#i just needed them to see trans women as people. full stop. and i managed that with a few short disputes and the examples of 2 teenage girl

[falled-over]

i feel physically ill whenever i have to defend my opinion

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Pride

Dear nonnie who requested that I write something for Pride month, I'm so, so sorry! Somehow this got lost in my inbox and I didn't see it until I started working on 'Bargain' this afternoon. Please accept this humble ficlet and my deepest apologies. <3

I'm kind of nervous about this one. I know coming out is a deeply personal experience and I'm not sure I wrote it terribly well. Please know that you are loved, valued, cherished, and accepted just as you are. I know for many people the struggle is so much greater than what I wrote in this ficlet. You are all amazing. <3

cw: Internalized homophobia, homophobic parents (happy ending)

------------

June 12, 1999

"Hey!" Harry said, bursting into Draco's room like it was his own.

Draco looked up from the essay he was writing, the last one he needed to finish for his eighth year at Hogwarts. "Hi," he replied and he couldn't help but admire the dimple that stood out on Harry's cheek as he smiled at him.

"Some of us are heading down to Hogsmeade for the pride celebration they're having there tonight," Harry said. "Did you want to come?"

His brow furrowed, "Pride? Like house pride?"

Harry laughed but not unkindly like it would have been prior to this year, "No, like gay pride. It's to celebrate people who are lgbtq+, to affirm their dignity and worth as human beings, you know?"

Draco felt his cheeks flushing hot, "I'm not," he managed through the way it felt like someone had closed off his airway, shaking his head, "I'm not gay!"

"Err," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck, "Right, I wasn't trying to imply anything. Just," he shrugged, "I think I'm bi, and there's GInny and Luna," he continued, stumbling over his words.

"But I'm not!" he protested

"Right," Harry repeated, brow furrowing, "We just thought..." he trailed off, "Ron, who's like as straight as they come is coming too, to show his support."

"I can't," Draco said. "I've got all this work to do, I just-"

"It's okay," Harry said, shaking his head and holding out a hand, "Totally fine, sorry to have bothered you," he added as he quickly fled the room before Draco could say anything else.

(Continue reading below the cut)

He stared after him, still feeling panicked and full of regret at the same time.

Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

And in spite of the fact that he'd told Harry he needed to finish his essay, he spent the rest of the night trying to get his heart to slow down, his breathing to come easier, and his mind to stop spinning.

The essay remained untouched.

------------

June 9, 2000

Draco was having murderous thoughts.

They had a tradition on Fridays that everyone who lived in Grimmauld sat down together for dinner and if you were dating someone, you were allowed to bring them home with you for dinner. Draco never brought anyone home because the women he dated were so unattractive to him that he just couldn't bring himself to see them for more than a date or two.

Harry, on the other hand was always bringing someone home. He had men and women there with him every week. Usually, it was a different person every week and that didn't bother Draco all that much. But he'd been seeing Conor for six weeks now and the way the other man was always clinging to Harry, always laughing and batting his eyelashes at him; it made Draco feel ready to kill him.

"So I was thinking," Harry said when there was a lull in the conversation, "The Leaky is having a Pride Night celebration tomorrow. Maybe we should all go together?" he asked hopefully.

There were murmurs of approval all around the table and Draco dropped his gaze to his plate, his palms started to itch. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

"What about you, Draco?" Conor asked, all toothy smiles as he rested his arm around Harry's shoulders.

He couldn't help but look over at Harry who was suddenly watching him in that way that made him feel like he was being held under a magnifying glass. People thought that Harry was oblivious but Draco knew they were wrong. Harry knew everything about Draco just from watching him.

Draco swallowed, "Yeah," he managed. "Yeah. I can come for a bit."

Harry smiled at him then, soft and sweet, his dimples showing, "Yeah?" he asked.

And Draco was fairly certain there was nothing he could have said no to when Harry asked like that, so he nodded.

"Great!" Conor enthused and the moment dissipated like fog in the sun. "It'll be so fun to have all of your friends there, babe."

"Err," Harry said, looking over at Conor, "Yeah. Totally." Then he turned back to look at Draco once more, "Yeah," he said again.

-----------

June 10, 2000

Draco had made a mistake.

Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

"Hey!" Harry said, appearing out of nowhere and wrapping an arm around Draco, "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," he lied.

"Come on," Harry said, "Let me introduce you to some people."

Draco spent the next hour meeting all sorts of people, he listened to people telling their stories, people who were claiming their own lives and destinies, and all he could feel was loss.

Every person he listened to felt like another stone tied around his neck, their joy and freedom made him feel even more trapped. Harry went to fetch drinks as he listened to a trans woman named Jocelyn talking about how difficult it had been to come out to her family. And it was the final straw, he lost it. Tears slipped from his eyes and before he could do anything, she was hugging him, "We've all been where you are," she whispered.

He shook his head and pulled back, "I'm not-" he covered his mouth, he couldn't quite force out the lie.

She nodded knowingly, "We've all been there, too."

"I've got to go," he managed, rising on shaking legs and making his way out of the bar as quickly as he could.

When he got outside he bent over, resting his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

"Draco!" he heard as the door opened and he wasn't ready for this.

"Don't," he said, standing up and holding out his hands to stop Harry from coming any closer.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern and Draco hated it.

"Malfoys aren't gay!" he exploded.

"What?" Harry asked as though his words hadn't been perfectly clear.

"Malfoys aren't gay," he repeated.

Harry tilted his head at him, "Alright."

"So you can stop this," he said, gesturing at the door. "I don't need help coming out. I'm not gay," he spat.

"I'm not trying to help you come out," Harry said, his voice measured and calm in a way that told Draco just how hard he was working at not getting emotional. "I just wanted to introduce you to-"

"Bull shit," he hissed. "Every person you 'introduced me to' told me about coming out."

"It's Pride, Draco. They're," he stopped and corrected himself, "We're celebrating coming out. We're celebrating not hiding who we are anymore. If you think it's about you, well," he shrugged a shoulder, "You probably have more in common with us than you want to admit."

"I'm not gay!" he shouted, shoving Harry away from him.

There was a flash of hurt across Harry's face before he put his hands on his hips and that fire that Draco so remembered from Hogwarts filled his eyes. "No one said you were!" Harry shouted back. "And if you were so afraid of having people think you are, why did you even come in the first place?"

"I guess I shouldn't have."

Harry took a step back away from him, shaking his head, "I guess not." He turned on his heel and stalked back into the bar, leaving Draco standing on the sidewalk, shaking as the adrenaline flooded through him.

-------------

June 11, 2000

It wasn't quite morning when Draco heard a soft knock at his door.

With no small amount of effort, he reached for his wand and cast a spell to open it. Harry was standing in the doorway and Draco huffed, "I've already packed," he said. "I'll leave in the morning."

"What?" Harry asked, sounding panicked, "No!" he said, stepping across the threshold of Draco's room and moving to the chair across from Draco's bed. "No," he repeated. "Draco, please don't leave. I'm sorry. Alright?" Harry said. "I shouldn't-"

"You're sorry?" Draco asked, sitting up and staring at the other boy, "No, I'm sorry," he said, quickly. "I was awful and I didn't le-"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, "It's my fault. I shouldn't-"

"I'm gay," Draco blurted and then realized what he'd just admitted. He covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes filled with tears.

"Hey," Harry whispered, climbing onto the bed next to him and pulling Draco into his arms, "It's okay."

Draco shook his head but couldn't manage any words around the sob that was choking him.

"It's okay," Harry soothed, stroking his fingers through Draco's hair and rocking him. "I've got you," he breathed. "You're safe," he said, "You're safe," he repeated. "You're loved and you're accepted," he told him, "I've got you."

Draco sobbed, all of the fear, and the guilt, and the shame was built up high in his chest and he felt like he couldn't breathe around it.

"Okay," Harry soothed, "Slow breaths with me, yeah? Just try to match your breathing to mine," he said, his hand rubbing soothingly over Draco's back.

He sucked in a deep, gasping breath that burned all the way down into his lungs.

"That's it," Harry encouraged, "You're alright."

He continued breathing slowly and Draco tried to mirror it until his sobbing was just the occasional hiccup and the tears were just trickling out of his eyes.

"Okay," Harry breathed. "Better?"

Draco nodded and pulled back, "Sorry," he murmured, then he caught sight of Harry's shirt covered in tears and snot and wished that the earth would open up and swallow him, "Salazar, I'm sorry," he said, reaching for his wand and casting a hasty drying charm followed by a cleaning charm.

"It's fine," Harry said, reaching out to still Draco's motions. "It's fine," he repeated. "Look, I didn't mean to pressure you into coming out," he said. "I won't tell anyone," he added hastily.

He shook his head, "It's eating me up inside." Draco wiped the tears off his face, "I'm going to die alone."

"Don't say that," Harry said.

"Well it's true!" he said, "What am I supposed to tell my parents?"

Harry took his hand, "It's up to you," he said softly. "I won't pretend to understand the challenges you're facing. My parents are dead."

"Oh, thanks. Play the dead parent card."

Harry huffed a laugh, "Shut up. I'm trying to say that I can't imagine how difficult this is for you. It's not an easy decision and I want you to know that I am here for you, that I support you, no matter what."

His eyes filled with tears and he let out a groan, "Stop it."

The other boy wrapped his arms around him, "No."

"What is this?" he asked, from where his face was buried in Harry's neck.

"Affection."

"Disgusting," he murmured.

"Want me to stop?"

He shook his head because when Harry wasn't hugging him everything felt a little too big and a little too close.

And he had no idea what he was going to do but when Harry was holding him it didn't seem quite so scary.

-------------

A few weeks later, he and Harry had started dating in secret. Harry was very sweet, very patient as Draco struggled against years of deeply ingrained negative thoughts. Draco still felt like he was a bit of a burden but Harry always insisted he wasn't.

Just over a month after that, Hermione had figured it out on her own, Pansy had tricked him into confessing, and Ron had walked in on the two of them making out on Harry's bed.

And the world didn't end.

Slowly, over the course of the next seven months, they told all of their friends. Everyone was supportive. Everyone was happy for them, happy for him that he'd decided to walk in the truth.

Truth be told, he was happy too. His anxiety still got the worst of him some days and his fear was sometimes bigger than anything else but he got through those days and those days slowly became fewer and fewer.

He got comfortable with Harry; comfortable holding hands, comfortable with casual kisses, comfortable with bickering that turned into flirting, just comfortable in his skin.

One chilly March morning, he and Harry were out to breakfast and they were laughing and teasing each other, like they always did and Draco was happy all the way down to his toes.

He looked across the table at Harry, "You've got whipped cream on your mouth," he laughed.

Harry stuck his tongue out and missed completely.

"Here," he said with a laugh, "Let me," he added as he grabbed the front of Harry's jumper and pulled him close so he could kiss it off his grinning face.

He was pulling back to check that he'd gotten it all when he heard a gasp that he would have recognized anywhere. Draco would never be quite sure what his face and body language were saying at that moment but Harry was instantly on alert, scanning the room for danger. "Shit," he breathed.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," his mother hissed. "What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing."

"Don't make a scene, mother," he said and even he was surprised at how calm the words came out.

"I don't think that I am the one making a scene, Draco."

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said, "Why don't we go somewhere more private for this conversation."

"Oh no," she said, "I don't think there is any conversation to be had. Draco, we'll be leaving. Right this instant."

Draco looked at her, at the woman who had dried his tears, who had sacrificed for him, who had given him life and his heart yearned for her. He longed to reach out and hold her hand like he had when he was young, to let her reassure him that everything would be alright. And it could be. He knew if he walked away with her today, he'd go back to living the life that had been planned for him.

But then he looked at Harry and all he could see was freedom. His heart expanded as he remembered the late nights talking over a bottle of wine, the early mornings as the sun filtered in through Harry's window and painted him golden. He remembered the cuddles on the couch and the evenings spent cooking dinner together. And he knew that he could never go back. He could never live a life of duty and obligation knowing that this one was possible.

"I love you," he said softly as he stared at Harry.

The other man blinked before his mouth curved up in a grin, his dimples showing, "I love you, too."

He reached for Harry's hand to ground himself as he turned to his mother, "You know that I love you," he said to her, "but I can't live a lie. I can't be the boy that you wanted."

"Draco you are being ridiculous."

"Maybe," he replied. "But I never knew what it was like to be free before these past few months with Harry and I won't give them back."

She cast a belated muffliato. "There are plenty of Purebloods who are gay, Draco," she said, keeping her voice low, "You still have your obligation to have a pureblood heir. Marry a nice girl and take a lover if you must, but you will continue your bloodline."

He laughed, it sounded a bit hysterical even to his own ears. "Do you hear yourself?" he asked. "The Malfoy line can die with me. I'm not marrying some woman just to please you."

"Draco-"

"No," he said sharply. "No. I can't do this, mother. I can't be what you want me to be. I'm done." He shook his head, "You can accept this, accept me or not. Either way I am done."

She straightened her spine and smoothed the emotions from her features and Draco knew the decision she had made before she started speaking. He clasped Harry's hand tighter in his. "Very well, then," she said. "Good day," she murmured before she walked away without a backward glance.

They sat in silence for a moment before Harry asked, "Are you alright?"

"I don't know."

"What can I do?" he murmured, squeezing Draco's hand again.

"Can we go home?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, love. Of course."

He apparated them back and they spend the afternoon cocooned in Harry's room until their friends came to find them for dinner.

---------------

June 9, 2001

This year it's Draco who asked about going to the bar to celebrate Pride.

Harry smiled and pulled him in for a long kiss before nodding and getting dressed.

When they arrived, Draco slipped his fingers through Harry's holding his hand tightly; proud of Harry, proud of how far they've come, and proud of himself for how much he's grown and how brave he's become.

Several of the people he'd met the year before remembered him and are quick to congratulate him and welcome him again. The night was full of music and dancing, of listening to stories and starting to tell his own, it's everything Harry had made it sound like.

And he thought he might be happy, in spite of that little bit of his heart that always ached for his parents.

They're about to head up for another round of drinks when Harry tugged on his hand. "Look," he murmured, pointing to the door.

Draco followed his pointing and saw that there was a woman standing in the door who looked remarkably like his mother. "What?" he managed.

But Harry was already waving to her and nudging Draco forward.

"What?" he repeated when he was standing in front of her.

Without a word she wrapped her arms around him, enfolding him in the comforting feel and scent of his childhood.

"Mummy?" he whispered.

"Yes, darling," she replied, voice equally thick with tears.

Harry cleared his throat, "I'll fetch us some drinks. What can I get you Narcissa?" he asked.

"Whiskey neat," she replied without releasing her hold on Draco.

He pulled back after one more moment, "What are you doing here?"

"Where else could I be?" she asked. "When we didn't see you for your birthday last week," she shook her head. "Well, I knew that I was making a mistake."

Harry returned handing them their drinks and nodding toward a table nearby.

They headed over and she sat next to Draco, "You're my child, Draco," she said. "And I love you more than you can imagine."

He nodded once but didn't say anything. This sounded too much like the start to one of the 'I love you and if you love me, this is how you should act' talks.

"Fortunately, your Mr. Potter has sent quite regular correspondence."

"What?" Draco said, whipping his head around to look at Harry.

He nodded once but before Draco could question him his mother continued.

"He invited me to come tonight," she continued, "To support you. And I've missed so much already, how could I say no?"

"This isn't a phase," he said. "I'm not going to change my mind or be cured one day."

She nodded, "I know."

"Does father?"

She hummed, "We're getting there." She took his hand in her's, "For now, won't you introduce me to some of your new friends?"

--------

Two years later, when he and Harry got married, both of his parents were there, sitting right in the front row and cheering them on.

---------

Thanks for the prompt! I don't quite know what you were hoping for so I hope this is okay! <3

[kcrabb88]

Queer Movies/Books/TV Shows for Pride Month!

Happy Pride everyone!! For your viewing/reading pleasure I have made a (non-exhaustive) list of queer media that I have enjoyed! 

Movies/Documentaries

Pride (2014): An old tried and true favorite, which meets at the intersection of queer and workers’ rights. A group of queer activists support the 1985 miners’ strike in Wales (complete with a sing-through of Bread and Roses + Power in a Union)

Portrait of a Lady on Fire: On an isolated island in Brittany at the end of the eighteenth century, a female painter is obliged to paint a wedding portrait of a young woman (or, two young lesbians fall in love by the sea, and you cry)

God’s Own Country: Young farmer Johnny Saxby numbs his daily frustrations with binge drinking and casual sex, until the arrival of a Romanian migrant worker for lambing season ignites an intense relationship that sets Johnny on a new path (Seriously this movie is GREAT and doesn’t get enough love, watch it! It’s rough but ends happily)

The Half of It:  When smart but cash-strapped teen Ellie Chu agrees to write a love letter for a jock, she doesn't expect to become his friend - or fall for his crush (as in she falls for his crush who is another girl. This movie was so good, and really friendship focused!) 

Saving Face:  A Chinese-American lesbian and her traditionalist mother are reluctant to go public with secret loves that clash against cultural expectations (this is an oldie and a goodie, with a happy ending!)

Moonlight:  A young African-American man grapples with his identity and sexuality while experiencing the everyday struggles of childhood, adolescence, and burgeoning adulthood (featuring gay men of color!)

Carol:  An aspiring photographer develops an intimate relationship with an older woman in 1950s New York (everyone’s seen this I think, but I couldn’t not have it here)

Milk: The story of Harvey Milk and his struggles as an American gay activist who fought for gay rights and became California's first openly gay elected official (the speech at the end of this made me cry. Warning, of course, for death, if you don’t know about Harvey Milk)

Pride (Hulu Documentary):  A six-part documentary series chronicling the fight for LGBTQ civil rights in America (they go by decade from the 50s-2000s, and there is a lot of great trans inclusion in this)

Paris is Burning (Documentary): A 1990s documentary about the African American and Latinx ballroom scene. Available on Youtube!

A New York Christmas Wedding:  As her Christmas Eve wedding draws near, Jennifer is visited by an angel and shown what could have been if she hadn't denied her true feelings for her childhood best friend (this movie is SO CUTE. It’s really only nominally a Christmas movie and easily watched anytime. Features an interracial sapphic couple!) 

TV Shows 

Love, Victor: Victor is a new student at Creekwood High School on his own journey of self-discovery, facing challenges at home, adjusting to a new city, and struggling with his sexual orientation (this is a spin-off of Love, Simon, and it’s very sweet and well done! Featuring a young gay man of color)

Sex Education:  A teenage boy with a sex therapist mother teams up with a high school classmate to set up an underground sex therapy clinic at school (this has multiple queer characters, including a featured young Black gay man and also in season 2 there is a side ace character!) 

Black Sails: I mean, do I even need to put a summary here? If you follow me you know that Black Sails is full of queer pirates, just queers everywhere.

Gentleman Jack:  A dramatization of the life of LGBTQ+ trailblazer, voracious learner and cryptic diarist Anne Lister, who returns to Halifax, West Yorkshire in 1832, determined to transform the fate of her faded ancestral home Shibden Hall (Period drama lesbians!!! A title sequence  that will make you gay just by watching!) 

Tales of the City (2019):  A middle-aged Mary Ann returns to San Francisco and reunites with the eccentric friends she left behind. "Tales of the City" focuses primarily on the people who live in a boardinghouse turned apartment complex owned by Anna Madrigal at 28 Barbary Lane, all of whom quickly become part of what Maupin coined a "logical family". It's no longer a secret that Mrs. Madrigal is transgender. Instead, she is haunted by something from her past that has long been too painful to share (this is based on a book series and it’s got lots of great inter-generational queer relationships!) 

The Haunting of Bly Manor:  After an au pair’s tragic death, Henry hires a young American nanny to care for his orphaned niece and nephew who reside at Bly Manor with the chef Owen, groundskeeper Jamie and housekeeper, Mrs. Grose (sweet, tender, wonderful lesbians. A bittersweet ending but this show is so so wonderful)

Sense8: A group of people around the world are suddenly linked mentally, and must find a way to survive being hunted by those who see them as a threat to the world's order (queers just EVERYWHERE in this show, of all kinds)

Books

Loveless by Alice Oseman:  Georgia has never been in love, never kissed anyone, never even had a crush – but as a fanfic-obsessed romantic she’s sure she’ll find her person one day. This wise, warm and witty story of identity and self-acceptance sees Alice Oseman on towering form as Georgia and her friends discover that true love isn’t limited to romance (don’t be turned off by this title, it’s tongue-in-cheek. This is a book about an aroace college girl discovering herself and centers the importance and power of platonic relationships! I have it on my TBR and have heard great things)

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters: Reese almost had it all: a loving relationship with Amy, an apartment in New York City, a job she didn't hate. She had scraped together what previous generations of trans women could only dream of: a life of mundane, bourgeois comforts. The only thing missing was a child. But then her girlfriend, Amy, detransitioned and became Ames, and everything fell apart. Now Reese is caught in a self-destructive pattern: avoiding her loneliness by sleeping with married men.Ames isn't happy either. He thought detransitioning to live as a man would make life easier, but that decision cost him his relationship with Reese—and losing her meant losing his only family. Even though their romance is over, he longs to find a way back to her. When Ames's boss and lover, Katrina, reveals that she's pregnant with his baby—and that she's not sure whether she wants to keep it—Ames wonders if this is the chance he's been waiting for. Could the three of them form some kind of unconventional family—and raise the baby together?This provocative debut is about what happens at the emotional, messy, vulnerable corners of womanhood that platitudes and good intentions can't reach. Torrey Peters brilliantly and fearlessly navigates the most dangerous taboos around gender, sex, and relationships, gifting us a thrillingly original, witty, and deeply moving novel (again, don’t be thrown off by the title, it too, is tongue-in-cheek. This book was GREAT, and written by a trans women with a queer-and especially trans--audience in mind)

A Tip for the Hangman by Allison Epstein: A gay Christopher Marlowe, at Cambridge and trying to become England’s best new playwright, finds himself wrapped up in royal espionage schemes while also falling in love (this book is by a Twitter friend of mine, and it is a wonderful historical thriller with a gay man at the center).

Creatures of Will and Temper by Molly Tanzer: a very very queer remix of The Picture of Dorian Gray (which was already quite queer), featuring amazing female characters, a gay Basil, and a much happier ending than the original. 

Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston: The gay prince of England and the bisexual, biracial first son of the president fall in love (think an AU of 2016 where a woman becomes president). Featuring a fantastic discovery of bisexuality, ruminations on grief, and just a truly astonishing book. One of my favorites!

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston:  For cynical twenty-three-year-old August, moving to New York City is supposed to prove her right: that things like magic and cinematic love stories don’t exist, and the only smart way to go through life is alone. She can’t imagine how waiting tables at a 24-hour pancake diner and moving in with too many weird roommates could possibly change that. And there’s certainly no chance of her subway commute being anything more than a daily trudge through boredom and electrical failures. But then, there’s this gorgeous girl on the train (This is Casey McQuiston’s brand new novel featuring time-travel, queer women, and I absolutely cannot WAIT to read it)

The Heiress by Molly Greely: Set in the Pride and Prejudice universe, this takes on Anne de Bourg (Lady Catherine’s daughter), and makes her queer! 

Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters:  Nan King, an oyster girl, is captivated by the music hall phenomenon Kitty Butler, a male impersonator extraordinaire treading the boards in Canterbury. Through a friend at the box office, Nan manages to visit all her shows and finally meet her heroine. Soon after, she becomes Kitty's dresser and the two head for the bright lights of Leicester Square where they begin a glittering career as music-hall stars in an all-singing and dancing double act. At the same time, behind closed doors, they admit their attraction to each other and their affair begins (Sarah Waters is the queen of historical lesbians. All of her books are good, and they’re all gay! The Paying Guests is another great one)

(On a side note re: queer books, there are MANY, these are just ones I’ve read more recently. Also there are a lot of indie/self-published writers doing great work writing queer books, so definitely support your local indie authors!) 

[lochnessies]

ok here’s a dissection of a post an anon sent me the link to and bc i have the worst time management possible and i completely forgot i had it lol so sorry anon here you go ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

I am constantly thinking about how Edelgard just doesn’t seem designed to appeal to cishet men.

i hate to be the one to break this news to you op but just because a character doesn’t show skin like charlotte fire emblem doesn’t mean she isn’t designed to pander to men. she’s very much designed to pander to the (majority straight male) player base with her ‘uwu i only trust you professor omg did u see that rat? pls don’t look at my painting of you uwu’.

then there’s the whole edelgard c support in japanese where byleth makes reference to having come to her room for ‘yobi’ which is

there’s also the scene where byleth can make an unsolicited comment about edelgard’s breast size. which is… uhh… gross.

edelgard also has cipher cards that go from slightly fanserviceie to full on suggestive

and also her breast armor that my sister relentlessly mocked lol

and here’s a chart from the 3h subreddit about gender/sexually in regards to edelgard and edeleth. it’s extremely straight male. op might have just overlooked this since they probably don’t go on reddit and stay on tumblr (which unlike reddit is mostly female and has a high lgbt demographic).

Like the joke is that Bleagles is the Gay House, but everything about her feels deliberately non-hetero.

i don’t like where this is going…

She’s dressed in sharp outfits covering her upper body, with proportions that don’t seem exaggerated.

so women who cover up must be lgbt because straight women are naturally more revealing? oh y i k e s

Her poise and the way she effortlessly flourishes her axe exhibits an air of coolness. While titties out =/= character of no substance, Edelgard being dressed more modestly suggests that she wasn’t designed with male-centred fanservice in mind.

“titties don’t equal no substance but here’s my post on how she has more substance because she doesn’t show titties” ok

And she still looks absolutely stunning in her more modest attire (like seriously, I haven’t felt the need to return to cosplay in years but I want to do her academy look so bad). 

yes she does. amazing design 10/10. i have a feeling this is the only part i’m going to agree with

Edelgard is intense. She does not mince her words and she is constantly evaluating you. Though she tries, she has a difficult time understanding her peers initially. Early on, she talks about how she would sacrifice herself and others in the name of some greater good. She is terrible at communicating with her peers. She has to be seen as infallible. Her heart has been hardened for years and she assumes she has to stay that way. She also assumes everyone mourns the same way she does - which is why she (kind of insensitively) insists you move on when Jeralt dies. Because to her, grief has to be channeled towards action, or else you’ll get lost in it. This attitude is demonstrated time and time again as she presses on. It can make her come off as cold and unfeeling - but look closer, and she’s anything but.

don’t really have anything to say at this part. it is pretty on the nose though i would slightly disagree with that last sentence a bit. i wouldn’t say she’s as i feeling as hubert is but all of her talks of the war boil down to how she feels and never her victims.

Her story is ultimately about her realizing that to achieve her goals, she needs to let people in and allow herself to want things like cakes and tea parties and lazy days in peace. 

????? what ????? her goals include imperialism, ethnic and religious targeting. her story is about having a set of beliefs and mowing down anybody who stands in her way. that has nothing to do with tea, friends, and lazy days. also am i supposed to be sad that she has to get up everyday and work? i do that and i didn’t start a war and only throw a pity party for myself

The game leaves the player guessing as to how involved the Flame Emperor was in each Part I event, makes you feel hurt by her betrayal, and leaves you with a choice: do you follow the orders of the woman who tried to make you a god without your consent, or a young girl with questionable morals about to throw the world into upheaval?

this isn’t an ideal situation but i think i’m going to stick with the woman who tried to make me a god since i’m not selfish and i know it’s not only my desires and life at stake here. plus the green hair slaps ngl

Choosing her of your own volition (not for completionist reasons) requires the basic ability to sympathize with a woman’s pain. It also requires the player to read beyond her unwavering will and dubious methods to get a sense of how deep that pain goes and how the theme of humanity relates to her differently in each route.

i’m not going to touch this since @nilsh13 made a post on it that i’ll link here. i agree with everything he said so to repeat it would be redundant.

The player must be able to see a young woman’s desperate resolve to change the world so it stops exploiting people and ruining lives. They must be able to accept the fact that women can make the same morally wrong and ambivalent decisions that complicated male characters get to make all the time and still be the one to root for.

literally the same reason i love rhea lol her goddess experiments are dubious at best but her reasons are the same you mentioned. i would say that i like this quality in edelgard too if her ending, while bloody, actually ended in a good outcome for fodlan.

This is not unique to LGBT+ people, but this population is likely to understand why Edelgard feels so strongly about why she has to change the system. 

i understand wanting to change a system, i really do. like edelgard, i’m an opinionated bisexual woman (who’s also physically disabled) so yeah i get it. and change can be good but it can also be terrible. even if the church was the boogeyman edelgard treats it as she still replaces it with her own shit regime. so it’s the same circus just with a new conductor.

I don’t think “Edelgard gets undue criticism because she’s a woman” captures the full picture. An important aspect of her treatment by certain parts of the fandom is that she’s a radical woman.

or maybe she does some pretty fucked up shit and it goes unacknowledged in her own route. and yeah she’s radical but in all the worst ways.

Her hatred of the Church and the Crest system resonates way harder with people who have been hurt by institutions that are deeply engrained in our society. 

and what about people who have been hurt by systems where their ‘merit’ didn’t measure up and they were left behind? what about people from nations that experienced imperialism?

Siding with her means siding against the Church - which, while different from real world religious institutions, still invokes language about “sin” and “punishment.

yeah the ‘sins’ and ‘punishments’ are used in relation to attempted murders which i think everybody can agree is a bad thing that needs to be condemned.

Choosing Edelgard will likely hit different if homophobic and transphobic Christians used that rhetoric against you.

it has literally nothing to do with ‘sins’ and ‘punishments’ in regards to being gay or trans. that’s you projecting. especially since the church has 2 canon gay characters and two coded ones.

like i can understand why having a church condemn you can be uncomfortable but i’m begging you to please look at the context of what’s happening.

I’m willing to go out on a limb and say that the reason F/F Edeleth is the more popular iteration of that ship because most people who would choose to S-support Edelgard are LGBT+ themselves. This is not a revelation. To anyone in the community, it’s fairly obvious. 

i was talking to nilish and he said

so yeah… while there is definitely sapphic femleth shippers out there, there’s still a whole lot of weird fetishizing going on from straight men about edelgard.

Crimson Flower was my first route. I went into the game knowing absolutely nothing. I played it during the last week of 2020 and hoo boy was it cathartic. 

i can tell. this wasn’t supposed to be a dig but it came out that way and i’m not taking it out.

I felt like I was living out a gay revolution power fantasy, where I could truly change systems of oppression while fighting alongside a group of troubled students I’d shaped the lives of.

so a gay revolution power fantasy (cringe) goes hand in hand with imperialism and installing a dictatorship? also the war had nothing to do with sexuality.

Through your unwavering support, Edelgard learns that she needs to be human, that she must listen to her friends, and that she’s allowed to enjoy the world she’s creating.

edelgard gets to learn how to be human all while hunting those who don’t. and she doesn’t listen fo her friends. she doesn’t even trust them. she’s willing to talk to byleth but keep the people who’s been by her side for five years in the dark about everything. and yeah she gets to enjoy her new words since she’s on top. hate to be a commoner under her rule after she burned down my village in her war.

I love this character so much.

clearly. and i honestly don’t care if somebody likes her. i do as well even if my sometimes scathing words can make it seem otherwise.

It has been six months since I first played and I am still analyzing her,

me too. please help me escape i’m losing my mind

because there’s so much depth. Yet so many people fail to see that depth and dismiss her as evil,

i mean, she does some fucked up shit that goes beyond any of the less than desirable actions of the other main characters and does an extremely poor job in trying to make herself seem innocent. i personally don’t think she’s pure evil but i completely understand where the people who say she is are coming from.

because they never had the will to understand complicated women in the first place. 

that’s big talk from somebody who implies that a gay pope is comparable to homophobic and transphobic irl religions and that leads an oppressive regime all because she uses the vague terms of sin and punishments that you have to gay power fantasy your way out of

[adhdeancas]

for trans man!dean, him mcfuckin dipping to totally transition how he wants then posting up at a family reunion as his badass self with Sam proud of him? also cas comes as his plus one/emotional support/husband idk

mcfuckin love how you worded this. here you go, more trans dean for everyone. minor trigger warnings for a little bit of dysphoria and a little bit of transphobia

Dean didn’t tell anyone when he went away. He just left. Wasn’t anybody’s business, and it’s not like anybody cared enough to keep up with him. 

Sam was too busy with school and work, Dad was too busy being a drunk asshole, and, well, there weren’t many other people who gave a shit in Dean’s life. 

The only person he told was Bobby, and that’s because Bobby would’ve hunted his ass down just to kick it if he just stopped showing up at the garage. 

Sam texted every few months, sure, but Dean always got by with vague answers. He didn’t tell Sam that he was having top surgery, or going on hormones, or shacking up with a hot former-priest in Canada. Nah, not important. After all, he’d told Sam he was a dude years ago. So he shouldn’t be too surprised. Right? 

Except then he has to go to this stupid Winchester Family Reunion.

“Dean, it’s going to be okay. They love you,” Cas placated him for the thousandth time. He came over and fixed Dean’s tie, which Dean resolutely batted away. He was the one used to fixing Cas’s tie. He glared at his boyfriend. 

“You don’t know them.” He said quickly. He stomped over and flopped down face first on the gross motel comforter they’d rented out halfway to Bobby’s. (Dean wanted to just power through, but Cas insisted on making a road trip out of it. He hadn’t been on many.) He let out a muffled moan out of frustration.

Cas rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s why we’re starting with Bobby. Baby steps, right?”

Dean sat back up and cringed at his boyfriend. “Yeah, baby steps for me and giant leaps for Bobby.” Cas smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked like a freaking doctor visiting a patient, and it was so cute Dean wanted to end the conversation and pin him to the mattress instead. 

“Bobby knows you’re trans, right?” he asked patiently

“Yeah.”

“Then it shouldn’t be that big of a surprise to him that you look a little different. I mean, it’s been two years.” Dean grinned at him. Cas had a way of making everything seem so manageable. 

“Sure, just a little bit different. Two boobs lighter and a beard heavier.” He gave Cas a shit eating grin and looped a leg over him, sitting back on his heels. 

Cas pursed his lips, running a hand over Dean’s stubble. “I don’t know, would we call this a beard?”

Dean growled at him and leaned in for a kiss. “Hey, asshole, aren’t there better things you could do with your mouth than talk?” Cas laughed and kissed him back. 

“You make a good point.”

They left the motel room a little dirtier than they found it.

---------------------------------------------

Dean spent a full minute pacing back and forth behind an old clunker before he ran up to the front door and knocked. Cas eased up from where he’d been leaning against the Impala and joined his boyfriend where he was now awkwardly drumming against his thigh. “Do I look okay? Do I look-uh-” he faltered, not sure how he wanted to look. Did he want to look like a guy? Or enough like a chick to look like his old self, so Bobby would let him in? 

“You look great.” Cas reached for his hand but Dean stole it away so he could turn around when he heard the door opening. 

“...hello?” Bobby asked gruffly. Dean grinned and put his hands on his hips, then down at his sides when he realized he didn’t want to emphasize how wide his hips were. 

“Hi, uh, Bobby. It’s… it’s Dean?”

Bobby did a double-take, and then Dean shifted uncomfortably. He knew he was looking for what Dean used to look like in how he looked now. He cleared his throat. Bobby blinked at him. “Well, shit, Dean. You- uh- you been working out, kid?”

Bobby pulled Dean into a bone-crushing hug, laughing. Dean pulled away with just a grin just as big. “Lil’ bit.” He said, blushing. “Oh, uh,” he stepped back and grabbed Cas’s hand, pulling him forward. “This is Cas. He’s- he’s my boyfriend.” Dean was absurdly more nervous to admit he liked guys (again) than he was for Bobby to see him post-op. Would Bobby still believe he was a guy if he was queer too? 

“Shit, a boyfriend? What, you got a mortgage too, you hiding a kid under that jacket?” Bobby huffed and stalked into his house. Cas seemed a little taken aback by his gruffness, but Dean just grinned and squeezed his hand. This was a good sign. They followed him into the kitchen, where Bobby was making coffee and muttering, “What, go away for a couple years and come back a man?” 

Dean beamed. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean took a deep breath, and Cas squeezed his hand. He pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “You’ve got this, babe.” Dean nodded shakily. He could do this. 

Surprisingly, he could do this. From the second he walked in the door, Dean took no shit. Most people didn’t give him more than a glance; they didn’t recognize either of the new men. Dean looked for Sam’s messy mop of hair and made a beeline as soon as he recognized it. Easy, when Sam towered over practically everyone. 

“Sammy!” Dean poked his brother in the back. “How the hell are you?”

Sam turned around, his furrowed brows loosening into a look of pure surprise when he recognized his brother. Which of course he did. “Dean!” He hugged Dean, pulling away so he could look at him. “Holy shit, you- you got top surgery?”

Dean grinned. “You know what top surgery is?”

Sam looked offended. “I research.” Dean laughed and lifted up his shirt quickly to show his scars. 

“Pretty cool, right?” Cas laughed at that and Sam turned his attention to the dark haired man standing behind his brother. “Oh yeah, I brought moral support.” He dragged Cas forward with a hand on the small of his back, and Cas thrust out his hand. “He’s a grad student too. I’m sure you nerds have a ton to gab about.” 

Sam rolled his eyes and shook Cas’s hand. “Hey, man, nice to meet you. What’re you studying?”

Dean zoned out almost immediately, keeping a hand on Cas out of comfort. All around the room, his family didn’t recognize him. Usually he’d have people coming up to him, Aunts screeching “Deanna!” and talking about his weight or his outfit or his hair, he’d have uncles throwing him over their shoulders and talking about last time they’d seen him when he was a little girl. Now? Nothing. Clean slate. It felt like freedom. He was him, in front of his family. For once. Then Dad walked up to him. 

“Sammy, who you got there? Thought you weren’t bringing a plus one.” John asked gruffly, suspiciously. Sam rolled his eyes. 

“It’s Sam. And I told you, Jess couldn’t come, she’s got too much on her plate right now.” He reminded his dad quickly that he was dating a woman right now, fuck you very much. 

“Yeah, sorry Dad, that’s my date.” Dean grinned and looped an arm low on Cas’s waist. He felt Cas look at him and he swore he heard him sniff. Motherfucker was checking for alcohol on his breath. He laughed and turned to give him a quick kiss, which surprised him even more. Confidence was a helluva thing. 

John was frozen in place. One of his eyes was twitching like he was overloaded with information. Which, Dean guessed, he was. 

“Dad, Cas, Cas, John,” Dean said, still grinning. Sam let out a snort from his other side. Cas extended his hand coolly. John stared at him as he returned the favor, turning Cas’s knuckles white with the force of his grip. “Oh and I’m Dean, by the way, in case you didn’t get the email.”

Dean extended his hand for his own handshake, and John took it equally slowly. “So you’re just going to show up like this, no warning or-”

“Yup.” Dean said happily. “Now I was promised burgers. Where are the fucking burgers?”

“What have you done to yourself?”

“Upgraded.” Dean shrugged and fixed his jacket. 

“And you’re…” He looked at Cas.

“Into men.” Dean nodded. “And women. No offense, Cas, but women are just prettier.” Cas nodded sagely, and Dean offered Sam a fist to fistbump. Sam did it with a smirk. “Guess you got two queer sons, daddio.”

John made no move. “Burgers?”

“Over there.” Sam answered this time, pointing. Dean looked. 

“Oh over by Grandpa Henry? Sweet. Thanks, Sammy. Wanna join?” He looped an arm around Sam’s shoulders before he could answer and dragged his two best guys toward the food. 

“Dean, hey, I’m- I’m really proud of you.” Sam stopped him and put a hand on his chest, and Dean felt a warm feeling both due to his words and the fact that Sam could pat him on the chest now without it being weird. “I know you’ve had a rough time- I mean, with everybody, with caring what they think- I’m just really proud of you.” 

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. “Thanks, Sammy. That’s all I need.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

[queenboudicaa]

From Graham Linehan from The Glinner Update grahamlinehan@substack.com

Played The Fool

Sue Donym

Sep 16

I remember my college days studying journalism, which don't seem so long ago, but actually are now, and as a young eighteen year old, a friend gives me something she says explains gender. It is Judith Butler's Gender Trouble. I have heard of this book. People treat it like The Bible. I eagerly open the book and attempt to read it.

I cannot make heads or tails of it. I conclude I simply am not smart enough or well-read enough to understand the religious revelation. I make it to page sixty before giving up, the constant mentions of ‘Althusserian’ and ‘structuralist’ and ‘reifying’ finally defeating me. I don’t feel like any of the book has actually managed to lodge itself in my head.

I give the book back to my friend, and then I pretend to everyone around me that I have read the book. No one figures me out.

When I get older, I realize they all did the same thing.

In my senior year, I win election to student government. I am to represent ‘LGBT’ people. I am proud. I am unaware I am now standing on a cliff, the ground beneath me slowly breaking. I bury my head in the sand as my position becomes increasingly precarious.

I meet with faculty during the first semester. I read through a policy. Suddenly ‘LGBT’ has morphed. It’s ‘LGBTQI+’. I don’t know what the Q and I stand for, let alone that seemingly erroneous plus sign. I am supposed to be the expert, and all these middle-aged people are looking at me to explain the youth speak which is even bedeviling I, the putative youth. I muddle through, using this surprise new acronym, and then I Google it surreptitiously in the meeting. It means ‘Queer’ and ‘Intersex’, and the plus sign appears to be decorative in nature. I wonder what the Q covers that ‘LGBT’ doesn’t, let alone the God-damned plus sign, and I wonder why ‘intersex’ needs to be included at all.

They talk enthusiastically about how everyone has a gender. There are women with penises, men with vaginas. Gender is understood to be how you feel inside. I contort my mind around this way of thinking as best I can. A man is someone who behaves like a man, and a woman is someone who behaves like a woman. That is the working definition you have, even though you paper over it with phrases like ‘identifies as.’

I don’t think about. You can’t. You are told this is how it is, how it has always been, to think otherwise is actually you replicating the kyriarchy, over and over and over again, and you nod and accept it, because you are given this set of facts and told to nod. Pseudoscience justifies it. People talk about ‘brain scans’ and ‘the wrong bodymap’, and ‘indigenous genders’. It’s all conjectural bullshit, but everyone goes along with it.

When I can’t perform the cognitive contortions, I simply don’t acknowledge contradicting evidence. To do so would be to jump off a cliff into an abyss. It is a reflexive thing, unconscious, and its origins lie in the instinct for self-preservation.

Everyone goes along with it. I am a coward, so I accept it and move on. I am twenty two years old, and I don’t know any better, and I want to trust the organizations that say they hold my best interests at heart.

Part of my role on student government was providing student-based pastoral care in my college’s LGBT center. By the time I get there, it’s morphed into the LGBTQI+ Center. I consider myself even-keeled and well-adjusted, perfect to help ‘my people’.

Many of the people that come see me have fairly normal problems. I speak to lecturers about not being homophobic, meet with faculty about LGBTQI issues, and sit through interminably boring student government meetings full of bloviating Young Democrats self-assured about their future self-importance. Increasingly, more people come to speak to me about trans issues. Walking through the center one day, someone assumes I am a ‘pre-hormones trans man’. When I correct them, and say I am a butch lesbian, they suddenly become hostile. I don’t know why, but I feel offended to my very bones about being assumed to be a man.

More and more of my fellow butches suddenly start declaring themselves to ‘truly be men.’ I don’t think about this. You’re not supposed to think about it, or question them, just accept and affirm and acknowledge and adulate their new found authenticity. I get a new package of fliers from an LGBT charity, open them up, and suddenly find that I, simply defined as ‘butch’ (forget the lesbian!) am now supposedly ‘trans’ and under the ‘trans umbrella.’ I call this ridiculous, and loudly.

Someone pulls me aside to ask why I’m being so transphobic.

I meet with a charity group. They have this young woman on staff who declares herself ‘non-binary’ and uses ‘they/them’ pronouns. She does not strike me as gay, and her entire purview of ‘LGBT’ seems to forget the first three letters. She assumes that I am a trans man. When I tell her I am a lesbian, she asks ‘are you sure? Maybe you’ll change your mind’. She then starts talking to me about her boyfriend.

I wonder why this straight girl with dyed hair is telling me what to do on gay issues. What gives her the right?

At the end of the meeting, someone I know from the charity group tells me that ‘Aiden’ is upset I forgot her pronouns. I hadn’t realized. I tell him that this dyed hair fag hag told me I’ll change my mind about being a lesbian. He says that doesn’t excuse messing up Aiden’s pronouns.

The next time I meet Aiden, she keeps calling me ‘he’. She gets upset when I get angry with her.

My student body president sends me a please explain email the next day about upsetting Aiden.

One day in the center, in walks a man in a dress. That’s what I thought in my unfiltered thoughts, before the cognitive dissonance kicks in. But the Aiden experience has taught me a lesson to not speak up. The man uses ~the magical pronouns~, ‘she/her’ and this means he is a woman. He dresses like a prostitute downtown and declares he’s a lesbian.

He says he is a trans woman. But Chloe is different from all the trans women I had met before. They would call themselves ‘gay men gone too far’, tell you hilarious stories, wingman for me at the bar, argue about ‘when Madonna went bad’, arguments that turned into handbag duels at dawn. Many of them were older, and many of them had stories about surviving in a homophobic world, surviving AIDS, dangerous johns, and the joy they felt now, that gay rights had gone somewhere. This man was very different to them.

My hair stands up on the back of my neck every time I deal with ‘Chloe’. It requires conscious effort to make sure I don’t mess up his pronouns, because my brain says that’s ‘a fucking man’, but my cognitive dissonance around the situation and my sense of self-preservation knows that if I don’t call this man a woman I will be in for it. I have seen the results - ‘Chloe’, all six feet of ‘Chloe’, screaming at a fellow trans woman, Clara, half his size, for saying ‘you’re a man honey’. Chloe himself came to me demanding I ban her from the space. I refused.

Clara stops coming into the center. I ask her why, and she says ‘those flipping transvestites, they’re not us.’ Clara never comes back to the center.

None of this thinking about Chloe’s pronouns is conscious. I feel guilty every time my thoughts use the ‘wrong pronouns’. My head is tied up in knots - not something freshman me would have considered, turning up to the center with the goal of getting laid, now trying to smile and put up with this man.

He makes every conversation in there uncomfortable. We relax when he is gone and only homosexuals are in the room.

Suddenly, my straight friends start asking if I’d ‘sleep with a trans woman’. I try laughing this off. One friend gets very insistent, and when I tell him that I wouldn’t consider someone with a dick, he starts wondering if my preferences are ‘rooted in bigotry’. I ask him if he’d sleep with a trans woman. He tells me that no, he’d prefer a woman who can have his children.

I smile and nod, and when the conversation ends, walk out of the room as fast as I can.

Chloe tells us at length about their sexual proclivities. Bondage and leather and ‘being a dom’. Chloe tells us about his lack of luck on lesbian dating apps. I keep to myself that I had ended up setting a height filter to filter out ‘the trannies.’ Nor do I tell him that me and a group of women had made fun of men like him on lesbian dating apps, swapping screenshots and Silence Of The Lambs jokes.

Soon there are more Chloes and fewer women. They all start talking about radical communism, about ‘sex work is work’, ‘cultural appropriation’, and about ‘TERFs’ and how hideous they are. One of them expounds to me at length why I shouldn’t read any feminist works from the seventies, because they hated trans women, and I wouldn’t want to hate trans women, wouldn’t I?

They all behave the same way. I keep getting reports about the Chloes harassing people in the center, particularly young lesbian women. Then there is an influx of ‘Aidens’, straight women declaring themselves to really be gay men. One of them tells me I am ‘appropriating the culture of trans men.’

One day I am in the center, and I look out the glass window of my office. There are a dozen people sitting in the common room of the center, talking animatedly. I realize none of them are lesbian or gay in the actual sense of the word. I feel uncomfortable, but I cannot articulate why I feel such discomfort.

One of the Chloes knocks on my door. This one wears a pink tube top and a pencil skirt. I am strongly reminded of Buffalo Bill. He asks me out for coffee. I decline. He asks why, as I am single. I say that I am busy that day. He tries asking for another day. I say I am playing club football that day. He keeps trying to cajole me. Eventually I dispense with the politeness and tell him I am not interested in him. He shouts at me that I am transphobic and leaves.

A few hours later, my phone blows up. His friends are calling me transphobic for not being interested in him. It’s just one date, they say. One little coffee. You might like it. You don’t know. Your last girlfriend dressed the same. You need to unlearn your genital preferences.

I think to myself my last girlfriend was a foot shorter and had a vagina, but I don’t say anything. I ignore the messages. He is allowed boundaries. I am not.

I am sitting in a class. It’s on sexual histories, a class I took to broaden my horizons from my journalism degree. I try not to think of the student loan I’ll be incurring from taking it.

Strangely enough, it is perhaps the first blow to the self-imposed contortions of my thoughts. The professor starts his lecture by pronouncing that sexual orientation is, in fact, a social construct. He explains that the word ‘homosexuality’ did not exist until the 19th century, and thus, homosexuals are a creation of repressive Victorian sexuality. I find this theory strange. I had grown up in the ‘born this way’ era, to be sure, but my homosexuality seemed biological, instinctual, basal to my very way of being. A powerful attraction to women came to me as naturally as breathing, or seeing, or farting inappropriately on the second date. Yet here was this man telling me, that in fact, my perceptions were merely constructs based on my surroundings.

It seemed strange to me. Someone from the class, notorious for asking questions, puts his hands up and asks about the Romans - you see, he is a student of the classics, and he remarks that the Romans knew of homosexuals. The professor gravely informs in that in fact the Romans were aware of a ‘behavior’, and that as ‘homosexual’ as a word did not exist at the time, there were no homosexuals. Only behaviors, that we codify and understand on a cultural basis.

This made less sense to me than before. It made even less sense to me when someone else asks about trans people. The professor remarks that ‘trans people have always existed’.

Yet homosexuals were invented by the first sexologists, rather than through self-definition? We had to have heterosexuals invent us, as other, first?

I am sitting with some gay friends, and one of them complains about the focus on trans issues when we still don’t have same-sex marriage federally yet. We talk about our disappearing spaces, and I voice that sometimes I am the only lesbian out of thirty people sitting in the LGBTQI+ student center (it had been renamed). I think of it in terms of getting laid - because suddenly all the ‘lesbians’ in the center had penises. It happened so quickly that it was easy to notice. I went to a lesbian group, and it was a sausage fest I made up an excuse to leave. The Chloes moved in, and the lesbians instantly left. I feel constantly uncomfortable, watched, stared at, envied. The Chloes all talk about their genitalia and violent pornography at length, in public, and it makes me feel gross and dirty, and I start to dislike most of them.

I post on my Tinder that I’m not into penis. I log in the next day to find out my account has been banned. Tinder never gives me a straight answer as to why I was banned.

I finish out my term on student government. I don’t run again. I’m a senior. I finish my degree and hurry off to the real world. One of the Chloes takes my place as ‘LGBTQI+ students representative’.

It is the one who tried getting me to go out on a date with him. He makes me feel uncomfortable throughout the whole handover.

I am upset, because he will destroy everything I worked for.

I go to the gay bar with some friends. But when we go, we feel like the only homosexuals in the whole god-damn bar. It’s full of people with dyed hair. A man in a dress tries grinding on me, and when I turn around and tell him no, he calls me ‘transphobic towards trans femmes’. When I declare I am a butch lesbian, people ask if I am a ‘TERF’. I don’t know what a ‘TERF’ is, other than ‘terfs’ are bad. I have been told terfs are bad, so it has to be true right? I don’t want to be a bad person.

I try going to other gay events, and suddenly I am outnumbered. Me, a few older lesbians, and some gay men huddle in a corner of spaces we once proudly called our own, as the Chloes and the Aidens declare it their own - and even worse, that they are just the same as us. It is unnerving, and they no longer feel like safe spaces for me. Gradually, we all stop going. There were no more gay people in the gay space.

I have a lesbian friend. She tells me excitedly about a first date. She meets them in a quirky coffee shop. It is a trans woman twice her size. When she tells the trans woman that she’s not interested, they lose it at her in the coffee shop, calling her a transphobic bigot and screaming and shouting and threatening to hit her.

She tells me, because she knows I don’t tell people things. But she cannot say anything in public. She’ll be transphobic. So she keeps it to herself, and this man gets to continue preying on women who think they’re safe, catfishing, coercing and abusing them.

To say otherwise gets you labelled a terf. And terfs are bad. Why are terfs bad? Don’t ask. Just accept that terfs are bad. Terfs hurt trans women, and you wouldn’t want to do that, would you?

Eventually, my friend hears of her date doing it to someone else. She writes a call out post, saying that you shouldn’t hide important facts about yourself on dating sites. She gets called a terf for saying that ‘lesbians don’t have dicks’, and being verbally abused in public was the rational response of an oppressed person to oppression. It’s a scarlet letter, and she is branded with it. I am a coward and I do not speak up in public. I hate myself. I am thinking of my personal prospects, and not my friend, and not my people. Because if I speak up, I can kiss the career I dream about goodbye. I fear that scarlet letter being branded on my forehead.

I tell my friend in private that I support her. But I daren’t say that in public.

I daren’t ask questions.

One day, I am aimlessly browsing the internet at work. I have written enough copy to cover my ass for the next few weeks. I wait until my boss leaves for the afternoon, and wait out the rest of the day mindlessly scrolling. I see a post in an LGBTQI+ students group on Facebook I’ve forgotten to leave. It’s a troll post, which is apparently ‘terf rhetoric’. The link is still there, and the comments are blowing up, united in performative outrage.

I click the link . I find myself laughing at the description of ‘men in dresses’. To these ‘terfs’, a man has a penis, and a woman has a vagina. Anyone saying otherwise is a damned fool. It seems such an easy way to think about it. I mean, what is a woman, anyway? It doesn’t seem evil, wicked or bad. It seems… sensible.

Finding out more about this new way of thinking becomes addicting. I keep my scrolling through it on my phone. I have always had a fondness for reading people being harshly critical about anything, and now I have an endless source of it, articulating things I knew instinctually but could never find the words to verbalize, could never find the courage to verbalize. I wonder if I am being radicalized - images of ISIS radicalizing fighters over the internet run through my head. But everything seems to make so much sense. I am no longer contorting my thoughts around the desires of others, but thinking freely, observationally, openly, fearlessly.

It felt like my mind had freed itself from chains, chains placed upon it all those years ago, when that naïve eighteen year old who wanted to get laid tried reading Gender Trouble.

The gunk on my mind slowly unclogged. My way of thinking suddenly changed. I was no longer denying what my eyes saw in front of me. No, now I saw things as they were. There was no more contorting my way of thought. For the first time in a long time, I felt clear-headed.

One of the links I clicked in my flurry was a link to Dr. Ray Blanchard’s paper on ‘autogynephilia’. I read it, and finally, I had an explanation. Homosexual transsexuals. And ‘autogynephiles.’ The two types of his famous and controversial typology.

‘Autogynephiles’ - men who had a sexual fetish for ‘being a woman’, a fetish for an alter-ego female self, a fetish for our bodies, our minds, our souls, our experiences. All reduced to jerk-off fodder for some blockhead man.

It explained why they were so desperate for lesbians to date them. They needed us for validating their sexual fetish. Our lives and experiences, our spaces, our dating apps, our culture, our media, our websites, every breath we took, as far as they were concerned, needed to be focused on validating them. Because otherwise, the fantasy was ruined! This straight man would not be able to jerk off over ‘being a lesbian!’. We were not people, we were non-player-characters in their video game. Actresses in pornography, extras in a film where they were the protagonist, and we were off script. We weren’t fully-formed people, with our own desires, we were things, objects, film props.

The entire gay movement, from the lesbians to the gays, to the homosexual transsexuals, reduced to nothing props in some straight man’s sexual fantasy. That’s all we were to them, ultimately.

And I was expected to go along with it?! We were all expected to go along with it?

Not only that, I had gone along with it. I had advocated for this.

What had I done?

Every moment you come close, every moment you start thinking something isn’t right, you start feeling a little foolish.

Of course this is fine. Everyone is telling me so. The media, the public, the people around you. No one voices concerns. When you have them, you don’t say anything, because no one else is, and because you are a coward.

You feel a little foolish because this is foolish. Saying some women have penises is foolish. You know it is foolish, from the minute that idiot phrase leaves your mouth, to the minute it dances across your tongue, to the minute your nerves send the signal to your larynx to make the required movements to produce the very sounds. But, you think, you are no fool.

You are no fool, you think, when someone says ‘biological women have XY chromosomes’, or that it’s okay for a man on the college track team to identify as a woman and take a place on the woman’s track team. You know that’s not right. But everyone else is going along with it, and you are no fool, and you shouldn’t feel foolish, because everyone says this is the right thing to do, the right side of history, doing right by an oppressed minority, so you go along with it.

You are frightened of realizing you are a fool. So too, is everyone around you. No one likes being played the fool, no one likes realizing they were sold a pack of lives as a naïve eighteen year old looking for other gay people. And no one plays you for a fool. And thus the dance continues, everyone one too frightened to admit that, perhaps, we are all fools, believing in something physically impossible, no different to the bible-banging megachurch attendee, with our owns chants, our own magic words, ritual knowledge, and ability to be born again. We are smart. We liberal. We are on the right side of history. We couldn’t be believing in something that isn’t scientifically backed. We’re smarter than that. We’re not fools.

And when it finally gets too much, and you drift over to the cliff’s edge, the cliff that you can see the bottom of, the cliff you know you can’t come back from, you pull away. Because to go over it would to be to admit that you’ve been played the fool. No one likes that feeling, the shame, the embarrassment, the horror, the fear. What lies over that cliff is exile, a scarlet letter, fear and hatred and nasty women who just want trans women dead.

What lies beyond that cliff is a realization that you have been used. You have been used by something greater than yourself, to push medication on children. You have been used by straight men to participate in their sexual fetish without your consent. Your entire community, rendered a jerk-off prop for some straight man over night, and you were told that objecting was ‘transphobic’. You have been used to spread homophobia beyond your comprehension, to take part in the destruction of your own community, and you were told this was right and good.

To realize this, to acknowledge it, to move on and try and forge something better, that takes true strength of character. To realize this, to deny it, and obfuscate what you are doing, that I can understand. I too, was once a coward. I too, did not want to believe what my eyes told me was sitting in front of me. That cliff is scary, and to jump off it seemingly lies nothing but social death.

But eventually something pushes you over, without your consent. You realize you have been played the fool, because finally, something so gratuitous occurs that you must. Even the greatest cowards will eventually be blown off the cliff. The music will stop, and the dance will end, and you will finally feel the shame, the embarrassment, the horror, the fear, the guilt.

Because no one likes being played for a fool.

Perhaps, then, it is best to get this over and done with now, while you still have dignity to defend.

Some details have been changed to protect the identities of those concerned.

[comrade-meow]

The male-centered progressive left has successfully made woman-hating trendy.

Today, yet another “Karen” video went viral online. This time, it seems a woman flipped off a male driver, one Karlos Dillard, who then followed her home and filmed her as she melted down into hysterics, posting the video online, which included her home address and license plate. Over eight million views later (sure to be more by the time you read this), and Dillard is selling t-shirts based on the incident.

It seems this is a hobby for Dillard, who has posted other similarly antagonistic videos, accusing women of “racism” (despite no evidence of racism) in an attempt turn Karen virality into profit. Other t-shirts for sale on his Instagram profile include one with the words, “Karen… Are you OK?” and another reading, “Keep that same energy, Karen.”

The Karen meme has been misogynist from the getgo, originating from an anonymous male Reddit user, Fuck_You_Karen, who was angry at his ex-wife, named Karen, for taking custody of his children. In 2017, his misogynist rants became a subreddit, r/FuckYouKaren.

Recently, the meaning of “Karen” was said to refer specifically to middle class, middle aged white women who are so entitled they ask to speak to the manager when perturbed, but has since morphed into a specifically racist white woman, who “weaponizes” white, female fragility against largely black men. This connects to sexist tropes that claim women use their emotions, vulnerability, and tears to manipulate men.

What began as a joke has become more than that, and has moved into explicitly misogynist (and, in my opinion, dangerous) territory.

“Becky,” which originated as a means to refer to basic white women — the Uggs-wearing, Starbucks-buying, pumpkin spice-loving kind — probably young, probably blonde, probably not working class. Like “Karen,” I never found this to be particularly offensive, as I had little desire to defend boring people who love Starbucks, but what was once a joke has become something much more egregious.Following someone to their home, doxxing, filming, and harassing them because they gave you the finger is unhinged. People are going to act like assholes in this world, and you need to learn to deal with that. Moreover, these viral videos, like the Amy Cooper/Christian Cooper bird watching/dog-off-the-leash incident, are always decontextualized. No one really knows what happened preceding the video, nor do they know why either party reacted as they did. We all know social media leaves little room for nuance, and far too many people enjoy a rage reaction over asking questions or considering they may not know the full story. The truth is that, today, people’s lives can be destroyed in an instant, via a viral post. And our culture is wielding that power with very little care.

While those participating in the mobs targeting the subjects of these currently popular Karen videos claim some form of racial justice, this is not an accurate representation.

This has little to do with race, and everything to do with a progressive left that has adopted woman-hating as political virtue signalling.

Last week, journalist and editor Jonathan Kay tweeted a “Wanted” poster he’d come across in Toronto, depicting a young, blonde, white woman. The text below her face mocked her as a “Basic Bitch” — privileged, entitled, and unwoke. The image and text presents “Becky” as dangerous — the new enemy. The A.C.A.B. (All Cops Are Bastards) logo on the poster implies it likely was produced and distributed by young anarchist men. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they were white men, considering the face of groups (or non-groups, depending on who you ask) like Antifa.

The trend of presenting women as a threat extends beyond Becky and Karen. In recent years, Antifa, anarchists, trans activists, and leftists have targeted feminists who question the impact of gender identity ideology on women’s rights as dangerous — even more so than male predators. Rhetoric that claims “TERFs kill” intentionally erases the fact that it is men who are overwhelmingly responsible for violence against both women and men (including trans-identified males). As a result, reversing this claim to say “Kill TERFs” or to show up at events discussing gender identity with cardboard guillotines with the words “TERFs and SWERFs step right up” written on them has become an acceptable form of “activism.”

This has all happened within a left that has consistently ignored and even defended the misogyny, racism, and violence of prostitution and pornography, painting women who fight the sex trade as “whorephobic” and as causing harm to “sex workers.” Everyone knows who is responsible for the abuse that happens to women in porn and prostitution. We can see it on PornHub or we can read about it in the news. Yet the left consistently fails to hold those men accountable for the harm they cause. No, no. The real problem is women. Terms like “TERF” (which means “trans exclusionary radical feminist,” but, in practice, is used to smear anyone who questions gender identity legislation or ideology) and “SWERF” (which means “sex worker exclusionary radical feminist,” but is used to smear women — even women who have worked in the sex trade — who wish to stop the universal violence and exploitation inherent to prostitution) exist to misrepresent, vilify, and end conversation. One cannot defend a “TERF” or “SWERF” any more than one can defend a “Karen” or “Becky,” unless they would like to be pilloried as unwoke and bigoted themselves.

A few years ago, trans activists and their progressive allies adopted the term “cis” to refer to those whose “gender identity matches their sex.” Putting aside the fact that no one’s “gender identity” matches their sex, as whether or not a person is male or female has nothing to do with whether or not they identify with a list of sexist gender stereotypes, the term “cis” is said to denote “privilege.” This means that a woman who understands she is female is, as per trans ideology, “privileged” over a man who desires to be viewed as a woman or who does not feel connected to masculine stereotypes. This is ridiculous, of course, as women are impacted by sexism on account of being born female, and are vulnerable to male violence regardless of how they identify. Understanding one is female does not make a woman “privileged,” it makes her a sane human being. In other words, “cis” or “cisprivilege” completely erases the reality of sexism and male violence against women. Suddenly, we are to believe women pose a threat to males who identify as transgender. Just as we are now to believe “Becky” and “Karen” are so dangerous they deserve to be hated, harassed, and destroyed. Maybe punched. Maybe worse.

This is, I’m afraid, woman-hating. And it is dangerous. The popularity of the Karen meme has led people to seek out and invent Karens in order to gain followers and profit, as evidenced by Dillard’s racket. And rhetoric that positions feminists as dangerous, harmful “TERFs” has led to the acceptance of open violent threats against women, simply for speaking out in defence of women’s rights and spaces. Karen, Becky, SWERF, and TERF are nothing more than excuses to hate women. And I am tired of people participating and defending this misogyny simply because it is on trend, and because it results in applause from the male centred left.

Yes, women can be assholes. Yes, women can be racist. No, women are not all innocent victims. But this has become about much more than calling out annoying, racist, or entitled behaviour. And, in fact, I think it was always about more than that. Let’s stop this before someone gets (literally) hurt.

[werevulvi]

So I've been away from tumblr for a while. Not sure how long. Maybe a month? I'm writing a book (fiction) so I've been and still am busy with more fulfilling distractions from reality than social media. The book I'm writing is about a woman, Olga, who's transitioning like me, but then she's an assassin. I don't wanna get into all the itty gritty details of that until I'm done, but writing that book has been serving as a great distraction from my gender issues. Except I need to take breaks from my hyper-focused super intense writing spree at times to not accidentally boil my brain. What? Is working on a project for 10+ hours a day, every day, for over a month a little much? Sorry I can't hear you over my autistic hyperfocus. And those breaks get me tossed right back into... mostly dysphoria. That’s what I wanted to rant about.

I know this is an unfair accusation, but sometimes I wonder just how paranoid and anxious feminism has made me. I fully abhor victim mentality, but sometimes reading feminist posts, articles, etc, about the various evils of men (crime statistics, female victims' accounts of male violence, etc) makes me feel... like a victim, and hopeless, for being female. And it requires a lot of effort to dig myself out of that pit. I need to remind myself that I can trust men, that most of them are not violent, that they're not the real enemy, and that women are not so different from men. Otherwise what? Otherwise I'd give into my PTSD and get drowned out by my dysphoria.

PTSD says all men are dangerous and want my pussy, either to harm it or fuck it. PTSD says it's my fault I'm a victim of sexual trauma, because I am female. And I dunno why, but sometimes feminism echoes that sentiment, and that's not great for my recovery, or my long term pursuit of happiness. Dysphoria says I'm too different from men and that's why I hate being female. Dysphoria doesn't want any special treatment just because I'm female. Feminism echoes what my dysphoria says, sometimes, and that's not great. Dysphoria wants equal treatment. Receiving equity due to my "failed" sex feels like... I dunno, like wanting to crawl out of my fucking skin and set it on fire, I suppose. Bad female skin humiliating me. Because that again reminds me that my sex being female is what's wrong, and not the treatment of women as "weaker" and more emotionally frail. Then my solution is to get rid of my femaleness, so that I can be strong, fast and free. Independent enough to open a fucking jar. I feel trapped in the unfairness itself.

I still want to be different from women, not from men. I want to stand out among women, and I'm jokingly boasting about how I'm such an NLOG (Not Like Other Girls) and proud to be different, in masculine ways. I'm proud to be hairier, having a deeper voice, and that female socialization didn't stick to me as much. And likewise, I feel good when I'm similar to men, blend in among them, am compared to them as an equal to them, and that I managed to pick up on some male socialization. This is more subconscious, and not something I really think about.

I still wish I was male, and that impossible dream still hurts, I guess. I've been trying to distract myself from those thoughts by writing my book and... having sexual fantasies in which I am male. Clearly my own home made therapy that made me connect somewhat with being female (3 years ago) was ineffective in the long run, but now I can't possibly make myself believe I'm a man again, just because I still/again wish I was male. It comes and goes, yes, but it's seemingly in a curvy line that over time points me in the dysphoric direction, and not in the desisting direction. And that's what's so hard. That I basically have to force myself to this realization that... I can't talk myself out of my dysphoria, and that that little bit of connection I got to my sex 3 years ago, was an appetizer for a meal I'll never have. That feels cruel.

And I keep telling myself I don't have dysphoria. Nah, I'm just transitioning for the heck of it. If only!

I don't wanna be trans, and I don't wanna be dysphoric. I wanna be male, but that's different. I can't even see myself as a man simply because I am not male and can never be. Thus, I'm a woman, and unhappy with it. Yet, I clearly can't function as a woman socially either, and that frustrates me. I'm happy that I can look and sound so convincingly male in my appearance, and I'm really excited to go back on testosterone, but I... I feel trapped, in a medical condition I cannot escape. And it doesn't matter what fucking caused it, it's not going away! Point is it's not going away! I've tried for sixteen years! I am tired! And now I can't even call myself a man without laughing all the way to hell and back.

Everyone wants to be trans nowadays. Everyone who benefits from a new label. But I don't. Clearly I don't have an easy time with it, and it might be because I just have a shit ton of sex/physical dysphoria, and not even calling myself a man helps. It just adds insult to injury. I don't wanna play pretend, goddamnit, I wanna be a real boy! That's "problematic" to say, because I shouldn't shatter other trans people's dreams. Well, mine's shattered and I wanna whine about it. I don't blame them for their identities. How could I? Ignorance is bliss, and I miss bliss.

I think that's why I feel like I'm a woman who just wishes she was a man, and kinda always have. I wrote it in my diary when I was 16, four years before I even came out as trans, before I knew anything about trans ideology or gender critical or anything, but I knew I was dysphoric and fit the loose criteria for FTM transsexuals, and I didn't like that verdict. It felt like a death sentence, and now... now it feels like a cruel joke.

I don't think I'm really all that different from trans men. De-gendered, perhaps, but still just as bloody dysphoric and still just as much of a testosterone junkie. I'm just a less happy go lightly kinda FtM. I've always been a bit of a nihilist. The "if you leave the half full glass it will eventually dry the fuck out no matter how much water you keep pouring up into it, because the nature of water is to vaporize" -kinda nihilist, not the "the glass is half empty" -kind. Yes, there is a difference. I'm not a pessimist, I'm a hardcore realist, and reality is... being trans sucks and I can't do fucking shit about it. I want a solution, not rose tinted goggles. But at this point, I'd take that too. I've tried... but they keep falling off.

Perhaps I'm too autistic to get gender identity, or maybe I just don't have social dysphoria or gender incongruence, perhaps it just feels so fucking pointless. Words... they're just blah blah blah. They have whatever meaning we put in them. So I changed my personal meaning of "woman" to include my dysphoria and beard, and since then I'm fine with calling myself a woman. But woman is still just a word. It's what I am that I dislike, not what I'm supposed to call it. My problem is not in how people perceive me. They can perceive me as a stranded jelly fish if they so wish, it doesn't change reality that I'm an adult human female. And it's reality, that biological reality, that bothers me.

And I don't like that I realised that, because biological reality is the one thing I can't change. I can change my identity, but my identity as a woman is not the problem. The problem is my sex is still persistently female. And I don't wanna change what is not a problem. Why fix what ain't broken? I get that my sex isn't broken either (well it might be now, considering I've smashed it with testosterone) but I just don't wanna be a woman. Because dysphoria. No point in arguing. It just goes round and round in circles. I can't make a logical argument for why I don't like ketchup either though. It always comes back to "but I just don't like it."

I just get sad, sometimes, over being female, and uncomfortable. And I get envious of men's bodies, and then I get sad I can't have that. And I try to emulate what men's bodies do, which makes me feel a bit better, but then I remember I'm still female, and I try to be okay with that. Sometimes I even half succeed, and feel like "yeah, being a woman is actually kinda badass!" but then I remember that a cranky uterus and estrogen exist in my body, acting as if they want me to suffer a slow (very slow) death, and I get sad again. Is trying to like being a woman even worth it, considering that's mostly been going downhill since I was 3 years old? Well what the hell are my options, aside from that?! Pretending to be a man? Pretending that the nonbinary labels could do anything at all to benefit my existence?

I'm sorry, but I don't see the appeal, in either of those options. I'll try to just exist. That became my focus; just existing. But I can't distract myself 24/7. Because as soon as I stop distracting myself, for even just a minute, I get caught in the inevitable doom that is my dysphoria, and how hopelessly trapped I am inside it.

[sunburstbacchae]

People of Divine Inspiration

Retelling of Aesop’s Fable 517 by KJ Denisen

Many have asked over the centuries why Queer people exist, lots of cultures having different myths on the topic, and many are similarly shocked to hear an answer has been told in ancient Greek folklore. They didn’t have all the words for trans and gay people, but the fabulist Aesop still managed to spin a tale about the origins of their existence. While some mythologies have stories of two-spirit people and some have stories Mesopotamian heroes, the Hellenics have the myth of Prometheus & Dionysos.

Long ago, during the new age of humanity and from the clay of Gaia the Great Mother Earth, the latest designs of the human body were being sculpted by the Titan Prometheus, titan of forethought and crafty console. Many ages had been led by the design of Prometheus, from the last age which ended in the great flood, to the age of women with the creation of Pandora, to the very first age of men that ended with him stealing fire from Olympus to save humanity from the cold and wild. Such lengths he goes for humanity have gotten him in a bit of trouble with the Theoi. After stealing the hearth-fire for many years he was shackled to Mount Kaukasos by King Zeus, subject to having his liver torn out each morning by a hawk only to have it grow back again in the night for the cycle to continue. He was liberated from his fate by the hero Herakles and now lives his life with a shackle around his ankle, carrying a piece of that mountain so Zeus could boast he’s still shackled to it to this day. Even now, dragging that stone with him, Prometheus still sculpts humanity, age by age, for the project of humanity and our lives thereof is still and forever dearest to his heart.

The newest age he intended to make with practicality in mind, having become wise by the three ages that proceeded. The first age of humanity created creatures with all the parts they needed; four legs, four arms, two heads and two sets of genitals. Before the age of women these people were split in half, creating beings with one or two of each part that now wander around spending their life trying to reconnect to their other half. Prometheus intended to make reconnection easy and for both spirits to compliment one another nicely. Men would have the phallus, the bodies for action and a heart for women while the women had the yonic, the minds for planning and a heart for men. The spirit of all was the same to facilitate this desire, an attraction to complementary opposites. This would create pairs that not only helped the other survive but fulfilled and enabled the humans to thrive with their other half. Such specific design was a labor of love, but a labor nonetheless. Never before had Prometheus put so much time and attention to detail into a project of his and he trekked restlessly to its completion.

Such a tired fate, however, was never unnoticed by Dionysos, the great Olympian of wine, theater, divine madness and festivities. Dionysos was a son of one of Prometheus’ very creations, the mortal princess Semele. He ascended from demigod to godhood like his half brother Herakles, though the two are rather opposites in persona with Herakles ascending to divine status through the pursuit of virtue and Dionysos ascending because he took rules as a light suggestion. He was worshipped by humanity, befriended by daemons & gods alike not only as the blurrer of lines, but for being the soother of worries, the liberator from stress and my goodness did it seem to him like Prometheus needed to be liberated from his workload. To a being older than the Olympian rule, the very youngest of the Olympians called to him.

“Great Prometheus, you’re going to keel over if you don’t take a break from your work. How long has this project been going on? You create humans and release them as they are made, but have trekked forward so long the new age of men has been going on for centuries. Your creations have had children, their children have had children. Europa has won the heart of Zeus and founded continents. Herakles has risen and fallen and ascended to Olympus. One of your earliest creations was the very woman Semele who gave birth to me and I’ve been wreaking havoc and shaking up the lives of mortals and spirits so long I hardly remember my own age! If you’re going to continue for even a fraction of this frankly ridiculous amount of time, the least you can do is allow me to show my gratitude for creating my wonderful mother and the many mortal women and men I’ve pursued romantically. Come now, put down your sculpting tools and rest your aching hands to have dinner with me. I’ve many fountains of wine to help ease that tension in your shoulders and mind and banquets to go with it from the harvest of lovely Demeter.”

Prometheus was shocked at the bold young Olympian and his invitation; most simply left him to his work thankless.

“Has it really been so long? My hands seem calloused and arms almost numb, yet unsure what to make of motions that do no work. Perhaps you’re right, little Olympian. I still have a long way to go until I’m complete, but I keep trying to make the perfect human, keep thinking the right one will be just after this load, but still there’s always something to improve upon. It feels like I’m stuck in a loop, so focused on making it perfect I just can’t finish it. Perhaps a break and some wine will clear my head. Maybe then the exact piece I’m missing will come to me, if only I relax and let it come. Lead the way, Dionysos.”

Dionysos led Prometheus away and brought him to one of the many banquets the cult of the Eleusinian Mysteries set forth in honor of his friend, Demeter, and Kore-Persephone, Dionysos’s mother of a past life. Trailed on by his retune of Maenad Nymphs and lustful Satyrs, accompanied by the god Pan and Titaness Rhea, gods of the wild nature, Dionysos became a good host to Prometheus, crowned him in wreaths of ivy and gifted all the wine and fresh food one could ask for. The band of Bacchae danced and sang of riots and revels until Helios the sun peeked over the horizon and it was time for Theoi to be sent back to their duties. After the party, Prometheus came home on an unsteady foot from all the wine he had drunk, giggling to jokes he had told himself and scarcely trying to remove the ivy still wound up in his hair.

As much as the night still lingered, he was still much more of a workaholic than an alcoholic and attempted to get back to work straight away after coming home. Unsteadily and with broad strokes he continued his work with the humans, growing increasingly frustrated that his hands refused to cooperate with where his eyes wanted them to go, knocking over glaze and brushes, staining blueprints and notes willy-nilly, bringing the poor titan to such frustration he was afraid he was going to weep.

At some point in his haze, he accidentally put a phallus on one of the women he created. When he caught this, he stopped and stared for a moment and found it so amusing he began mixing up the parts of all the humans he was working on. Women with phalluses and men with yonis and even some unlabeled bodies with either or both. Men with the gentle mind of wise Athena, women with the active mind of Ares and some with both or neither. The gentle hearts modeled after Aphrodite mixed up every which way so some had hearts for men, some for women, some for both. Some had more than one heart within them and found themselves to have too much love for just one person and some with blank hearts unable to be struck by the bow of Eros at all. In such a chaotic stupor he didn’t have the forethought he usually would to wait until he sobered up and brought these humans to life immediately, sending them off into the world. Still laughing, face red, he collapsed over his desk into a strange yet peaceful slumber.

When he awoke and saw the mess over his desk he recoiled and dread whatever he had done the night before. Going out to see his creations he found the batch of mixed-up humans and panicked, knowing he had just brought to life a bit of a chaotic mess and worried how well they’d fare in the world. As he lamented his fate, Dionysos reappeared, coming to check on his most likely hungover new friend and saw what he was fretting over. Dionysos’ eyes grew starry for these interesting humans and the still distraught (and now a little confused) Prometheus explained what happened the night before, lamenting that he may have to take them apart and fix them all. Dionysos stopped him in his tracks.

“Oh please Prometheus don’t take them apart! These humans of my divine inspiration are such delightful creatures, all so different and intriguing, they may all be let into my retune. Those with minds so different they can bend the fate of people and make room for new grounds in society. Those with hearts so full they match my Polyamrous spirit or so unmarked as to have more room for family and friends. As for those mismatched between the legs, they will Patroned by me especially for I remember being raised in the guise of a girl under one of my many foster mothers, Ino. Those women in the bodies of men, those men in the bodies of women, and those of either or neither I will guide to let humanity delight in the act of creating themselves. The way we grow grapes and not wine, the way we gift milk and not cheese, I will show them how to mix themselves, change themselves and even tear themselves apart to be put back together a more true version of their soul. I have seen them, and soon they will see me.”

Prometheus found inspiration in the young Theoi’s words. Perhaps he’d been so caught up in making them perfect he hadn't been able to accept them as they were. With this in mind he completed the last and biggest group of humans. All spirits still call for their complementary, but now each in ways the other cannot. Every pair or group brought together by Aphrodite now had a unique relationship, more than the sum of its parts. Pairs of smart and strong men, pairs of yonic and phallic women, groups of balanced hearts and souls and single humans complete within themselves. Even within that batch creating the strong and cunning woman Ariadne, who’d go on to wed Dionysos and ascend to the status of goddess by his side. While Prometheus made the simple pieces of common society, it was always Dionysos who specialized in thinking & creating outside the box.

[dear-diary-where-is-my-soul]

Hey Diary,

It has been... almost a whole year? Idk. I’m here anyhow. I somehow got it into my head that when high school was over, I would somehow become magically no longer mentally ill. That didn’t happen, obviously. So here I am. I did a bit of digging and I think I have ADHD (Which I like to call dopamine deficiency) and also ASD (Which I like to call a pain in my ass). I’m just kidding, they’re both a pain in my ass. But at least I know what it’s called. I can kind of manage it now because I spent hours looking for management plans that work for both ADHD and Autism, and seeing what worked for me. I know for a fact that I have Anxiety (Of the social variant - possibly tied to autism) and depression (That I’ve had since age 12 - about 6 years). I thought I was over my anorexia but it keeps pestering in the back of my mind. I’m eating now, but it still isn’t 3 meals a day. It’s not ‘healthy’ meals but it’s better than nothing. I still think that sometimes I’m not worth the food. My boyfriend (The same boyfriend) is a really good cook. His food is so good. But neither of us can eat it.   I moved out for a short while, about 4 months. I moved in with my boyfriend, who moved in about 9 or so months before me, with his ‘dad’ (Non-bio, no longer dating [Boyfriends] mother). During those 4 months, I spent more than 1000′s dollars in savings not to mention my Centrelink payments, which only started during the second month [half of what my boyfriend was getting], to trying to keep me and my boyfriend alive. Which would’ve been way easier if I didn’t need to spend over 500 dollars in taxi fees because his dad didn’t know when to stop drinking. So, a little bit of extra kicked in the fucking balls, Before I moved in, I was told that I wouldn’t need to worry about rent until my Centrelink payments were sorted. But, when we move out, my boyfriend sold his bike and 650 of that money was given to his dad because he was keeping track of how long I didn’t pay rent for and said I owned it to him. Even Though my boyfriend offered 2/3 of my rent (Plus his own) every payday. We were both told that it was fine and that we didn’t have to worry about it.  He always complained about me being anti-social. Which was really fucking clear to begin with. I never said that I would be interacting with him more than what was comfortable. This was his main excuse for drinking. But, until I moved in he completely ignored my boyfriends attempts to be social with him.  He wasn’t my type of person. Conservative, mid 40′s, cis-het, white man with ASD and previous alcohol and drug use problems. AKA ‘There’s nothing wrong with the world you’re just to sensitive, men are men and women are women nothing will change that, except don’t move my living room around because that’s too much for me to handle’.  He used to scream at my boyfriend that he isn’t a real guy, but got upset when my boyfriend then put distance between them to not get any more hurt and depressed. I hated it. I can’t handle any loud noises or anything like that. It sends me up the wall with anxiety and I’m very easily over stimulated. Unfortunately, our roommate did not get over stimulated easily and really like heavy metal, which he would play unbearably loud until 2-3 AM on the weekends. He also nearly broke our bedroom door several times. He would scream insults at us through the door and while outside our window (which had a little undercover deck-type-thing, where he drank himself stupid).  Me and my boyfriend took a two week holiday up back to our home town, because my boyfriend was having stress-induced Seizures. He was having full-on whole-body fits every 2-3 days that lasted about 5 minutes (These have stopped since we moved out). Anyway, we got back home, being dropped off by my bf’s mum,( who has since very much mellowed out [about my boyfriend being trans] by having another kid, this kid is nearly 18 months old, has some kind of IBS [Unconfirmed as of yet, but he is in a lot of pain]). We put away the few bits of shopping we got, as we were band from touching our roommates food over a month before because he was asked not to eat ours (Not true, but he did use a full packet of our cheese [7 or 8 bucks per packet] in one meal that neither me or my boyfriend liked or could eat, which we were talking about to my boyfriends mother who mentioned it). He also said that we accused him of stealing and shit like that (We didn’t). But anyway, We make dinner because it was around 5;30 or so and we didn’t eat lunch. We put of a movie in the background and my boyfriend goes out for a cigarette on the deck-thing and when he comes back in he tells my that our roommate has been drinking but will stop soon because we’re home.  8:30 comes around, me and my bf are heading to bed with the same movie on in the background and that’s when the screaming starts. 20 whole minutes of our roommate screaming “FAGGOTS” to try to get our attention. During this time, we call my bf’s mum, who is still in town because she had a doctors appointment the next day, staying at my bf’s nans house. We then get up, grab our still-packed from our two week trip (day)bags, and wall ten minutes away to the shopping centre near-by and call a taxi.  During that night, our (ex)roommate texted my bfs mum basically saying that we are ‘kicked out’ and that he hates all of us. This isn’t the first time this has happened but it is definitely the last. We went back, the next day while he was at work, grabbed our other bags and a few of the essential items we wanted for the next week or so. Our landlord (ex-roommates mother) said that everything was fine to stay there until we could get it picked up within the next two months or so. She offered to pack it all up for us as well, which we accepted because neither of us wanted to go back to that house again.  We haven’t been there, or seen him since. My bf’s mother’s bf went with my brother to pick up all of the rest of our stuff a week after we left. We set back up in my home town, now both of us have been ripped away from our new doctors, our counsellors and my new therapist less than a week before my first appointment (which I now do via telehealth [phone/video calls]). This was about a month ago. me and my bf now have set up and pay for our internet ourselves and I got a disney+ subscription because I'm obsessed with feeling the safety I felt during childhood.  Anyway, I live with my boyfriend and his mum and her boyfriend and their 1 year old. Both of my parents live in this town but we’ve been in lock down and I haven’t been able to see them. I feel like I’m drowning because I don’t go outside. I used to walk with my boyfriend, but because he has several chronic health issues we can’t risk him going outside and he can not exercise as much as either of us would like due to chronic pains (And a busted knee which he has scans for in a fortnight or so). I’m in an online course, which was fully government subsidized due to the amount of people who need training or retraining after Covid-19. I really like it, and it is making me think more harshly about wanting to start a business. However, I don’t think I can do the assessments. Almost all of them seem to require me being social on the online group chats, and it fuels my social anxiety so much I didn’t do anything to my course for a whole month. And this whole thing was a way to help me get rid of those feelings, but I still don’t know what to do. How do I word it to the teachers? I haven’t talked to any of them before and it might seem like I just don’t want to put in the work in the social aspects of my assessments because I don’t have a diagnoses.  This sucks. I can barely sit my ass down and read through the work as it is. Then I start thinking about how I'm 1 quarter of the way through this course and haven’t brought myself to do a single assessment. Then I freak out over how much I’ve done (or haven’t done) and don’t end up doing the work. 

[emerald-echeveria-plant]

(Me: when will you stop?

Also Me: till the earth explodes :3)

Name:

Veronica Flare

Name pronunciation:

Ver-on-i-ca Fla-re

Nickname:

The executioner

Personality:

Flamboyant, vengeful, extravagant, sadistic, loyal, looney, charming, jokester

Age:

523 years old

Species:

Venus flytrap

Sexuality:

Pansexual

Gender:

Transwoman

Pronouns:

She/her

Ethnicity:

???

Looks:

Backstory:

(WARNING: mentions of torture, suicide, & transphobia)

During the era of which Hatred was ruling over Amoretia, she had many enemies who would happily want her buried alive. So in response, Hatred decided to strike fear into them. She thought they'd be much easier to control and leave her alone if they were afraid of her. Yet, how could she accomplish it? Torture. But an amount of torture that would keep them alive and make others fear her. If her enemies saw the state of her victims, they would see what she was capable of. At first, Hatred would handle most of the torturing but couldn't for long. Her armies and supporters needed her leadership. So, Hatred hired multiple tortures to do the job for her. The job was simple, torture the enemy but too much to a point where they die. One problem though. Some of the things Hatred would instruct them to do, was a bit too much for them... Such as It affected their mental and emotional health. Hatred didn't care though, she still wanted them to do it. If they didn't, they would be met with her wrath. And one of the things no one should ever do.. is anger the queen.

The tortures slowly fell in numbers. Some of them going insane from what they committed. While others committed suicide. A few of them tried to start a revolt against the queen with the prisoners they were supposed to be torturing. In response, Hatred had them tied to a ship and slowly had it sink. Hatred hired more torturers but it would always seem to be a repeat of what happened last time. Going insane, suicide, and revolting against her. Seeing as no matter what she did, the issue wouldn't go away. After pondering with herself for a while, she came up with a perfect idea.

She'll create her own torturer.

Hatred went through many spells books in order to find a way to create such a being. Not being satisfied with any of the options she had, she went onto experiment. While she wasn't away fighting alongside her armies or making plans with her cabinet, she'd frequently experiment on how to create life. Her first few experimentations didn't go as planned. Most of them coming up as failures in her eyes. Hatred would get severely frustrated with not getting the results she wanted. Often destroying her own room in the process. Hatred tried for months to create the perfect specimen. They had to be equally terrifying, threatening, and cruel. As well as some certain traits that would make them not become insane or betray her. She made a specially designed potion containing such traits. Making the being morally corrupt, sadistic, and loyal to her and only her.

A year later, she finally got the result she wanted... Well, sort of. By using a venus flytrap along with a potion and black magic, she created a being from it. A being she would call Victor Flare. Of course Victor wasn't exactly what she wanted. To her he was way too skinny, not as tall, and not terrifying looking at all. Yet, he had some form of intelligence and had all four of his limbs along with working organs. By this point she was growing tired of experimenting and decided to go with him. He was born twenty three years old yet had the mind of a newborn. Right after he was created, Victor was immediately put to learning about Hatred's ideology. It confused him a lot at first. Mainly because he had no clue how to read or write. After realizing that the creature she created couldn't just learn about her ideology, she allowed him to be taught subjects like math, science, and language arts. Victor eventually learned how to read and write as well as speak. After becoming intelligent, Hatred thought that he was finally ready. She began to teach him how to torture her enemies. Most of the time the torture lessons would be hands-on. Victor found himself enjoying giving pain to people. Most likely due to Hatred making him have the certain traits that she desired. She was pleased with the outcome of seeing him torture and made him her royal torturer. Finally getting what she wanted, Hatred could finally focus on spreading her ideology as well as defeating some of her enemies. She'd usually bring back some soldiers on the enemies side or even her main enemy for Victor to torture. He'd always do as she requested in order to make her happy. Hatred never physically showed her happiness but did seem to be pleased with what he did. Although he could do better. Hatred eventually casted a spell that gave him powers that would allow him to do more awful things. The powers were tied to his species which allowed him to control and manipulate plant life. Victor became fascinated with his powers. His first thought was how there were so many ways to make a person suffer. He would then use his powers, primarily manipulating vines in order to tear them apart, limb by limb, slowly and painfully.

As much as he enjoyed making Hatred's enemies suffer, he started having other thoughts. He began to question his own actions. Why was he torturing these people? Sure he liked it but why them? He knew they were the enemy but why were they the enemy? When asking Hatred these questions, she only reiterated that they didn't follow the right way of how to truly live. How love was an infectious disease and how it would be the Galaxy's downfall. How she was born in order to stop such a thing from happening. Even though Victor was maybe five months old at this point, knew that her ideology was incredibly flawed. Yet, he never commented anything about it. Knowing that if he did, she'd torture him as well. Victor knew that these people he was hurting were innocent... Strangely, it made it much more fun for him. Most likely due to him being specifically made morally corrupt. After answering that question, there was another question brewing in his mind.. Who was he? Well he knew who he was. He was the loyal servant to Hatred who was given the task to harm her enemies. But.. who was he really? Behind those layers of plant flesh and blood? What was the core center? This lead to him questioning his own identity.

He questioned if he was only a torturer and if that was the only thing in his life. Victor wanting more meaning in his life took up hobbies. Mainly reading books. His favorite books being that of fairytales. Victor would also often be taking care of his appearance. Nobody wants blood stained faces after torturing all day. He first wondered if he wasn't a torturer, what else could he be? Maybe a makeup artist or a hair dresser. Those jobs sounded thrilling but not as much fun as tearing someone's skin off. As much as Victor took care of his appearance, he could never shake the feeling something was off about him. He felt uncomfortable in his skin. Often covering his skin with layers of clothing. He never knew why though. He didn't know but felt like he needed to. Victor would only get his answer when he was reading another one of his books. It showed illustrations of beautiful women wearing gowns and enjoying a picnic. Victor felt what would be known as "gender dysphoria". He felt uneasy with his own gender. As if he was born in the wrong body. Well, he kinda was as Hatred would put it. Although it was more about gender for him but it was everything else from Hatred. She didn't even want him to have a gender in the first place. Victor would slowly begin to put on makeup. First it was a bit of eyeliner then lipstick and full on layer of makeup. He felt comfortable with himself as he put on the makeup. Victor felt beautiful. When Hatred was away, he'd sneak into her room and wear one of her dresses. He didn't like the colors but enjoyed wearing it regardless. Eventually, Hatred would catch him doing this. In response she yelled at him before kicking him out of her private quarters. She wasn't mad about him wearing a dress but actually about that it was HER dress. Hatred didn't like it when people touched her things. Despite that, Victor began to take on more feminine traits. He started to talk in a much more high pitched voice. He wore high heels while torturing people. They were confused but didn't question it if they wanted a harsher punishment. One day, Victor full on dressed in a beautiful long gown, heels, and makeup. He adored it very much and praised himself for looking so good. Yet, he still didn't feel comfortable with himself. Despite looking gorgeous, he didn't like his gender. He didn't feel like he was born in the right body. He was destained to be someone else. Victor came to the conclusion that he wasn't born to be a man... He was supposed to be a woman. But how exactly could he turn into one..?

Magic. That was the answer. If Hatred could create him with just a potion and a few funny magic words, then surely there was a way for him to become a woman. After looking through several spell books, he finally found the spell he was looking for. The creation of a potion that would allow one to permanently become a woman. It was hard work but Victor managed to collect all the ingredients he needed to make the potion. He then finally drank the potion. It was a success and a bit later, Victor would change his name to Veronica. Along with his pronouns to she/her. When Hatred came to learn of this, she didn't really care. All she wanted was her enemies to suffer. Veronica happily compiled as soon as Hatred called her by her correct pronouns.

Veronica finally felt comfortable with herself. Enjoying to be in her own skin and loving herself throughout. Although she was met with a problem, many people loathed her for torturing people. When her enemies found out that she was trans, they decided to harass her on that. Often yelling slurs at her and sending hurtful letters about how horrible of a MAN she was. Veronica was angered by this. Offended that they still thought of her as a man and not as a woman. She could take being called a horrible person for committing atrocious acts or even being called a literal hellspawn. Veronica found their insults to be humourous sometimes. She'd even provoke them to insult her more. But misgendering her was taking it too far... She wasn't a man anymore and was happy being her true self. Then it all came crashing down when many people began to refer to her as "Victor" her deadname. Finally reaching her breaking point, Veronica unleashed hell on Amoretia... All of her enemies would feel her wrath for treating her horribly. Many of them were mainly torn limb from limb while others had much more horrible punishments. One person was slowly impaled by a bamboo shoot. Another covered in flowers that attracted bees and slowly died from being stung to death. Yet the one person that met the worst fate was young woman by the name of Patty Marrion. Patty would often be the one harassing Veronica daily. Calling her all sorts of horrible things, saying her decisions were choices instead of actually feelings, and literally made pamphlets demonizing trans folk. After weeks of being tormented, Patty was now at the mercy of Veronica who wasn't very keen on letting her go. Veronica seem to play it simple though... All she asked Patty to do was drink a glass of wine she specially made for her. Patty knew this was one of her sick and twisted games of Veronica. She expected to be poisoned but nothing to seem to happen at first. Yet before Patty could respond, most likey taunting her about how her planned failed, she began to feel something change inside her... What Patty hadn't realized was that Veronica put inside a special seed. A special seed that slowly turned Patty into a tree... It was quite a horrifying sight as Patty realized what was happening to her. She begged for mercy. Apologizing repeatedly for her actions. Yet, it was too late... Veronica watched in glee as Patty slowly circumed to her fate. Right after the transformation was complete, Veronica took an axe, chopped down the tree, and made a lovely chair for Hatred to sit on. Veronica's tyranny wouldn't end after those events. Right after she went in a rampage and gifting Hatred the chair, Hatred promoted her by making her executioner. As well as have some form of control over Amoretia while she was away fighting wars. It was a very good deal for Veronica as now she could implement about how much she adored being herself and torture anyone she wanted!

Unfortunately after two years of this, Hatred would then be "executed" by her enemies. Veronica became extremely depressed that their "wonderful" and "fantastic" leader was put to death. Not wanting her legacy of destroying all love to die out, Veronica tried to lead Amoretia and the armies herself. Veronica never truly believed in destroying love but would do it out of respect for Hatred. Yet, the other monarchies weren't going to let that happen. They declared that Veronica had to be put to death for her crimes. She would end up going on the run for a while. Then, it seemed like she straight up disappeared. There wasn't any trace of her left. No leads, no eyewitnesses, and no sightings. Amoretia would soon be ran by a government in order to establish some sort of order. Sadly, the kingdom would never return back to it's prime time... Although some people on Amoretia do still believe Veronica is still out there... Plotting.. Seeking revenge.. and going to return one day.

Likes:

Makeup, fashion, taunting others, desserts, making jokes/puns, torturing people, violence, & practicing magic

Dislikes:

Being misgendered, her deadname, people disrespecting Hatred, insects, stepping on her shoes, transphobes, dull things, and sour foods

Powers/abilities:

Nature manipulation - connected directly to the natural world and thus can communicate, influence, manipulate and control nature

Potion making - substances with magical properties such as enhancing physical and mental abilities, healing, granting powers, changing shape, or bewitching someone depending on the kind of potion that is made.

Immortality - endless lifespan

Weaknesses:

Fire - the most feared thing a plant could ever face.

Vulnerable - can have a long lifespan but can still die

Water - isn't a very strong swimmer

Physical strength - Veronica isn't the strongest and even Baozhai could beat her in a fight

Occupation:

Torturer & Executioner

Other:

Veronica's flytrap flaps often closes whenever she goes to sleep or whenever she doesn't want to talk to anyone.

[hellomynameisbisexual]

I’d go so far as to say that the nomination probably saved the site, in fact. For those who need a little background: despite being a small voluntary project the site was nominated for the 2014 Publication of the Year award by Stonewall, the UK’s largest LGBT charity, just nine months after its inception. This was a landmark step in Stonewall’s positive new direction on bi issues. To the best of my knowledge, this was the first time Stonewall had specifically nominated a specifically bi publication or organisation for an award. At this point my co-founder, who was taking care of the business side of things, had recently jumped ship and I was seriously considering packing the whole thing in. I won’t lie, I was astonished to read the email.

I’d worked on a publication which won the award under my editorship a few years previously. Unlike Biscuit, however, g3 magazine – at the time one of the two leading print mags for lesbian and bi women in the UK – had an estimated readership of 140,000, had been going for eight years and boasted full-time paid office staff and regular paid freelancers. Biscuit, by contrast, was being dragged along by one weary unpaid editor and a bunch of unpaid writers who understandably, for the most part, couldn’t commit to regularly submitting work.

Little Biscuit’s enormous competition for the award consisted of Buzzfeed, Attitude.co.uk, iNewspaper and Property Week. We didn’t win – that accolade went to iNewspaper – but the nomination was nevertheless, as I say, a huge catalyst to continue with the site. I launched a crowdfunder, which finished way off target. I sold one ad space, for two months. Then nothing. I attempted in vain to recruit a sales manager but nobody wanted to work on commission. Some wonderful writers came and went. There were periods of tumbleweed when I frantically had to fill the site with my own writing, thereby completely defeating the object of providing a platform for a wide range of bi voices.

The Stonewall Award nomination persuaded me to keep going with the site

The departure of the webmaster was another blow. Thankfully by this point I had a co-editor on board – the amazing Libby – so I was persuaded to stick with it. And here we are now. I don’t actually know where the next article is coming from. That’s not a good feeling. But, apart from for Biscuit, I try not to write for free anymore myself, so I understand exactly why that is. As a freelance journo trying to make a living I’ve had to be strict with myself about that. I regularly post on the “Stop Working For Free” Facebook group and often feel a pang of misplaced guilt because I ask my writers to write for free, even though I’m working on the site for free myself, and losing valuable time I could be spending on looking for paid work.

Biscuit hasn’t exactly been a stranger to controversy, in addition to its financial and staffing issues. Its original tagline – “for girls who like girls and boys” – was considered cis-centric by some, leading to accusations that the site had some kind of trans/genderqueer*-phobic agenda. Which was amusing, as at the height of this a) we’d just had two articles about non-binary issues published and b) I was actually engaged to a genderqueer partner, a fact they were clearly unaware of. Now the site is under fire from various pansexual activists who object to the term “bisexual”. To clarify – “girl and boys” was supposed to imply a spectrum and, no, we don’t think “bi” applies only to an attraction to binary folk. The site aims the main part of its content at female-spectrum readers attracted to more than one gender because this group does have specific needs. But there is something here for EVERYONE bisexual. Anyway, it’s a shame all of this gossip was relayed secondhand, and the people in question didn’t think to confront me about it (which at least the pan activists have bothered to do). We damage our community immeasurably with these kinds of Chinese whispers.

Biscuit ed Libby, being amazing

Whilst trying to keep the site afloat, I’ve also been building on the work I started right back when I edited g3, and trying to improve bi visibility in other media outlets. I’ve recently had articles published by Cosmopolitan, SheWired, The F-Word, GayStar News and Women Make Waves and I’m constantly emailing other sites which I’ve not yet written for with bi pitches. Unfortunately, although I am over the moon to be writing for mainstream outlets such as Cosmo about bi issues, it’s been an uphill struggle trying to persuade some editors out there that they have more readers to whom bi-interest stories apply than they might think. It’s an incredibly exhausting and frustrating process.

Libby and I are doing our best with Biscuit. I can’t guarantee that I would be doing anything at all with it if Libby hadn’t arrived on the scene, so once again I would like to mention how fabulous she is. But we desperately need more writers. We need some help with site design and tech issues. We need a hand with the business and sales side of things. We can’t do it without you. And if you know any rich bisexual heiresses who read Biscuit, please do send them our way. 😉

Grant Denkinson’s story

denkinsonpanel

Grant speaks on a panel chaired by Biscuit’s Lottie at a Bi Visibility Day event

So first of all, explain a little about the activism you’re involved/have been involved in. 


“I’ve been involved with bisexual community organising for a bit over 20 years. Some has been within community: writing for and editing our national newsletter, organising events for bisexuals and helping others with their events by running workshop sessions or offering services such as 1st aid. I’ve spoken to the media about bisexuality and organised bi contingents at LGBT Pride events (sometimes just me in a bi T-shirt!). I’ve helped organise and participated in bi activist weekends and trainings. I’ve help train professionals about bisexuality. I’ve also piped up about bisexuality a lot when organising within wider LGBT and gender and sexuality and relationship diversity umbrellas. I’ve been a supportive bi person on-line and in person for other bi folks. I’ve been out and visibly bi for some time. I’ve helped fund bi activists to meet, publish and travel. I’ve funded advertising for bi events. I’ve set up companies and charities for or including bi people. I’ve personally supported other bi activists.”


What made you get involved?

“
In some ways I was looking for a way to be outside the norm and to make a difference and coming out as bi gave me something to push against. I’ve been less down on myself when feeling attacked. I’ve also found the bi community very welcoming and where I can be myself and so wanted to organise with friends and to give others a similar experience. There weren’t too many others already doing everything better than I could.”

How do you feel about the state of bi activism worldwide (esp UK and USA) at the moment?

“There have been great changes for same-sex attracted people legally and socially and these have happened quickly. Bi people have been involved with making that happen and benefit from it. We can also be hidden by gay advances or actively erased. We still have bi people not knowing many or any other local bi people, not seeing other bisexuals in the mainstream or LGT worlds and not knowing or being able to access community things with other bis. We are little represented in books or the media and people don’t know about the books and zines and magazines already available. The internet has made it easy to find like-minded people but also limited privacy and I think is really fragmented and siloed. It is hard to find bisexuals who aren’t women actors, harmful or fucked up men or women in pornography designed for straight men. We have persistent and high quality bi events but they are sparse and small.”

What’s causing you to feel disillusioned?

“I’m fed up of bi things just not happening if I don’t do them. Not everything should be in my style and voice and I shouldn’t be doing it all. I and other activists campaign for bi people to be more OK and don’t take care of ourselves enough while doing so. People are so convinced we don’t exist they don’t bother with a simple search that would find us. We have little resources while having some of the worst outcomes of any group. I don’t want to spend my entire life being the one person who reminds people about bisexuals, including our so-called allies. I’m not impressed with the problem resolution skills in our communities and while we talk about being welcoming I’m not sure we’re very effective at it. I’m fed up with mouthing the very basics and never getting into depth about bi lives and being one who supports but who is not supported. I’m all for lowering barriers but at a certain point if people don’t actively want to do bi community volunteering it won’t happen. Some people are great critics but build little.”

What do you want to say to other activists about this?

“Why are we doing this personally? I’m not sure we know. How long will we hope rather than do? Honestly, are there so few who care? Alternatively should we stop the trying to do bi stuff and either do some self-analysis, be happy to accept being what we are now as a community, chill out and just let stuff happen or give up and go and do something else instead.”

Patrick Richards-Fink’s story

085d4de So first of all, explain a little about the activism you’re involved/have been involved in.

“Mostly internet – I am a Label Warrior, a theorist and educator. Here’s how I described it on my blog: “One of the reasons that I am a bisexual activist rather than a more general queer activist is because I see every day people just like me being told they don’t belong. It doesn’t mean I don’t work on the basic issues that we all struggle against — homophobia, heterosexism, classism, out-of-control oligarchy, racism, misogyny, this list in in no particular order and is by no means comprehensive. But I have found that I can be most effective if I focus, work towards understanding the deep issues that drive the problems that affect people who identify the same way that I have ever since I started to understand who I am. I find that I’m not a community organizer type of activist or a storm the capitol with a petition in one hand and a bullhorn in the other activist — I’m much better at poring over studies and writing long wall-o’-text articles and occasionally presenting what I’ve gleaned to groups of students until my voice is so hoarse that I can barely do more than croak.” So internet, and when I was still in school, a lot of on-campus stuff. Now I’m moving into a new phase where my activism is more subtle – I’m working as a therapist, and so my social justice lens informs my treatment, especially of bi and trans people.”

What made you get involved?

“I can’t not be.”

How do you feel about the state of bi activism worldwide (esp UK and USA) at the moment?

“I feel like we made a couple strides, and every time that happens the attacks renewed. I hionestly think the constant attempts to divide the bisexual community into ‘good pansexuals’ and ‘bad bisexuals’ and ‘holy no-labels’ is the thing that’s most likely to screw us.”

What’s causing you to feel disillusioned?



“It is literally everywhere I turn – colleges redefining bisexuality on their LGBT Center pages, news articles quoting how ‘Bi=2 and pan=all therefore pan=better’, everybloodywhere I turn I see it every day. The word bi is being taken out of the names of organisations now, by the next group of up-and-comers who haven’t bothered to learn their history and understand that if you erase our past, you take away our present. Celebrities come out as No Label, wtf is that. Don’t they make kids read 1984 anymore? It’s gotten to the point now that even seeing the word pansexual in print triggers me. I’m reaching the point now that if someone really wants to be offended when all I am trying to do is welcome them on board, then I don’t have time for it.”

What do you want to say to other activists about this?

“Stay strong, and don’t give them a goddamned inch. I honestly think that the bi organizations – even, truth be told, the one I am with – are enabling this level of bullshit by attempting to be conciliatory, saying things that end up reinforcing the idea that bi and pan are separate communities. We try to be too careful not to offend anyone. Like the thing about Freddie Mercury. Gay people say ‘He was gay.’ Bi people say ‘Um, begging your pardon, good sirs and madams and gentlefolk of other genders, but Freddie was bi.’ And they respond ‘DON’T GIVE HIM A LABEL HE DIDN’T CLAIM WAAHHH WAAHHH!’ And yet… Freddie Mercury never used the label ‘gay’, but it’s OK when they do it. And he WAS bisexual by any measure you want to use. But we back down. And 2.5% of the bisexual population decides pansexual is a better word, and instead of educating them, we add ‘pan’ to our organisation names and descriptions. Now, this is clearly a dissenting view – I will always be part of a united front where my organization is concerned. But everyone knows how I feel, and I think it’s totally valid to be loyal and in dissent at the same time. Not exactly a typically American viewpoint, but everyone says I’d be a lot more at home in Britain than I am here anyway.”

[some-jw-things]

if you dont mind explaining, what did the organisation do that it gives you such reaction? im not jw/exjw myself, im just following this blog because i wanna keep myself educated on all sorts of issues, but if you dont want to its absolutely fine

I mean Jehovahs Witnesses are blatantly a cult. That’s been explained pretty thoroughly by a lot of people.

I guess “this organization is a cult” can be hard to understand what that actually means. On a personal level, it defined my entire life. When I introduced myself to new people, the first thing I said was that I was one of Jehovah’s Witnesses. It was my entire identity. I actually think of myself back when I still believed in it as a completely different person than who I am now. I consider my old self to be dead, and so does my family.

When I told them I wanted to leave the cult, they mourned me. They cried for months. They raged and got angry. My sister refused to even look at me for days. In the span of one sentence, I lost my whole family, all of my friends, and my entire community. I was shunned, and they blamed me for abandoning them.

And I knew that would happen. They had always made it perfectly clear that love was conditional. I was told flat out— multiple times— that I would get kicked out of the house if I got disfellowshipped. My dad told me as a child that he would stop supporting me if I ever went to college, because every Witness he knows who’s ever gone has left the Truth. He also told me that the day I turned eighteen he would make me pay rent to keep living in his house unless I was preaching full time. All of that later turned out to be empty threats and a doctor told me that last part was actually illegal, but my family made sure I grew up believing it.

I was only loved so long as I followed the rules. This is standard practice for Jehovah’s Witnesses. I am lucky I got off as light as I did and wasn’t kicked out on the street. Even that only happened due to a technicality and how obviously mentally ill I was at that point.

Jehovah’s Witnesses’ theology is the reason I started self-harming. I was afab and when I was fifteen I spent a month asking why God thought women were innately lesser than men. That culminated in a big family discussion where I got anxious enough to start scratching at my lip over and over until I had a massive gash. My family watched. My mother made a token protest that I listened to for about three seconds. I walked away from that conversation with the knowledge that I needed to keep my mouth shut because certain questions were actually not allowed and a brand new bad habit.

I created an entire system for myself based on rigid discipline and punishment and the idea that any mistake meant I didn’t deserve to feel un-miserable, which is exactly the sort of mentality that this all-or-nothing religious purism breeds.

I was institutionalized in hospital psychiatric wards four times in the year after I left, and one more time about a year after that. The high school attempted to put me in foster care then, out of concern for my safety if I continued living in that environment. My mother supported the idea

The first time I remember sincerely contemplating suicide was when I was thirteen. My thoughts then were just that I figured I would never be able to hold off killing myself long enough to live to be eighteen. I felt trapped. I was specifically thinking I would never have the guts to be able to pry myself out of the Org and so I would be stuck in it forever. The JW lifestyle is miserable in a way I can’t express

I have comforted my little sister while she’s had a break down crying in the bathroom during meeting because the talk was about Armageddon and she didn’t think our dad would make it into Paradise. She had to stop attending public school because of panic attacks. She was suicidal too at one point, but our mom thought she wasn’t as bad as me and therefore was making it up for attention

Jehovah’s Witnesses by and large treat mental illness with prayer and talking to the elders. The majority of teenage girls in my congregation had severe unaddressed issues. The Society has whole articles on how sometimes the answer IS demonic possession. Their version of Paradise is a eugenics fantasy

At one point an elder comforted my family by telling them that Jehovah likely didn’t view my choice to leave as legitimate due to my mental issues. They have official articles calling all apostates “mentally diseased,” and how am I supposed to argue why that’s wrong?

The majority of Jehovah’s Witnesses’ teachings are bigoted and hateful. They have a cute little kids cartoon that compares the evil gays to terrorists. I was taught the mark of Cain and curse of Esau were responsible for the existence of other races. JW women are required to submit to their husbands and fathers no matter what, and divorce is a sin that will get you shunned. Trans people are forced to live as their agab, gay people have to remain celibate and never date. The elders reserve the right to out you to whoever they want, whenever they want.

There have been so many talks that have sent me running off somewhere private to cry and panic

There’s this little girl in the hall who was friends with my sister. She had needed a blood transfusion when she was a baby. Her parents had been willing to let her die, but the courts stepped in and took her away for a few days. She was given the blood transfusion, lived, and at thirteen had a crying breakdown in the middle of the hall because the talk had just said she would never make it into Paradise now. Usually though, if you’re old enough to speak for yourself, they let you die

My parents have had three bankruptcies and they mock me for saving money. They live as if the world is going to end at any moment. There’s no such thing as a future

The world has been about to end since my grandma was little. That’s a running joke. She’s lived through more changes to the Org than I’ll ever know about. My family has been ruthlessly controlled by this organization for generations. My family aren’t allowed to accept me even if they wanted to. I’ve seen this Org ruin so many people’s lives in a whole variety of ways. Three other kids I grew up with have been disfellowshipped since becoming adults. There are others who I don’t think could leave unless they literally ran away in secret

JW ideology loans itself to a certain style of parenting and that has consequences. They control every aspect of members’ lives. Behavior, dress, speech, career, free time, friends, which family you’re allowed to see, what media you can consume. The thoughts you are allowed to have. I’ve been sent into a spiraling panic before over the idea that “I shouldn’t be thinking that”

The Org barred outside ideas and all criticism. They forcibly kept me in the dark. Members are intentionally isolated from not just all outsiders, but also all outside opinions. I was raised in a way intended to make me an outcast everywhere but within the Org. I was told never to read about Jehovah’s Witnesses from any writer other than the Society itself. I was told never to listen to its critics. I was told that reading forbidden books would get me possessed by demons

The Society controlled and defined my entire life and somehow still manages to do so even after I’ve left. Every member I know has been hurt by it. I’m just the one who won’t forgive

[jadedragoness]

Review: Peace Talks

First Read Through Reaction

Now staring off, knowing that the book was essentially part one of two did mean that I went in expecting that there would be plot lines that wouldn’t be resolved. I did NOT expect that nearly zero of the plot lines would be resolved, at all. Yikes. Now, I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it. I did. But it felt like there were 50 to 60 pages missing that should have been in the story to at least wrap up minor plot lines before heading into ‘Battle Ground’.

Warning: Full of Spoilers

Such the arrival of the Outsiders those Cornerhounds. Um… Outsiders and at no point that Harry wonder why in the hell they were called to Chicago? Or why they were targeting him and Ebenezer. Seriously, unless the author totally forgot we know that Outsiders can only be called by mortals. So human wizards brought them. So was it someone in the ‘Black Council’ or was it the Formor, since we know from previous stories that they grab humans and mind-whammy them and also modify them. And we know that they’ve been pretty focused on grabbing minor practioners for a couple of years now.

Hell, even just knowing why Thomas attacked the svartalf King would have been good to know in the book even if we don’t find out who it was yet.

That being said lets start of with things I didn’t like.

Thing Which I Wasn’t All that Pleased About:

1. Butters in that threesome relationship.

Now, let me explain, it’s not because its a poly relationship. I don’t even twitch over how Justine and Thomas include others in the sexual part of their relationship. It’s because I kept wondering if Marci was even into dudes. As far as I knew she was only into girls. And now she’s suddenly bi?

What the hell?

I think my reaction has a lot to do with how skewed the sexual orientation gradient in shown among Named characters. You have straight men. Straight women. Bi women who are shown to be blatantly into men and women…and that’s it, now.

No lesbian women with zero interest in men. No bi men. No gay men. No asexual characters. No trans characters. No gender fluid people.

I know that this due to the author’s eye and while it hasn’t irritated me much in the past as we keep getting more and more books with more newly introduced characters the lack is becoming more and more glaring to me. Especially, as I have drifted into reading other series that manage to be way more inclusive about this sort of thing in great and amazing ways *sighs happily over Rivers of London series*. And I don’t just mean in passing with random nameless scenery people that never talk which have popped up in the Dresden Files but with actual characters that have names, dialogue and contribute to the series.

So it really, really annoys me that Marci went from being the only lesbian who is a named character to joining the horde of bi women in the DF verse.

Okay, so its not really a Butters issue to much as a grumble about the spectrum of gender and sexually needing better representation.

*grumbles* Step up your game, Butcher.

I will add that I’m head-canoning that actually the relationship here is Butters with Andi, Andi with Butter and Marci, and Marci with Andi. That pretty much with Butters running around being the new Knight Andi didn’t like how her boyfriend wasn’t paying attention and gave Butters the ultimatum of letting Marci in as Andi’s girlfriend or they broke up.

… yeah, I’m totally liking that spin way, way better.

2. That Marcone took forever to show up! ARGH! I love him ok.

Considering how early he was name dropped in the story the amount of time it took him to show up… Jim Butcher is a damn Marcone-tease. *glares hotly in author’s direction*

3. I don’t like it that Murphy is so hurt. I don’t hate it. I think I’m just uneasy about the future implications.

Having reread the entire series before reading ‘Peace Talks’ I fully expected some lingering injury but not to that level. I’m actually worried about her chances of surviving any upcoming battle, and not just in Battle Ground. There’s even more danger coming down the pipeline in future books and she won’t let herself stay ‘safe’ when she could be watching Harry’s back… so its a worrying problem.

Now if she died I have no doubt that her being recruited to be a Valkerie is an option. But then I remembered how those warrior women go out into the world with ‘clients’ and of the two we’ve seen they’ve been attached to ‘monsters’ aka Lara and Marcone.

Unless, the payment isn’t cash and she can be attached to Harry. *hums in thought*

But then I have to wonder how much Murphy would accept that role. She’s also a pretty devout Catholic as this book reminded us so that is also something that would make her say no to the offer.

4. That the younger Wardens who had so looked up to Harry being so damned suspicious… ow. That hurt. I may have teared up and sniffled into a tissue thinking about it. And then sobbed because so much of it came from Carlos… Carlos! The man went into the Deeps with Harry! Ouch.

5. Rudolph… that roach.

Ugh, I’ve had the disturbing thought that now that magic and the supernatural on the path to being exposed to all of humanity, scared humanity too, that will end up with a resurgence of a new Inquisition and the killing of anything eldritch. And you know that Rudolph would definitely be in it. *shudders in disgust* Creep.

BTW I totally don’t believe that Rudolph answers to Marcone. It doesn’t make sense as to why he was so pushy go get Harry during ‘Changes’. I had thought he was answering to the Red Court but with them being taken out of the picture… now I wonder if he isn’t answerable to the Black Council.

Things I Did Not Expect:

1. Damn… when Ebenezer sent that spell through Harry and ‘killing’ I was so shocked even though I was pretty sure there was a twist coming. Mostly because of what it says about Ebenezer.

Ebenezer actions killed Harry.

Sure it was a fake body that brought no harm to the real Harry. But if Harry hadn’t thought ahead? If he hadn’t used his brain to ask Molly to create a fake? Eb would have killed his own grandson.

Sure it was an accident but it could so easy have resulted in a dead Harry. I was crying so hard I wondered if my eyeballs were loosening in their sockets. Argh.

2. Bonea…. Harry your naming skills are simply weird. I’m so glad that Susan named Maggie.

Although Bonnie is a pretty great nickname.

Thinks I Found Utterly Hilarious

1. The line about the best offense being a T-Rex? Gold. Pure gold.

2. When Harry figured out there are angels in the hilt of the Swords of the Cross and Butter’s immediate reaction of horror because he’d accidentally laundered the hilt, giving it a ride in a washing machine.

OMG! I had the instant image of a miniature angel screaming and growing dizzy when going through the spin cycle.

I know that makes no sense but that’s where my mind went, okay.

3. The conjuritis. Omg, it’s so gross with all the ectoplasm leaking from Harry’s nose but it’s sooooo funny. Also the way he kept getting the ‘aren’t you too old for this’ from Ebenezer and then Lara made me giggle even harder.

Then I thought: dude, it’s like chicken pox, something you got as a kid but if you never had it you get it when exposed later in life. So one of his kids has it. Probably Maggie too.

4. When Sanya pretended to have his hand lopped off. I straightened up and was so worried Sanya had lost a hand. Then when I realized he was pretending to freak out Butters and Harry I admit to laughing way too hard. Got me too.’

Also there’s no way that Sanya was actually defeated there. He’s younger and better trained then Butters, I don’t care how light (Heh) the new sword is. He definitely threw that fight to test his hunch.

5. Murphy’s inability to handle being flirted on with a red-headed warrior woman. Sooooo funny. I mean, Murphy could have said a number of things such as ‘I’m exclusive.’ or ‘I’m not interested in women.’ But she just floundered. Heh heh.

6. I continue to find it completely hilarious that Lara, a couple of centuries old vampire, seems to keep learning a lot of power moves from Marcone.

Such as: having trained fighters that are NOT food, well… mostly. Having those mines installed in the walls. And now hiring a Valkerie of her very own.

I keep thinking, yeah, there’s no way she’d win in a fight against Marcone because there’ s no way that Marcone has let slip all of his tricks.

Things I Really, Really Liked:

1. Marcone. Everything Marcone. *heart-eyes*

And then he proves why he’s so damned scary by standing up to the Titan. Then to the ghouls. Then after proving his bad-ass quotient if off the charts he gets everyone organized to fight.

Yeeessss… It proves to me that when it comes to protecting Chicago he is actually the best person after Harry. Hell, in some ways he’s better than Harry. Now, I’m not saying he’s a white knight or anything like that. Just that he has the intelligence, the ruthlessness, the will, the power and the men to provide the most protection to the city’s mortal denizens. At least when there’s a war raging with multiple enemies who will be attacking at various points.

And oh, I can’t wait to see how he’s going to get revenge for the death of his people. Omg, he’s going to kill the Formor so hard. *goes starry eyed thinking about more Marcone*

But why did he have to appear so late in the book?! *wails in a heart-rending fashion*

There better be a ton more Marcone in the next book! *makes desperate gimme gimme hands*

No, I don’t have a Marcone addiction… I can stop anytime I want to. *sneaks off to mainline some “Even Hand” straight into the brain*

2. The return of Goodman Grey! Oh, I hope he’s around a lot! I’ve really grown to like him.

<b>Things Which Blew My Mind or Were Just Freaking Awesome: </b>

1. Dad!Harry is actually the most amazing Harry. Forget the magic flinging and the fire storms… this is the best Harry.

Just the way he takes care of his kids…. *turns to mush like ectoplasm*

2. Murphy and Harry are finally together! Yay! Yay! Hip hip hooray!

Now, I’m a rather shameless Marcone/Dresden fic writer, but as I never ever expect this to be canon I’m content to write it as fanfic for my own sense of delight. However when it comes to canon I’m full on board with the Karrin and Harry relationship. Be it friendship or romantic, I think its great.

3. Marcone… that is all.

Random Speculation

1. I find myself wondering about Ebenezer’s rage against vampires. And my brain muttered this theory: Maybe Harry’s grandmother was killed by White Court vampires.

Whoa.

It would explain the vitrolic rage.

And if Lara was involved it would also explain her flash of shame.

We don’t know anything about Harry’s grandmother, not even her name. So… that’s a thought.

2. River Shoulders teaching Harry.

Oh man, oh man, I hope Harry learns shape-shifting.

And thinking about it I had to wonder if the animal-shifting had anything to do with knowing the animal in question which of course made me think…

Harry should learn to shape-shift into a T-Rex.

He already knows how one is put together and the mind of one. And he knows that it’s possible to add extra mass to a shift from the Nevernever in the form of ectoplasm… so

Harrysarous Rex, baby…. I may have to write a fic with this premise.

3. Oh, if it’s possible to make a ectoplasmic body can Harry learn to make one for Bonea? After all Maggie would probably really enjoy getting to play with her little sister that way. Even if Harry can’t do it all the time and it wouldn’t last longer than a day. That would be delightful.

4. Okay, not this is more head-canon than speculation but… considering how hard Harry has been made to be analogous to Merlin I can’t help but wonder if Marcone is suppose to be Arthur’s analogue. So wielding Amorrachius *coughs*Excalibur*coughs* would make sense.

…it’s not just my Marcone-love talking dammit.

Speaking of Merlin, I’m convinced that he’s behind this whole ‘starborn’ thing. Seriously, otherwise its way too convenient that a wizard with that power is born every 666 years. It smacks of a spell.

And if that’s the case it also feeds into my pet theory that the whole reason we have Outsides at the Gates is because Merlin was the schmuck who drew them to our reality in the first place. And everything surrounding the war with the Outsiders are his attempts to try to fix what he broke.

*lost in pondering thoughts*

Things I Have Questions About

1. Did Harry forget he has The Ways Map from his mother? I would have thought he would have figured out a way (heh) to get to the island somehow. He was on it for so long I thought for sure he’d spend time exploring it. Also we knew from ‘Skin Game’ that even tiny factors can change where the Way goes in the Nevernever. I doubt the ENTIRE island has Ways that lead to a bad place. Especially for Harry now that he’s the Warden.

2. Also why didn’t Harry get Lea to help him? After all unless she’s moved it since ‘Changes’ her garden is still on the other side of the sub-basement.

3. What did Lara use that first favor from Mab on? *eyes her suspiciously*

4. Where are the Za Lord’s Guard? *wondering about what been happening with Lacuna and Toot-toot*

5. If Harry gets kicked out of the White Council (good riddance, since they haven’t exactly been all that helpful lately) can he get enough signatures to be added as a member of the Accords in his own right? After all being Warden of Demonreach has got to mean a lot to the older members.

Then he wouldn’t be reliant on Mab’s protection.

I can’t help but hope this proves to be the case, especially if in ‘Battle Ground’ Harry ends up taking down that Titan. Because he needs as much protection and influence he can gather if he’s no longer White Council to protect himself, his people and his kids. Especially if he eventually gets rid of that Winter Knight mantle like I hope he does.

6. How in the hell (pardon the pun) did evil demon Sasquatch survive being turned to mush by Hade’s Ice Gate? Or the shades that were part of the security system that almost got Harry?

*frowns* The only reason I can think of would be the coin of Ursiel being the factor. I doubt a Fallen Angel is allowed to stick around in the Greek realm of the afterlife.

7. WHERE IS BOB?! Seriously, if Butters doesn’t give him back...

[divineknowing2021]

curator interview

Suzanne Kachmar: Tell us about yourself? School, work, play?

Natasha Kuranko: I’m a tender-hearted 27-year-old adult who refuses to stop dressing like a child. Currently, I am unemployed though I’ve made a small gig for myself selling thrifted clothes online. I'm a full-time student at Norwalk Community College working towards my associates degree. My free time is best spent riding my bike, reading a book, visiting museums, or catching up with a friend. It makes me chuckle a bit thinking about how eccentric my taste and appearance can be, but overall I prefer to lead a relatively simple existence.

SK: You worked as the gallery manager at Franklin Street Works. How long did you work there, what was your job like? What did you do?

NK: I worked at Franklin Street Works for just under 4 years. It was an incredibly nurturing environment. The artwork I was exposed to there provided me with the motivation and tools I needed to become a better person. Whether an artwork was intimately revealing a struggle unfamiliar to me or pulling back the curtain on oppressive structures I too was inflicted by, my critical thinking skills and will to be compassionate (for both myself and others) was constantly being asked to grow. The executive and creative directors of FSW at the time I was hired, put a lot of intention into creating a work environment that functioned on open communication, care, respect, and mutualism. They trusted me with responsibilities despite my lack of formal education in the arts and were always available if I needed guidance. They taught me to be confident in my abilities; I don't think I'd have half the aspirations I do today if it weren't for either of these women.

If I wasn't walking a visitor through an exhibition, I was likely busy reaching out to local community groups with overlapping interests to an exhibition's theme, writing letters of appreciation to patrons, updating our CRM database, preparing for an upcoming event, or snacking on cherry tomatoes from our back patio vegetable garden. My favorite work happened while we were bittersweetly deinstalling one exhibition and installing the next. I find the process of repairing holes in walls oddly calming and symbolic of healing, plus nothing beats the precious feeling of holding an artwork in your hands.

SK: What have you been doing since FSW closed and during Covid 19?

NK: The pandemic put a halt to some crucial fundraising efforts for FSW forcing us to close permanently. Unlike many people, I was fortunate enough to qualify for unemployment and not be burdened with food or housing insecurity. My focus has been on my physical, mental, and spiritual health. I see the culture of today as being very tiring, constantly asking us to perform success and prove ourselves. It's easy to get caught up in this pressure while allowing traumas or feelings of anger, sadness, and grief to accumulate. It's been nice stepping outside of that mindset and giving myself the time to process and move on from bad things that have happened to me. I just wish more people could be given that opportunity. It's a bit cheesy to say, but life is really beautiful; I think this pandemic has helped open a lot of people's eyes, including my own, to how lucky we are to be alive.

SK: Tell us about the exhibit you produced. You proposed and defined the concept, curated the art and mounted the exhibit, bringing your other work experiences to City Lights Gallery.

NK: diving knowing is a group show featuring 19 artists. Most of them are either self-taught or in the early stages of their career. The submission process consisted of me posting a call for art on my Instagram and reaching out to a few individuals I had already established a relationship with, asking if they wanted to submit. I felt so moved by all the work I had access to just through my personal network. A handful of artists in the show are close friends of mine. It's really amazing to see all their artworks getting along with another in one space.

I was invited to curate this exhibition for women's month. I wanted to develop a theme relevant to women's issues and my personal experience as a woman, which wasn't centered around biology or would risk excluding trans and non-binary artists. I was thinking about how commonly the voices of women, and other marginalized groups, are devalued or ignored and how over generations, this has pushed us into a more perceptive mode of being. Intuition is a really radical concept; there's a lot of power in recognizing the knowledge you already have inside you and not depending on an external authority to validate it. It was a long train of thoughts and feelings, but basically, I wanted to celebrate something I've found to be so crucial in my own life and learn more about how it exists in the life and work of artists.

SK: What's next? What are your ambitions or plans as an artist, creative, arts professional?

NK: My next, or current step, is finishing up my associate degree at Norwalk Community College. What I go on to study after that will depend on where I am accepted as a transfer student. I'm looking at schools offering majors in curatorial or archival studies but I'd also be totally satisfied getting my masters in education and teaching elementary school somewhere. Far as my ambitions or plans as an artist/creative/arts professional goes... I'd love to refamiliarize myself with guitar and get back into songwriting. My dream is to open up an alternative art space, with a similar value system as FSW, that doubles as a vegan fast food joint. Though that probably won't be happening for another 5-10 years. One of the names I've been playing with for the space is "beans on bread."

SK: Is there anything else you want to tell us or announce?

NK: No announcements here! I would like to thank every artist who submitted and everyone who supported me throughout this project. Knowing there were people in my life with curatorial experience who were willing to provide guidance if needed saved me from a lot of sleepless nights!

[toysoldiers-rwby]

[SYT] 6. the lofty lion

Show Your Teeth

Characters: Fiona, Winter, May, Robyn, Joanna Rating: Explicit (tagged as thoorist) Tags: loss of virginity, body worship, cock worship, edging, trans female character, confessions Word Count: 8,705

Summary: According to the movies, May was due for an epic love confession. She never could find a movie to relate too.

Read on Ao3

PREV - NEXT

A/N: starting moving to my new apt. Don’t know when i’ll have time to post this so here it is! will fix errors when i have time lol

 May told herself she was going to tell Winter today. After the usual ‘Accelerated Program’ debriefing, the group will go on another not-date stroll around Mantle and goof around until Glade told them where they trapped the Grimm.  

Everything went as planned. Fiona dragged them around her neighborhood. They found an empty park and jumped on the swings. May got to see and smile at Winter’s soft embarrassed blush as her adult teammates tried to do a full 360. She got Winter laughing softly when the pair of stopped at the apex and fell onto the bars. She got to hold Winter’s hand as security chased them out of the playground.  

Winter didn’t let go of her hand, as she fixed her hair and tried to hide the smile behind a fist. May couldn’t even breath at the sight. It’s been years since the women looked so relaxed and happy. Joanna only smiled at the pair, lifting Fiona onto her back and linking arms with Robyn as they went about to cause more mayhem. May should have told Winter then.  

They checked in on Glade who was slowly recovering and sleeping on the clinic’s couch. None of them had the courage to slip off those glasses and peek at their face. Fiona did produced a marker from her semblance. When she went to draw on their face a sudden headbutt had Fiona on the ground. Robyn and May screaming, practically climbing into their partner’s arms. Winter openly laughed.  

May could have confessed through a kiss. Wanted to right then and there. Instead May blushed, heart cowering and thundering in her chest as she tried to worm her way out of Winter’s grasp. The women sneered and adjusted her grip, holding May tight until she finished laughing. It was soft and gentle and confused Glade enough for Faunus wears to poke out from the sides of their head and swivel around. It was like May’s head and heart, confused and dizzy and May thought she could feel Winter’s chest beat in time with hers.  

Winter did admit she loved her back after all. 

Nothing would go wrong if May told her.  

Somehow Fiona managed to drag Glade to the movies with them. It involved flustering them with too much physical affection and playful headbutting until they were a little overwhelmed. The Thief was lil’ Fi’s prisoner for the night, trapped between Fiona and Robyn to make sure they didn’t slip away.  

May would confess her feelings before they went into the theater. The not-date night out would turn into a date night out and May would finally fucking kiss her.  

Instead May’s heart was in her throat. A nearly choking pressure as Winter stood comfortably at May’s side, talking with Glade about Dust while Robyn tried to wrestle Fiona into not stealing from the arcade machines. May would tell Winter after the fifth pointed look Joanna would give but Winter didn’t talk much.  

The Schnee commanded, gave advice and lessons. Her tone was always above others, either as a leader in the public eye, a parental figure to her siblings and even a challenger to May and their friends. But with Glade, Winter’s voice was non of the above. It was cautious and curious as they talked about Dust. It was a voice May rarely hears so she didn’t chicken out of confessing, she enjoyed the moment and listened. Until Glade and Winter both gently prodded May into joining the conversation.  

Gentle prods turned into teasing May tried to match their bite. Far too soon Joanna dragged Glade away. Winter pressed into May’s side, shoulder to shoulder and whispering taunts Fiona and Glade could hear. May played along, waiting till her nerves and irrational fear calmed down.  

She’ll tell Winter after the movie…  

Or after they made sure Glade was on Robyn’s couch to rest instead of Grimm wrangling. Their ears flicked nervously and they loosely hugged the Spring the toy lion. “Did… did you guys just kidnapped me?” They mumbled  

“Is it possible to kidnap a stray?” Winter teased slipping into Robyn’s room to change. May followed before her nervous could stop her. She gently closed the door and… Stood there. Fiona was loud, excited and teasing her fellow Faunus but Winter’s calm breathing was easier to hear. Easier to focus on as Winter slipped the tie and shirt.  

In the movies Fiona likes, this would be the scene where the hero finally confess.  

Instead May’s mind stopped, eyes lingering on the bra that slipped to the floor and then mesmerizing the planes of Winter’s back, the flexing shoulders and arms as she slipped on a looser bralette for the night. Up to her neck and lips as Winter turned and smiled at May.  

“You are such a bottom.”  

“I… f-fuck off,” May stammered eyes wide. She tried to be polite and keep her eyes on Winter’s face but it was getting harder as she walked towards her. Harder when those hands slipped the belt loose and hips wiggled her pants down.  

She knows. It’s so fucking obvious but every confession May tried to force out just choked in her throat. Frustration started to prick at her eyes. May tried blinking away the tears and saw a Winter’s hurt expression for a moment. The Schnee almost stepped away but May grabbed her.  

She had no plan, she just wanted Winter close. Wanted the smile back. Winter braced herself against the door, hugging May tight to her body. If this was a movie they would kiss. May wanted too and now that she knew Winter liked her back it was so obvious that Winter wanted to kiss her too.  

Instead Winter took a deep breath, gently pushing May against the door. May blinked away the frustrated tears but more swelled up as Winter’s hand slide from her back to her ribs, over her chest and slowly up May’s neck. Her thumb brushed May’s lips. The Marigold would have whimpered if her breath wasn’t stuttering.  

“You always sucked with words,” Winter mused lightly. May frowned, grumbling and looking away. Winter laughed softly resting their foreheads together. Still she didn’t kiss close the few inches, those blue eyes didn’t move from May’s lips. “I think you’ll taste better if I have you wait a little longer.”  

“S-seriously!?” May weakly growled.  

“You want it so bad? Take it,” Winter said, lifting her fingers off May’s lips and cheek to grab at May’s tie. She even encouraged her partner with a light tug but May was frozen. Shaking. She felt too hot against Winter’s cool skin. Winter waited for a minute, getting comfortable and enjoying how May’s beating heart made her tremble. “Good girl.”  

“Cheating,” May said with a gasp. With two words all the heat fluttering in her chest shot low. May tensed, the romantic frustration slowly draining as as she fought the lower fire in her gut.  

“Sorry,” Winter said with a mocking smile. A hand was on May’s check again, first pressed against her lips then swiping the tears that slipped past. “I… I don’t know if I liked you as long as you liked me but I want to do this right.”  

“Because making me cry from frustration is a good start,” May grumbled.  

Winter blinked, surprised. She then tucked her head into May’s neck and laughed softly. May leaned her head, opening up and letting the Schnee cuddling into her. May’s arms finally felt light enough to move but felt heavy as she wrapped it around Winter’s neck. Her partner gave a content sigh, soft laughter turning into a gentle chuckle.  

“Just for that you don’t get a kiss until, after our first date.” Winter said.  

“How does tonight- fucking today not count as a date?!”  

“Because I didn’t ask you out yet,” Winter teased. May was about to yell, face now burning more frustration but calmed the instant Winter’s lips pressed against her pinched brow. “Give me a little more time, I want you for myself for a day and because of… some people it’s a little hard.”  

“It doesn’t need to be fucking perfect!” Fiona screamed through the door. May screamed a little, jumping in Winter’s arms. She blinked, surprise fading to angry realization.  

“Where you assholes listening!?” May yelled through the door.  

There was a pause and feet scrambling, shadows moving under the door. “No!”  

May wiggled free from Winter’s hold, ignoring Winter’s pout and grumpy face as May threw the door open. She had too much energy and if Winter wasn’t gonna burn it off with a lot of kisses then revenge will have to do. Fiona only stuck her tongue out from behind Joanna and Glade.  

“Wait till I get my hands on you, you little shit!”  

By the time Winter finished changing Fiona had pinned May to the ground. May didn’t miss the grins Joanna and Robyn was giving her partner. Instead she tagged Glade in to the wrestling match and was surprised when the Thief and Fiona was nearly tied on the ground. For a moment Glade was winning until they favored their side and Fiona scrambled to get off them.  

The following morning they were late to their debriefing and got their ears chewed off but May barely stop herself from grinning. She felt lighter, the pressure of actually stating the obvious off her chest. It still took a few days for her nerves to calm down but even a week after it was obvious she was on cloud nine.  

During the ‘Accelerated’ student’s combative training Marrow paused during their spar. He frowned, tail twitching. “Did your uncle die or something? You’ve been… in a scary good mood lately.” Across the training room, May heard Fiona snickered. She glared at her teammate, but the Faunus was busy dogging Harriet and swinging a sledgehammer into the senior’s gut.  

“Just… good news,” May said with a shrug. She tapped her staff on her shoulder before activating her semblance. She watched Marrow jump and look around, trying to guess where she’d appear next. Instead she took the time to watch Winter and Robyn.  

Winter was good but no one expected Robyn to be better. At least against other humans. She trained to take down humans without a protective Aura. She was used to holding back but against Winter she shoot those explosive bolts at that pretty face and just leave her stunned. Those sharp blades on her wrist mounted crossbow didn’t slice open skin but slowly at at Winter’s low Aura.  

It would have been match if May hadn’t jumped in staff crackling with lightning Dust. Robyn gasped, throwing herself back to avoid it. Winter blinked surprised. May only winked at her and disappeared again before one of the instructors spotted her. May was grinning when she reappeared in front of Marrow, feet kicking him in the chest.  

“Ow! See, that’s what I mean!” Marrow grumbled. May only rolled her eyes and sneered, twisting the Dust chamber in her staff and activating the fire Dust.  

The sparring session ended with the usual outcomes. Marrow just a little burnt, Harriet pulling tricking Fiona and winning, Elm and Joanna was now tied, Clover’s stupid semblance gave him the upper hand against Vine. Finally Winter and Robyn… was the same as last week and the weeks before.  

With Winter sprawled on the ground and Robyn sitting on top of her, victorious.  

Fiona grinned into May’s line of sight. May scoffed and turned away with a light blush. They looked good together but right now May wanted Winter for herself.  

Robyn laughed and helped Winter up, “And here I thought you were the knight, snowflake,” She teased with a wink. Winter rolled her eyes trying to roll a kink out of her shoulder.  

“And here I thought you were above cheap shots,” Winter replied, not mumble or pout. The Schnee was too dignified for that.  

“I prefer the term ‘trickshot’, thank you very much,” Robyn said with a haughty scoff and lead the group to the showers.  

May frowned for a moment, trailing behind the Mantle Rats with Winter. She kept rubbing her neck and rolling her shoulder. “You okay? I do owe you a massage.”  

“Sounds like a good way to end a date,” Winter said with a small smirk. May’s eyes went wide, a blush quickly crawling over her cheeks as Winter finally asked, “Mantle has that carnival today. Would you like to go out?”  

“Yes!” Fiona screamed.  

Winter clicked her jaw shut, an angry blush dusting her pale cheeks while May shuffled a little embarrassed. Those Faunus ears has been particularly… sensitive lately. The pair had a hard time glaring at Fiona as she prounced back to her elites.  

“This was suppose to be just me and May, Thyme,” Winter said. Her voice was a little hard and Fiona’s cute ears twitched low and sad. “Damn it… You idiots have been on my ass and when I finally ask May out you all think it’s another group date.”  

“Oh! Ooh!” Fiona said with a slow gasp of realization. Fiona nervously twitched, embarrassed.  

“Don’t worry, lambchop,” Robyn said. It seemed she was coming to Fiona’s rescue but then she leaned with with a smirk, “Me and Joanna will take you on a date.”  

“It- It doesn’t need to be date!” Fiona huffed, shoving Robyn back who only rolled with it and laughed.  

“Call it whatever you idiots want but I doubt it’ll be any different from a normal day,” Joanna said with a laughed. She got behind the couples and gave them a light shove forward. “Come on! No one is going on a date all gross and if we all shower at Robyn’s place the water will get cold.”  

“This is not a double date!” Winter stressed with a hard blush.  

“Oh please, May can give you all the privacy you need,” Robyn teased, wiggling her eyes brows. At first May only raised a brow. Then she gasped, face burning as images of herself between Winter’s legs and her hand through May’s hair while a crowd of people walked, oblivious- “Wow… your kinda innocent aren’t you?”  

“Shut up!”  

May’s mind instantly went into overdrive, body on autopilot as she undress and showered. She thought about all the outfits in her closet and the ones left at Robyn’s place. A dress was out of the question if they were going on some rides- would they be going on some rides? Does a Mantle carnival even have rides? May should definitely avoid white, the stains would be near impossible to get out but anything too color full would clash with Winter’s wardrobe.  

Winter didn’t wear anything fancy though. In fact after the shower in the locker rooms and after changing into into the usual Atlas uniform, Winter dragged her back to Mantle. Robyn and Joanna blew wolf whistles at them, a blushing lamb swatting the former cops.  

At the carnival entrance Winter pulled their ties off, shoving it into a trash can and then tossed the gray vest next. May blinked surprised. Winter rolled her eyes, unbuttoning her cuffs and undoing the top two buttons of her shirt.  

Then the Marigold crossed her arms and smiled, watching her picture perfect date muss herself up into something casual, "What happen to doing this right?"  

“You’re smiling and not a nervous wreck,” Winter pointed out. May quickly turned her head away with a blush. When did her angry facade completely disappear? Winter hands gently on May’s chest as she unbutton the vest a little to be much more comfortable. “Would you like to keep the skirt or change into pants?”  

“The um… the skirts fine,” May mumbled. May’s heart skipped a few beats every time Winter’s skinned bushed against hers. It nearly gave out when Winter undid May’s cuffs and folded them up her arms a little. Her heart completely stopped when Winter held her hand and pressed her lips to her knuckles. Light and quick, a sharp contrast to the lingering and intense blue eyes staring at her.  

Before May could feint Winter grinned, something wicked and endearing, and pulled her into Mantle’s Carnival. Right towards the biggest, fastest ride on hard-light rails.  

“You’ve been on roller coasters before, right princess?” Winter taunted with a raised brow.  

May scoffed but it didn’t come out as strong as usual, “I should be asking you that. When do you have time for fun?” she said with the same playful bite.  

Joanna was… right. It wasn’t much different from a normal day minus the fear and anxiety of having to confess. The ride helped May scream out her nerves and burned excess energy that rolled over into anxiety. She laughed linking her arms with Winter as they hurried over to the next ride.  

After each ride, their linked arms slide lower and lower until Winter’s hand was comfortably in hers. Winter smiling and tilting her head down to let May tidy her hair a little. It took a few tries to brush Winter’s signature fringe back together and by the end of of May was staring at Winter’s lips. Until they curled into a teasing smirk, pointedly leaning back.  

May growled, face hot with a mix of frustration and anger and she nearly ripped the shirt open. All that was forgotten as the next ride slowly crawled up the hard-light rails. May’s anger burned away with a scream, heart lurching between her gut and throat as the ride whipped them around. In between it all she got to hear Winter’s laugh in her ears.  

By the time the Mantle Rats finally got into the carnival the place was packed and the lines were long, but because this was Atlas, military personal and students, had free access to the VIP line. Winter spotted the trio first, the cheater having a few inches over May. Still Fiona was easy to find, atop of Joanna’s shoulders and sometimes leaning down to give Robyn a kiss. They were adorable, picture perfect cute.  

So May pulled out her Scroll and sent the picture to the group chat. She pulled Winter to a corner and they watched as Fiona perked up, eyes scanning for white and blue hair. Winter and May giggled as Fiona kicked her feet and wiggled her ears in frustration. Robyn reached up, pulling Fiona into a calming kiss and then dragging them onto a ride.  

Winter continued to take secret pictures whenever they’d see the trio by chance. Finally fed up, Fiona dragged the other Mantle Rats to the Farris Wheel to try and find them. Winter and May giggled, ducking into the large tent housing the games.  

At first it was a small competition. Then it became a losing streak as Winter cheated her way to victory for every game. Then cheating became the game and May wrapped her arms around Winter’s waist, tucking her head into her shoulder to muffle her laughter.  

Winter’s small Beowolf summon would appear whenever the carnival worker wasn’t looking, pushing the ball into the hole or kicking a pin. Children would gasp and clap their hands adorably and Winter would give them the prizes and wink. They were a little younger than Whitely.  

“You two are too adorable,” Robyn said. Winter’s relaxed smile slipped into a small playful huff as she looked up at the others. Fiona was finally walking on her own two feet with Joanna’s arm draped across her shoulders. Robyn had that stupid cute grin. May didn’t know if she wanted to slap it off or watch Fiona kiss it off.  

“Oh! I wanna be romantic and steal May for myself,” Fiona taunted and sang, striking romantic poses like in those movies they watch sometimes. May blushed and decided that slapping both of them would be better. Fiona only laughed at their faces, “Then she spends the night taking pictures of us and baiting us around.”  

“May started it,” Winter said quickly.  

“How mature,” Joanna sneered. She rested her arm heavily across May and Winter’s shoulder, guiding them out of hiding and to the food stands. May sighed and rolled her eyes. Even on an official and proper date it felt like a normal day.  

“At least have dinner with us! I’ll show you the best food in the carnival,” Fiona said with a grin, grabbing Winter and May’s free hands and tugging them faster along. May and Winter gave each other a defeated look. Their lil’ lamb was too cute. They both dramatically sigh and acted reluctant, making Fiona blush and hear ears twitch nervously.  

Fiona didn’t take them to dinner, she dragged the group to an Argus crepe booth. It was delicious, filling enough to stave off hunger for a real meal and they should be safe enough for another ride as long as it wasn’t extreme. But instead of turning the date into a double date May noticed Winter rolled her shoulder, face twitching in pain.  

May did owe her a massage…  

“Actually I think we’ll head back,” May said. Fiona frowned and pouted. May smiled down at her, rubbing the base of those fluffy ears. It always made Fiona smile, “It the weekend tomorrow, we can ride all day if you want.”  

“Phrasing,” Robyn said with a cough. Fiona and May glared at her, a hard blush on both of them but Fiona was the only one that actually elbowed Robyn.  

The walk to Robyn’s apartment was slow but May didn’t notice the time. Only the smile and Winter’s unguarded voice as they chatted without a goal. A review of the past month, reassurance about Weiss and Silvio, speculations about Fiona’s crush on the pair. Her hair was a mess, out of that tight bun and in a loose ponytail, her cheeks were a little rosy from all the laughing and smiling. The pristine white shirt actually a little dirtied from all the rides and kicked up dirt.  

“You look better like this…” May said softly as Winter sat down on Robyn’s bed. She raised a brow a smile slowly crawling across her face as May stepped between her legs. If this was earlier in the day May’s anxiety would have killed her. She wouldn’t be able to slide her hands up Winter’s chest. They would be shaking as she applied a gentle and firm pressure around the back of Winter’s neck.  

The Schnee’s breath hitched, body shuttering as all the tense muscles twitched and relaxed under May’s fingers.  

“You look better happy,” May explained. Winter blinked, trying to focus but her eyes kept lingering on May’s lips. “Alive, actually enjoying yourself with other people instead of on that stupid Schnee pedestal.”  

“Good,” Winter said. For once her voice was the one weak and trembling. May smirked, settling against Winter’s body. The white knight only had her hands on May’s waist like she was a cherished maiden. Even as May undid the ponytail and reach brush of her hands drew soft moans from her.  

For a moment May remembered that just hours before the mere thought of this would send her into overdrive. Hours of screaming and laughing, the fear she had twisting her gut was gone. Fear and a pressure she didn’t realize was on her chest. But right now… May smiled and enjoyed it.  

The warmth their families never gave. Trust and intertwining history so deep it was almost protective.  

Her body moved without second guessing everything and her lips was soft against Winter. After years of crushing on her family rival, childhood friend and partner… it felt natural. It wasn’t wasn’t like the movies, books, her first kiss or whatever bullshit people like to say.  

It wasn’t an explosion of fireworks.  

It was warm and slow, her lips following Winters as she pushed and pulled. May’s mind wasn’t racing, her heart wasn’t trying to escape her chest and run. It was… calming. Devouring. Like Winter herself, the kiss was cool on the surface, the bite on May’s bottom lip was gentle and teasing. Once she opened up she beyond warm.  

Hot didn’t even begin to describe it. Intense and passionate fell short.  

It just felt like Winter.  

May moaned into the kiss, her tongue gliding against Winter. Cold, hot, too much but not enough. May’s body felt hazy and heavy, her heart and head somewhere on cloud nine as she pressed Winter’s back into Robyn’s bed. May pulled back, softly panting for air. She pressed into Winter’s tense neck again, harder than before. Winter’s back arched a low groan and face slightly twisting in pain had May laughing a little.  

“I owe you a massage remember?” May asked, getting up and closing Robyn’s door.  

“Finally paying me back over a month later. Typical Marigold,” Winter teased. May rolled her eyes instructing Winter to take off her shirt and pants, if she wanted a full body massage. May looked around for some lotion. The first draw on Robyn’s nightstand was locked. The second was ammo for a gun and the last was… very Robyn.  

A small boxes of condoms for various of sizes for the toys that laid neatly next to it. The harness was suspiciously missing. And of course there was edible oils and lube-  

Only then the high of the date sparked into embers low In May’s gut. She tried to smother it, glancing at Winter’s bare back and nearly bare ass.  

Now wa a perfect time for revenge for the changing room. May was not easy, even if Winter made her come with just looks alone. But- but may must have been thinking to loud because Winter turned her hears towards her a smiled. She was blushing a little hard, “I’m fine with whatever pace you want to go at,” She said settling back down.  

May tensed, abs flexing as her member throbbed once but hard. Winter’s eyes glanced down to the small tent in her skirt and she tried to hide the smile in the pillows. May blushed hard, grabbing the edible oil and shoving a few more pillows under Winter’s stomach and hips so her spine wouldn’t be completely fucked.  

She moved quickly, standing next to Winter’s head and warming the oil in her hands. She tried to keep her thoughts chaste but that quickly went out the window as Winter tensed for a second and let out a low groan. May’s hands faltered a little, entire body shaking as the sound hit deep between her legs.  

Bits of her dreams and daydreams ghosted over her skin. Her body didn’t feel as cool as May thought it would. It flexed, blood running hot under May’s touch. After one long and deep stroke along Winter’s spine, the Schnee melted a little into the pillows and bed with a happy and pleased moan. May took a quick breath, trying to ride the innocent high from the carnival as other parts of her got harder.  

May tried not to focus on it… Then she scratched that thought, realization and the rush of their first date and kiss calming her fears. I’m fine with whatever pace you want to go at. Winter Schnee could be a rough lover the women choked Robyn in a changing room while Fiona fucked her. May trembled, as the memory of Winter pinning her with her eyes came back. Joanna’s hot hands pinning her hips and finally Winter’s own fingers grazing the tip of her leaking head. Winter’s eyes staring right into her as she licked her cum off her fingers. May groaned shaking her self back to the present.  

I loved her since I could remember.  

Loved her enough to sooth her nerves and make sure May was truly comfortable before kissing her.  

The embers low in her gut didn’t feel sinful or tainted. In fact it felt rather holy.  

“Always the knight,” May whispered. Winter looked up, a surprised blush on her face at the low and hungry tone in her voice. May didn’t even realize she was speaking until the next words spilled out. “Always with the restraint and control…” With purpose May’s palms firmly pressed into the base of Winter’s neck. She tore a moan from Winter’s throat with a gentle pressure on tense muscles. The sound throbbed painfully between her legs, panties tight and slowly growing slick.  

May doubted she’ll ever see Winter lose control but getting her close would be fun.  

Winter made another noise as her girlfriend’s thumb dug into the muscles between her ass and lower back. Winter’s hips subtly grind into the pillow and bed. May felt it more than she saw it. Her dick throbbed, imagining the hot pressure sidling gently over her shaft. May took another slow breath, a rush hungry rush of power throwing completely fogging over her fears and nerves. “I’m not sorry for enjoying this,” She heard herself say.  

Winter growled softly but with another stoke down her back it choked into another whimper and an empty threat, “Don’t bite off more than you can handle, May.”  

"Shut up and let me worship you," May said, the words surprisingly hard as her hands squeezed the back of Winter’s neck. Winter gasp and did just as May ordered. Fist clenching the sheets and a quivering moan spilling out. May let the sound roll through her core and down between her legs, groaning with her. More slick smearing on her head as she moved to continue the slow massage. Winter’s face was right there… Blue eyes on the bulge of her skirt but her lips were too far to do anything.  

It felt like a trance watched the women she loved that was so forcibly perfect and put together fall apart. Sculpted hard muscles loosen, gasp slipped into small moans. Each pass over Winter’s spine made her tremble. The knot in her shoulder had her biting the pillows and wiggling until it was gone. But she was wasn’t worked up enough, the grinding on Robyn’s pillow obvious now but not desperate enough. She was still too controlled, so May focused on her neck.  

Winter gasped, eyes fluttering close. Cool skin was starting to warm under the attention and oil, blushing softly. The soft moans turned into pleased and sleepy hums. The tension was completely gone from her shoulders, making the women she loved look smaller somehow.  

At least until May transitioned to Winter’s lower body. She leaned over her, propping a knee by Winter’s shoulder to get the right pressure. Hands splayed wide, May pressed at the base of her spin and pushed low, thumbs digging under the dimples on her back and rolling lower to the swell of her ass.  

Winter whimpered, body shivering slightly as May’s fingers slipped under those panties. When her hands glided out towards her hips Winter growled in frustration, a fist clutching at May’s skirt so near the bulge May bucked her hips a little.  

“Relax, Win.”  

“I’d relax a lot more if you’ll let me suck you off,” Winter mumbled as she let go. May only laughed. It was a little shaky as her member leaked more pre-cum, and the feeling of it wetting her panties didn’t help.  

May straddled Winter’s lower back and licked her lips. She warmed a little more oil in her hands before adjusting Winter’s panties a give May more room to work with. She might have pulled the wet cloth tight against the core and Winter might have shivered at the pleasure. The selfish Schnee was definitely a little restless, shifting as May’s hands started on the swell of Winter’s ass and rolled down the back of her legs.  

Winter tensed for a moment. May repeated the massage, applying a little more pressure into the tense muscles, feeling it quiver so slightly. Winter melted again and groaned. Slowly she relaxed. And slowly May’s hands wandered higher inside Winter’s thigh.  

High enough to feel the heat and wetness that escaped onto her thighs. May swallowed hard, cock throbbing between her legs. Winter must have felt it too because she growled and shifted a little. She took a shaking breath, hands losing their focus and just kneading Winter’s ass. For a moment May grind down, imagining her shaft disappearing between the soft muscles in her hands.  

When her grinding started to become a little too desperate, May forced herself off. Leaving a small droplets of pre-cum on Winter’s slower back.  

Trying to regain some self control, May returned to Winter’s head, her hands starting at her neck and working down again.  

“Lower,” Winter instructed. Her voice was low and husky, almost half asleep but the blue eyes on her restraint and covered hard on gave her away. With her hands spread wide May started at the edge of Winter’s wide back. Fingers following the curve of her breast, just shy of her nipples.  

The Schnee whimpered, shifting with just a hint of desperation. Her pale hand fisted May’s skirt. The light clawing had May’s heart jumping, chest stuttering for breath. May watched Winter observe the tent in her skirt, the throbbing… Winter licked her lips but that damn control kept her from doing what they both wanted.  

May repeated the motion a few times. Wondering who’s will would break first. Each time, Winter shuttered with pleasure, first bunching up the skirt and inching closer and closer to May’s leaking member. She was sure her panties were dripping just as much as Winter’s. Another pass and the selfish Schnee almost tugged the skirt off-  

“Ma-May…” She begged. Winter-fucking-Schnee begged, her voice high pitched and hopeful.  

“Fuck-” Her breath caught in her throat. You are so easy. “Fuck,” May cried again. With one breath May’s hour of hard work and control broke. Her hands completely slipped around to Winter’s front, oil slick hands kneading her once. Winter cried out, pressing her chest into May’s hands. Another call of May’s name as fingers pinched her nipples. Winter grind down on the pillow, other hand clawing into the back of May’s thigh to anchor her self. Winter’s grinding stopped and that hand on her thigh quickly slid up, under her skirt-  

A moan was pulled out of her as hands finally cupped her throbbing slick shaft. It took May an hour to get Winter to whisper her name but she was about to say Winter’s like a prayer in less than a minute. The only reason she wasn’t was because Winter didn’t move her hand.  

The Schnee paused eyes up at May in wonder and desire and love that somehow looked far too wicked. Winter’s hand slipped off her, May would have whimpered at the lose but then her panties snapped. But her dick wasn’t free, it was back in Winter’s fist and May nearly screamed. Too hot and too cold and not tight enough. May clenched her jaw, head dizzy with a rush of pleasure.  

Then May was on her back in the middle of Robyn’s bed, hands pressed firmly on her mouth to muffle any noise but her harsh breathing. May felt like she was burning in Winter’s cool skin. The contrast was delicious, making her thigh shake slightly as hips moved. May cried into her open hand. Winter’s fist moved with her, giving but the tiniest teasing friction.  

“How your refractory period?” Winter asked, voice stupidly cool and control for someone with eyes that was devouring. May didn’t answer at first. She tried again and again to thrust into Winter’s hand. She didn’t want to answer, she wanted pleasure, her head an angry red as pre-cum slipped out. May gently thrash in a haze, not fighting or helping Winter as she undid the buttons of her vest and shirt just enough to slip a hand under May’s bra. It wasn’t the pleasure she was begging for but it was enough to calm the fire in her gut and head.  

“I- I don’t know!” May answered honestly.  

“You don’t know? How can you… You’re a virgin.” Winter realized, eyes a little wide and grip a tightening. May was confident in her body, proud but… sex was never an itch for her, not like Winter and Fiona. It was a craving only one person could fill and that person was just a big fucking tease that was going to make her cry from frustration soon. The pressure in her gut and balls, and cock was almost painful. It was spreading all over her body and sending her into a craze.  

“Oh… Oh, May. If, I’d known,” Finally Winter’s fist started to move. A tight tug up had May gasp for breath. A twist at her head, a fucking tight and hot twist at her head had May completely breathless with one sharp cry. “I wouldn’t have teased you so hard in the changing room.”  

“Shut up and make it up to me then,” May said with a clench jaw, hips fast and desperate. Winter hummed in thought but didn’t slow her hand. It kept a lazy pace as Winter finished unbuttoning May’s top and flicked the front clasp of her bra open.  

“I’m debating on how hard I want you begging.”  

“You are such an asshole…” May huffed. Winter only laughed as tears finally fell from May’s eyes. Winter made her self comfortable at May’s side, kissing the tears away before gently claiming her lips. May groaned and growled into it. She bit her bottom lip, desperate for more heated and faster affection. But Winter’s hand continued to lazily stroke her, forcing May’s hips to move.  

A shock of pleasure spread from her chest, Winter’s fingers pinching and twisting a nipple. “Sorry May, but I’m going to break you in the most gentle way I can,” her knight promised. May was about to bite her neck, frustration turning into plain anger but then Winter’s lips claimed her in demanding kiss, swallowing a near scream of pleasure as Winter’s hand finally moved. Hard and fast, almost vicious but May wanted more.  

May’s hands clawed deep into Winter’s back, hips stuttering and rolling, trying to match Winter’s pace but it was faster than May could manage. Pleasure coiled in her gut, climbing quick and making her body tremble. Winter moved from her lip to her neck. Biting hard enough for her Aura to flare. A flash of heat spreading throughout May’s body, pleasure turning everything white for a second.  

May found herself begging and whispering Winter’s name. Her member was twitching, pre-cum leaking out in a steady stream. Tears pricked her eyes as the hight of her pleasure was suddenly taken from her.  

“Please… Winter, please!”  

“Aura,” Winter growled into her neck. She bite again, making her Aura flash hot and making May’s entire body pulsed. Her dick throbbed and twitched, the need for something around it making her head spin and more tears slip out. “Turn off your Aura.”  

“I-I can’t… please just,” May’s hips fucked the air. Winter groaned, watching her shaft twitch. She bit down May’s body but stopped at her breast. May softly cried, her own hands moving to continue but Winter pinned her wrist down. She thrashed lightly, chest arching into Winter’s mouth as she bite and sucked and teased.  

The edges of an orgasm eased off, May’s breathing just started to even out when her Aura flashed across her body. Turning off. Winter groaned, teeth sinking into her chest and sucking hard. “Good girl,” Winter praised, hand tight around the base of May’s cock. May threw her head back, a fast pace stealing her breath again.  

May whispered Winter’s name, begging for her hand to move faster but ever time she got too desperate Winter only slowed down. The selfish Schnee left love bites and marks across May’s chest. Then her soft abs. When Winter bit at her hips May’s hips stuttered to a stop. Her eyes wide as she propped herself up to watch.  

Winter smiled up at her, making herself comfortable between May’s legs and even grabbing a pillow to slide under her partners ass. It was clear Winter intended to be there long enough to kill May.  

“A small confession,” Winter said licking her lips. “Me and the others… all of them talked about your…”  

“Dick, penis, cock, whatever is fine,” May mumbled in a haze. Her heart did odd skips, fear and nerves coming back. She knew Winter for years, everything about her partner was second nature but Joanna and Robyn… The anxiety was pulled out of May, with a twisting pressure of Winter’s fist over her head and slit. May moaned, arching and hips thrusting to chase that pleasure. “S-surprised I’m not cut?”  

“It’s a good surprise,” Winter whispered. May gasped, hand covering her mouth as Winter decided to play. Her thumb pressed against the rim of her head, tongue twirling around the slit, slowly working under the foreskin-  

Lightning hot pleasure shot through May’s body, completely overwhelming her. Suddenly everything before felt muted. Her tongue was twice as soft, twice as warm. Winter had her at tears before and now she was freely crying. Winter pulled off with a pleased hum.  

“So we were right… You are more sensitive…” Winter murmured. It sounded distant to May’s ears. Her heart beat too loud, pleasure clouding all her senses except for touch. The cool fingers claws warm trails down May’s stomach, the hands massaging her balls as Winter’s tongue followed a vein down and licked pre-cum back up.  

May wasn’t even aware when Winter finally wrapped her lips around May’s hard shaft and started sucking. She came back to Winter groaning around her cock, the vibrations prolonging her orgasm as she slipped deep into Winter’s throat again. Her throat felt rough, just barely hearing herself scream Winter’s name. When she tried to pull her hand free from Winter’s hair she held it there with her free and pointedly swallow.  

May whimpered, thrusting deeper as she felt another load pulled from her. Winter finally lifted herself off May, taking a deep breath and clearing her throat a little. With one last lick and a some sucking she cleaned May off and hovered over her with a smile clean smile.  

“Welcome back,” She mused, wiping her mouth with her fingers and licking it clean. May groaned at the sight, her hard member throbbing painfully. She grabbed Winter’s hand when it wandered through her soft mound. Winter settled against her. Thighs and panties wet, leaving a hot trail on May’s leg. She shifted at the friction but didn’t chase it. Though May could feel her desperation in the hard kiss. She didn’t give a fuck about how she tasted, it was Winter. “You… are back, right?” She muttered softly, eyes a little concerned.  

“If back you mean still in heaven, sure,” May mumbled, voice slurred with pleasure. She pressed her leg into Winter’s core, listening and eating up her soft moan and the way she anchored herself with her nails. May grabbed Winter’s ass, slowly encouraging her to grind against her thigh. May hooked her thumbs under Winter’s waistband and slipped them down during the next thrust.  

Winter pulled back letting out a sharp and shock cry of pleasure her wet lips and hard clit glided down May’s thigh. Suddenly that hunger in her gut was back, drying out her mouth. May’s lazy breathing speed up, soft noises of her own muffled by Winter’s desperate whimpers.  

“Winter… please. I’m not done worshiping you,” May begged, the hands on her ass and hips trying to guide the women up. Up past her hips, past her breast and guiding those toned wet thighs to the side of her head. May melted at the sight. Her perfect partner completely flushed above her. Her pale skin a rosy pink from ears to cheeks to the top of her breast. May pulled her down a little, turning her head to lick at her thighs.  

The Schnee whimpered while May closed her eyes and moaned at the taste. Before she knew it her lips was pressing kisses closer and closer to the soft wet curls. Her hands roamed Winter’s front, deep red lines marked Winter’s abs and chest. Her body twitching each time May twirled a nipple between her fingers.  

May hovered less than inch away from Winter’s core, taking in the heat and the smell, the sweetness before her tongue slipped in. Winter lurched forward, fingers digging into the headboard and the other clawed deep into May’s hair. She groaned at the pain, at the taste, at the liquid heat finally spilling into her mouth. She leaned up, nuzzling and breathing deep. Thrusting her tongue as deep as it would go while her nose rubbed against a hard bundle of nerves.  

“Fuck! May!” Winter gasped eyes wide and back arching. Wetness trickled onto her tongue and chin, making May groan. Her hips thrusting into the air as her member throbbed in time with Winter’s core, squeezing hard on her tongue and trying to pull it in. Instead tongue slowly slide out, drawing out a cry from Winter and making her grind to chase it. May only chuckled softly. A quick broad lick, tasting the wetness on her lips and a teasing gentle pressure over her clit. Broad strokes had her panting and tight circles just grazing the bundle of nerve nearly had her screaming.  

She had to pull May’s head back before those lips sealed around her clit. “Virgin, huh?”  

“You can thank Robyn and Fiona,” May said with a hazy smirk and heavy breath. She might have looked a mess, face wet and blushing but Winter looked worse in a perfect way. She looked a mixture of embarrassed and frustrated, gasping for breath, pupils wide with desire and stomach flexing as her core tighten around nothing. Like this, her knight looked more like a Goddess. “Watching them eat each other out gave me a good idea of what to do.”  

Winter groaned, body shivering. May hummed happily, leaning up to as Winter settled back down. May was polite enough keep her licks light and pleasing, not overwhelmingly pleasurable so Winter could talk a little, “I have… some pretty good ideas on how to thank them,” She mumbled, voice trembling at every stroke around her clit. “Fuck. If I’d known you were a virgin I would have asked you if you’d wanted Fiona to join. Watching her ride your face while I fuck you- Fuck! May!”  

All at once May sealed her lips around that throbbing nub, a slick finger sliding deep into her core. May groaned, her member twitching and throbbing as Winter squeezed her finger. The memory of Fiona pinning her to the floor of the training room, her warm small hips on her… May groaned, clawing at Winter’s hips and ass.  

“May!” Winter nearly screamed at the finger slowly dragging along her front wall. She trembled. “More, harder,” She ordered. After over an hour of teasing each other Winter was far too worked up to last long. She pushed Winter forward, angling her hips for a brutal pace with two fingers focusing on that spongy spot that had her partner screaming.  

In a few minutes she was trembling, whispering May’s name in a small prayer begging for just a little more. That she was close. May thought about bringing her to tears but her body betrayed her. Before she could stop herself, May’s lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves, tongue gently rolling around it as she sucked.  

Winter came with a shout, fingers clawing through May’s hair as her body shook and stilled. May groaned, slick hitting her chin and rolling down her neck. “Please don’t stop! S-Slow. Please, May,” Winter whispered again and again in a broken voice.  

Those tight muscles and spasms didn’t relax until Winter was out of breath and then dragged on a few minutes more thanks to May’s gentle and slow thrust, alternating between the sensitive spot and just giving her a pleasing stretch. May avoided her clit, licking around it just to give Winter as much attention as possible. She’d love to massage those breast but her other hand as keeping Winter from completely crushing her.  

When those soft moans turned into a sharp whine, May finally stopped. Head sinking into the pillow. She felt stupidly high and satisfied. The hunger in her blood now content and warm instead of starving hot. She gave a grin up at dazed blue eyes.  

“Been awhile, huh?” May teased, clean hand guiding Winter to laying next to her. Winter huffed and sneered biting at whatever was closest, May’s shoulder. “You back yet?”  

“Shut up…” Winter whimpered, her voice slurred and fairly unconvincing. May laughed lightly at it, trying to kiss Winter’s forehead but the women pulled her down for a messy kiss. May groaned, melting into it. Her mouth parted with Winter’s tongue meeting her halfway. Winter pulled back before she lost her breath, “Since Fiona isn’t here…” Her hand squeezed tight at the base of May’s shaft.  

“Twice…” May said with a groan. She pumped her hips into Winter’s hand a few times before she remembered she was speaking, “I can cum twice before going soft and I usually don’t try for a third.”  

“I’m surprised you didn’t cum when you were eating me out,” Winter said between bites down May’s chest.  

May blushed and huffed, “Three hot girls fucking each other and being felt up by Joanna would probably do you in too!”  

“Challenge accepted,” Winter said with a small laugh. She bit May’s stomach, sucking a mark there before throwing her legs across May’s hips. That content feeling was suddenly gone.  

“Fuck! Win- Winter!” May gasped head thrown back as a blaze of heat and pleasure made her back arch. Winter laughed and gently grind down, spreading her wetness over May’s throbbing cock, pinned between her pelvis and Winter’s hot core. “I’m pretty sure your wet enough,” May teased, blinking back tears of frustration. Her fingers trailed under her chin, gathering the wetness from Winter and licking her fingers clean. “I’m sure you didn’t just soak Robyn’s pillows and sheets.”  

Winter only smirked and raised a brow, hips sliding low. The warm pressure shooting down May’s spine making her legs trembled. Down and down, to the base of her cock and balls… Then she rose up, head lightly brush past Winter’s clit.  

And sunk down to the hilt.  

May saw stars, burning hot and impossibly tight. Winter gasp, moaning and almost purring as May’s hips snapped up. Once, twice, on the third time Winter pulled May’s hands off her hips and pinned them beside May’s head, a hard kiss taming May’s desperate thrust.  

“Slow. May… fuck, please. Slow!”  

May stopped and Winter continued rocking at her pace. Small and gentle. Her head deep in her core. May swore and twitched, the skin on her head slipping on and off. The alternation of burning heat and muted pressure clouding paralyzing her for a moment.  

Winter whimpered, hips adjusting a slow circular grind. THey both gasp as somehow May was pulled in deeper.  

“It’s… It’s been while since I last took anything your size.” Winter confessed, “I… I screamed your name during a one night stand and well.”  

“Honored,” May said after several deep breaths. She couldn’t form any other words, Winter’s lips on hers as she controlled the pace.  

Slowly May’s hands wandered down Winter’s body. From her chest to her neck. As Winter’s increased her pace they traveled lower and lower. Finally her hands was back on Winter’s hips, slamming her down into thrusting hips.  

After years of dancing around each other and the hours of working each other up it didn’t wouldn’t long for May to finish. She pulled her head back from the kiss, whispering warnings. Winter laughed and smiled. She leaned back hands wandering her torso as she her hips grind in low circles that kept May on the edge. Pale fingers pinched her own nipples, fingers splaying wide down her abs. The show stopped as Winter rubbed circles around her clit, hips stuttering.  

May closed her eyes, grabbing Winter’s hips and thrusting as she spilled into her. Winter followed seconds after, drawing out soft confessions as May trembled under her.  

“I love you too. I always have, Winter.”