#how do i orient myself right now

[wigglebox]

.

[lesbeid0u]

[gayestpiano]

sick

[harrie-cc]

The Klean Collection - Part 4

This month I focused on creating the Klean Home Office. I focused my attention on what a designer's home office would look like/contain. I have wanted to make shelving like this for quite some time & was excited to try out Sims 4 Studio to angle the slots, unfortunately many painful hours later after trying to troubleshoot why exactly the rotation didn't work in game, I managed to come up with a workaround, so that you can still snap flat books and deco items onto the slanted shelves at the correct angle. For some peculiar reason the rotated slots would not work unless I locked their orientation. As a result once an item snap into one of these slots it will stay at the 45 degree angle even when you snap it to a regular slot. If I did this for all the slots to work it would end up being very difficult for you to effectively clutter all the other shelves as all your items would snap to these angled slots instead. So I've created only 3 of these slots on each shelf to help you to orientate your deco items to the correct angle. They are located in the middle and either end of the the shelf, so you should be able to avoid them while decorating the regular slots on the other shelves. I think this issue is down to EA changing the slotting information in the game as it a very simple process to rotate these slots and both programmes I used to do so ended with the same result. Fingers crossed this is changed in the future so I don't have to irritate myself and you all with such a workaround and they just work how they are supposed to! 

Items Include:

Bookshelf configurations 1 to 5 (short & medium)

1 tile bookshelf configuration (short & medium)

Left ending bookshelf configuration (short & medium)

Right ending bookshelf configuration (short & medium)

Bookshelf post (short. medium & tall)

Desk chair

Glass desk

Statement desk/ conference table/ dining table

Design portfolio

Open design portfolio

Pantone swatch books (3 options)

RAL swatch books (2 options)

Fabric sample book

All items are Base Game compatible and you can find them by searching KLEAN in the build/buy catalogue.

As per usual textures are linked between similar items, so if you download the unmerged file, make sure to include all items from that family, so the textures appear correctly in your game.

Now Available on Patreon Early Access

Public Release: 7th April 2024

[pikp0kcas3]

The Hazbin Hotel fandom’s issue with accepting aromanticism and asexuality

Now that it is officially Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week, I want to talk about this!

I find that, as an aroace myself, I am constantly grasping at good representation and coming up empty— it usually ends up in one of two ways.

One: the character is portrayed as emotionless, cold, and robotic in nature. It’s the question aromantic and/or asexual people are often asked: “Are you heartless?” The answer is no, of course, but general media makes it out to be the opposite.

Or two: Their lack of attraction is seen as something to “fix” because they “haven’t found the right one yet”, and they end up with a partner as a “happy ending”.

It frustrates me greatly because of how little people actually see aromanticism or asexuality as a true part of the LGBTQIA+ community.

So when I watched Hazbin Hotel, and I found out about Alastor being aroace, I was over the moon. I was on cloud nine. I also saw how his voice actor has looked up the term as an attempt to learn about aroaces, which makes me OVERJOYED?? Amir is truly a blessing, and I love that he’s proud to embody a character that’s part of our community. It’s so beautiful to finally have a proper character, a fan favorite at that, who just so happens to be aroace— and that’s another thing I love about this.

It’s never explicitly stated in the show (though it is stated in interviews), but it’s rather clear when you’re watching, isn’t it? Alastor’s aversion to any sort of sexual advancement, coupled with Rosie’s blatant “I know you’re an ace in the hole” comment sort of spell out his asexuality pretty clearly, as well as what side of the spectrum he falls upon. In addition, his Valentine’s day card was strictly platonic, which caters to his aromantic side. It feels so validating to finally be represented, to finally have a character in media who shares the same lack of interest in romance and sex as I do.

When I entered the fandom to look for more content, I kind of expected to see the same respect for Alastor’s orientation there too. But that… wasn’t the case? I am fully aware that aromanticism and asexuality are both spectrums— of course, aromantic and/or asexual people can enter those kinds of relationships. I’m not denying that and they belong in the community as much as anyone else on the spectrum.

But, the more I see the same line again and again and again, the more it feels like an excuse to just ship what you want.

Usually I don’t mind shipping? I’m often a firm believer in people shipping what they like as long as it’s harmless and they don’t go crazy over it. I also know for a fact that Viv doesn’t have a problem with people shipping her characters. They are fictional, after all.

But in this case, people are ignoring the very thing that makes Alastor a part of the aroace community! People are ignoring his lack of romantic or sexual attraction!

Is this not the same as changing a gay character’s orientation to suit a straight ship? If not, how so? I’m told that we are a part of this community, so why aren’t we being treated like it? Why is it so hard to accept the people on the end of the spectrum who aren’t interested?

Something I’ve been noticing throughout my life is that society has not exactly progressed very much on the idea of accepting asexual or aromantic identities. Maybe we have, a little, since the old days— but hell, people in “the old days”, which in truth wasn’t very long ago, believed that asexuality was a medical condition to be “fixed” by taking the right medication or having sex. That’s a pretty low bar to clear. And on the romance side, you’re seen as a “late bloomer” or “boring” if you don’t express interest. These days, being friends with someone is treated like a gateway to them possibly becoming a lover. Not getting married, not going on dates, not wanting a partner— it’s all treated like a crime when it’s not.

Maybe I’m selfish, or sensitive, or I’m butthurt over nothing, or I’m making it all about me. Maybe I’m gatekeeping or whatever the term is. But please, please, please, I just want an aroace character like me who simply is not interested in sex or romance.

And I want fandom to respect that. I admire the creations that fans make— the art, the animatics, the writing and the character analysis. And I want people to keep creating because creation is indeed a beautiful thing.

But I really would like people to treat aroace identities like they’re important. Like it’s more than just a spectrum to get wiggle room to wrangle in another ship.

[lxvebun]

kiss it better!

synopsis: you know better than to try and hide your wounds from them, however small it may be know that they are more than ready to take care of you. Aka jjk boys caring for your injuries

buns notes: I had a part for Gojo and Nanami as well but found myself getting stuck on it. Perhaps they'll come later but for now enjoy Geto and Sukuna♡.

content:Geto/Sukuna x gender neutral reader. fluff/hurt comfort. Soft Defect/cultish!geto (idk what to call it jejjd just canon suguru) canon violence. Blood. Lovesick/soft ish sukuna as always🤭. Not entirely proofread I am sleepy. Eng is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes!!

Suguru

"Did you really think you could hide that from me, my darling?" Suguru coos. His voice deep and honeyed, overly thick and sweet as he tries to swallow down the urge to demand, to interrogate the cause of the gash on the side of your forehead.

It would do you no good to see that side of him, especially in this state you're in. Trying to hide the tiny rivers of blood trickling down your face, droplets sinking into the wooden floors beneath your feet. He doesn't want you to feel a sliver of fear anywhere near him.

And he's good usually at maintaining his composure. Even if his mind is already twisting into something darker and cruel. but God, the thought of someone, whether Human, Sorcerer, or curse hurting you makes him physically sick. The blood pooling in his mouth from biting his tongue does not help either.

"I'm okay, Suguru." you breathe out, a little labored, not necessarily from the dull ache on the side of your head.

You're not afraid of him, could never be, he's good to you and you see how hard he tries. Fragments of a younger, more carefree suguru slipping through at times. But something twists in your gut as the sparkle fades from his eyes and his gaze zeroes in on your injury. You know what goes on in his head. Thoughts as black and dark as spilled ink swallowing up all the light that left unless he pulls back quick enough. It's a venomous spiderweb that's hard to get out of

Fortunately, he does. Your voice luring him back almost like a Siren's whisper, from what's going on inside his head.

It takes him a few seconds to orientate himself. A few deep breaths and fluttering of eyelashes before he can tear his gaze away from the cut and look into your eyes.

Gentle and careful hands slide under your jaw. His tumb wiping away some of the blood. Rough hands still feeling light and safe. As if he were cradling a bird with a broken wing in his hands. 

(it makes you melt a little more into him.)

It's not a deep cut, not deep enough for stitches at least. It may leave a light scar unless he gets someone to heal it for you. Then again, you have refused that option in the past, trying to maintain somewhat of normality in your life

He can't blame you for that, but he's also not sure what to do..

"Tell me what you need, my darling." It comes out a little desperate

(As if he might succumb if you don't tell him what you desire right now)

"Help me clean up," you begin, knowing he wants to be with it every step of the way. To nurse you back to health "and then you can kiss it better for me while we watch some movies, hmm? :)"

He closes his eyes for a second, your head still cradled in his hands, his touch a bit more relaxed, a little less delicate but still comforting. And then he opens them again, a gentle smile playing on his lips, and the sparkle in his eyes reignited.

He's back

(If he notices the way your shoulders relax, he doesn't comment on it.)

"Of course, my love"

Sukuna

You know better than to hide your injuries from him. It would be foolish of you to even attempt to deceive him. You're part of him now, intertwined into his soul. He's mapped out every little detail of you. He picks up on the slightest shifts in your mood and tone. Hears the hitch in your breath if something surprises you, knows exactly how you achieved the seemingly random bruises on your legs and has memorized the healthy beating pattern of your heart. So even before you pushed open the heavy wooden doors to his chambers, he could hear your labored breathing and smell the blood staining your skin..

His voice booms around the chamber, as you finally open the door. It's loud and aggrivated. Shaking the walls. Dripping in venom and laced in a desperation only you'd be able to pick up on as he calls out Uraume's name. The sight of you bloodied and teary eyed is almost enough to make him fall to his knees. You don't know that his heart has molded into the shape of a chapel dedicated to you. Filled with every little detail of you. brimming with gold and laced with utter adoration and devotion. He'll kneel until his spine breaks and his knees crack against the floor below him if you'd just tell him who could possibly dare to do this to you

He lifts you up and carries you to his bed before his knees give out under him. His grip a little too tight, a little too bruising even for those few seconds. Afraid you'd slip right out of his arms if he doesn't hold you close enough. You can basically feel the blood boiling in his veins, turning into rivers of lava under his skin.

He doesn't make eye contact as he gently lays you down on the bed.

(Perhaps because you've always been good at reading him, perhaps because he'll fear what he'll do if he catches sight of anymore blood)

.....

The gash on your side is healing nicely, thank Uraume for their steady hands. Sukuna would have done it, but all his eyes would have focused on would be the blood staining your robes, trickling out of the wound in steady flows and your teary eyes. He wouldn't have been able to keep his touch delicate enough to heal you properly. Too engrossed in the thoughts of punishment and cruelty to keep the violence from bleeding into his touch. He'd never forgive himself if he'd hurt you. Even accidentally.

(He lost control once in the heat of passion. Kissed you a bit to roughly with sharpened teeth. It's nothing compared to what he can do. He is the king of curses after all. God to some, an abomination of nature to most. Still, He filed them down ever since.)

He made sure to stay and watch before he goes out and track down the filth that did this. He trusts Uraume, undoubtely so, but he wants to see Your wounds disappear and the blood wash off of your skin with his own eyes

Healing someone with a curse technique feels similar to getting stitches as the skin gets closed back together. He knows it's normal but Hells, every flinch, every little twitch you make as the skin heals make his hands itch to dig into the chest of whoever did this to you, ears already ringing at the begs and pleas for mercy and he personally deals with the parasite that dared to put their hands on someone even the king of curses himself bows down to.

How incredibly foolish of them.

"Well, that should be it" Uraume's voice snaps him out of his trance. He watches as they bow down to you, even after many many times of you telling them they don't have to and turn to him. "I'll go get some clean robes" bowing down once more, and leave the chambers.

The room falls silent again. He's becoming a little restless. Eyes trailing over your form before glancing at the door, going back and forth between you. Trying to decide what his next move should be

"Stay, please". You whisper. The adrenaline gone from your body

You make up his mind for him.

He's on you the second those words left your lips. His anger leaving him...for now. He keeps it at the back of his mind. Your wishes are more important than seeking revenge. Revenge can wait. You don't have to

He asks you how you're feeling as he wraps his arms around you, cradling your head to his chest as he lays down on the bed next to you. You make the mistake of being truthful

"Its a little sore-"

he's up again before you can even finish your sentence, ignoring the whine falling from your lips as he removes his arms from around you

"There should be some freshly gathered herbs in the kitchen today" he begins as lines it to the door

"Sukuna-"

"I can concoct something that should dull the soreness in a heartbeat-" his hand already on the door handle

"Ryomen."

He stops abruptly. Turning to look at you over his shoulder. Keeping his hand against the door. Waiting for you to finish your sentence

"I don't want a herbal concotion"

His brows furrow together, surprisingly cute for a being like him. He turns to you fully, slowly pacing back to the bed

"What is it that you desire then, my love?"

He almost sounds nervous, eyes wide and eager to hear of your demands so he can fullfill them. "Is there another potion you'd like, do you-" he begins to ramble again. You cut him off

"I think a kiss would be sufficient enough actually, my lord~♡"

His words die in his throat. Worry melting into a more stoic expression as he looks at you with what you can only describe as 'are you serious' Your laugh at the shift in his expression, gods that beautiful angelic sound, quickly breaks his into a gentle smile. Heart calming down.

"If thats what you need who am I to refuse?"

You look more than content, a state he wants to keep you in forever, as he leans over you on the bed. Matress bending under his weight as he places one hand next to your head, the other slowly cuping your face as he dips down to lock your lips with his

(He could kiss you forever, if you'd let him)

"Better?"

He doesn't bother to pull away, instead choosing to speak against your lips. Eyes soft and breath hot against you.

"I think I need a higher dosage actually~♡"

RAAAA thank you for reading angels!!♡

[artificial-transmutations]

Finally Together

When Jerry called, I could immediately tell something was very wrong. He was holding an ice pack up to his face and looked deranged overall.

"Jerry? What the hell happened to you?"

"Oh, hey. Yeah. This." he pointed at his face. "That's a long story."

"Let me see!" I demanded. You see, Jerry was, most definitely, my bff - my very best, very gay friend. And he had a talent for getting into trouble, sadly.

He slowly lowered the ice pack and I gasped. His right eye was swollen shut, and his face was covered in bruises.

"How..."

"Well, there was this guy. He was kinda hot, and totally my type, but, you know, straight as an arrow. At least *now* I know that." Even despite his bruises, Jerry raised his eyebrows in the cutest way possible - one of the traits I admired about them.

Yes, I should mention, I kiiiind of had a tiny little crush on Jerry. Or perhaps a gigantic one. You always want the ones you can't have, right? In my case, I was a woman - which was enough to disqualify myself rather finally.

"...and? Did he hit you?" I asked, even though I already suspected the answer.

"Yeah. I was just talking to him, trying to subtly find out his orientation. You know how it goes. Apparently, I wasn't too subtle about it, though, and he kind of escalated all over my face. It's no big deal, now I know."

Jerry smiled, but I could clearly see that it caused him pain to do so. It nearly broke my heart.

"It is a big deal." I answered. "That's horrible. You are worth so much more than this. Where did it happen? Did you call the police?"

"It was in the gym. Keith - that's the guy - works there, so, I guess, I need a new gym." Jerry joked. "And no, I didn't call the police, it's just... it's alright, okay Mathilda?"

I was not convinced but decided to let it go. Jerry was just a so sweet and innocent guy, he wouldn't even cause someone trouble if that someone punched in his face. I, on the other hand, was fuming. That was not a way to treat my bff! I would have really liked to kick that Keith's ass right now.

I chatted a bit more with Jerry before he had to go and promised him to come over that evening.

To be quite honest, I didn't plan to do anything, but when I was walking to Jerry's apartment in the afternoon, I passed his gym. I didn't even know it was on the way, because I honestly never paid attention to it much. But now that I saw it on the way, I couldn't help it. I would go in there and just tell the manager that one of their employees was a homophobic asshole. Just a little push in the right direction.

I entered the gym. It looked quite standard, but I couldn't see any manager or anyone else to talk to, for that matter, so I just went in there. It was quite empty, which was not surprising at this time of the day. There was, however, a young, muscular man doing push-ups. It was quite disgusting, actually, with all the sweat dripping down his body and a musky, penetrant smell was filling the room.

He stood up and greeted me.

"Hi, there. You're not a member, are you?"

"I'm not." I said. I felt like adding a "sorry" or something but decided against it. Instead, I clutched my handbag tighter.

"So, what can I do for you, ma'am?" He had that smug grin of an urge driven man who seemed to undress me with his gaze. I shuddered in disgust, but still, I straightened my back.

"Well, actually, I'm here to make a complaint."

"A complaint? About what?"

"Your staff."

"Oh? Do you have an issue with someone working here?"

"Well, yes. I just learned that one of your trainers, Keith was the name, I think, assaulted a customer. That is a terrible way to treat people, and I will not stand for it."

The guy laughed and flashed me a superior grin while he nonchalantly readjusted his groin. Free balling of course. Ugh. Can you spell 'toxic masculinity'?

"Look, honey. Whoever told you that, they lied to you. Keith would never hit a girl, especially not a pretty one."

I felt my face reddening from anger.

"First off, I'm not your honey, and secondly, it wasn't a girl but a guy."

The guy raised his eyebrows. "Really? A guy, huh?"

"Yes. He is my very good friend, and it's not funny at all."

"Hmm. Yeah, I think I remember the guy, some fruity fag who needed to be told a lesson."

Then it dawned on me. The disgusting guy in front of me was the man that had hurt Jerry.

"You're the one who did it! How dare you!" I exclaimed and tried to slap his face.

Before I could land a hit, though, he grabbed my wrist with an iron grip and grinned like a predator.

"Ah, ah. I wouldn't try that, if I were you. Would be a shame, if something were to happen to your pretty face, too."

I withdrew my hand and trembled from disgust.

"Ugh. You're just such a disgusting... jock."

In hindsight, I had no idea what happened, but perhaps some benevolent spirit or sprite was listening. In any case, Keith all of a sudden got a really strange expression on his face and looked really pale for a moment. And then... he suddenly looked even paler, like white paper or cloth. I will never be able to forget the expression of surprise on his face, as his body kind of... collapsed in on himself. His muscular torso diminished, and his arms and legs twisted and fused into thin rubber strips. But his face... His face contorted into a white fabric pouch that was completely devoid of any features within seconds. It had only taken a few moments, but Keith had disappeared.

I looked around first, but nobody else was in the gym right now. I carefully stepped closer and inspected what was left of Keith. Inside his black, damp gym shorts that was lying on the ground, I could see a pair of men's underwear, I believe it was called a jockstrap: A large fabric pouch held by rubber bands - designed to just cover the genitals, although, judging by the size of the pouch, rather large genitals. Now, as Keith had demonstrated quite clearly just a few moments ago, he had certainly not be wearing any underwear - and I had seen what had happened to his face.

With pointed fingers, careful not to touch the damp gym shorts and almost gagging from the strong smell, I picked up the piece of underwear. I had almost thrown it away again, when I noticed that it, too, was covered in sweat and stink. However, the piece of underwear that had once been a man held a strange fascination to me. I lifted it up to my face, to have a closer look, but didn't consider the consequences. When I breathed in, my nose was filled with the overwhelmingly strong and manly smell of sweaty, unwashed genitals, and it triggered something inside of me. All of a sudden, I felt tingly all over and groaned. My body felt weird all of a sudden. It was like that disgusting smell was all around me, enveloping me, pushing me to... change, somehow.

In horror, I felt my feet swelling up in my shoes. It wasn't painful, but it felt like I had been wearing boots that were way too small. The pressure was quickly getting unbearable and painful until my canvas shoes and thin socks couldn't take it anymore. First on the left and then, shortly after, on the right side, the toes of massive feet burst out from the footwear. The pressure subsided, and it felt fine again.

The changes didn't stop, though. Now that my feet had broken free from their restraints, my legs were the next to follow. A ripping sound heralded the death of my tights, as my legs gained mass and muscles. It looked almost comically how the threads of my tights were ripped apart, strand for strand. At the same time, I watched, as my hands grew larger. Gone were my delicate fingers, replaced by thick sausage-like appendages. Those new finger weren't carefully manicured but instead, I was now sporting short, ugly nails that would have been fitting for a lumberjack, rather than a girl.

While my legs were still growing, and I was getting visibly taller, my arms were next to follow. My blouse didn't even stand a chance as the arms did not only grew longer but most importantly, stronger. My biceps swelled like I visited the gym every day and, to my horror, I saw a tattoo forming on my right arm that reminded me a lot of the one Keith had had. I didn't have much time to think about it, though, as a new force practically ripped my blouse apart: My torso was pushing outward in all directions. My shoulders widened considerably, and my bra snapped from the strain. At first, I thought my boobs were growing, but it was quite the opposite. They were receding into my body, being replaced by even more massive and decidedly male pecs. Below them, a ripple went through my stomach, leaving behind the cobblestone road of abs.

The changes had met up at my midsection now and I was afraid of what was going to happen next. Sure enough, my skin-tight summer trousers bulged forward as something pressed against them from the inside.

"No..." I groaned, with a lower voice than I was used to, and tried to push whatever was appearing back into my midsection, but it was no use. With another ripping sound, a penis emerged from between my legs, quickly followed by a pair of testicles that pushed the ruined trousers down and settled in between my tree trunk-like thighs.

My head started swimming. That was wrong, that was so wrong. But the changes just went on. An Adam's apple formed in my throat, further lowering my voice, and my face reformed. It became squarer, and my jawbones became more pronounced. At the same time, my beautiful long hair receded into a short masculine cut. However, as hair disappeared on top of my head, it grew elsewhere. Or, should I say everywhere. Disgusting, wiry body hair grew in on my arms and legs and even on top of my enormous feet and the back of my hands. My chest was coated by a layer of short and coarse hair, and a treasure trail led down my midsection, where it disappeared into a thick pubic bush.

Speaking of bushes, two more formed in the large area of my armpits. Ugh. I was hairy like a fucking monkey. The only well-groomed bit of body hair was on my face, in the short beard that I could see in the gym mirror.

I could hardly believe my eyes. Staring back at me from the reflection was no one else but Keith. *I* was a splitting image of Keith now, only naked aside from the tatters of my clothes. I wanted to scream, but all that came out was a low grunt.

Okay, Mathilda, no reason for panic, I told myself. I would just... Go see a doctor. Yes. There had to be an explanation. This could be treated.

I took a step towards the exit and stumbled over the remains of my coughing. Oh, right, I was still naked.

The only piece of clothing was Keith's gym shorts. Well, his gym shorts and Keith himself, who was a piece of underwear now. I looked between the shorts and the underwear. On the one hand, I really didn't want to wear what had just been Keith, but on the other hand... I certainly wasn't going without any underwear. Everyone would be able to see the outline of my current genitals. Yuck.

So, lacking other options, I pulled on the white piece of underwear. It was, unsurprisingly, very sweaty, and it clung to my junk. I grimaced, but it was better than the alternative. My ass was still largely uncovered, but that was not as bad as the front side. I had to admit that my new equipment filled out the pouch pretty well.

I quickly shook my head and pulled on the gym shorts as well. It felt weird not to cover my chest, but that was probably acceptable in my current state.

Perhaps I could ask Jerry if I could borrow some men's clothing from him.

Oh my, Jerry. He was probably waiting for me. I grabbed my handbag and fled the gym.

Walking felt weird. Of course, regardless of my looks, I was still a woman, so I took small steps and refused to spread my legs too much while walking. It was very awkward. The sun was shining down and although it wasn't all *that* hot, I found myself starting to sweat. How disgusting was that? It was like those stupid mountains of muscle were producing so much heat that my skin was soon glistening with sweat and my armpits started to smell. I tested it by lifting an arm and taking a whiff. Ugh. I needed a shower, badly. I probably would be able to use Jerry's.

Jerry... I saw his face right in front of me in my mind. The cute smile, the adorable brown eyes, the cute little dimples on his cheeks when he grinned.

A strange feeling came over me from my groin area. What was going on down there? When I looked down, the ample bulge of my cock had become even bigger, probably tenting out the pouch that had been Keith's face. I groaned. Men were so primitive. All it took was one sexy thought and bam, erection.

Still, I couldn't deny that it felt pretty good. I checked it anyone on the street was looking before I felt the outline of the cock through the layers of clothing with my big hand. The touch made me moan, and I felt my member throb.

That's when I experienced the weirdest feeling. As the sweat from my groin mixed with the fluids seeping out of the cock head and were absorbed by the jockstrap, all of a sudden, I felt the presence of Keith - the real Keith. It was like a strong mental attack, to get his body back, but I fought back. It was not *his* body, it was mine, even though it may have looked like Keith right now.

It was the strangest experience. I could practically *feel* his thoughts and emotions. The humiliation from being wrapped around, well, *my* cock and balls, I could even taste and smell an echo of what he was tasting and smelling, including the weird taste of precum that had mixed into the face-pouch recently.

It wasn't easy, but I repelled Keith's mind and kind of stuffed it back into the underwear. When I continued my walk, I didn't even notice that I know walked like a man: With long, powerful strides and enough room for my balls.

Luckily, my cock had calmed down a bit by now, and I ran the rest of the way, just to make sure. I was glistening with more sweat when I finally arrived at Jerry's apartment and rang the bell. Ugh. That musk was so bad, I just hoped I could hop under the shower right away.

However, when Jerry opened the door, we were both stunned for a moment. I because Jerry looked even better in reality than when I imagined him. Foreign hormones flooded my system, coming from my balls and I just stood there for a moment. Of course, I had a crush on Jerry before, but right now, in this moment, I realized for the first time that now, Jerry wasn't quite as unreachable as before.

Jerry, on the other hand, backed away, an expression of fear on his face.

"Keith, what... Is this some kind of joke?"

I was taken aback by his reaction.

"No! It's not... It's me, Mathilda!"

"Who?"

"Mathilda, your best friend."

Jerry stared at me, confusion on his face.

"What are you talking about Keith? Wasn't it enough for you to bash my face in? Do you want to humiliate me now?"

"No, please. Listen, Jerry, you're my friend, and I would never hurt you."

He scoffed. "Oh really? My black eye says otherwise."

I could feel myself getting upset from all the testosterone and took a deep breath.

"I can explain. Please, Jerry, hear me out."

He looked at me skeptically.

"Fine. I'll listen."

With that, he let me into his apartment.

"Okay, first of all, can I take off these gym shorts? They are really really disgusting and sweaty, and they are clinging to my legs. Yuck!"

"Uh, oookay." Jerry looked even more confused but allowed it.

Gladly, I got rid of the stinking shorts and threw them at the ground, far away from me. Jerry frowned but was apparently more captured by my now only jockstrap-clad body that I sat down on his couch. I admit I wanted to get rid of the jockstrap, too, but then I would have been completely naked in my friend's living room.

The thought was oddly exciting, and I felt my cock raise in reaction.

I just hoped that Jerry wouldn't notice my state of arousal, even though there wasn't much fabric left to hide it, but I quickly spoke.

"So, Jerry, it's really me. Remember the time when we watched Star Trek: Voyager and had a pillow fight, and you beat me easily, even though I am taller and stronger?"

"How would you know about that, Keith?" Jerry crossed his arms. He had obviously noticed my midsection problem, which was throbbing now, leading to another wet spot on the piece of underwear.

"I'm telling you, I am Ma..."

Suddenly, I grabbed my head. There it was again. Keith had reacted to my arousal and was fighting for control of *my* body again. It was weaker this time, though, and although it took me a few moments, I pushed him back between my legs, where he belonged.

Finally, I spread my legs, man-spreading without even thinking about it and giving the whole world in general and Jerry in particular a good view of my massive groin. A smirk formed on my face. Having such a big cock was something to be proud of.

"...Mathilda." I finished my sentence, although I found the name rather unfitting for a stud like me. "I just kind of... transformed into Keith's body, but it's still the same old man as always. Woman, I mean."

"Uh... what?"

I smiled and stood up, slowly, so he could see all the muscles I had gained. I was taller, too, taller than Jerry even.

"But tell me, do you like what you see?" My cock was throbbing like mad now. God, I needed to have this man!

"Uuuh... uhm... yes? Yes."

I chuckled. "Well, Jerry. I don't know how to get back to my original body yet, but do you want to... touch this one?" I gently took his hand and placed it on my chest.

Jerry didn't react at first, but then he started caressing my chest. It felt great, and he moaned, too.

Another small spurt of precum spilled into my underwear and again, Keith acted up. It was even weaker this time, and I had no trouble staying in control. I did notice something else though. Apparently, Keith was enjoying this a lot, way more than a straight man should. He was almost addicted to my cock fluids by now, and he mentally lapped at my organ submissively. And he exhibited a longing for Jerry that appeared to be too deep-rooted to have developed recently. Well, good for him, because as my jockstrap, he would have a front row seat in what happened next.

"Mathilda, is it really... okay?" Jerry asked, barely being able to restrain himself.

"Yes Jerry." I said while looking into his eyes. "It's more than okay. It's perfect. And it's Matthew from now on, okay?"

I took a deep breath, breathing in my wonderful musky smell, and I watched Jerry do the same. And when I kissed him, I couldn't wait to tear his clothes off and plow his cute little ass with my mighty cock while my lucky jockstrap was watching.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Shy Girl

Hi guys!

It's not a prompt but still a request that you can find here.

Enjoy and thanks for reading it

TW : None I think

PART 2 IS HERE!

______________________________________________________________

Alexia, for people who do not know her personally or for a long time, conveys the image of a determined woman who can sometimes seem a little cold. This doesn't prevent her from giving her fans time and being adorable with them. You have been a big fan of the Blaugrana since your childhood, your father and your big brother follow the men’s team with passion for years and you have often accompanied them to the stadium to watch them play. But with time (and probably confirmation of your sexual orientation), you became interested in the women’s team too.

You don’t go to the games as regularly as you would like, because your career takes a lot of time. You have been an actress since your childhood. You started by playing the role of the youngest sibling in a series, before being offered other roles as time passed. Your parents always had control of your career when you were too young to understand the issues, but now that you’re 25, you’re old enough to make your own choices and manage your own business.

In other words, you took an agent.

And when the latter talk to you about a VIP seat in the stands to see the final of the Copa de la Reina, you didn't refuse. You must admit that you have a sponsor in common with the FC Barcelona team since you travel with Cupra. So you enjoyed the overwhelming victory of your favorite team and the various celebrations.

You are far from suspecting what is happening in the locker room however, when Jana threw a little randomly that she had seen you in the stands. Alexia froze suddenly, before turning in the direction of the brunette.

"Y/N Y/L/N? The actress?"

"Yes?" Jana replied with a surprised look.

That’s when Mapi and Ingrid enter the locker room, Mapi still on Ingrid’s back. Others of their teammates also enter, but Alexia’s attention is on Mapi only. The blonde quickly approaches the tattooed to stop a few centimeters from her, grabbing her bikini sleeve.

"I have to go up to the VIP area, but I don't want to got by myself" Alexia explains in a tone as calme as possible.

"Why?"

Mapi lets herself slip from the back of her girlfriend, attentively looking at her captain and friend. If she notices her determination, there is too an easily readable form of excitement on her face, which has nothing to do with tonight’s team victory.

"Y/N Y/L/N is in the VIP guests. I have to go see her, but I can’t go alone"

"Do you know she’s going to tease you for weeks?" Ingrid gently smiles at Alexia.

Mapi addresses a much too innocent smile to Alexia, which certifies that it will indeed be the case. But the decision of the Catalan is made and she seems to think that weeks of teasing is largely livable if it allows her to meet you.

Maria watches with amusement as Alexia takes off her cap and tries to arrange her hair in front of the mirror, asking Cata to help her. But Mapi decides that this is enough when the captain begins to ask around her if someone have pants to change her jogging and taps her on the skull with her crutch to attract her attention.

"Let’s go Ale, or she’ll be gone before you get there"

Alexia pouts but sighs softly as she follows her friend through the corridors and up to the elevators supposed to lead them to the right place.

"How do I approach her?" Alexia abruptly asks, turning to Mapi.

Mapi rolls her eyes and pushes Alexia out of the elevator. The VIP corner is still quite full but the two young women have no difficulty locating you. You’re smiling at your agent after she went to get you a glass of champagne.

"Is that her girlfriend?" asked Mapi with curiosity.

"It’s her agent" Alexia replies a little too bluntly, which amuses Mapi.

"Ok, easy tiger" laughs the tattooed before coming in your direction.

It's finally you who spots the two players when they aren't far from you. You smile at them and you pretend not to notice Alexia pushing Mapi to be the first to be in front of you.

"Oh Y/N, do you know Maria and Alexia?" enthuses your agent.

"Of course" you smile gently before reaching out your arm to greet them.

If you had to describe your character, it would probably be closer to Alexia’s than Mapi’s. If you like to slip into the shoes of different characters, you are rather shy and reserved. Your agent knows that, so she never hesitates to introduce you to the people you meet. And when she feels you’re not comfortable, she always finds an excuse to get you out.

You are just a shy girl.

"I didn’t know you were following women’s football" begins Mapi, who finally plays matchmakers for Alexia as much as your agent does for you.

"Oh yes, for many years. When I was little I followed men’s football to be honest"

"We’ve all been through this, I think" Alexia gently said.

You approve and finally the discussion turns around football, which allows you to exchange a lot with Alexia. Seeing that things seem to be going well, Mapi takes a step back but she isn't sure that you or Alexia really realize the thing. Your agent looks at you with a little smile amused, she has long known that Alexia is your celebrity crush. The smile is noticed by Mapi who addresses an accomplice look to your agent. This too, you don't realize.

Over the course of your discussions, an hour has passed. Mapi found herself a stool to relieve her leg and Ingrid finally makes her appearance to take her girlfriend home.

"Almost everyone is gone" announces the Norwegian after Mapi introduced her to you.

A glance around you teaches you that the room has also largely emptied and that there are no more people around you. You even feel almost uncomfortable with the staff who are supposed to clean up after you leave.

"We’d better go too" you say to your agent who nod with a smile.

You say goodbye to Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid before you follow your agent out. You’re so angry that you didn’t ask Alexia for her phone number. If you had been alone with her for a few seconds you might have found the courage to ask her the question, but not under these circumstances.

"Why the sad face?" asks your agent once you’re in the car.

You shrug your shoulders vaguely for a simple answer. You certainly don't intend to tell her the reason for your gloomy mood. So you pretend to be tired and this allows you to silently watch the streets of Barcelona pass in front of your eyes. You thank her a little more warmly when she drops you in front of your apartment.

You hesitated for a long time to get a house, but you finally opted for a penthouse in a highly secure building. Located on the top floor, it's your refuge when you are not far away for work.

Once you arrive home, you drop yourself on your couch and lie on your back crossing your arms on your face. It was probably the only opportunity you had to get to know Alexia a little better and you let it go. Sighing, you take your phone out of your pocket to change your mind.

An Instragram notification jumps on your eyes, quickly erasing the other various messages and notifications you’ve received since the last time you watched it.

alexiaputellas I didn't even know you were following me until I check it out tonight 👀 Sorry if it sounds weird It's definitly weird, I'm sorry

You smile at the messages and you can perfectly imagine the embarrassed look of Alexia behind her phone screen. The messages are from about fifteen minutes ago and you decide to get her out from her cringe quickly.

you Don't worry, it's not weird. I follow you for years now I think actually Did you come home safe?

Alexia answers almost immediately and it makes you smile.

alexiaputellas Yes, I am. Are you home yourself? If I had known I might have written to you before 🙈

you I am 🙃 Why?

alexiaputellas 🙂 Talk to you soon?

you Whenever you want 😉

[nothorses]

What do you think gay men are attracted to in men that they can’t be attracted to in women?

It can’t be anything about femininity or masculinity obviously. That’s both sexist, and cultural so can’t be what drives men-only attraction.

It can’t be anything about stated identity because someone could lie just as easily as they could tell the truth in such a statement, and it makes no sense because homosexuality and heterosexuality exists in other species with no stated identities. It’s not like other animals without gender are all pan.

Saying idk it’s the vibes or some indescribable trait men have that women can’t but “I can’t explain” is a nonanswer.

Soooooooo what is it? Or do you think any sexuality but bi/pan is just cultural performance or an identity rather than an inborn orientation?

- [ ]

I think trying to find one perfect answer that applies universally is the critical mistake here. I mean, I am a gay man. I say this because as of yet, that's the clearest answer I have for myself personally; maybe there's a possibility I experience attraction to a woman at some point (maybe I already have???), but I don't really have clarity on that right now, and it doesn't serve me to shape or explain my identity around "maybe"s.

Trying to pinpoint exactly what it is that attracts me to other men, specifically, is also like... not that useful. I used to find myself really attracted to feminine men specifically; not feminine women, not masculine women, not masculine men, not androgynous anyone, but feminine men. Specifically, men who were feminine in a very particular, long-hair-certain-attitude kind of way.

Recently, I have found myself appreciating, more and more, a certain kind of masculine body type and gay masculinity that I was never really interested in before. I find it incredibly hot. A lot of that coincides with things I appreciate about my partner, too, and things I find myself appreciating more about my partner as time goes on- as well as things my partner expresses appreciation for about me!

And I haven't even touched on attraction to nonbinary folks here because, like, it's a massive spectrum. "Nonbinary" means something different for every individual nonbinary person. To my mind, of course there's a possibility I experience attraction to a nonbinary person; how they identity, present, and what attracts me to them are all even more impossible to know for certain than the "maybe"s and the "why"s around my attraction (or lack thereof) to men and women.

My relationship to my own orientation was vastly different pre-testosterone versus post-testosterone, too. I was much more reserved and uncomfortable with relationships and attraction before I started T, and the only dynamic I ever felt was even a little bit tolerable was one where I was the "masculine woman" in a lesbian relationship. I didn't realize until very shortly after starting T that, actually, I like men. A lot. I felt comfortable with my body and my masculinity in a way I never had been before, and I felt comfortable in relationships with men; I no longer felt like I was The Woman By Default in contrast.

And that's all just me! This is my personal, specific, individual relationship to attraction, and how gender- both others' and my own- factors into my relationship with orientation.

I don't think it's necessarily inborn, or completely unchanging for everyone. I also don't think the same factors apply for everyone. I think a lot of different things can be true for different people, all at once, and it's not really useful to try to pinpoint a specific, universal explanation for orientation.

Everyone has a different relationship to orientation and gender; everyone will be influenced differently by cultural factors, by their own ways of processing and understanding the world around them, by the ways different aspects of their culture, identity, personality, and inborn traits and how they all interact with one another, and sure, maybe even by biological factors and tendencies.

Trying to solve this puzzle for the entire world of diverse human beings isn't going to make it any easier to understand yourself. Focus on what this all means for you, personally, and accept that you will never, can never, fully and perfectly understand anyone else's internal world and workings. Things get a lot easier when you can let go of that & just appreciate the diversity of human experiences, y'know?

[kalki-tarot]

CHANNELED LOVE LETTER FROM FUTURE SPOUSE ♡

my readings are for entertainment purposes only! tarot is a divination tool. it is not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i don’t take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. please be mindful of your own choices and actions ♡

PILE 1

Hello beautiful/handsome,

I saw you in the party, where everyone was busy with themselves, with their own groups. And you, you were sitting alone, pouring your own drink. You looked very beautiful to me. Just like a queen/king. Your straightforwardness and dominant behavior, is what I love the most. I crave you, dear. Oh. I can literally fight to win you. You are just like a prize. You have your priorities clear. Even if it's a run and chase, I'll follow you everywhere till my heart stops and i die.

You are very career oriented, you don't bs unnecessarily. I love your perception of life. I love how you stand up for yourself, even if you're alone. You are just like a Queen to me. You seem very distant, as if you're lost in your dreams. You have that dreamy side of yours too? I don't know. I just observe you from afar. You give me such soothing vibes, I just love being around you.

You make me forget my miseries. I love how you don't do wrong to anyone. You are very compassionate and loving. You can give love to even non living objects. You're so full of love. That makes me wanna love you, even more. Sweetheart. I love you. I want to pursue you, i want to make you mine. Do you think the same? Do you love me just the way I love you? I'm waiting for your answer.

Yours faithfully,

Love.

PILE 2

I don't have the right words to truly express what I feel. I'm not in a good place right now. It feels as if everyone has given up on me. I'm sorry if I'm I'm making you uncomfortable but certain situations are out of my hands. I feel left out in the cold. I have the responsibility of my family on my shoulders. I'm trying to make fast changes. I'm trying to do everything on my own.

I'm very repressive of my emotions. I was not taught how to deal with them. Sometimes I try to run away from life. But then I get reminded of you. I look at the night's sky, full of stars and I wonder maybe you are like a star too. Lightening the dark and cold world with compassion and warmth. You give me true strength. And I'm forever grateful for your presence in my life. I'm holding onto a lot of things right now. I know i should let everything free, even myself. It's okay to make mistakes, right?

After every storm, there is a deep silence. Where everything remains silent, destroyed and out of control. No matter what life throws at me, I'll come back to you with ten times more strength, power & especially love and respect for you. It's life after all, right? Everything comes and goes. Maybe these times will pass? But I'll love you more with each passing moment for sure.

Yours Only Forever

💗

PILE 3

I have too much of love and wealth. And that too much is being sucked off by others. I don't know what to do. Money can't buy love, sweetheart. I'm in a toxic relationship. They are taking away my everything. Literally everything.

I don't remember the last time I laughed. The money I earned through hard work, the morals and kindness my family taught me, everything is in vain. Everything is slowly leaving my body. I feel empty from inside. This person is taking away it all.

But I'm working hard, more hard, harder than even. So that I can provide you a better lifestyle. I can't expect anything from anyone. I have to do it all alone. Please remember me in your prayers. I'm afraid to let go. Everything is being taken away from me. I don't know what to do, I'm confused. I'm not sure which road to take. I believe the universe will guide me where I'm supposed to be, near you. I'm depressed nowadays. Very hopeless.

But I'm doing whatever i can do right now. I'm unable to even sleep at night. They lied to me. They deceived me. They were my life partner, but there was nothing "life-like" with them. It was just a relationship built on money. And you know how these type of things end. There is no emotion left in me. I'm blank. I don't know. They left me in the middle of the road.

PILE 4

Hello pretty soul ♡

You know what? I see you every where. Whenever I go, wherever I go. I see you, i get reminded of you, by the flowers, the clovers, the river, the clouds and even the sun! You are a beautiful and positive person! You are such a great fighter! Whatever obstacles comes between our happiness, you remove it all. I get so happy and optimistic near you, my love. I'll fight with literally anyone for you, just for you.

You bring absolute calmness and peace into my chaotic life. You are a sweet breeze flowing softly over my cheeks on a warm, sunny day making me blush. I want to take care of you and love you for eternity. I want to offer you all the love that I have inside me, just for you babygirl/boy. I want to experience new things with you everyday. You make my life feel lively. ✨️

Dear, sometimes I too get lost in my past, that was not, unfortunately that happy for sure. I got lied to, i was betrayed by someone I called mine. I can't sleep properly due to this. I get nightmares and I get so f*king scared. I feel anxious and uncomfortable. But the good news is! I'm forgetting it day by day. Just a little progress makes it a whole lot of progress. I don't want to remember all these with you. I'm working hard, I'm moving forward. And i hope you're too <3

By,

Your one and only . ❤️

[didalexiabreakupwitholgayet]

mariona's statement during her press conference. (it's so emotional 🥹)

"good afternoon. first of all, thank you all so much for being here. before starting the press conference i would like to make a short summary of what it has been for me. being part of the club of my life. those of you who know me know that my first football memories are all related to barça. the first blaugrana shirt, ronaldinho's first boots, the first trips with the family to visit camp nou, the first matches on TV, those of barça. looking back, i realize how lucky i was that my father instilled this in me from a very young age, which means loving a club and admiring the colours. and how lucky to be able to say out loud that i have always been, am and will always be a culer.

"when i was 18 years old and had the option to come here, the decision was made on my own. i still remember that day and what o heard that girl who had grown up being a barça fan, the one who screamed and jumped when they scored goals and the one who cried and got angry when they lost, she had before her the opportunity of her life to wear the blaugrana shirt, but this time an official one with her name on it. and this dream, when it came true the first moment i set foot in the ciutat esportiva, was wonderful. after ten years i leave feeling even culer than i was before, if that is possible and we feel privileged to have been part of the best team in the world.

"the truth is that i couldn't describe in words what barça means to me, and that's why you can imagine how difficult it was to make the decision to leave. barça is my life and barça has changed my life. that is why i wanted to take advantage of this moment to dedicate a few words to those who have been part of this path in the first place, the president and the board of directors. you have made all this possible with a firm and real commitment to women's football and to us. without you this story would be totally different. you have given us the tools to develop as professionals and you have given me the best gift of being able to play at camp nou, my family, my mother and my brother, my godmother, my aunts and uncles cousins you have followed me every step of the way and have always shown me your unconditional support. i know you've enjoyed this stage as much as i have and you've been a huge part of it all.

to you, dad, who was the one who took me up and down when i played in amateur fields. i wouldn't know how to explain to you that i have managed to win three champions leagues with your beloved barça and play in front of a camp nou. i wish i didn't have to leave so early because i know you would have enjoyed it more than anything. but what has marked ends and for every title raised i promise you that you have been there, because this has always been our dream and that is why i hope that, wherever you are right now, you will be very proud of me.

to my friends for loving me and helping me and always being by my side, to the technical staff, i thought you were crazy about football, but yours is worth studying. you have made me love this sport even more and you have passed on your passion to me. no one had ever told me about bases and squares, chains or body orientation. i am the player i am today because of you. you have taught me so much and made me believe in myself. i hope that despite the training tantrums, you are aware of how much i respect and admire you. and i would like to take this opportunity to thank you for the trust you have placed in me, along with the other members of the coaching staff and club workers. you are many and very important. your work is more invisible, but do you know that you are essential to us.

to the press and the fans. thank you for embracing us and pushing us as you have. and finally, to the most important ones, to my colleagues. sharing this adventure with you has been the best part. no one but us can imagine the effort we have put in, nor the sacrifice we have made to get to where we are. we all know it has not been easy, but it has been worth it because we are a unique team. you have made me proud to be part of this historic group, and not only for all the sporting achievements, but for all the social impact we have achieved and the image we have given to the whole world. It's not just wins, but how we won. that's why i can only thank you for making me enjoy football and for making me a better player. we will miss you very much. but i will always follow closely and celebrate your successes as my own. i wish you the best and hopefully football or life will offer us a reunion. i would also like to make a special mention to Xavi Llorens for giving me the opportunity to come here and marc for making such a farewell possible, they are always in good tune, despite the difficulty and pressure of the last few months. with my hand on my heart. i just have to thank you again. i am proud and happy to be a part of this great family. visca el barça now and forever."

[goldsbitch]

Right? p8

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

epilogue - Lando's POV

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

Challenge me. Make me question my past actions. Hold me on the edge, while we risk it all.

Watch me watch you walk around the paddock, as if there wasn't a bright red love bite underneath your turtleneck. One that only I know about and plan on refreshing. Knowing you have to cover those up makes me ecstatic, because I have seen you smile like a teenager while doing so.

We're our little secret, for now. It will come out eventually and we'll enter a new chapter. But for today, let me have our classified, not so modest photoshoots. Let me sneak around just to give you a little peck on the cheek. Walk just a little close to me so that our hands brush, ever so "accidentally".

The way how you're so good at passing me by, as if you hadn't woken up next to me. Like I have no idea about your birthmark little too low on your lower back. The one I'd touched in a way colleagues should not.

And I know you're having to fight smiling a little too obviously during our team meetings. Because I have to admit, sometimes I have to hide my smirk behind a coffee cup or a cough. I wonder if people noticed that you don't take official photos of me anymore.

I'm good at running around with a camera, but I think I was born to be your muse. To let you capture me in the way only lovers can. Energy and desire creeping through every frame. I trust you deeply that you won't sell my secrets - and I know you have to trust me too. Allow me to play an all-or-nothing game, while being ultimately raw with you.

I sometimes can't help my mouth from smiling at random times throughout the day, just knowing that we managed to play this game so effortlessly. Once I got you on board, it turned out you're quite good at this. I guess it's making you irresistible even more.

I think hiding it from everyone is working in our favor. Once the fan hurricane hits when the reveal day comes, we will have already spent many days of freedom. It won't be a va banque taken with a stranger. A companion, lover, muse and the capturer. I should not be looking forward to causing a scandal, right? But I do. Turns out I am bad at stopping myself when it comes to you.

I've already sunk so deep, so much at your mercy, I am unable to untangle myself. Please, promise you mean it when you said "I love you" so shyly the other night. It took me some time to admit that I do. But with you being so slick and smart, you must have already known. You're someone who does not like to be brave about this. You wouldn't have said it if deep down you were not sure about my response. And that's ok. You're the smart one, I'm the brave one. A perfect combination.

One day, you'll have to take a big risk with me. When you've finally moved on from McLaren photos and get yourself in fashion photography as you always wanted anyway. You'll have to get out of your shell and I am so here for it. But for now, we have our little secret life to enjoy.

There will come a day when we'll replace the thrill of a private affair with a strive for something serious. If it had been only my decision, I would have already shouted to the world that you are mine. Make your love bites visible and trackable to me. One day, we won't have to worry about hotel room walls being too thin. But I want you ready for the price that comes with my public company.

I'll drive us fast, maybe even recklessly, and you'll make sure we have something to remember it by.

_______________________

@i-wish-this-was-me @lqvesoph @ophcelia @noneofyourfbusinessworld @formulaal @chezmardybum @amberpanda99 @4-mula1

Short, but a proper goodbye to my first story. Thank you all for the support! Love you all.

[grison-in-space]

Currently rereading Eric Flint's 1632 and reflecting on just how influential Flint was to me and my approach to both praxis and politics as a teenager. I found Flint when I was about thirteen or fourteen, around the time I found Pratchett I think, and he's left an equally wide thumbprint on my soul. Isn't that the most wonderful thing about stories, that people you've never met can help shape our adult selves? Mother of Demons I often recommend for its SFF worldbuilding--Flint built a species with at least four genders, only some of which are reproductive, and associated "normal" sexual orientations, and then proceeded to write in a textually intersex character and queer the hell out of it.

1632, though, is the one where a little West Virginia town in 2000 gets picked up and dropped in the middle of Thuringia, Germany in the eponymous year--right in the middle of the Thirty Years War. The local United Mine Workers of America chapter plays a major role, particularly its head.

As I write this I'm listening to the scene where the little town of Grantville, having admitted after a few days that they are probably not ever going home, is crowded into the high school gymnasium listening to the mayor lay that reality out and suggesting an interim council to help the town set out a sort of constitutional convention so they can work out what on earth they're going to do moving forward--especially since there's a bunch of displaced refugees collecting in the forests nearby. Sensible of them, really; the Americans murdered the shit out of the local soldiers that displaced them, on account of how the shaken mine workers that went out to figure out WTF happened not being super down with suddenly running into a bunch of fuckheads raping the locals and torturing people to find out where their valuables might be. After that, said Americans proceeded to retreat into the town boundaries and gibber quietly to themselves. I would go lurk in their woods, too.

Anyway, the mayor sets up this proposal, everyone agrees, and a CEO who was visiting for his son's wedding at the time steps forward and says: look. I know how to lead, and I'm probably the most qualified person here. I lead a major industry corporation effectively and I did that after my time as a Navy officer. I put myself forward because I'm qualified. Now, we're going to need to circle the wagons to get through the winter, tighten our belts, but we can get through this. We can't support all these refugees, though; we'll have to seal the border so they can't bring disease--they're a drain on our resources we can't afford--

and the UMWA guy, he gets really mad listening to this. There's this Sephardic refugee woman he's real taken with who got swept up in the town first thing, and she's sitting in and listening; he's thinking about throwing her out, thinking about how much she knows about the place they're found in, and he's furious. But he gets a good grip on his anger and he marches up and he says, look. This dude has been here two days and he's already talking about downsizing?! You're going to listen to this CEO talking about cuts, cuts, cuts? Nah. Trying to circle the wagons is probably impossible, it's stupid, and if you think my men and I are going to enforce that, you can fuck off. That proposal is inside out and bass ackwards. We've got about a six mile diameter of Grantville here; how much food do YOU think we're going to grow? How about the soldiers wandering around, do you think we're going to be able to fight armies off on our lonesome? Look at the few refugees we already have in the room, they'll tell you how those armies will treat you! We could do it for a while, the amount of gun nuts here, but so what? We don't have enough people to shoot them! Not if we're going to do anything else to keep us going! We have about six months of stockpiled coal to keep going, and without another source or getting the coal mines working, we're screwed. We have technical strength but we don't have the supplies or resources we would need to maintain it. Those refugees? They're resources. We need people to do the work we will need to keep ourselves. The hell with downsizing; let's grow outwards! Bring people in, give them safety, see what they can bring to the table once they've had a moment! He invokes: send us your tired, your poor!, and the CEO yells in frustration: this isn't America! so he yells back "it will be!"

And of course everyone cheers. I love Flint for many reasons but he is unapologetic about affection for the America of ideals--ideals, he freely admits, that are often honored in the breach rather than the observance, ideals that are messy and flawed, but nevertheless ideals that can work to inspire us to become the best version of ourselves. For Flint, history is as valuable as a source of stories to inspire ourselves as it is a repository of knowledge, and on this I tend to agree with him. We must learn from our moments of shame but equally we must learn from moments that show us how to be our best selves.

It's been twenty three years and the text is now an interesting historical document in its own right, hitting points and rhythms in beats that are sometimes out of place today. It's not perfect. But the novel contains a commitment to joy and to emphasizing the leaps of faith and understanding that regular, everyday people make every day to try and support each other that I routinely try to match in my writing.

Anyway, one of the strengths of the novel, I think, is its gender politics: it's a very ensemble kind of novel, lots of characters, and it's preoccupied with positive masculinity in a lot of ways. There's a lot of these hyper masculine characters--Mike Stearns perhaps more than anyone else--and--and...

... And Flint's characterization of Stearns, as he sketches out who the man is--his pivotal American leader, ex boxer, working class organizer, big man.... well, it lands equally on "he is delighted and astonished to find a local woman who quickly assesses how the cushion of air in tires works," and "he considers who to set up a Jewish refugee in the middle of Germany up with and he thinks to ask the Jewish family he grew up with to host her and her ill father because he thinks she'll be most comfortable there", and "he views people as potential assets rather than potential drains." A younger man asks him for advice on whether to pursue a professional sports career because of the boxing and he says no, you're in the worst place of not being quite good enough and you'll blow out your knees without accomplishing safety. He frames that interaction such that he allows his own experiences to make him vulnerable and invite the younger man to understand when a struggle have worth it.

It's actually a really deft portrayal of intense masculinity that also makes a virtue of a bunch of traits more usually associated with women: empathy, relational sensitivity, the ability to listen. As a blueprint for what a positive masculinity can look like, vs the toxic kind, it's very well done. I think sometimes when we look at gender roles in terms of virtues, and when masculinity is defined in terms of opposition to femininity, people get lost by arguing that virtues assigned to one gender are somehow antithetical to another gender. In fact that's never been the case: virtues are wholly neutral and can appear in any gender. What the gender does is inflect the ways we expect that virtue to appear in terms of individuals' actions within their society.

Gender isn't purely an individual trait, basically; it's a product of our collective associations. Two characters with different genders can display the same virtues and strengths, but we imagine them expressed in different ways according to our cultural expectations around gender. And I just think that's neat.

[dadsbongos]

gojo knows a trick

888 words / warnings - blowjob and boot humping, reader's hinted to be a lady, controversial kink (orientation play)

summary - gojo is so sure of himself, he thinks he could make a lesbian straight. you decide to take the bet.

important note - don't fucking read the post if you're not gonna like it dingdongs, as a queer person myself i OBVIOUSLY don't endorse this fucking behavior that's basic fucking sense it's literally words on a screen. crazy seeing people with "dark content dni" in their bio go out of their way to interact with this post ~~~

“Seriously?” he’s grinning. He’s grinning so wide it hurts just to look at, “That’s hilarious.”

“What’s so funny about it?”

“I mean,” Satoru shrugs, snickering when you scowl, “I just don’t believe you. Like at all.”

“‘Don’t believe’ me?” you guffaw, “What? You think you could convince me otherwise?”

“I could.”

“Woah!” you knew Satoru was a cocky, arrogant, bordering unbearable man, but this was too far, “You’re really sure of yourself, huh?”

He shrugs, hands splaying as if to show off a mass of evidence, “If you were on my dick instead of picking chumps all the time, we’d be hearing a different tune.”

“What? That I’m straight?”

“God, not with the way you slobber all over that lout Yuki -- embarrassing by the way. But you wouldn’t consider running off with slender Aphrodite and the other residents of lesbos.”

“‘Cuz you’re just that magical, right?”

“I am.”

“Oh, you’re so full of shit,”

“What?” Satoru folds his hands confidently, leering at your rigid posture behind his blindfold, “Wanna prove me wrong?”

…

He has to admit: the way you glare up at him with your lips trying to stretch a pout with his cock stuffed between, it’s definitely stirring his gut.

Your lashes are wet and fluttering the further his cockhead pokes down your gullet. Every gag makes his throat bob with a groan, lithe fingers dance along your scalp and over your jaw until his nails hook beneath your chin. Drool pools in the divots of his fingers while his thumbs press into your cheeks to feel himself bulging your mouth.

“See?” he slowly thrusts his pelvis against your face, giggling deliriously at how your hands squeeze the firm muscle of his thighs, “You’re takin’ it so well, sweetcheeks. Like you’re made for this -- made to sit here,” he moans shamelessly, grinding your nose into his pubes, “with me deep in your neck.”

Despite yourself, you mewl at the pressure of his dick; how it feels when he slides out sopping wet just to rebury himself. Heat swells up from the thickness in your neck to your cheeks, and it only worsens when he affectionately caresses your face.

“What kind of lesbian is that? Huh? I don’t know if lesbians let men like me do things like this,” Satoru pushes you off with a palm to your forehead, and as if possessed by instinct you’re trying to tug his hips back towards your face.

Openly laughing at such debauched desperation, Satoru leans back enough to squirm his boot between your thighs as he jerks off onto your fleshy pink tongue.

“Here, baby, I won’t be all selfish,” he bites his lip raw, exhilaration burning pain in favor of pure lust when you actually roll onto his shoe, “There you go,” he teases the pads of his thumbs into your mouth and pulls sideways, letting you tongue his cock back into your throat, “You weren’t just made for this, baby,” his voice lowers, raspy and taunting, “You fucking like it, don’t you?”

Even without the prompting of his fingers plucking your lips, you’re nodding and mewling and greedily lapping Satoru’s cock.

“Knew you would,” he works you off his dick again, now wrapping his own hand around the base, “You’re gonna be my best girl, aren’t you?”

Your second, more pathetic, nod is rewarded grossly.

Pre-cum and saliva smears over your face because Satoru is Satoru and Satoru is fucking messy and nasty. He beats his sodden cock over you, sliding his slick erection along your hot cheeks and the bump of your nose and back into the open cavern of your mouth. He slaps his cock against your tongue to let you feel the weight of it again before tapping it on your cheeks more. Like he’s teasing a cat.

Because he’s a fucking moron

But you’re whining over it.

He grins, jerking off into your hot, moaning mouth as you hump his shoe. Clit catching on the ridge of his shoe’s toe, and you hate how much you’re enjoying it. How wet you can feel yourself getting, and Satoru hasn’t even touched you. Your slick leaks through the damp fabric of your panties to pool on Satoru’s shoe.

Chest sputtering with ragged breaths as the knot in your stomach winds tighter and tighter and tighter. Satoru suddenly grasps you sharply by the hair, holding your head in place as he leaks whimpers of his own. Cum spits from the flushed head of his cock. Splattering on your tongue and dribbling down your lips.

“Swallow it up, baby,” he swipes his thumb along tainted skin splotched by cum before dragging it all to your mouth, “Be a good little cock slut and swallow for me, yeah?”

And you do.

His horrible diet infects the taste, but you swallow as you soak his boot. Shoving your burning face into his wrinkled pant leg, you hope to muffle the sounds of your pathetic crooning.

Satoru’s kind enough, surprisingly, to affectionately rub over where he previously yanked your hair. He lets you come down from your orgasm before the teasing restarts.

“See?” Satoru guides you back gently, smiling softly despite his wickedness, “You’re so silly,” he pats your head again, somehow more patronizing this time, “Just needed some proper cock to worship and you humped like a good little puppy.”

[bellaxgiornata]

Stop, Just Breathe

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Matt returns home from work, he finds you on the verge of a panic attack and quickly tries to calm you back down.

Warnings/tags: panic attack, emotional hurt/comfort, light angst, fluff & a soft Matty, Matt POV

Word Count: 3k

a/n: Just a short one shot I wrote when I was craving some Matt comfort myself. I thought it might be interesting to read this all from Matt's POV, too. Feedback is always appreciated!

From the moment Matt first stepped into the apartment, closing the door after himself and hanging his cane on the hook nearby, he could already hear the tension in your body. Something was wrong. Your teeth were grinding back and forth together, a grating, gnawing noise in his ears from a frustrated gesture you probably weren't even aware that you were doing. Though to him, the aggravated noise hit him the second he'd focused on where you were in the kitchen.

Matt slipped off his dress shoes before bending down and picking them up, taking three steps to his left and then placing them underneath the bench that resided against the wall. Straightening back up, he could hear the harsh and irritated way you'd just set what he presumed was a cutting board and a knife onto the kitchen counter, the sound practically reverberating in his skull. 

His concern for you rising, Matt gradually began to make his way down the length of the entryway hall, undoing the knot of his tie around his neck as he went. With every step he took he heard the uneven beating of your heart in your chest as you opened the refrigerator and retrieved a few things from inside of a drawer. He could instantly tell that your heart wasn't beating the usual steady rhythm he was used to hearing when he’d returned home from work, but rather something erratic and worrying to his ears. 

Brows drawing together in further concern, Matt removed the glasses from his face with one hand, his other dragging along the back of the couch to orient himself as he made his way through the living room and towards the kitchen. You were currently focused on beginning dinner preparations, placing what smelled like broccoli, bell peppers, zucchini, and onion onto the counter. As he neared, you made no sign that you'd even noticed he was home yet. That only further worried Matt because it meant you were deep in your head right now–and he knew how you could get sometimes. 

"Sweetheart? Everything alright?" Matt asked, carefully breaking the silence.  

You startled at his voice, your body jumping half an inch as you were taken off guard by the sound of it. He heard the air shift as your head rose up, darting directly towards him. Your reaction only confirmed what he'd suspected, that you'd been too far in your head and hadn't even realized he was home.

"I’m fine, Matty,” you said almost mechanically.

The lie registered in Matt’s ears easily; the sound of your heart even further beating irregularly as you’d said it was impossible for him to miss. Pressing his lips firmly together, his eyes narrowed as he focused closer on your body. Your blood pressure was rising and he could taste the increase in adrenaline and cortisol radiating off of you on his tongue. 

"I just–just had a bad day at work," you quickly added.

Your voice sounded off to his ears. Higher than usual with a bit of a tremble to it, which seemed like it was coming from something more than just nerves. Though what you'd said hadn't registered as a lie this time. But you must have noticed he was observing you and you were clearly trying to shake him off and get him to stop reading you so carefully. You always did that when something was really wrong. 

"You're not fine, I can hear your body," he replied gently. "What's going on?"

You inhaled a shaky breath, holding it for only a moment before roughly expelling it through your nose. The erratic pounding of your heart hadn't calmed as he continued to monitor it; if anything it was starting to become even more concerning with the rate each stutter of it was climbing. Though the moment he picked up on the sound of one of your fingers tapping like a nervous fidget along the countertop, all the little warning signs your body was sending off suddenly became clear to Matt.

Everything your body was doing right now was exactly what it did right before you had a panic attack. 

With that realization dawning on Matt, he knew he needed to shift his focus. It didn’t matter what you were upset about right now, he'd find out what was wrong later. Right now all he wanted was to calm you down before you spiraled into a panic attack.

"I said I'm fine, Matt," you snapped. 

Ignoring the warning edge to your tone, Matt made his way into the kitchen and over towards you, aware of the way your head was tracking his movements with each of his cautious steps. When he neared you, he placed his glasses onto the counter before he reached a hand out, lightly grabbing your elbow and drawing your fidgeting hand from off of it. Slowly, he  turned you towards himself, noticing how you didn’t fight the movement. Your heart, on the other hand, was beating ever faster and your breath was quickly becoming shallower.

"Sweetheart," Matt began calmly, "it sounds like you're on the verge of a panic attack. Why don't you come sit with me on the couch? Try to calm down?"

"I need to make dinner, Matt," you replied, your words picking up speed as you continued, that panicked tremble returning to them. "I don't have time to sit on the couch. There's a lot of vegetables I need to cut up and sauté and that chicken still needs to be seasoned and cooked. If you’re planning to go out tonight I need it finished so you actually have time to eat because I know you’ll just skip dinner otherwise and you’re always skipping dinner. You need to eat . And then I need to–"

"Hey, hey, stop," Matt hushed you, both of his hands landing on your shoulders and gently squeezing them as he cut you off. "Stop, just breathe. Take a breath, sweetheart. Your heart is beating alarmingly fast. Relax."

The scent of salty tears met Matt’s nose a second later, just as he realized you were blinking rapidly. You were tearing up and about to start crying. The frown on his face deepened, the corner of his mouth twitching. He could feel the uncomfortable prickle beginning in his own eyes.

Matt absolutely hated watching you go through these episodes. The fact that his heightened senses could pick up on everything you were experiencing–every little thing that was happening in your body–only pained him further. All he could do was offer you comfort and try to help you take calming breaths, nothing more. He always felt helpless and he absolutely hated it.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, voice breaking on the words. "Sorry you–you have to deal with me like this all the time and that I'm not normal and that–"

"Stop, breathe," he repeated gently, squeezing your shoulders again. "Let's go sit down."

One hand gently grasping your elbow again, Matt slowly led you out of the kitchen and towards the living room, right over to the leather couch. He could tell you weren't calming down as you made your way there, though. He could hear your heart still racing and the way your blood was rushing through your veins. If anything your breathing was becoming sharper and your muscles were beginning to tighten. He could feel the tension through the light touch he still had on your elbow as he lowered the both of you to sit down. Though Matt tried his best to push away the chaotic sounds of your body that were screaming at him so he could focus on helping you right now.

"Take a breath with me, sweetheart," Matt urged.

He demonstrated inhaling a deep breath in, holding it and listening to the way you'd taken one shortly after him. You'd only managed a half-breath though, and the shuddering sound of it hadn't escaped Matt’s notice, nor had he missed the way your left hand had yet again begun repeatedly tapping on the cushion beside you like a nervous tick. Slowly expelling the breath he'd taken, he listened to you following after him, lightly blowing out the breath through your nose. 

"Good, that's good, sweetheart," he encouraged, his hand sliding across the space on the couch until he grasped your own fidgeting one. Entwining his fingers with yours he said, "Let’s take another deep breath, okay?"

He heard the way you nodded in response and he sent you a smile, your fingers curling tighter around his hand before you inhaled again, this time managing to fill your lungs further. The smile grew wider on Matt's face as he took another deep breath in sync with you. If he could get you to take full, calming breaths, he knew he could help you circumvent a full blown panic attack. He'd learned from past experience that when you began hyperventilating, it was too late to avoid and you would both have to ride it out until your body could calm back down. And Matt hated that just as much as you did, but at least tonight it appeared that you might manage to avoid it. And that was a win.

Matt spent a few more minutes just breathing with you on the couch before he finally heard your body gradually begin to relax beside him. A weight felt like it had slowly lifted off of his shoulders the moment your heart began consistently beating its usual steady pattern in his ears. Even your breath had returned to a normal and even sound, your muscles easing as the tension slipped from out of them.

But he could still taste the faint and fresh salt of your tears in the air and that had a frown returning to his face. 

"I'm sorry, Matt," you eventually whispered. 

Matt’s face twisted into a look of confusion. He was unsure why your voice had sounded so sad and so small and why you'd apologized to him yet again. 

"For what, sweetheart?" he asked.

"For being like this," you said quietly.

Your voice was still so soft when you’d answered, and the hint of shame in it instantly registered in his ears. Something sharp twisted in his chest, and when you continued, Matt could feel his own eyes watering again.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with me and my anxiety," you whispered, a faint tremble still in your voice. "Sorry that you have to deal with me and my panic attacks like this. I know how hard they are for you with your senses. And I–I try to hide them from you because I feel like I’m just torturing you every time. And I hate that you’re left trying to help me through them. I wish I wasn’t like this. Wish that I could be someone better than that for you. Someone without–without all these issues.”

Matt’s left hand darted forward, his thumb catching the tear he’d heard about to roll its way down your cheek. Gently the pad of his thumb wiped it away from your skin, which he noticed still felt warm and flushed beneath his finger. You sniffled, the sound louder to his ears than it really was. Trying to swallow the thick lump forming in his throat, Matt’s hand tenderly cupped your cheek, his thumb still trying to catch the stray tears slipping out of your eye. 

“Don’t–don’t you dare apologize for that. I love you for exactly who you are,” he told you earnestly. “That’s why I married you, sweetheart.” He shook his head, a small smile curling up the corners of his lips. “We’re a team, you and I. Right? You’ve always been there whenever I needed you. Always . And there’s–” he paused, chuckling a little to himself, “–there’s been plenty of times where I’ve needed you, too. For a multitude of reasons. Usually ones involving patching me up and cleaning up the mess of blood around here. And I know how much you worry over me because of it, and I always worry that it’ll push you away, but you always tell me that–”

“I’ll never walk out on you, Matty,” you finished for him. “Because I love you for exactly who you are.”

Matt smiled as he nodded enthusiastically in response. “Exactly,” he replied. “And I love you for exactly who you are, sweetheart. The nerves and all. We help each other out. That’s what we’ve always done. And I’ll always be here for you, too. So please stop trying to hide your stress and your anxiety from me, alright? The only reason why I don’t like when you have panic attacks is because I hate seeing you hurting and not being able to punch someone and fix everything.”

You laughed lightly, the sweet sound causing Matt’s heart to flutter happily in his chest. He could hear the way your mouth was pulling into a smile already. You were feeling a little better because of him. That always gave him a sense of pride knowing that he could have such a positive impact on someone who was so good and loving and attentive as you. 

"You understand me?" he asked. "That's the only reason, sweetheart."

He heard the way the air around you shifted as you nodded. 

“Good," he said with an air of finality. "How are you feeling at the moment?”

You scoffed at his question, the sarcastic noise causing a grin to slip onto his mouth. You were certainly feeling better.

“You can read my body, Matt,” you stated flatly. “I think you have your answer.”

“Well I can’t read your mind,” he countered cheekily.

You expelled a soft sigh before nodding slowly, running a hand across your forehead. “Yeah, I’m–I’m feeling better,” you answered, the faint smile apparent in your voice.

“Good,” he said. “Do you want me to give you some space or–”

“No,” you immediately answered, your heart jumping in your chest briefly as you shook your head, your hand tightening around his at the question. “No, I don’t.”

On occasion he knew you liked to have a few minutes to collect yourself after moments like these. Usually he could feel you working through what felt like embarrassment when he left you alone, most likely because of how you’d broken down in front of him even though he'd often and repeatedly assured you that there was no reason for you to feel that way. But other times you desperately craved his physical comfort, and it seemed like that's exactly what you needed right now.

“Come here then,” he whispered.

Releasing his hold on your hand, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and began to pull you in towards him. Eagerly you closed the small space between the pair of you on the couch, scooting closer to him before encircling your own arms around his waist, your hands resting lightly on the middle of his back. Matt’s eyelids lowered when you buried your face into his chest, hearing you inhale another deep breath. You were most likely trying to take in his scent, just like he was doing right now with his chin resting atop your head. Mutually finding comfort in each other, the thought growing his smile.

“I need to make dinner,” you murmured into his chest.

“Don’t worry about it. We can make that for dinner tomorrow,” Matt told you. “We can just order pizza tonight. Stay in and have the night together.”

“But I thought you were going out tonight?” you asked. 

Matt hummed out a noise of disagreement, lightly shaking his head. “No,” he replied. “Not tonight.”

“But–but isn’t Daredevil needed in Hell’s Kitchen?” you questioned next.

Matt’s arms tightened further around you, holding you even closer to him. The sound of your relaxed and steady heartbeat in his ears was comforting, and so was that warm and slightly floral scent that always seemed to linger around you as it filled his nose.

“He is,” Matt agreed. “He’s needed right here. With you.”

Your fingers fisted the fabric of his dress shirt, tightly balling it into your hands. He could feel the way your arms had tightened around him, pressing yourself closer to the front of him.

"Can I marry you again?" you asked softly, voice muffled against his chest.

Matt chuckled lightly, his heart feeling so full at your question. He heard the small smile that slipped onto your lips yet again, his own arms pulling you just a bit closer to himself. 

"I think that's what vow renewals are for," he pointed out in amusement.

"Maybe we should do one of those," you mused, fingers still firmly curled around his shirt.

"Sweetheart," Matt said with another chuckle, "we haven't even been married for a year yet. I think that's a bit too soon for a vow renewal."

You turned your head, resting your cheek against his chest now and making yourself more comfortable. Matt inhaled the scent of you once more, his eyes still closed as he relaxed against you. He loved these quiet moments with you, content just to be next to you. It always had him feeling at peace and he often hoped you felt the same.

"Well, I'd marry you all over again if I could," you told him, the words drawing forth a warmth throughout Matt’s entire body that only you could ever seem to fill him with. "Every single day."

Matt shifted above you, lowering his head until he could place his lips against the top of yours. He heard the corner of your lips curl even higher the longer his mouth lingered in your hair. Gradually he pulled away only to bury his nose into your hair next, grateful for whatever had brought you into his life all that time ago.

"So would I, sweetheart," he murmured softly. "So would I."

[notaplaceofhonour]

I was raised in the People of Destiny cult (later renamed, and more well-known as, Sovereign Grace Ministries, now Sovereign Grace Churches).

The valorization of martyrdom and The End Times was so ubiquitous it was ambient noise. We stood in the church lobby theorizing about who the antichrist would be, we argued about whether Jesus would rapture us all before, after, or during the Tribulation Period where Satan would be given free reign over the earth. There was a strong Christian Zionist fixation on Israel as the final battleground and capital of the coming Messianic Age. But the one thing we were all certain of was is that we were in the End Times, that we were not of this world and couldn’t get too attached to our lives here.

We were raised to believe our sin nature made us undeserving of life, that we deserved death and eternal conscious torture.

My parents read us the Jesus Freaks books (a series by Christian Rap group DC Talk about martyrs). I spent “devotional time” reading Fox’s Book of Martyrs. We had guest speakers from Voice of the Martyrs, their pamphlets were often stocked in our church’s information center. We grew up with our dad listening to right wing talk radio and making us listen to songs about how the Godless atheists were outlawing Christianity in America, that we could all become martyrs soon.

The group’s theology was damaging & traumatic in a lot of other ways that contributed to the suicidality I have continued to struggle with for the rest of my life. For a long time I did not believe I would live past 20. There are times when the idea of giving my death meaning by using public suicide to make a political statement has appealed to me.

So now, seeing so many social media posts glorifying the suicide of a US Airman this week, I have been furious. Reading his social media posts, I recognize so much about the way I was raised in his all-or-nothing, black-or-white mindset, the valorization of death-seeking & martyrdom, and the apocalyptic fire-and-brimstone imagery of self-immolation. The moment I saw people I followed celebrating his self-immolation, I said to myself “this feels like a cult”

So when I learned he was raised in a cult too, nothing could have made more sense to me. His political orientation may have changed, but his mindset did not—it was no less extreme or cult-like.

I’ve talked about so many of the reasons this response from the broader left scares me, including how it’s laundering that airman’s antisemitic beliefs, but I cannot think of anything that would hit me in a more personal place than this specific response to this specific situation has.

When I see the images, I think: that could have been me. That scares me, and what scares me more is that so many prominent people are overwhelmingly sending the message to people like me that there is nothing else we can do that would have a more meaningful impact than killing ourselves for the cause.

I do not believe that. I will not even entertain it. And having to see his death over and over and over again, to argue against people who are treating this like an intellectual/moral exercise or a valid debate we all have to consider has been immensely triggering and fills me with a rage I rarely feel. It’s unconscionable that we are even putting self-harm on the table, and that pushing back against that is somehow controversial.

There is hope. Our lives do have meaning. There are far more effective means of fighting injustice. And the world is a better place for having you in it. Don’t fall into believing this is a way to give life purpose.