous-anxious where I’m bold, he’s scared of a million things that I’m not in the least bit concerned by, but then, I am an idiot. Biological sex is not gender, but neither of us are really binary-gendered. (I’m not going to suggest he does the quiz, he’s so incredibly indecisive it would melt his brain.) I never conditioned him ‘male’, he’s always just been another human to me, but he has had conflicting messages from his Dad’s side of the family, boys-don’t-cry, come-and-kick-this-ball, look-at-the-tits-on-that, and the girly-girl aunts and cousins. Confusing times, but he has referred to himself as a pan-sexual trans-humanist, and I don’t really know what that is. (He hasn’t asked me to use different pronouns, or a different name, so he’s still ‘him’.) 

I’m rambling. I’ve been pecking away at this for hours, but I do feel a little more settled for doing it. I didn’t go off on as many ranty tangents as I thought I might, which is reassuring, this episode of going mad has been mostly-irritable, and I don’t like it. Catch-22, there, as a female, I’m ‘supposed to’ be all pink and fluffy, and nice, but the lazy stereotype of a woman can also be a nagging old harridan, I’m straddling that line as well as the line between quadrants on the quiz. I bet you 10p that if I did the quiz again, I’d be able to skew the answers to place the dot dead-centre in the grid, but I might blow up the internet if I did that, and imagine the mess that would make.          

[toziers]

can you explain what's going on right now? i keep seeing big IT blogs talking about some discourse or something but i have no idea what they're talking about other than it involves you lol

alright i like. i truly do not like having diScOurSE out in public because i’m not one to air out my dirty laundry 24/7 but seeing as how it was brought into public against my will i feel like the least i can do is clear up the situation for those who’ve been seeing the posts. 

i’m putting this under the cut bc it’s long. tws for some biphobia, brief mention of transphobia and, at the end, a rape mention. 

so if you don’t know: hi, i’m migz, i’m an it fandom blogger. its okay, i know, its really cool. part of my shtick here is that i like to turn normal thirst tags into works of art for the sake of comedy. perhaps you’ve seen some of my highlights from my “fhg” tag - perhaps your brain has been spared. either way, it became kind of “my thing” around the third or fourth week (mid nov) of me having this blog. at first, i tagged just about every ask i got mentioning the thirst tags with “bill hader” - they had to do with him, so why not tag him? it would draw more like minded people! about two days into that i got a message asking me to tag my nsfw. i am a big dumb idiot, and apologize for not initially doing it. i havent had a following bigger than like 10 in several years and completely spaced on basic etiquette. so by the end of november i was tagging everything applicable  with “notsfw” and “bill hader”. 

now you’re caught up.

on december 1st i got this message from user billhaderanti:

now i want to start by saying i absolutely was in the wrong here. i didn’t even think about how many people were being subjected to the asks i was getting - especially ones who had no idea they were all jokes. i don’t track the bill hader tag, so it just didn’t even occur to me - that’s ignorance on my part, and to anyone who was subjected to the terrors of me before my tagging system: i am genuinely sorry. i relay the same sentiment in my response, though you can tell i’m on edge.

and they replied:

clearly they Were offended by it but thats.. not the point. at this point, im feeling Really weird about the whole interaction, but still understanding, because again - i GET it. i know my posts are gross - that’s the point. it doesn’t make it excusable, though, which is why i understand why people are offended. so i responded with the only solution i Knew would keep us both safe and happy posting on our own blogs. 

so i thought this would be the end of things! i’d been pretty anxious lately already since i’d started to receive anons telling me i was gross and whore-ish for thirst posting in this way (i delete all of those, so if ur thinking about sending one, i guess no one’s stopping you but it won’t be seeing the light of the dashboard). i’m unsure if it was immediately or a few hours later, seeing as how i have a bad concept of time and the post-dates are right on the edge between nov 30 and dec 1, but i went to their blog - because anyone who has been on the internet knows the opportunity to vague post is near irresistible. and...what do ya know

fair! it’s their blog. however i am an emotionally fragile egg girl and immediately got freaked out. the odds that they were the only one who thought this were low. and, again, i’ve been very open on my blog about how important it is to respect boundaries; my posts are absolutely prone to breaking those boundaries people have created for themselves. 

so i made my own, semi-vague post, letting my following know (and i’m pretty sure i’d answered asks about it before, but this is going to be long enough w/o me searching those up too) that i understood if they wanted to block me or unfollow or whatever - people need to create their own safe spaces. the tension is pretty clear in the tags, i’m not trying to hide that. i felt that the way this woman slid into my dm’s was pretty abrasive (just my opinion/how it made me personally feel) and i let myself be a lil emotional about it in the tags of my post.

alright! maybe this is the end. maybe we both go our separate ways and post happily on our own blogs... except it’s not the end. later in the day (some of this was happening like 1/2am, so now its Day day, i believe - again, not good w time passage lol)

clearly, i’m upset. my groupchat double checked that i didn’t get too emotional in my response - did i mention im anxious about discourse lol - and apparently.. it did the trick. she didn’t message me again. great. it was over. 

at this point, i decided i needed to make an even bigger change. so a few days after i’d calmed down i created an entirely new tag for my thirst posts so if people hadn’t already hidden the notsfw posts or just blocked me outright, they’d have a third option to escape the madness. at this point, id had my blog about 6? weeks, but there were still 2k posts for me to sift through - some of them were completely untagged. i also had to do it post by post, because one of xkits features - the mass re-tagger - was getting blogs deleted for some reason, and i wasn’t going to do that. so i spent a few days going through all 2k+ posts, adding the “fhg” tag. 

YEEHAW! a brand new tagging system, no more hopping into the bill hader tag (minus one or two really funny, not super explicit asks, like the bill hader farquaad meme), and, tbf, i’d completely put this woman out of my mind. i don’t seek out drama and do my best to stay in my lane. yesterday, i checked my activity for the first time in awhile since id put out a couple new original posts that had started to get traction and i Love reading tags. i noticed a mutual had @’d me, and realized i havent checked my @’s in...ever, maybe. i see a post from my good pal billhaderanti. 

since i dont follow them and never check my @’s, i’d completely missed it. however, once i did see it, i was horrified. id gone through all that fucking work to keep my blog My Blog and also respect everyone’s boundaries and it still hadn’t been enough. i’d been awake for almost 24 hours and went. a little crazy. and i didn’t reply immediately because i just had no words. i sent it to my friends because i... i just wasn’t going to be able to figure it out myself. 

there’s a lot to unpack in this post alone, but whatever, i’m gonna put my own grievances with the immaturity of 1. making a callout post to begin with when i’d been nothing but civil 2. making a callout post about something as (in the grand scheme of Life) minor as some tags where i refer to a someone’s genitals as a “whack pack” and 3. making a callout post in such a rude way - aside. at the end, she calls me (and whoever else!) a demonic mlw (man loving woman, we assumed, and then later confirmed with a post further back on her blog). 

which - yeah, we started scrolling. at first we were looking for more vague blogs, and then we just...started finding things. billhaderanti is a self proclaimed lesbian separatist, which... fine. but it’s already pretty clear that this woman hates me on some level simply because i am a bi woman (demonic mlw, remember!) which is just. damn man i can’t believe we are still fighting the biphobic fight lol. so the more we scrolled, the more we uncovered - and not just the biphobic / vaguely mtf transphobic things they posted (or put in tags), but we also found that they had their OWN thirst tags. certainly not as hyperbolically comedic as mine, but they were there, talking about his body and his person the same (and, frankly, a bit creepier for other reasons) as mine. 

there’s one post in particular that snatched my wig in it’s creepiness - and i say creepiness in the sense that it feels personal. like this woman feels like she knows bill to some degree where she can say these things. my tags have always had a sense of distance, as they’re written for humor. and maybe this particular post was written for comedic purposes, but it doesn’t read that way, and if it WAS, then she has no right to call ME out for MY comic tags and posts. 

i’ll let it speak for itself, mostly because i don’t want to read it again. 

i also won’t be going through her blog again to find the posts with biphobic and other Interesting:tm: tags because there are plenty and i just really! want to be done with the whole ordeal! her blog is public and i’m sure you can all find it and look to your heart’s content. 

feeling a bit feral and a bit pissed off now that we knew the depth of how rotten this woman’s vibes were, a couple of my pals made a post or two similar to what my tag’s are like except turned up to eleven (if possible) - and tagged them with “bill hader” (and notsfw!!). yes, a bit childish, but at this point, the entire situation was childish, and making jokes was truly the only way we were going to get through it. another vague post went up on her blog soon after.

talking down to us, calling us children, and then for whatever reason calling us virgins... whatever, weird post. around this time most of us (est) went to bed, because it was nearing 3 or 4 in the morning. 

and then today happened. i woke up fresh and ready for the day after a wonderful 4 hours of sleep and found that jane had made an incredibly intelligent post in response to the situation. i won’t ss it, but i’ll LINK in case you missed it. attached there in the reblog is my own response. i think they can speak for themselves. 

after that, things were kind of jumbled, since i wasn’t online a lot and when i was i was Not checking my activity simply because i was afraid of what i’d see. for the most part, it ended up just being support (which i am very grateful to all of you for - it means a lot that you all enjoy my content to any degree). 

there was some more vague posting from both “““““sides”””””” of the “““““argument”””””” - mostly just people restating the fact that this is a public space and we should All be aware of how we effect others. i still hadn’t heard directly from billhaderanti, so i assumed we’d all be dropping and disengaging and moving on. i still wasn’t blocked, though, so who really knew what would happen. 

eventually, it culminated in this last post. tw for mentions of rape

i’m going to start by saying that 

1. there are nearly no teenagers that were involved in this. im turning 23 in january and most of my friends are 20+. maybe one or two are 19. 

2. none of us sent any sexually violent asks - most of us didn’t send asks at all. i believe one or two of my friends admitted to sending asks however they assured me their nature wasn’t bad; as far as i know, everyone remained civil in whatever went on (again, unclear to me as to what was being sent; no one was actively posting or talking about it. if billhaderanti wishes to elaborate, they can, but i don’t have anything to put in). 

3. before i finish this, i would like to apologize to billhaderanti. as a comedian - not just my stupid tags, i mean in real life, too - i know that humor can hurt. it’s not always funny, it’s not just stupid hahas. sometimes things that are supposed to be jokes just hit people differently and cause bad things. i recognize that. i never meant to trigger you (if you’re reading this) or cause you any severe mental/emotional harm. i apologize for my humor bringing up your trauma, and i never meant for that. regardless of my own thoughts and opinions about the nature of my posts/the thirst tags themselves, they hurt you, and i’m sorry. 

anyway, i’m going to wrap this up (i’m bad at endings, what can i say! steven king and i took the same writer’s class!). if you read all this... sorry. i probably won’t be taking any asks about it, because i find the whole “drama” of this to be stupid and rooted in some seriously biphobic issues this fully grown woman has. 

tldr; i attempted to contain my blog so this woman could exist and function safely on her blog, but it wasn’t enough for her, so she called me out, and then some of the fandom called Her out for being biphobic and mean and overall just immature about the situation. as of now, she’s yet to block me, though her and her wife have blocked a few of my friends. her wife continues to clown on my friends. this post was made for clarity’s sake. the end, i’m getting a drink. 

[kinkyacademia]

Mod Pasta, welcome back! I hope your classes went well! Could I please request something nsfw with Overhaul and medical play? Those gloves of his just instantly make me think "doctor" every time, oof. Thank you!

Of course, thank you! I’m running out of requests :O oh no!! Argh, I’m also really wanting to get into writing Marvel sometime. It seems interesting. Also, I just realized that if this request was for Chronostasis, I would have totally had him administer shots until he came (Hope you didn’t forget about my general Hari headcanons).Also, I assumed this with a female! If you would have liked a male, trans male, trans female or otherwise, their checkups are entirely different from female-bodied exams (at least in terms of genital exams).

-Mod Pasta🍜🍝

In a way, Kai was your doctor. He didn’t trust you going to another doctor, perhaps one that would even touch your arm or administer a shot, so he took the liberty of becoming your doctor (After having you fall off the face of the Earth, of course. He couldn’t have police snooping around to see why you didn’t have an official doctor).

That didn’t mean that he didn’t take certain… “liberties.” Your genital health was important, after all, and how better to check it than to test it?

He asks you, obviously, if the idea even seemed appealing to you. To have sex with your doctor wasn’t on your top priority list, usually, but when you already were sleeping with him outside of the “clinic” (A very clean, pristine side room of the bunker), it made your stomach flutter. His only requirement was for you to treat him as a doctor, and you knew he secretly loved the idea of being one himself, so you knew that this was going to end well for the both of you. You agreed to do it, and the next day, you were heading to the “clinic.”

He treated you without much regard, asking you a couple questions about your sex life as if he didn’t already know about it. He wore a typical doctor uniform and a hospital mask, along with gloves. When he asked if you were sleeping with anyone, you paused, “I… am?” You had no idea how to respond to that. He nodded, writing something down that you assumed was “idiot,” and asked if he was allowed to know who that person was, “Oh, just someone, nobody important,” You physically saw the grip on his pen tighten. Perfect.

Then came the check up. When he reached inside your shirt and under your bra to check your breasts for lumps, you shivered at the plastic gloves he adorned. It wasn’t like you hadn’t felt gloves there before, but his personal ones were soft and leathery. These ones were new and exciting, and when he pulled back, he calmly asked if you wanted a vaginal checkup. You hesitated, and he raised an eyebrow that made your heart skip a beat, “Y-Yeah, I think it would be best if I had one.”

“Of course.”

Instead of bringing the strange device out for you to prop yourself up on, he simple had you lay down on the bed-like table. You don’t remember exactly where he got the checkup table, but it was quite comfy for something so hard with crinkly plastic underneath you. You already had the blue gown on, so you removed it and became fully naked. You laid back, and he grabbed your legs propping them up on his shoulders while he took a flashlight to start examining. Everything felt so official, yet so risque.

He asked questions you didn’t know the answer to, then some you could shakily respond to. What was strange was the lack of air blowing on your lips while he spoke, the mask covering all that. He then asked if he could “Feel for any odd shapes.” Your heart picked up speed when he asked, and you obviously agreed.

He started with one gloved finger. It was pretty easy to hold back any noises you would have made otherwise despite the intoxicating feeling of soft plastic, and he didn’t pump his fingers at all. Instead, he paused as if he had found something, “I’ll need to insert two fingers to properly asses you. Your quite tight, so I’m going to have to stimulate you to do so.”

You knew for a fact you weren’t tight, hell, you were overflowing with excited, sticky liquids.

So he started pumping a single finger, and you swallowed hard to not moan. He was always an observant lover, not quite caring, but very observant. He knew exactly how to drive you mad. Every twist and pull was laced with experience. Soon enough, he inserted a second finger, and you couldn’t choke back a very short whimper. He paused, “What was that?”

“Oh, nothing sir. D-Did you find what you were looking for?” Your voice was croaky, but he had the decency not to comment on it.

“No, I need more access… Unfortunately, this hospital requires lubrication for anything above two fingers,” He began to reach into a lower compartment, grabbing a bottle, “Please relax, we will figure this out.”

“Of course, sir.”

You really shouldn’t have trusted him with that many fingers inside of you. Just two was leaving you reeling, and you were pretty sure you just had an orgasm. Instead of stopping, though, your masterful boyfriend pulled his drenched fingers out and lubricated them even further, then slowly inserting three. It was really, REALLY hard for you not to react. Of course the stretching was uncomfortable, but god damn did he know how to use his fingers.

You were a shaking mess once again, under his spell and biting the inside of your cheek while curling your fingers in. Your attempts were probably extremely fetal in his eyes, but in your own, your reactions were minimal. He pumped a couple times, fingers still massaging your g-spot and causing your head to continue being fuzzy, but his hand on your thigh snapped you back into focus, “You’re shaking.”

“Sorry, sir, I’m just nervous is all,” You grit your teeth as he pushed his fingers deeper into you, and he pressed against your walls for a second before nodding to himself.

“You have every reason to be.”

He pulled his fingers out, took the gloves off, and washed his hands. As he did so, you thought about his words, “What’s wrong with me?”

“Oh, nothing terrible. I will have to examine you further, Miss (L/N),” You felt a twinge of surprise at how he addressed you, and nodded slowly.

“Alright, whatever you think is best, sir,” You nodded, and then glanced away when he started to take his belt off. He was wearing formal clothing, the usual for a doctor’s office. Once his belt was off, he unbuttoned his shirt as if afraid that he would get it messy. That’s the Kai you knew, as well as the Kai who put condoms on despite having had unprotected sex with you before and made you take birth control.

Soon he was at your trembling entrance, still wet and puffy from his previous “checking.” You glanced up at his masked lips, then to his eyes, “Is this really n-necessary, sir?”

“Yes. To provide the best patient care, I must exhaust all non-invasive options for treatment,” He pressed himself against your entrance, already fully hard from what he had done to you before. As he pushed into you, his masked shifted slightly, “Even if I’m inside of you regardless.”

Kai never knew when he would made jokes or puns. He was so socially deprived that he never was conscious of his words in the case of puns. When he said that, though, you couldn’t hold back the smallest chuckle despite the need to burst out laughing.

At your chuckle, he pulled back and thrust himself deeper. You shut up quickly, your breath cut off by you gritting your teeth to not moan. Once he was properly positioned inside and on top of you, he started thrusting, his hips meeting yours slowly. As if trying to keep up the act as a doctor, he didn’t look at you, and instead seemed to be thinking about something. You were a mess, and soon enough you let out of moan of pleasure.

His eyes snapped down to your own, and yours widened with guilt, “I appreciate the compliment, Miss (L/N), but I am currently very serious about trying to help you,” There was a twinge of raw effort in his voice as he snapped his hips forward.

“I’m sorry, you’re just… Really…” You couldn’t find a good word for it. As he continued to fuck you into the table, you realized that this was the first time you had sex with Kai where it was purely for fun. Usually there was a sense of dominance or an expression of his power of you, but now you saw him grinning under his mask, enjoying your awkward struggles to not make a sound.

You did, though, and the growing pleasure from your doctor was mounting. His angle, missionary, was all he needed to drive you mad. He knew where he needed to be, but he was always the silent type, so he didn’t really have to try to hide his sounds.

When you orgasmed, it was so much more intense than you thought it was going to be. Your skin had been getting warm, and you even commented on it to Kai in hopes of garnering a doctor-ee response, but he simply said it was a “part of the treatment.”

You hadn’t expected the wave of pleasure to cause your leg to spasm for a second, pushing down on Kai while your hips bucked up. He yelped in surprise, losing his grip on the table and falling on top of you. There was silence for a second, and then he began to shake. You hoped he wasn’t shaking with anger…

You quickly found out that he was laughing. You had to laugh as well - that was honestly one of the funniest sexual experiences you had ever had with him. Obviously it hurt that he had crushed your breasts, but you waved that off at being able to hear him laugh. You hadn’t heard him actually laugh yet, just a chuckle or an evil snicker, but it must have been the situation and his own orgasm that made him loosen up enough to cackle and shake.

Once he was calmer, he threw the condom away and started to re-clothe, his expression reverting back to calm within a minute. You had to sit for a second to get over the weird situation that had just happened, but you eventually grabbed your gown and wrapped it around yourself once again.

“Your appointment is over, go back to our room,” He pointed rudely to the door. You nodded, grinning in glee and exiting. While he was back to his off-putting self, you still held the memory of him laughing after you accidentally caused him to fall on top of you.

[tiredelia]

An Ode to the Irondick

First things first.... this is in no way an ode, I just liked the way that title sounds. Second, I lost a bet so now I gotta do this & it’s based on this lovely post by @incorrect-ironstrange. Third, this is unbeta’d cus who the hell wants to suffer through this. So with that in mind here we go:

                                       *~*~*~*~*~*~* Prologue

“How come Tony Stark gets to fight villains naked all the time in the comics but not in the movies? I am being denied my rights!” 

A sentence and a question.

That’s all it took to start this madness.

A sentence and a question led to the encampments on his doorstep.

A sentence..

No not a sentence, an exclamation.  

An exclamation and a question uttered by one person snowballed into a problem he’d never thought he would have to face. 

Shrill voices danced in the air as he observed the mayhem from the safety of his office.

“IRONDICK, IRONDICK, IRONDICK,” 

“GIVE US THE IRONDICK OR GIVE US DEATH”

and his personal favourite

“IT’S OUR STAN LEE GRANTED RIGHTS.”

The sea of nudely clad bodies moved as one in what can only be described as synchronised discord. For the past few months they had taken to standing outside the office, insisting that their demands be met and refusing to be deterred. On the days they felt extra determined, much like today, they would strip as they hurled their demands towards his office. They were a persistent bunch and for some ungodly reason their numbers grew by the day.

“Staring at them through the window isn’t going to make them leave any faster.”

Kevin Feige’s eyes lifted from the pandemonium, finding the voice’s owner leaning against his doorway. When he locked eyes with Christopher’s, the man took it as a sign to completely enter his office and make himself comfortable. Silenced settled between the two as Kevin’s eyes were once again drawn to the window, where the protester’s voices rang out. and sliced the office’s air. He ignored the feeling clawing at his chest as he observed the security detail grappling with the people below; some even attempting to force their unwanted guests into some clothing.

There was something to be said about the current circumstance if forcing naked protestors into clothes was a common occurrence.

Christopher was right, he glanced back at the man who helped himself to one of the reports resting on Kevin’s desk, staring at them wasn’t going to fix this mess but what else could he do, they’ve withstood all he’d thrown at them so far. 

Sighing, he drew the curtains and walked towards the table, the incessant “IRONDICK” soaring through the air as a not so helpful reminder of one of his biggest problems. As he sat, one thought weaseled its way through and settled at the forefront of his mind.

‘I should have silenced them a year ago.’

Approximately one year ago

“The people want to see Stark’s penis Fiege.”

“What?”

“The people. AKA Our fans. Want. Their. Eyeballs. Graced. By. One. Anthony Edward Stark aka Ironman’s. Schlong manhood.”

Kevin finally looked up from his paperwork, “Did you just say schlong?”

The man before him stood with his arms akimbo, disbelief colouring his voice, “With all due respect sir, I just told you the fans want to see Ironman’s cock and your issue is my utterance of the word schlong?”

In his defense, Marvel fans have been known to come up with worse and with much less. At least this round they were using an established,well known character and not someone like Angar the Screaming Hippie. They could use the comics to quench their thirst. Christopher however was not one to utilise words like schlong, at least not within the work environment.  

Nonetheless, he planned to tackle this the same way he tackled every other random demand from his fanbase.

Ignoring them. 

Soon enough, it’ll die down or they’ll supply themselves with their own content. Thus leaving him and by extension Marvel Studios alone. “Leave it alone Christopher, come help me finalise these estimations.”

And just like that, he pushed the situation away. 

Out of sight, out of mind.

*-*-*-*-*

”Kevin... they have a name.”

“Oh? But Jennifer just found out she was pregnant, how could she have a name?”

“Not Jennifer jackass, the fans”

“Of course they have names Christopher, do you think their mothers call them Thing 1 and 2?”

There was a frustrated sigh before his book was violently removed from his hands. Christopher stood above him, looking rather displeased. To be fair, Christopher was always displeased these days, so it wasn’t that unique of a look on him. Still it was safer to address whatever was upsetting him. 

“Okay, I’ll bite. Which fans are you talking about and why should I care?”

“The Ironman fans I told you about a while back and warned you that might get rowdy.”

Ironman fans...

Ironman fans...

Iron-

OH

Those fans, the ones who were lusting after his genitals, He vaguely remembered Christopher mentioning them several times and each time he shifted the conversation to something else. Honestly, what could some persons on the internet do. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to hear a name.

“What’s their name?”

“Le Revoldicktion.”

Kevin didn’t even realise when he fell off his chair laughing.

*-*-*-*-*

The third mention of ‘Le Revoldicktion’ was simply a letter. It seemed to be handwritten and the envelope had a wax seal. He had just returned from lunch when he noticed it. A red envelope lined with gold trim and it was addressed to him. 

Amused, he opened and read.

Dear Mr. Feige,

I genuinely hope this letter finds you well because I for one am not. This is simply a warning letter. We as Tony stans deserve naked Tony and the undersuit within the MCU. Use your powers as the head of Marvel studios and give us the Irondick. The only other option is death.

You seem like a reasonable man but I just want you to know that we will never leave, never rest, not until you we’ve been granted our Stan Lee granted RIGHTS. 

This is your only warning.

Viva Le Revoldicktion.

_______________________________________________________________

that’s all folks. Mostly cus this is longer than I thought it would be and tbh I don’t wanna write anymore.  there will be a next part as I intend to see this bet through. God, this is what my good podcast bog has turned into.

More chapters: To be written

[soukcku]

Hi! In your fics Dazai has a complicated relationship with food and I just love how you describe it. Now I am even more curious, so I was wondering if you could tell me more about it? when it started? Why? Did Chuuya know from the start? Only if you want to, obviously!🤗

cw for discussions of trauma, abuse, mental illness, and eating disorders.

hmm yeah so basically I headcanon him as some form of neurodivergent (all of bsd is nd and queer don’t @ me). that’s where that comes from? there’s a few main factors that play into it which are:

wanting control of himself and his body: a lot of Dazai’s life is circumscribed by being less physically capable than people around him, being shoved around and beaten up and tortured and basically not having a lot of say in what happens to his body, and controlling precisely what he eats and doesn’t eat is a form of exercising that control. this one’s a little tricky because when I amp this up, his ED manifests different - more self-imposed rules. more knowing what he can and can’t eat. all of that is very different from what I usually write which is -

sensory issues: his sensory issues are a whole lot of junk overlapping each other where certain textures and tastes are bad and eating is hard and he doesn’t always know what’s good and what isn’t, what he can and can’t eat + it changes all the time. so making a decision about what to eat, whether it’s to put in the effort of making it or even ordering in, is very hard. when you can go from hypersensitive to bad textures to “no preference about texture but can’t stand solids” in a few hours, eating is a very dicey affair. it’s a minefield he rarely has the spoons to navigate, whereas not eating is nearly always safe. when the time comes to make a decision, if he doesn’t have a craving his next answer is just “no” because he doesn’t like thinking about it.

generalized unhappiness @ his body: he’s either dysphoric or dysmorphic no matter the shape of his genitals. not eating is an easy way to punish his body for existing in a way he doesn’t like, and if he’s ruthless with others he’s just as ruthless with himself. he doesn’t have a clear idea of what he wants to change, what would make it easier for him to breathe, but he knows that he doesn’t like what it currently is, so. 

forgetfulness: Dazai forgets to eat constantly. he’ll be doing something else, anything else, and eating just slips away. and then he’s doing another thing and eating is unimportant again. on the flip side, the most reliable way to get him to eat when he doesn’t want to is to make the other option filling reports, so that Dazai eats just to avoid that. 

trauma: Dazai has a lot of baggage around Mori and being controlled, and I bet food restrictions were a part of that. these days there are foods Dazai won’t eat just because Mori insisted he eat them and like them. 

as for whether Chuuya knows….anyone who pays attention knows. and Chuuya has been paying attention for a long damn time, so I bet he knows. and that he was the one who figured out the 3 foods Dazai could eat more than 70% of the time. Dazai actually doesn’t like, starve himself - he ends up eating something or the other every 8 hours at least, but he’s nowhere near where he should be in terms of weight and has a hard time not dropping even more if he has a few bad days in a row. 

a lot of what Chuuya does for him after they begin dating is taking decisions about food almost entirely out of Dazai’s hands and just figuring out where he is that day in terms of sensory issues and trauma and then making his own informed guess as to what Dazai will want to eat. sometimes Dazai will flip on him at the last minute and Have A Craving but Chuuya is supportive enough to be able to just be proud of him for having and expressing his needs and get him whatever he’s asking for. 

[deadmomjokes]

I need "Mom" advice...I get married in a couple months and honestly I'm nervous about sex. My actual mom never talked to me about it...was taboo. I barely learned about my period, except some friends explained and helped me through it. I'm afraid I won't make my husband happy or it will hurt. I've heard varying stories of friends' first times, and I don't want things to be awkward. I don't even know how to bring it up with my fiancé.

Thank you SO much forfeeling comfortable coming to me! I’ll try to give a basic “sex ed” lessonhere, and if you’re worried about specific things, please feel free to comeback and ask more, or PM me, or send me an ask off anon to ask about email if you’drather do it that way. Whatever’s going to be most helpful for you. I hope Ican address the concerns you listed, and possibly some that might be underlyingin general (most people have a lot of nebulous nervous feelings surroundingphysical intimacy that can be hard to put to words).

(For those uninterested or uncomfortable, a verybig TW for talking about sexual activity in a scientific sort of way, buttechnical terms and (respectful) descriptions may abound.) LOOOOOOOOONG post ahead, but hopefully comprehensive, respectful, and useful.

First Things First I Guess

Firstly, please know it’s super normal to benervous about sex. Almost everyone is, especially in family or social culturesthat don’t normalize talking about sex. We also do a crappy job in general offormal education about sex and sexuality, so too many people (especially women)aren’t given any background. If both of you are virgins, or new to sexualactivity in general, I bet he’s actually nervous too.

Second, bringing it up is going to be hard, butSO important. It might be worth sitting down and simply saying “I haveno idea how to bring this up, but here it is: I’m worried about sex.” The basis for any good sex life is communication and respect. Ifhe’s not nervous but you are, he has to respect that and be understanding ofthe time you may need to adjust. My guess is he has concerns as well, and beingable to talk about it together will bring a huge measure of relief to both ofyou. Another idea to bring it up would be to write an email or text saying thatyou’re not sure how to bring it up, but want to make sure both of you arecomfortable talking about it, so is there a time y’all could talk about it.Idk, that might be a bit formal for how you guys usually do things, but I knowsome people think better in written form. But being able to talk about your concerns, and having a shared general expectation of how things will go the first time is going to be helpful in making sure you’re not terrified of your honeymoon.

Third, and this is the big one: Almost no one’sfirst sexual encounter goes how they think it will, and that’s almost all because of unrealistic expectations. Sex is a weird concept, bodies areweird, and our cultural and social idea of sex is HIGHLY romanticizedand “sterilized” as it were. We have this Hollywood idea of what sex lookslike and is, and real sex has never been that way. It may end up being awkward physically (more later on that), but that’s okay, because that’s often just how things are, and sexual experiences tend to get better with time. Our culture has normalized the idea of “perfect sex” and promotes this big romantic “first time” narrative, but it almost never works out that way. Not to say it won’t or can’t be fun for you, just know it won’t be all fireworks and amazement right off the bat, because there’s a lot to coordinate between two people and four limbs and blankets and stuff.

Sex might be physically strange or a bit uncomfortable especially the firsttime, but if done properly it doesn’t have to hurt. By done properly, I meangiving both parties enough time to adjust, warm up, and become comfortablewith the situation. First intercourse with any partner, but especially yourfirst EVER partner should be about exploring and admiring each others’ bodies,without pressure to actually engage in classical intercourse (meaningpenetrative intercourse) if you don’t feel up to it. Being very nervous can prevent your body fromadapting in the way it needs to in order to be comfortable and pain-free duringintercourse.

The body has a complex system of reactions thatgear it up for intercourse, but here’s the basics.

How Sex Works Physically

What most people refer to as “foreplay” isgenerally not an optional thing for comfortable sex; smooching, cuddling, and a feeling of closeness are basically necessary to trigger thechemical reactions that start the physical adaptations for sex. Going from 0 (hey how’s it going) to60 (penetrative sex) instantly is going to be uncomfortable at best, but will likely hurtespecially in the beginning. Plus you won’t get anything out of it, and committed-partner sexshould be about emotional closeness as much as it is about physical sensationfor BOTH partners. So spending time cuddling and kissing is an important partof “actual sex.” The chemicals that are released during this time trigger yourbody to send increased bloodflow to the sexual organs, starting the sexual response cycle. (NOTE: Some people can begin the sexual response cycle by thinking about sex, reading or viewing erotic material, or “talking dirty,” so if y’all are really worked up and into it, much “traditional” foreplay like making out may not be necessary. This is usually what’s going on with what people refer to as a “quickie,” both parties are already physically prepared for sex because they’ve been thinking about it and that triggered the sexual response to begin.)

In female/afab bodies, the increased bloodflowresults in swelling of the labia (external parts) and a feeling of fullness,which increases physical sensation (perception of touch), which in turn triggersthe production of lubrication (some people refer to this as getting orbeing “wet” if you’ve heard that term thrown around. And don’t worry, it’s not like a ton of liquid, it won’t be like peeing everywhere or anything, it just makes sure things can move around easily, like an oil coating in a pan.) It also triggers thevagina (the internal parts) to expand, and the vaginal opening to relax and expand. Thesethree processes (lubrication, internal expansion, and external relaxation) are important in making sure sex doesn’t hurt. Like I said,with first intercourse, it may still be a bit uncomfortable because it’s a new sensation and your brain may still be on “no sex, sex is off-limits” mode, evensubconsciously. But if you experience pain–sharp or burning or stinging or stabbing pain, not just pressure (which is normal)– that’s not good, and you should back off and try again later after moresmoochy times or even a good night’s sleep.

Male/amab bodies are somewhat easier to understandbecause much of their adaptation happens externally, and also it’s much moresocially discussed. The penis has a complicated system of tissues that trapthe increased bloodflow coming in, resulting in the enlargement and hardeningof the penis (this is called “erection,” or sometimes informally “getting hard”). It also triggers a production of lubrication, but this is muchless than is produced by the vagina. The male lubrication comes from theopening in the penis, which is called the urethra. (Yes, it is technically thesame tube and opening where urine comes from, but the body totally shuts offthe valve at the bladder for intercourse, so there is no risk of cross-contamination.)During this time, the testicles (most often called the balls, of course) arepreparing semen, which contains sperm and is a thick, viscous liquid. (Theprostate also helps in producing this liquid.) During male orgasm, the semen isexpelled from the same urethral opening mentioned above.

To define, orgasm is the point at which the bodypeaks in pleasure, and is generally the result of repeated physical stimulationto erogenous zones. Erogenous zones are the parts of the body that producesexual pleasure when stimulated. (For many people, this includes not only thegenitals, but the nipples as well.) Male orgasm is easy to identify because itis almost always accompanied by ejaculation (expulsion of the semen), butfemales also orgasm. During female orgasm, the muscles of the vagina anduterus repeatedly contract, which can’t be seen of course(leading folks in the past to believe women couldn’t orgasm).

So, a quick recap: you get all smoochy, then you get all handsy, then clothes come off somewhere in the smoochy and touchy phases, and then if youwant comes penetrative sex. This is the part most people are scared of, and hasthe potential to cause pain if you’re not ready mentally or physically (as inyour sexual response hasn’t yet kicked in all over your body).

I know this is kind of squirmy to say, but itmay actually take several tries (sometimes over several days) toactually “succeed” at penetrative sex, meaning that the penis can enterthe vagina without pain to the vagina-owner. It could also be difficult to findexactly where to put the penis, because generally penis-owners don’t know muchabout what they’re looking for (especially if you’re both virgins), andvagina-owners can’t see what’s going on. So keeping a sense of humor and a lineof communication is super important. Sex is WEIRD. It’s just weird and bizarrewhen you start thinking about it (at least to me, on the asexual spectrum), andacknowledging that and realizing that it won’t be some glamorous tangle oflimbs set to romantic music like on the TV is going to go a long way toward making your experience somuch more positive, and much less awkward.

Mentioned Worries

Re:not wanting it to be awkward. Luckily, it won’t have to be emotionally awkward or embarrassing if y’all go into it with the same expectations, and those expectations are realistic. There’s physical awkwardness, like how a box that’s not heavy but is weirdly shaped is “awkward,” and that’s going to happen no matter what because you’ve never had experience with how to do this sex thing, and you’re not sure where to put your limbs or how to move around another person. But what can be avoided is FEELING awkward, emotional awkwardness, and that’s done through having realistic expectations of what sex is and how it works, and of knowing that both of you are on the same page with this, and are interested in making it work for both of you.

You also mentioned being worried you won’t make your husband happy–I want you to knowboth that this is fine and a good desire (to make him happy), but that it’s not your responsibility to sexually please your husband, and sex is something for BOTH of you. It’s not all on you, it literally takes two to make itwork. Sex isn’t all about him; if it’s something you want to share in yourrelationship, it should be something you want to make work for you, as well as for him. So he has as much responsibility to you as you do to him, to be respectful of your boundaries especially as youfirst get introduced to sex, and to “take care of you” as much as you dofor him. Sex with a new partner is going to take trial and error indiscovering what you both like and dislike, and it’s okay and necessary to be vocal andsay “Please don’t do that” if you need to. I know that you WANT to make him happy, and that’s excellent, because hopefully he wants to do that for you, too! Just know that if sex is kind of weird at first, or y’all can’t quite figure out what’s up on night one, it doesn’t mean you’ve failed as a partner, that you let him down, or that you won’t be able to satisfy each other in the future (even the near future). Adjust expectations so that your first experience isn’t about having the most amazing sex you’ll ever have (more on that in a bit), but about discovering this new facet of your relationship together.

You also mentioned you were afraid of ithurting, and this is the most common fear about sex. You probably heard or readstuff about “breaking the hymen” or “tearing” or something like that.While some girls will have small tears in the hymen (the flap of skin thatsometimes partially covers the vaginal opening), a lot of girls won’t, and thisskin stretches as the physical sexual response (sometimes calledsimply “arousal”) progresses. It’s also less likely to tearor “break” during sex if you’ve used tampons before, because tampons sometimesactually rupture the hymen just by their nature. (This isn’t to say you shouldstart using tampons if you’re not comfortable, of course.) If the hymen doesrupture, you might experience a bit of bleeding, but it’s nothing a pad can’thandle (much MUCH less than a period, more like getting a small cut on yourarm). Sometimes you won’t notice a rupture til after sex if you’re really intoit, but you might also feel it or feel it about to start. If that happens and it hurts, bevocal and tell your partner to stop. You don’t have to hurt during sex, youdon’t owe that to anyone. In fact, you owe it to yourself to NOT endure painjust for someone else’s pleasure. So it might be worth talking to your fiancebeforehand and having a stop-word, which can literally just be “Stop.” Butboth of you should understand going into this that either one of you has the right tosay “no more” at any point.

It may also be worth considering getting somelubricant (”lube”) if you’re really worried about pain, because most pain comesfrom insufficient biological lubrication or insufficient stretching of thevaginal opening, and lube can help with both. Many people find it super fun toapply to each other, apparently, and it can certainly be useful when you’rejust starting out and both new to this idea. (also, if using a condom, lube is important because sometimes the material can irritate the sensitive skin of the vagina and labia) But the most important things youtwo can do for each other as you embark on this adventure together are to bewilling to voice your opinions and feelings, and also to take time to get toknow each others’ bodies and preferences. That’s more or less part of what the honeymoon is for.

Also, make sure you go to the gynecologistbefore you get married. It’s might be awkward or feel a bit embarrassing, but super important in making sureyou’re healthy for sex (just know that gyns do this for a living and have literally seen it all, so your body won’t be a big deal, and they aren’t judging you). And if you happen to have a problem like vaginismus(painful spasms or contractions of the vaginal opening that prevent anythingfrom entering, including tampons or medical equipment) or an obstructive hymen,the Gyn can tell you and help you with that. You can also ask them questions you have about sex, and some Gyns have tools you can use at home to “stretch” the vaginal opening (it’s not generally necessary and is more for psychological assistance than huge physical benefit, but some people who are truly small might actually need a bit of help there, so it’s up to you). You will also probably want birthcontrol, or to discuss options about birth control unless y’all are planning ona baby right away. (Also he should go to the doc and get a checkup, too, justto be safe, and if he’s ever had other sexual partners at any time in the past, he should get checkedfor STDs.)

The Big Important Thing to Remember

Please know:Wedding night sex isn’t going to be the best sex you’ll ever have ever. Cultures inwhich waiting is the expectation or norm (Christianity is the big one for this)tend to promote this idea that your wedding night will be a big amazing reward for waiting, and isgoing to be the most important and pleasurable sex you’ll ever have in your whole entire life and if it isn’t, you’ve done something wrong. It creates a huge amount of pressure surrounding what can already be an emotionally laden experience. But studies on sexual satisfactionshow that couples who have been together for years have the greatest levels ofsatisfaction. So please don’t go into it expecting that your first intercourseis going to make it or break it. It’s more than likely going to be a bit weird even though it will hopefully also be fun and pleasurable, but you’ll have better sex as time goes on and you get to know eachother and figure out what the heck you’re doing. 

Think of it this way: say you LOVE music, and have always wanted to play a piano. You’ve never gotten to be around a real piano before, but playing the piano is a lifelong dream. Are you going to expect yourself to be able to play Mozart the first time you walk into a room with a piano? No! That doesn’t mean that the experience of sitting down at a piano for the first time won’t be euphoric and a fulfillment of a dream, but you can’t go into it thinking or expecting that you’ll be a master the first time you touch the keys. Look at little kids meeting a piano– they just smash around on the keys and it sounds awful to US as adults who know what it “should sound like” and who might even know how to read music and play a bit, but that kid is having the time of their life experiencing the magic of music and of playing the piano. First having sex is like that. It probably won’t be perfect, and you may look back on it years down the road and kind of go “wow we were goofy and weird,” but it can still be fun as long as you aren’t expecting perfection going in. So no, your wedding night isn’t going to be The Objectively Best Sex Ever, and you probably won’t be quite sure what you’re doing and might even be kind of bad at it, but that doesn’t mean it won’t also be nice and wonderful. You’re not doing something wrong if you aren’t over the moon with your first experience; it just means you have something even better to look forward to figuring out and experiencing together! Especially if both of you are virgins, you may have a bit of a time figuring out how things work, but that’s not a sign of failure. 

Plus, when you’ve been culturally surrounded by a narrative of taboo, it can feel mentally scary to suddenly engage in something that used to be off-limits in the biggest of ways. That’s why talking about it frankly is important (and why I have no problem with discussing sex in educational terms!), and why it’s important to discuss with your partner throughout y’all’s sexual life together.

Sex is messy, there’s fluids everywhere, people get sweaty, bodies are weird, and our brains are weird. But I hope knowing all this can help you feel a bit more prepared, and a bit more comfortable. I know this was long and a ton of info, but I’m super passionate about making sure people are educated thoroughly about this stuff, because I never knew any of it growing up. Our school lied to the state about sex-ed; we were supposed to have it, and they didn’t, but said they did. I never got the sex talk because I wasn’t interested in guys OR girls (I was ace and had no clue, another place education failed all of us), so my mom never told me anything about it. I learned a lot in college through classes and through academic research, and then more when I switched to health as a major (and became enraged that we don’t talk about this stuff!!). 

So I hope that despite being long-winded, it can be a useful reference, and hopefully put some worries to rest or at least take it down a notch. And do let me know if you have further questions, or if this was totally off the mark for what you were looking for!

[ill-skillsgard]

Phoenix Rising, Part 1 - Valter Skarsgård

Title: Phoenix Rising

Description: The struggle for domination is paved with deceit and destructive lust as two enemies battle it out for control night after night.

Warning: 18+ swearing/mentions of rape/violence/femdom/DDLG leanings

A/N: This is the first and only series I’ve written with Valter in it so far. One day I will finish it. This is for all the babies riding that V train with me who miss this story. Enjoy!

I was down to my last round of bullets. The gun in my hand was a pistol and ill-suited for long distance shots. With my back up against a stone wall, I breathed in deeply and weighed my options; I could either stay there and have him come hunting for me or I could peek out from my cover to try to get a glimpse of exactly where he was located. Both options posed significant causes for a quickened heartbeat. On one hand, I could wait it out and test his patience which could buy me some time to think of a better plan, or on the other, I could risk having a bullet put in my head while I tried to put one in his. Whatever decision I made I had to make it quickly. I couldn't be sure what kind of guns he had left. For all I knew, he could have had himself a precision sniper rifle with a magnifying scope pointed right at the corner I wanted to steal a glimpse out from. If that were the case I knew that half my skull would get blown off if I risked it. But if he was left with slim pickings as I was, perhaps his accuracy wasn't all too good either. Then it became a game of luck. I knew I was just as good a marksman as him but I wasn't sure if I would be quick enough. I felt my heart start to thump loudly in my chest as I readied my gun in my hand. "Come on, bitch. Where are you, huh? Don't be scared. I'm just going to blow your head off!" I listened to him yell. His voice had an accent in it that I couldn't quite place. I gritted my teeth. Everything I wanted to say to him involved different ways that I would mutilate his genitals if I were to ever get ahold of him. If I wasn't so nervous I would have replied with how badly I wanted to shove the edge of a knife in his dickhole and give it a twist. I was better than that though, or at least I liked to tell myself. No, I would have to keep my cool until the right moment. The moment that would realize my death or be one of the most important kills of my career. "Come out, girlie. I want to see you!" He yelled and made kissing noises at me as though he were trying to beckon a pussycat from it's hiding place. "Fuck you!" I finally fired back. "Maybe I'll fuck your dead corpse." I turned my body around so that my chest was almost to the wall. Raising the gun, taking aim and preparing myself to dart out from the corner, I drew in a deep breath through my nose as a practice run. On the exhale of the next breath was when I would make my move. I couldn't hide from him forever. Once I let my lungs deflate fully for the second time, I stepped out from behind cover and saw him peeking over the mangled hood of a wrecked car. Perfect. I unloaded three shots and the recoil almost made me shut my eyes but I didn't and I held my aim as steady as possible as I dove out from behind the stone wall. I rolled low after firing and heard him yell at me. Then everything went red.

YOU WIN.

"Ha! Fuck you bitch boy! Shot you right in your fucking face!" I yelled at the TV screen. "Fuck you. Noob. Stupid bitch, you sound like you're twelve." "I still fucking raped your throat, you little bitch. Fuck! You!" I jumped up and down on my couch and laughed, the controller still in hand as the load screen to the online lobby came up, effectively cutting off our communication. I had finally won a match against Vscars. The victory was so sweet and I knew it was going to look really good after the new ranking loaded. The guy's voice kept ringing in my ears and it sounded so sweet. He was always very high up in the leaderboard fighting for the third place spot with a couple of other players that spent nearly all their time playing every day. I didn't have the time to devote to it but I had steadily worked my way up from the bottom of the leaderboard to a respectable place at about fifteenth. The more I played through the more I was determined to get myself higher up on the board. I managed to get pretty good at the gameplay and started rising higher. Then, once I broke the top ten, I started to hear the voices of the Agents of Carnage Elite. It was just a bunch of guys that sat around and played all day and night and nothing but narcissistic and sexist things to say the entire time. I liked to keep my mic off while playing but I always listened to my opponents. Their misogynistic conversations became fodder for my fiery need to vanquish them. They were all so stupid and immature-sounding and I longed to destroy them. Vscars was well-known for being nearly impossible to beat. There were three players always at the very top of the leaderboard and it was him and two other guys with just as shitty attitudes. Over the jobless days and nights, I focused on getting better and better until I was pitted against Vscars. The first few games we played he had killed me easily. I almost stood no chance against him. But he was a predictable player and I quickly caught wind of his strategy. He knew the boards well and obviously knew where all the best hiding spots were and in turn, the best hiding spots to observe said hiding spots. He would stoop down and just wait for somebody to unknowingly set up shop at one of the prime lookout locations and always found himself the sniper rifle. He would just sit there and wait, looking through the scope until he knew where you were. Then he would just shoot once when you lined up with his sight and that was it. His silly little strategy couldn't work all the time and I had finally cornered him on the board. I could still hear his stupid voice echoing in my head even as I took off my headset and logged off for the night. It was earlier than usual for me but I knew I needed to get a good night's sleep if I was going to wake up early enough to do my hair and my make up instead of one or the other. The next day I had a job interview at a store that I had been going to my whole life. It was a little shop in the corner of a plaza that specialized in buying and selling video games. It wasn't a big chain gaming store though and that was the charm of it. It was a family-owned and operated business that specialized in retro gaming. I had been trying to get a job there for the better half of my teen years and had finally landed an interview at the age of twenty-two. By that point, I still wasn't convinced that wanting a job at a video game store was for teenagers. It was more than just that. It was a store packed wall-to-wall with vintage gaming memorabilia, collectible toys, fan merchandise, and newer generation games too. Naturally, I was excited about the interview and just hoped that didn't try to challenge my knowledge of old school video games. Still feeling confident from my epic victory in Agents of Carnage from the night before, I wondered if I could bring that up as a selling point of my resume. Laughing, I dismissed the thought. The idea of sitting in front of a potential employer trying to explain to them that I had beaten one of the best players on the world leaderboard of a video game seemed silly. Yet once I was seated in front of the interviewer, I remarked that he seemed like somebody who might actually be impressed by trivial gaming prowess. Either that, or he would have a snarky remark about how it was probably just a chance shot and that the maneuver I had pulled off was nothing but luck. He had thick horn-rimmed glasses on and the speckles of scarring from a years-long battle with acne sprayed over his gaunt cheeks. He definitely fit the typical gaming nerd description. "So what would make you say you are qualified to work in this store?" He asked, trying to sound intimidating but failing in anyone's eyes but his own. Well... " I started. "I play a lot of retro games. I have an almost ninety percent completed NES collection. I like games a lot. I feel like I would be a good addition to the team because... Well, I know a lot about old-school gaming." "What about new-school gaming? Are you up on your knowledge of new releases because that's what we find people are most interested in this day and age. Not much need for people who only play classic Nintendo." I squirmed in the padded chair uncomfortably at first but then straightened my spine and asserted, "oh, I am very knowledgeable about new games. I play everything Bethesda releases and right now I'm in the top ten on several leaderboards on some popular games." "Really? Like what?" "Um... Agents of Carnage?" "You're in the top of the leaderboard on Agents of Carnage? What's your gamer tag?" "PhoenixRising. Last time I checked I was sixth." "Hm," he mused with a lame shrug. "Guess I should try that game out. You're the third person today to mention it." "It's pretty good," I said meekly. "Well, I can see here that you have other retail experience but we have a very tailored approach to selling. You will find that it's not so much like a regular store with customers coming in knowing what they want. You will have to work hard to sell things and it definitely makes a difference whether you do or not." "So, does that mean you want to hire me?" The interviewer's magnified eyes dropped down from my face to my chest and then quickly shot back up. "Uh, I guess so. I have to hire two people by noon and," he paused to look at his watch. "It's almost noon so... Sure. You can come in on Monday for orientation and the beginning of your training." "Awesome! Um, should I wear anything specific?" "Black pants and black shoes. You'll be given a t-shirt later." "Cool! Can't wait. Thanks!" I enthused, standing up and thrusting my hand out for him to take. "Uh, wait, what's your name again?" He asked as he shifted through the papers that comprised my resume. "Phoenix. I just go by Nix though. For obvious reasons." "Yeah... Like the bird." "Yeah," I snorted. "Like the bird." After the positive conclusion of my interview, I left the back room that I had been shown to with palpable confidence. That was until I noticed somebody sitting in the chair that I had sat in before my interview started. He looked like he was there for an interview as well with a grey collared shirt and black jeans. He had this pout on him that made it look like maybe he wasn't exactly happy to be there but as I walked through I saw the corner of his lips tug. He ran his fingers through the blonde hair framing his face and it all fell back down pointlessly. I couldn't help but smirk too as I passed by him. When I got home I felt like the only way to celebrate getting the job that I wanted was by sitting on the couch, turning on my TV and putting on my headset. When I logged in, all of my recently played games popped up including a notification in my inbox. I cocked my head subconsciously as it was a rare occasion I got messages from other players.

Lucky shot. Let's see you do that again I instantly deleted the message from my inbox because I usually wasn't one to engage with other players but the fact that he had reached out to me to call me out made me grind my teeth behind closed lips. I sat there on the couch with my controller in my hand wondering if I should even entertain him by sending him something back. After all, he was one of the best players on our server and I was just some girl who wanted to prove that she could beat any guy. Now he wanted to initiate a war and I wasn't sure if I could replicate my win from the night before. After a while to think about it I chose to simply ignore him and started playing something else for a little while. Once I grew bored of the game it was close to dinner time and I had to sign off to meet up with a friend anyway. I saved, logged out of my game and saw that there was another notification in my inbox. My chest tightened. "What the fuck?"  I whispered to myself as I opened my inbox.

pussy. I was just about ready to whip my controller at the TV but I stopped myself. There was something about his persistence that got me thinking about replying to him. I didn't want to just blatantly insult him but I didn't want him to think he could just go around sending vulgar messages to people just because he got beat. 

This pussy beat you. Sorry. Get over it. Instead of turning off the console as I had initially planned, I logged onto Agents of Carnage and saw that he was there too. It didn't take long for me to sit in the lobby before I got a challenge notification.

Vscars wants to challenge you! Accept? Deny? I automatically denied the challenge because I knew it would show up as a notification for him right away and it would either drive him crazy or help him take the hint that I had no desire to play with him again. I didn't log in at all, simply waited for another message from him. Instead, I got a friend request.

Vscars has added you as a friend. Accept? Deny? Scoffing to myself, I scrolled over to hit deny but instead chose to accept. "Oh, fuck," I whispered. It was too late at that point. I had accepted his friend request and that meant he could look through all of my achievements and see exactly what kind of gamer I was. That would mean he could see that I had hundred-percent completed a lot of girly RPG games and that meant I would have to prepare myself for more derogatory statements about being female.

Come on, pussycat. Let's play? Biting my lip, I decided to finally write back to him.

I'm busy. Go play with your little friends on AoC. There was almost no time in between my reply and his. I couldn't believe he was so determined to challenge me again.

But I want 2 play with U pussycat. Was this weird foreign guy getting off on my degradation toward him? It was hard to tell if he was engaging me or mocking me. But before I could go any further my cell phone started ringing and I could see it was my friend calling, probably to ask me what time I would be ready for dinner. I answered the call as I signed off completely, turned the TV off and scrambled to my room to change out of my interview clothes.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Would you mind starting off the new year with a Saya and Haji headcanon with them at the Zoo? I love the way you write their relationship during that time and I like your headcanons :)

Thank you so much anon

And, heh heh. You’re actually in luck. I’ve finished a little snippet for a future BMR chapter, with Saya and Haji up to some mischief.

NSFW, btw, so tread wisely >3

“The Birth of Venus.”

Saya aims a finger at the reprint on the expensivefolio.

She and Haji are in the glassed-in library thatoverlooks the gardens, all sunlight and artfully-arranged antiques. (By 2037,it will be converted into an indoor jacuzzi). Joel seldom permits them in here.His priceless object d'art are everywhere: burnished-woodstatuettes and gold-rimmed ceramics and Oriental-lacquered showpieces worthyof The Mikado.

But today, Joel is away on business to Paris. LeavingSaya and Haji to trespass, unafraid and unrepentant.

Saya, anyhow.

Haji keeps apart, anxiety in his ganglysixteen-year-old outline. “Saya. We shouldn’t stay long.”

“Will you stop whining?”

Saya is on her hands and knees in front of a bookcase,tracing the spines. She has finished everything the downstairs library has tooffer—philosophical tracts, penny-dreadful thrillers, classic anthologies. Nowshe is on the prowl for juicier fare. She’d overheard the chambermaidsgossiping about histoire d'horreur in the shelves. She wantsto confirm it for herself. She is no novice: tomes such as Mary Shelley's Frankenstein havebarely stirred a shiver. What she dearly hopes is that the library disgorgesworks by Mary Wollstonecraft, or Harriet Martineau. They must’ve writtensomething truly scandalous for Amshel to dub them homewreckersand harridans.

“Harridans?” Hajiasked. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm. He said their writings wouldmake a ‘febrile mess of the female mind’.”

“Surely not yours?”

It is a gentle tease. His eyes linger on her profilein the late afternoon sunlight: furrowed brows and lowered eyelashes in a studyof fierce concentration.

It is an expression he’s well-versed with. It alwaysappears right before catastrophe.

“His, more like,” muttersSaya, the frilled rump of her dress in the air as she eyeballs the collection.“Joel says it’s because his mother was a bluestocking who never paid himattention as a boy. So he’s angry at any lady with a pen.”

“Yet ladies with pens are what youseek.”

“If I find any,” Sayamutters, as she pulls a folio of handmade foxed leather from the bookcase. Itslides smoothly open in her lap, parted down the middle by a tasseled velvetbookmark in blue. “Oh!”

Curious, Haji peers over her head. He expects toglimpse blocks of text (English, German, Italian, Spanish, Latin—he and Sayaare fluent in all five). Instead he sees drawings in colorful ink. They areexquisitely detailed, and very beautiful. The first is done in a Botticellistyle: a nude woman with half-moon eyes and flowing honey-colored locks, posingwith demure lassitude on the pastry-pleats of a seashell.

“The Birth of Venus,” Saya says.With a fingertip, she traces the flowing lines of the figure. “Areplica of the original painting.”

“It is good,” Hajiconcedes. “But hardly scandala—Ah.”

Saya has turned the page. There is only one drawingper leaf: the back of each sheet is lined in embroidered rag to preventseepage. The second paper shows the same Venus. But she has abandoned hermaidenly pose. One hand no longer starfishes across her breast, but cups it.The other hand lifts from its figleaf at her mons to expose the arrowhead ofher pubic hair. Her head is still cocked to one side. But a look of defiancereplaces the faraway gaze.

“What on earth…?” Sayaflips the page.

On the next, Venus reclines on her shell, with herlegs parted, one knee up. One palm caresses her breasts. The other is betweenher thighs, spreading her pinkish parts open. Her eyes are a half-mooningdelirium now, her mouth open in a swoon.

Saya’s and Haji’s own mouths hang disbelievingly ajar.

They’ve both seen dirty pictures before. Sex, then andin the future, is a pervasive theme in art and literature. But there is alwaysan element of satire to those works. Body proportions exaggerated; genitalscaricatured or blurred out.

Not like this.

These pictures are intimate rather than voyeuristic.They illustrate all of Venus in loving detail. The soft scrim of hair; thedarkish folds of inner labia; the pink pearl of clitoris. It seems less pornographythan a paean to her whole self.

Years later, Haji will wonder why the sight seemedalmost …deviant. He’ll rationalize it as framing. After years of the femalebody framed by the male gaze—in art, in poetry, in prose—its exposure asanother object d'art was quotidian. So the sight of it now, byitself and for itself, felt weirdly transgressive.

And thrilling.

Decades later, as lovers, he’ll ask Saya to recreatethe pose to her fancy—and to forget he’s in the room. She’ll acquiece, shyly,then with abandon, and it will be a quiet revelation for him.Saya-under-his-watch. Saya-by-herself. The differences of each. The way sheinhabits her skin more fully. The way she owns her own space. A culminationthat is wildly arousing—in part because he is neither the subject nor theobject of her attention.

Because she is so whole.

With trembling fingers, Saya stirs the folio’s pages.In each one, Venus grows more frenzied. From stroking between her thighs tocorkscrewing two small tapered fingers inside. From holding the reader’s gaze withher half-moon eyes to disconnecting utterly, lost in her own bliss.

For Haji, it is all indefinably discomfiting. Hisinstinct is to turn tail and flee. Propriety dictates it.

Saya, meanwhile, is in a peculiar, intense state, asif she’s crossed past shock to whatever sits directly beyond. Sitting on thecarpet, the fragile old folio in her lap and her head bent towards its ivorysheets, a strand of dark hair stirring with her breaths, she seems almostentranced.

From the tall windows, late afternoon sunlightglitters. It seems to melt and soften the energy in the air: a stirring, a blossoming.

They are very close together, Haji realizes. No raritythere: since childhood, they’ve been inseparable, practically living in eachother’s pockets. Être cul et chemise, as Amshel sometimessneers.

This is different. Her lovely profile is inches fromhis lips. The light falls through the windows and catches at the dusting of finehairs on her cheek. It reminds him of peach-fuzz. Her scent is the same, asweetish whiff with fruity and floral undertones. The same scent she’d wornwhen she’d first hugged him as a child, her body-warmth seeping into himthrough the expensive fabric of her clothes.

It had felt like a balm then. Now it is abrushfire, her closeness electric, sparks seeming to pop in the space betweenthem.

Then Saya turns her head. Their eyes lock, and Hajisees different things. The shared humor of the moment. A childish sense ofdisbelief. But also something hidden, secret, uncertain. Like she wants toreach for Haji’s hand but doesn’t quite dare

Then she scowls and lobs the folio at his head.

“Ow!”

“Dépraver!”

“What—what did I do?” Hesnatches the folio out of the air. “You are the one who foundit!”

“That’s no excuse to go breathingdown my neck!”

“I wasn't—” Heducks to avoid her swat. “You were staring as much as I was.”

Saya sweeps to her feet. Her eyes are burning-dark andthere are high spots of color on her cheekbones. A strange heat courses throughthe sunlit room. It is like an unblocking of channels, two magnets tangled inopposite polarities.

“You were supposed to help melook!” Saya shouts.

“I was!”

“No you weren’t! You were—youwere—” She balls her fists, struggles forwords, fails to find them. “Pig!”

“Saya—”

She flings another book at him. Haji ducks.

Her temper-tantrum bewilders him. This is hardly thefirst time they’ve perused a nude figure together: solemn, sophisticatedappraisals of Greek nymph-statues in the three-dimensional world, orexchanging jokes and dirty limericks in the manner of schoolchildren, the actitself reduced to either epithet or abstraction.

Epithets and abstractions were about all Haji couldtolerate. At least in those days. It’s not that he wasn’t attracted to women.He was. And to Saya: inordinately, indelibly. But what he knew about sex as achild was brutal and painful and disgusting. He would be happy never to go nearit for the rest of his life. Happier to spare Saya the worst of it.

Saya, who is stubborn, naughty, impulsive, rebellious.But who is, inherently, the most innocent person he knows.

When he was newly brought to the Zoo, Joel told him,in blunt terms, what was expected of him. He’d hinted at a sizable reward ifHaji approached it the right way: a ring, a duchess’s dowry, a standing in highsociety. Barely a year afterward, Saya had confided to him, her little hands ananxious wringing, how afraid she was of married life. Wedding night pains.Childbirth pains. Pains of limited agency or options.

He’d sworn there and then to spare her that too.

Now, she glowers. And Haji can’t fathom thetransmutations her presence wreaks inside his body with nothing but her eyes.

He can’t think of what to say, either, but he reads itin her face. In her gaze, mirroring his own discomfiture strangely back at him.The relation of his body to hers. Space. Molecules in the air between them.

I am a woman, hereyes say. You are a man.

The knowledge seems to leave her silent and stunnedand dismayed.

“Saya…”

Suddenly Haji has the urge to fold her up in anembrace. Yet what was effortlessly simple a moment ago seems all at once fraughtwith subtext.

Then she snarls a litany of swearwords—each moreunladylike than the last—before shoving past him and out the room.

“Saya, wait!”

Helplessly, Haji takes off after her.

                                         ~~*~~

Bits and pieces may change as the chapter itself takes shape. But I hope it’s satisfied some Zoo-era hankerings :)

[lokidyke]

cw genital mention, discussion of dysphoria, discussion of sex, a very personal post in general

i've been thinking a lot lately. actually, not even a lot, but whenever i think about it, my thoughts hold heavy weight to them. i've been thinking about my gender, my body, and how i want to be perceived in the world. and i just don't know how i feel about it anymore.

overall i've come to the conclusion that i just... don't want to be seen. it's not even like "i just want to exist", i just don't want to be seen right now because i don't know how i want to be seen. i don't know how i want to exist and navigate the world.

i started questioning my gender when i was in high school, like many of you. since my gender intertwines tightly with my sexuality, i'll talk about that too. for my sexuality, i knew i liked girls when i was in middle school. i turned my head, looked over to one of my dearest friends in the world, and realized just HOW pretty she was. my heart felt like it froze. my brain said to me, "well, i'm bi." i don't think i'll ever forget that moment. it sparked a huge journey for me that doesn't even feel complete yet. maybe it never will.

i thought i was bi for a really long time. i didn't realize i was a lesbian until i started in college, so we'll get there when we get there.

i think it was freshman year when one of my friends asked me out. he was a boy. he had asked out every girl he had ever befriended, and after me, he went on to ask out more and more, until we were seniors and he was dating freshman. he gave off a goofy, immature vibe, so we never questioned it, but looking back, i should've told him how inappropriate that was. i have no idea where he is now. we were the same age, and he asked me out in the library, where we were surrounded by all our friends. he quieted everyone down before he asked me. again, looking back now, that seems like a manipulation tactic to pressure me into saying yes, as to not embarrass him in front of my friends. so i did, i said yes, and we effectively dated for an hour and a half. after leaving the library, he walked me to my locker before class, and asked for a kiss before we left for each of our classes. i gave him one.

even that quick peck made such a disgusting, slimy, steely feeling immediately rush down my body like painful electricity. i thought maybe it was because i just didn't like him. i never figured it was because i just didn't like boys. i couldn't think straight through that entire period, all i thought of was how bad that felt, about how i needed to get out of whatever relationship he expected from me. after class ended, i left the room and he was waiting for me. i immediately broke up with him, trying to be as gentle and apologetic as i could. i think he was very used to rejection, and wouldn't take it as a deterence, so he actually took the breakup quite gracefully. onto the next one, i suppose. i didn't care. i was just glad to be rid of him.

after that, i started thinking about my gender. i looked on youtube for any videos in regards to both trans women and trans men's experiences. i don't think i was questioning my gender at the same time as my fascination began, i just wanted to know everything i could about the T in lgbt. after that was when i heard about nonbinary identities, and read into them. i ended up jumping around from label to label during my experimental phase, but we'll get to that in a second. very similarly to my bisexual revolution, i read over the definition of demigirl, and thought, "yep, that's me." i ended up returning to that label for a brief time when i first discovered i was a lesbian, but that would quickly fade away when i began clinging to the label in terms of every way to describe my identity. sexuality, gender, self. lesbian.

during high school, i of course went through what some may call a "soft boy" period, but i never identified as a trans man. only different forms of nonbinary. agender, genderfluid, agenderflux. all sorts of words that allowed me to experiment with who i was. i was grateful for that allowance of experimentation without too much pressure to commit. for a while, i went by strictly they/them pronouns. "she" felt like someone fumbling to fit a key into the lock and never quite getting it to fit. "he" felt a bit attractive, but warped. i liked masculine terms such as prince, "soft boy", and even just... boy in general. a young boy. never "he". never a man.

this faded away again once i graduated high school. again i wasn't sure who i was, and just settled on bi demiwoman. getting into college, i discovered compulsory heterosexuality. i read up as much as i could from how lesbians described it, and my third revaluation hit me: "that's me. i'm a lesbian."

finally i felt like i was home. i had wanted to be a lesbian so bad, for so long, but didn't know i just... could be. i never connected the dots of my experience to the lesbian experience. but i was finally able to, and i was finally home. i'm a lesbian.

again, demiwoman still fit for me, as i had read about the nonbinary lesbian experience as well. still, even with going by a technically nonbinary identity, i never thought i was actually nonbinary. i identified too closely with my gender assigned at birth. i couldn't be nonbinary until i refused it.

but it's more complex than that, and i understand that now. being a woman for me is... dysphoric. not for being a woman in itself, but for existing as a woman who exclusively loves other women. a woman who lives under the patriarchy. a woman who is told everywhere and by everyone that i was never and will never fully be a woman. even "gay is okay!" liberals look at lesbians as a watered down version of womanhood. i know they do, i can feel it. it's such an alienating feeling.

i think that's why i feel stuck now. i'm a woman, a lesbian woman, and those two are so interconnected that i could never be one without the other. i could never be a woman if i wasn't a lesbian. never.

but under the patriarchy, under the gaze of men, i feel insecure. i feel lesser-than. i feel like "woman" is an identity i will constantly be clamoring for, always just out of reach. i don't fit the mold, i can't reach the standard.

i don't shave my legs. i shave under my arms much less frequently than other women may. i rarely wear makeup, and when i do, i've abandoned using foundation. my hair is short, and i get it cut by barbers. they raised the price at my barbers by three dollars for "women's cuts" once i started going there.

i love women. god, i love women so much. all that put together makes me an outsider. even when i wear dresses, tights, and put on lipstick, i am still an "other". i feel it, and it feels like everyone must know it. they can see through me. "you're not a real woman."

and yet, i'm assigned female at birth! they know i'm a woman, they glare at my huge chest, they see my curves, and yet they see me and think "do better. put in some effort." i hate it.

this summer i felt what i can only describe as dysphoria. i wore my bikini top and swim trunks into the pool, swimming alone. it was a pool party, consisting of a mix of my family and step family. i was out of sight of most of them, and yet, when i lied on my back in the water, with only my stomach and very large breasts poking out of the water, i felt it. i felt like i had to run, and hide myself. i wanted to cover myself and not look another person in the eyes for at least a week. i didn't want men to look at my chest, or even have the chance to. i hate it. i find my chest can be presented in such a sexy way, i've seen it, i want women to see it and feel hot from looking at it. but that's not an option. men linger, and men prey. other women, straight women, they look away, finding the mix of my cleavage and unshaven legs a disgusting, frankenstein-like mish-mash.

i watched contrapoints' video about dysphoria and related a bit. i thought about what she said in that one scene, imitating a female partner and herself pre-transition.

"why won't you fuck me?" "i don't want to." "why?" "it makes me feel like a man." "but you are a man." "well, i don't want to be."

i'm not a man, either. and yet there's always been this lingering sexual question throughout the years.

in my fantasies, i have a penis. when i use pornography to satisfy my needs, i love to be from the perspective of someone with a penis. i fantasize all on my own about the famous women i crush on being gentle yet dominate with me and my penis.

but i never want to be a man. i never identified with MEN. i don't want a man's penis, and i don't even really want a penis in general. it's a fantasy, and yet it feels so tightly woven in with my sexuality. it's what i like, what i fantasize about. and yet, i can't imagine topping a girl with a strap on. it feels too foreign. too dominate. not my style. in the streets, i'd defend any woman i love, any friends i care about, with as much un-lady like, rowdy screaming, insulting, and fighting as needed. but in the sheets, i want to be taken care of.

the idea of being penetrated is still terrifying to me. i think once i have my first sexual encounter, and am penetrated, perhaps that penis fantasy will fall away, and i will understand that penetration doesn't hurt, and isn't something a woman offers to a man to please him, but something beautiful that two women can partake in in order to please both parties, and even especially the one being penetrated.

it's so confusing. i feel so fucked up by men and their worldview of gender and sex. they truly established themselves in my life as the final judge of all these things, and yet, i'll never encounter one in a way in which he'll judge my naked body and tell me who i am. all i have are the eyes of other men, in my family, the ones in the grocery store, the ones who teach me; they silently decide who i am, and how i'm not living up to the standard.

so i feel i can never be who i am. NO, i feel like who i am is below the standard of everyone else for the same concept. and so, womanhood is distilled from me by strangers. it makes me sit at home alone and feel like a stranger to myself. it makes me feel like other woman can never see me how i want to be seen, or love me how i want to be loved.

and yet... i don't know how i want to be seen. i don't know how i want to be loved.

that's the problem.

*t/e/r/f/s, r/a/d/f/e/m/s, gen/der cr/it folks don't interact*

[sexguru69]

Things you need to know before using condom

There are many excellent reasons why condoms are such a common item on nightstands. They offer the best defense against STIs. They are available for use at any time. And a trip to the doctor is not necessary. However, many couples reach a point in their relationship where their enthusiasm for condoms begins to fade. According to Larry Swiader, social media director for The National Campaign to Prevent Teen and Unplanned Pregnancy, "at some point, as people become secure in their relationship, many want to switch to another type of birth control and stop using condoms." And we are aware that a lot of people are unprepared for that situation. Vietsub sex

Do you and your partner plan to stop using condoms? Before entering the storm without your "rain jacket," think about the following: Know the Basics of STI Screening STIs can infect anyone who has engaged in unprotected vaginal, oral, or anal sex or who has shared a needle. Additionally, even if you have always used condoms, you could still be at risk because they do not completely protect against all STIs. Depending on your sex, age, and sexual history, you should get tested for different STIs. Everyone is advised to get tested for HIV at least once, and more frequently if they have engaged in unprotected sex.

And if you're a woman who engages in sexual activity and are 24 years old or younger, you should get a chlamydia and gonorrhea test every year. You might want to get tested for a variety of additional STIs, including syphilis, trichomoniasis, genital herpes, hepatitis B and C, or HPV. Therefore, familiarize yourself with your options and discuss the best course of action with your healthcare professional. Since not all providers are knowledgeable about what you should be screened for, it is best to go in prepared. The "educate yourself" part of that statement is crucial. Take the necessary tests "Just because a person has visited a doctor doesn't mean that every possible test has been performed on them.

According to Kantor, some tests are performed regularly and others are not. For instance, men cannot be tested for HPV and herpes is not routinely detected through testing. It's crucial to know exactly which tests you're getting because different providers may have different definitions of what "everything" entails. It's also crucial to make sure you get tested at the appropriate time because many STIs take time to manifest on tests; for example, HIV can take up to three months to show up after unprotected sex. Chlamydia, for example, can be found much sooner than other STIs. Therefore, be sure to ask your doctor when is the best time to get tested after having unprotected sex.

To ensure that the results are accurate, you might need to repeat some tests. Talk About Your Results It's up to you whether you take the test with your partner or by yourself. However, you should share your test results with your partner and both of you should get tested for the STIs that make sense for you. And the truth is that you might discover that you each have a STI (remember when we discussed how widespread STIs are earlier?). Most bacterial STIs, like chlamydia, are easily treatable with straightforward antibiotics. HIV and other viral STIs may be permanently present in your body, but medication can effectively treat them.

You and your partner to decide whether you want to have sex without using a condom if you do have a viral STI; you can also take other precautions to lessen the chance of transmission. But whatever you choose, it's crucial to understand the risk you're taking and choose wisely. Be Consistent Swiader advises being in a committed relationship and having trust in your partner before deciding to stop using condoms. Regardless of whether you are monogamous or not, you should be aware of and at ease with the arrangement.

It may indicate that something in the relationship isn't quite right if you're uncomfortable bringing up the DTR conversation. If that is the case, think about the following question: Am I okay with having unprotected sex with someone I can't have a relationship conversation with? Although the method of having sex is always up to you and your partner, most people find that when they truly trust the person they are having sex with, they have the best sexual experiences. Before choosing to engage in sexual activity without using a condom, ask yourself: Do I believe that my partner has my best interests at heart? Do I believe this person when they say that STI testing is a lie?

Making the choice to engage in sexual activity without the use of a condom is a significant one, so you should be sure that you are doing it for YOU. It can be tempting to go to any lengths to satisfy someone you're deeply attracted to. Making your partner happy alone, however, can backfire and leave you feeling resentful, helpless, and generally unhappy if you don't take care of your own relationship needs and health. Keep in mind that a person who cares about you won't push you to do something you don't want to. Furthermore, refusing to use a condom when your partner asks you to won't make him or her feel any closer to you or more interested in you than they already do.

Without a condom, having sexual activity is risky. Of course, taking risks is a necessary part of life, but ultimately, the risks you can feel proud of are the ones you chose on purpose. Think ahead If condoms have been your primary method of birth control, you should look for another method of birth control before quitting condoms. This entails scheduling some planning time outside of bed. Swiader explains that this is why planning is so strongly encouraged: "It's easier to have non-romantic thoughts — like planning your birth control — at a time when you're not having sex."

However, just because you find a different method of birth control doesn't mean condoms are useless. It's best for couples to use a condom in addition to an effective method of birth control, according to Kantor. "Using two methods is best if you want to really protect yourself from an unplanned pregnancy." Discover EVERYONE of Your Birth Control Options You have access to a variety of safe, highly effective birth control options. You should become familiar with all of your options and choose the one that will work best for you because no one method is the best option for everyone. IUDs and implants are even more effective than the Pill and can be used by teens and young adults even if they haven't had a baby, according to Kantor.

Most people still switch from condoms to the Pill, but many people are unaware of this," she says. The IUD and implant are both 99 percent effective, so users don't need to worry about performing daily tasks. Trojans, hold on to your horses found a new method of birth control? Great! You should use condoms until your new birth control is fully effective because it can take up to a week for a new method to start working. "One of the major places that unplanned pregnancy occurs is when people are switching methods," warns Kantor. Be aware of this and continue using condoms until you are completely clear to do so to protect yourself.

You Don't Need to Give Up Don't worry if, after reading this article, you feel that having sex without condoms would be a little too much for you. If you don't want to, you are not required to stop using them. Some people think that using condoms prevents intimacy or shows that you don't trust your partner, but Kantor says there are other ways to look at it. "Using a condom shows that you are concerned about your partner's and your own health." Additionally, condoms can actually spice up your sex life with all the modern fashions available. There are countless ways to feel closer and more intimate with your partner. There are numerous ways to have better sex as well. If giving up condoms is not your only option and those are your true goals, consider other options.

Watch more on https://sextubearea.com/

[2ptalia-imagines]

Then you’re purposely misusing the word then. You seem to just be using that word to base on your personality, you’re probably just a tomboy/ regular girl with a short hair cut. I think you’re probably contributing to the discrimination of intersex/ hermaphrodites as you are using that word fully knowing you are female just because you “feel that way”. That’s like a straight man identifying as a lesbian even when he isn’t even trans because he thinks it sounds cool.

An apology to those seeing this, as this answer gets a bit lengthy and is a bit of a rant.

First, why would I misuse an LGBT identity when I don’t even have anything to gain from that. Secondly, your gender identity has nothing to do with your personality. It’s like saying you’re a guy because you’re more aggressive than other girls. Third, you must have no idea how sex and gender work, which is why you’re harrassing people online. So here, have some definitions since you clearly need them:

Sex: either of the two main categories (male and female) into which humans and many other living things are divided on the basis of their reproductive functions.Gender: the behavioral, cultural, or psychological traits typically associated with one sexIntersex: term for a combination of chromosomes, gonads, hormones, internal sex organs, and genitals that differs from the two expected patterns of male or female. Formerly known as hermaphrodite (or hermaphroditic), but these terms are now outdated and derogatory.Gender identity: the internal perception of an one’s gender, and how they label themselves, based on how much they align or don’t align with what they understand their options for gender to be. Common identity labels include man, woman, genderqueer, trans, and more. Often confused with biological sex, or sex assigned at birth.

Fourth, I may have been born with a female body, but the sex I was born with does not match up with my gender. The only time I identify as a female is for hospitalization so doctors don’t fuck shit up. Fifth, that is a very poor comparison that only someone with no, or very little, LGBT education would make. A person’s sexuality has to do with their attraction to someone. And FYI, a cismale would never even consider identify as a lesbian, or a woman, because he knows who he is. And lastly, it hs nothing with wanting to be cool. That would mean a man or a woman would just wake up and say “I feel like the opposite gender today”. No, it’s nothing like that. It’s about being comfortable in your own skin and being able to express yourself. Getting an idea of your gender identity takes years of figuring out. I was questioning for 4 to 5 years before I knew.

Believe me, I really wish I was able to change my body to anywhere on the gender spectrum until I was completely comfortable; sometimes I even wish I was born with both sexes, or that I had no breasts. But since I can’t do that, the only thing I can do is accomodate and wear things that don’t make me dysphoric.

I would also like to give another example. My older cousin, who was born a female and is attracted to girls, and is happily married btw, now identifies as non-binary because they don’t feel comfortable being female. I mean they do have a buzzcut, but they also take testosterone and got top surgery. And as far as I know, their wife is ok with it. While I wouldn’t go that far, there are times when I feel dysphoric because of my upper body, so I just bind and that’s good enough for me.

Clearly, the only difference between you and me is I know who I am and actually know my shit. I’ve tried being nice, or at least civil with you, but your petty, anti-LGBT argument to disprove how I identify myself simply because of my anatomy and not how I view myself has gotten on my nerves. Even my dad, who doesn’t understand my gender identity, tries to understand because he knows that I know who I am. My sex is female, but my gender is non-binary. Hope that cleared things up for you, unless you want to complain that sex and gender are the same without even looking up what they are and doing your own damn research.

So please, attack me or anyone like me because we apparently aren’t non-binary enough for you. I look forward to deleting or reporting anything you send me regarding this matter. Once you’re done, find a more productive way to spend your time, like actually educating yourself to save other people and their brain cells from reading whatever you put on the Internet.

[skeletonscribbles]

are u doing those prompts? if so how bout "so… did you miss me?" and “why do i love you?" ship of your choice but u know what im gunnin for :)

I am doing prompts, and I can totally deliver you some Reddie :) This one got away from me a little bit (2340 words…not bad, but not gr8 either), but I think it turned out pretty cute all in all, so – here’s this! I call it Mating Season, pure fluff, rated G :)“So…did you miss me?” & “Why do I love you?”

—-“Eds!” Richie Tozier cried out, loud even though he was sitting right next to Eddie on the cramped bus seat. “Eds, Eds, Eds!”

“What?” Eddie snapped, wound up from hours of being jostled. School buses were full of germs, and Eddie was sure he’d contracted at least twenty diseases just from spending fifteen minutes on this yellow death trap. Three hours was unthinkable.

And then, of course, there was the unfortunate matter of his seat partner.

When they’d boarded the buses, Eddie had tried his best to jockey himself into position behind clean, quiet Stan, but Richie had pushed his way in between them at the last second, insisting upon spending the next three hours “as close to [my] Eddie Spaghetti as possible”. Eddie had almost thrown up then and there.

He wasn’t upset about it because he didn’t like Richie. He liked Richie very much - in fact, most of the time he liked Richie enough to ignore his annoying habits, like speaking three decibels louder than was strictly necessary or making crude jokes about sex at inappropriate times.

Lately, though. Lately, sitting next to Richie had thrown him into a weird sort of anxiety spiral, and he wasn’t really sure what was causing it. Ever since last summer, when they’d all done whatever crazy amazing thing they did together (Eddie was fuzzy on the details of it, for some reason), every time Richie’s arm brushed Eddie’s side, or Richie’s thigh pressed against Eddie’s on the bench of the lunch table, Eddie had felt a little bit like he was on fire. He had no idea why, and he wasn’t sure he cared to think long enough on it to find out.

Obviously, then, three hours squished against Richie in a bus seat was nothing short of excruciating.

“It’s mating season,” Richie said gleefully, much to Eddie’s confusion, annoyance, and great embarrassment.

“What are you talking about, dumbass?” Eddie asked. He didn’t have to look in a mirror to know his ears were bright red; he was well aware of all the little ways that his body betrayed him when Richie started in on something like this.

“At the Wildlife Park,” Richie explained, bouncing a little in his seat. “It’s spring. Maybe we’ll get to see some of the animals doin’ it.”

“Gross!” Eddie exclaimed, shoving Richie against the window and wondering why his stomach suddenly felt like it was in his throat. “You’re so gross, Richie, oh my God.”

Richie cackled, grabbing Eddie’s hand and licking it. Eddie shrieked and withdrew, wiping his hand anxiously on Richie’s shirt before drawing it back in.

“I know exactly what moose mating calls sound like, too,” Richie continued, a terrible smile on his face. “I hear them every night when your mom–”

“Shut the fuck up!” Eddie slouched down in the bus seat, livid.

“Aw, Eds,” Richie began, but he was cut off by their science teacher, Mr. Williams.

“All right, we’re just about to the Maine Wildlife Park, so I want to announce the groups for today’s field trip. When you get off the bus, we’ll walk to the water fountain by the Visitor’s Center, you’ll find your chaperone, and you’ll stay with them until we get back on here in the evening. Understood?”

“Understood,” the entire eighth grade mumbled back disjointedly.

“All right.” Mr. Williams looked at his clipboard. “Four groups. First group, you’ll be with me, and that’s Angstrom, Arrowsmith, Bowers, Bowie, Conklin, Corcoran, Denbrough, Dunton, Earl, and Fadden.”

Eddie looked sadly across the aisle at Bill. No friends, and stuck with Henry Bowers? Yikes, alphabetical order had really screwed Bill over.

“Next, with Ms. Marsden: Gordon, Hagarty, Halloran, Hanscom, Hocksetter, Huggins, Jagermeyer, Johnson, Kaspbrak, and Kersh.”

This time, Bill was looking at Eddie sadly. Eddie didn’t have Bowers, but Hocksetter and Huggins together were just as bad. At least he’d have Ben with him…and he would have had their friend Mike, too, but unfortunately Mike’s grandpa had yet to be persuaded to take Mike out of homeschool and put him in the public system. Alas.

Well, at least Ms. Marsden was nice…as language arts teachers went, anyway.

“Third group, with Mr. Doyle: Laurie, Marsh, McCall, Mellon, Mueller, Phillips, Ripsom, Rogan, Rogers, Sadler”

Beverly groaned really loudly from her seat. Mr. Williams shot her an exasperated look, and then continued.

“And finally, with Mrs. Emerson, we have Starrett, Taylor, Tozier, Unwin, Uris, Webb, Winterberger, Wolcott, Wormwood, and Zachariah. Again, find your chaperone when we park and get off the bus. It shouldn’t be more than three minutes, now.” Mr. Williams sat back down, and there was an immediate roar of discontent. No one wanted to be separated from their friends, the Losers least of all.

“I can’t be with Richie,” Stan complained, “he’ll just make jokes about animal genitals all day! I wanted to record the ring-necked pheasants in my bird journal, and I swear, if he ruins it or vandalizes my stuff before we get there–”

“Nerd,” Richie stuck out his tongue at Stan. “Where do birds keep their dicks, anyway? Do birds even have dicks?”

“Cool it, Mr. Tozier,” Mr. Williams warned without turning around.

“Won’t happen again,” Richie called back. This was a very rehearsed line of his, and it was starting to come off as insincere…and it was insincere, but Eddie thought it would benefit Richie to be less obvious about it.

“It’ll happen again within five minutes,” Mr. Williams responded, resigned.

“Yeah, probably.” Richie sank down into the seat, unusually quiet as a sea of angry 13 year old voices rang out around him. Eddie peered at him curiously - usually he’d be more than thrilled to have hours upon hours to grate on Stan’s nerves, but apparently not this time.

“You alright, Rich?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Richie shrugged. “I wanted to be in your group, is all.”

Oh. Eddie was surprised, and a little flattered - he’d honestly not considered that option.

“Thanks, I think?” Eddie tentatively put a hand on Richie’s forearm, shivering a little at the more intimate contact. “Next time.”

Richie still looked put-out. “I guess.”

Before Eddie knew it, they were being shepherded off of the bus, walking to the fountain meeting place where tour groups departed from, and dragged into their field trip groups. Eddie hadn’t particularly enjoyed sitting next to Richie on the bus, but he found that he missed him in a pretty immediate way once he was gone - especially with the looks that Patrick Hocksetter and Belch Huggins were giving him.

He moved closer to Ben, and hoped for the best.

It didn’t come.

The groups began to move off in separate directions pretty immediately (the Losers had all shared a fair amount of despondent looks amongst each other, and Richie had gone so far as to blow kisses to each of them). Eddie and Ben’s group shuffled off to the left after a young-ish looking red-headed tour guide that looked a little bit like an older version of Bill. Eddie grabbed Ben and tried to push towards the front, both to be able to hear the guide and to be nearer to Ms. Marsden in case anything went awry, but he was stopped by a hand on the back of his collar.

“Going somewhere, fairy boy?” Belch Huggins’ gross breath was unmistakable. Eddie gulped.

“Leave us alone, Belch,” Ben tried, valiant as ever, but he was grabbed in turn by Patrick Hocksetter.

“In the woods, no one can hear you scream,” Patrick said, emotionless in a way that gave Eddie an extreme case of the heebie-jeebies.

“They can see you eat shit, though, so…there’s THAT.” For whatever ungodly reason, Richie was back. He punctuated the last word of his sentence by shoving Patrick off of Ben and into a nearby tree.

Belch turned on Richie as Patrick struggled to right himself, and Eddie stared at the situation, frozen and aghast.

“Trash boy,” Belch growled. “You’re not in this group.”

“I am now,” Richie said, sounding way more confident than he looked, “and if you touch me or Haystack or especially Eds, I’m gonna let the whole eighth grade know the good news about what I caught you and Henry Bowers doing by the field house when I skipped social studies to go smoke, Hocksetter.”

Patrick, who was making his way back over, immediately paled and backed up. “Belch. No-go on this.”

Belch eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

“No-go,” Patrick insisted, grabbing Belch’s arm. “Let’s go look at some fucking animals or whatever. Shit.”

Belch looked livid, but he moved towards Patrick anyway. “You got off easy this time, Tozier, but next time….look out.”

“Was that a glasses joke?” Richie called out after them, but they were too far away to feel like they had to respond.

Ben, Richie, and Eddie were left staring at each other in silence.

“Well,” said Ben after a long moment, looking between Richie and Eddie knowingly, “I wanna go catch up to Ms. Marsden to see what I missed. I’ll see you guys in a minute.”

“But–” Eddie began to protest, but Ben waved and moved curtly up the path ahead of them, not interested in hearing what Eddie had to say.

That left Eddie alone with Richie. Again.

“So…did you miss me?” Richie asked, grinning sheepishly.

“You weren’t even gone for five minutes,” Eddie said, crossing his arms. “What’s the matter with you?”

Richie shrugged, and shoved his hands in the pockets of his too-baggy cargo shorts. “It’s like I said. I wanted to be in your group.”

Eddie shook his head, absolutely baffled. “Why?”

“The moose enclosure is first for you guys, I think.” Richie changed the subject deftly. “That’s what the guides were muttering to themselves about before we left, anyway. Let’s go check it out.”

“Richie–” Eddie tried again, but Richie had grabbed ahold of his hand and was guiding him firmly towards the moose exhibit, or whatever.

When they finally caught up with the class, they were treated to the sight of exactly….one moose, with a disappointing lack of antlers.

“Moose are usually solitary animals,” the tour guide was explaining, “but during mating season, females swarm around males as a sort of harem.”

Richie squeezed his hand, and Eddie jumped - he’d forgotten that their fingers were still laced together.

“Richie, let go of me.”

“Are you even listening at all?” Richie’s face was alight. “Mating season? Moose harem?”

“When two males are interested in the same female, they’ll usually fight it out, which is pretty intense. Alice here is pretty big, right? Well, male moose are even bigger…and their horns are pretty deadly if used right.” The tour guide gestured to the moose behind him when he said Alice, and Richie bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet.

“Moose fight!”

Eddie tried to tug his hand away, but Richie wasn’t interested in letting go. “Richie, what the fuck?”

The group was moving towards the next exhibit, but Eddie wasn’t interested in moving until he’d gotten an explanation from Richie. This clingy behavior was out of character in a really concerning way. Usually he’d just insult Eddie’s mother, pinch at Eddie’s cheeks and move on, but today…

Well, no, not just today. Now that Eddie was thinking about it, Richie had been touchier than usual for a couple of weeks now - slinging his arm around him at lunch, or pulling him over to sit next to him during movie nights. It was probably just more obvious today, because they weren’t split up by different classes and assigned seats.

What the hell was going on?

“Whaddya mean, Eds?” Richie smiled, but his fingers started to tap against Eddie’s hand in a way that Eddie knew meant that Richie was nervous. (Richie fancied himself a good actor, but Eddie knew him better than anyone, and as such had catalogued all of his little tells.)

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie forcibly yanked his hand out of Richie’s and glared up at him, frowning. “Why have you been acting so weird?”

A little color drained from Richie’s face. “Weird?”

“Yeah, like…touchy and stuff.” Eddie didn’t understand any of what Richie was doing, least of all how nervous he was right now. He looked like Eddie felt around him, nowadays. “What’s up?”

“They’re going to see the swans without us–” Richie tried, but Eddie wasn’t having it.

“Richie.”

“Swans mate for life you know,” Richie said, quiet and unexpectedly sweet. Eddie felt his heart skip in his chest, stared at Richie’s slight frown, disheveled curls, and furrowed eyebrows that were causing his glasses to slip down his nose, and came to a realization that almost made him pass out.

Oh, FUCK.

“Just like me and your mom!” Richie finished, crowing, and Eddie almost screamed.

“Why do I love you?” he blurted, mouth miles ahead of his mind. Immediately, he clapped his hands over his mouth, mortified. Richie stared back at him, mouth hanging open stupidly.

Well, there was that friendship down the tubes.

“Sorry, what now?” Richie asked after a moment of terrible silence.

“Nothing,” Eddie hissed, storming off. “We have to see the swans.”

“Eds, come on!”

“Swans, Richie!”

Richie laughed, surprised and joyful, and followed after Eddie with a gigantic dorky smile on his face.

“We could be swans, you know, Eds,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows exaggeratedly and grabbing Eddie’s hand again. Eddie made no move to pull away this time, though he did make a point of digging his fingernails extra hard into Richie’s hand. (Richie flinched, but did not complain.)“Um, no we couldn’t?” Eddie was so lost in the swirl of feelings and thoughts in his brain that he couldn’t for the life of him understand the meaning of what Richie had said. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s mating season,” Richie said simply, and Eddie shoved him into a bush.

It was going to be a long, strange day, followed by a long, strange bus ride home.

Eddie found himself looking forward to it.