#multi attracted spectrum

[firelordhotman]

anyone else have such a special silly and sexy gender that it makes them both gay and bisexual at once

[maddy-ferguson]

just learned what mspec is supposed to mean this whole time i thought the m stood for men or male or something

[hazelfoureyes]

I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」

minors dni 💅🏽

Part 1 Pretty in Red

The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.

And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.

Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.

That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.

And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late. 

Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.

So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.

You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.

Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”

As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”

People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence. 

You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.

Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.

Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth. 

“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash. 

You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off. 

You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.

Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.

He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim. 

He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.

Yes, it was obvious to him now. 

So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow. 

The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.

He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.

“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of. 

“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”

You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter. 

“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.

“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”

Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.

With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.

“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you. 

No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.

You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.” 

Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.

No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better. 

“Well I think that’s quite enough.”

You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.

Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.

When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so. 

“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”

Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up. 

Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.

“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.

“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.

“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”

You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his. 

As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror. 

Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks. 

“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”

You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”

Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.

His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.

Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean. 

His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile. 

He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.

You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.

As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely. 

You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.

You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?

Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek. 

You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon. 

“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”

He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”

“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?” 

“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”

“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”

You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.

You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.

Good, you thought, and went about your work.

Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before. 

“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.

“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.

When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.

You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.

Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.

But would that really be so bad?  Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.

One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.

Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star. 

A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes. 

“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.

“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”

She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”

“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.” 

She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.” 

An understatement.

You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers. 

Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.

From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man. 

Ah, right. There was no body.

That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.

Well, worst case you die. 

You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.

You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.

Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.

You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying. 

Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.

“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.

“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy. 

When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving. 

Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”

You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously.  He nodded.

It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”

He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there. 

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”

Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”

“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”

Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”

You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat. 

You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.

It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.

Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?

All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.

He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.

Back against the large tree, you could only pout.

“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.

You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”

Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.

He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.

Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead. 

Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—

You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.

It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps. 

His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.

Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.

It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.

Is that right? You wanted him to touch you? 

Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.

His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.

No. Maybe. You nodded yes.

“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”

No. Probably not. Another nod.

His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.

“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?

“A common problem for those I take an interest in.” 

Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning. 

Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.

“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.  

Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.

Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.

The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.

Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move. 

You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.

Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?

Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”

“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch. 

A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.

“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.

He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”

Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”

Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”

“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.

“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”

“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm. 

“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”

A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you. 

Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone.  You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.

With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean. 

Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?

“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”

“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”

You bit your lip. “Touché.”

He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.

Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

[muldermuse]

An Unlikely Hero (ex boyfriend!Billy Butcher x reader)

this is going to be a multi part series!!! i love exboyfriend!butcher and he is on my mind constantly. if u would like to read more about him here’s some more posts! if you wanna talk about him pls send me your thoughts ❤️ dividers by @saradika ❤️

part one: the first date

OR

the first time you meet Billy Butcher

You swore to yourself that this was the last Tinder date you’d subject yourself to. Last week, you matched and met with Jack who had a Homelander sleeve tattoo and cried to you about how hard it was to be a ‘true American’ nowadays.  The week before that, it was Shay who seemed sweet but kept trying to ply you with drinks and invite you back to his place (he bragged that his ‘folks were out of town’, which would be impressive if you were a hell of a lot younger than you actually are). This week’s date is named Harry and he’s just not right for you. You thought it over texts but as soon as you sat down with him tonight; it was confirmed. It’s not even like you have a great previous relationship as a point for comparison, all romantic love has been fleeting and, with how things are going currently, you imagine it always will be.

It's a few hours later and Harry’s suddenly a lot drunker than you. You’ve moved from the overpriced restaurant to your favourite bar. The drinks are questionable in that they’re both incredibly cheap and very strong. You grab two stools at the bar which is overwise empty, apart from one man nursing a whiskey. You’re sure Harry’s drunker than you because he’s currently sobbing into his craft beer about how he hasn’t felt a connection with anyone since his ex-girlfriend, who left him 3 months ago for a co-worker.

“Like, you’re nice y’know. You seem like a nice girl” you try not to recoil at the phrase “but my ex? She was great. There’s no one else who’s ev-hic-ever been like her and there never will be”. The guy sat next to you at the bar mutters a “fuckin’ ell” under his breath as he gestures towards the bartender for another neat whiskey. His accent is completely out of place in this local dive bar; he sounds European. No trace of an american accent so you consider that he could be a tourist who’s wandered into a bar looking for a cold drink and some respite.

You try not to smirk at the utterance and tune back into what Harry’s saying, “I think we’ve both just gone through the motions tonight, don’t you agree? I can tell you’re not really into me and to be honest, I’m not into you”. You kind of admire his candor because he’s right, you’re not into him in the slightest but the next thing out of his mouth quickly dispels any misplaced respect you held for him. “I’ve been real lonely since she left though…maybe you could come back to my place-hic-she’s uh…some of her stuff is still there but there’s not a lot of it in the bedroom”. He’s that plastered that what he assumed would be a casual hand slide up your thigh becomes a full push, hurtling you into the whiskey sipping man next to you. You fall into his chest, it’s strong and kind of feels like slamming into a wall. 

“Right, tha’s fuckin’ it” the potential tourist speaks and it’s only when he stands up that you realise how broad he is. He’s tall with thick black hair and the beard to match. His outfit is seemingly prepared for a spectrum of weathers with a Hawaiian shirt clashing with a thick overcoat. He’s older than you, definitely older but absolutely attractive. More attractive than anyone you’d seen on Tinder or, probably, ever in your life. “You alright there darlin’?” his dark eyes bore into yours as you nod and cough out a meek ‘yes’. You silently curse yourself, the first thing you say to this strong man makes you sound like a small frightened mouse.

“’M jus’ gonna get rid of your little pal there and then I’ll buy ya a drink- alright?” his hand rubs your bare arm and sends a flurry of goosebumps across your skin. The whole interaction feels more charged than anything you’ve had before with another human, you wonder if he’s feeling it too and pray that he is.

“Oh nice one man, I’ll have uh…another craft” Harry gestures towards the tap, completely oblivious to the situation in front of him

“All you’re fuckin’ gettin’ cunt is a helpin’ hand out that fuckin’ door. Now, I’ll ask ya politely one last fuckin’ time…fuck off” he elongates the 3 letter word. A comically confused look spreads across Harry’s face. “’M on a fucking date here man and she’s coming back to mine, aren’t you?”

“No” you quickly deadpan, shaking your head at the still unnamed man.

“There’s your answer then cunt, off ya fuck” 

“Butcher- no fuckin’ blood on my bar this time man” the bartender shouts whilst idly checking his phone. Butcher? Is that the guy’s name? 

Harry stands up, pushing out his chest which, if anything, only exaggerates how small he is in comparison. “I’ve bought her meal, paid for her drink and I’m go-hic-gonna take her back to my place and fuck her”. He finishes his sentence in Butcher’s face. Whilst you see a flicker of fear cross Harry’s expression; Butcher’s look borders on hysterical. 

“Alright then big fella, I’ll tell ya what’s gonna happen” he slams his hand down on Harry’s shoulder, his eyes now boring into his. “You’re gonna fuck off back to your shitty little home, grab some lube, cry and wank to ya heart’s content about your ex who is probably ridin’ some big fat fuckin’ dick right now-yeah?” Butcher nods as if Harry’s going to agree with him.

Your date goes to interrupt but Butcher presses a finger to his quaking lips before he can start, “what’s not gonna happen, my sad little mate, is that you’re going to fuck her. She’s hadta listen to your fuckin’ whinin’ about your ex all night whilst you’ve fuckin’ insulted this gorgeous woman. So, get out before I throw ya through the fuckin’ window”. Harry’s lost for words, he doesn’t make eye contact with you as you stand silently behind Butcher. You see tears brimming in his eyes as he smacks $20 on the bar top. 

“Fuckin’ old asshole” Harry spits as he shoves past the pair of you.

Butcher smirks at the remark, watching the door swing shut behind Harry before turning to you. “Right darlin’, whatcha havin’?” 

It’s the best date you’ve ever been on and it’s not even a real date. You finally got his full name. Billy Butcher. Your heart races just to say it. He’s from London but has been in the States for a while. He asks all about you and you surprisingly find you’ve got a lot in common. He’s funny, charming and really fucking exciting- you have to admit. By the third drink, the chat goes from conversational to more flirty. 

“The bartender said ‘this time’, do you do this a lot? Love saving a damsel in distress? Are you a hero, Billy Butcher?” you smirk at him and he returns it back to you. There’s lust in his eyes and you see him take your appearance in for what feels like the upteenth time since you sat down.

As he goes to speak, the bell rings for last orders and he takes your hand to help you off the bar stool. You down the remnants of your drink together and he puts his arm around you and escorts you out of the bar.

You don’t want it to end, he lights a cigarette and you thank any higher deity for the extra thinking seconds it gives you. He speaks before you get chance, “Will ya let me walk you home darlin’? Swear on my mum’s life I won’t try any funny business”. He holds his hand out like he’s making a scouts honour. Honestly, you do anything to spend a bit more time with him so you smile, link your arm with his and pull him down the quiet streets.

The air makes you feel drunker than you are. If you were sober, there is no way you’d be giggling like a school girl at everything this man is saying, yet here you are. Your arms are linked and you’re resting your head on his shoulders as you tell him about your horrific dating history. Everytime he laughs and accuses you of exaggerating you say, “Billy Butcher, I would never ever lie to you”. You say it because his name feels so fun sliding off your tongue. You barely see anyone on your walk home and the sound of your shared laughter fills the empty streets.

As you turn down your street, you wish you lived miles away so you could keep walking together for hours. Your stomach drops at the thought that you’ll never see him again. Which, you completely realise, is fucking stupid. This stranger threatened your date to leave but he also made you feel safe and laugh harder than you have in months. You pull his stride to a stop outside your house. It feels like some awful hallmark romcom or trashy romance novel.

You thank him for escorting you home and he turns down a nightcap in your house as “it’s not gentlemanly on the first date”. He shoots you a wicked grin again as he says, “my mum would be spinnin’ in her grave darlin’”.

You try not to let the heartbreak from that sentence show on your expression. “You’re a gentleman, Billy Butcher?”

“The best one around darlin’. I’ll prove it tomorrow when I take ya out for lunch”

A brief flare of anger hits you, “yeah, I hear that all the fucking time. The lunch never happens, I don’t see you again but then we bump into each other at the store and you apologise and say you’ll be in touch which, of course, you never will be”. You regret it as soon as you stop speaking.

Before you can apologise, he grabs a sharpie out of his coat pocket, takes your hand and scribbles down his number. “There, alright? You call me at any time gorgeous and I swear, I’ll fuckin’ answer and come runnin’”

His kiss to your cheek is soft yet restrained. “You’ll forget about me Billy Butcher, I know it”.

“S’not fuckin’ possible, darlin’”. He says goodnight and walks down your street. A plume of cigarette smoke trailing after him.

He keeps his word.

40 minutes later, and after one final glass of wine, you call him.

He answers on the first ring and says your name. He tells you where to meet tomorrow and what time to get there.

You hope he can always keep his promises.

[calicobigamy]

Essence of a Babygirl (a tumblr joke essay)

Babygirl, the term has spiked in popularity, but what is a babygirl? Is the term a bit more complicated than at first glance? What is the essence of a babygirl? Today I will be answering these questions. 

Urban dictionary describes babygirl as thusly:

“A term used towards grown fictional men who have the fandom in a loving chokehold.”

A Mashable article titled The internet's 2022 horny dictionary defines babygirl as

“... a term of endearment for when a man is being cute, comfortable in his masculinity, or weak in an evocative way.”

These descriptions are wholesome. They create an avenue of masculinity that can be vulnerable and attractive at the same time. A term for a type of masculinity that creates room for a multi-dimensional character in fiction. Various fictional characters have been affectionately dubbed as “babygirls”. One of the most well known being Leon Kennedy from the Resident Evil franchise. 

However the term is also used to describe characters that are remarkably not wholesome. Characters like Izzy Hands, played by Con O’Neil from the incredible show written by David Jenkins called Our Flag Means Death and Marvel’s Loki, played by Tom Hiddleston, have been called babygirls. This must indicate a spectrum of “babygirlness” that scales from wholesome to not wholesome. 

A good babygirl can be seen at a glance, but what makes these other characters part of that babygirl spectrum on the negative side? As my colleague (@robogart) and I studied the issue we realized that negative babygirlness included more nuance. 

We created a study group to determine what attributes make up a bad babygirl. Included in our study was: Izzy Hands (Our Flag Means Death), Gal Dukat (Deep Space 9), David Xanathos and Oberon (Gargoyles), Anders (DA2), Yami Bakura (Yugi-oh, 4kids Production), King of All Cosmos (Katamari), Patches (Fromsoft), Ratagin (Great Mouse Detective), and the Six Fingered Man (Princess Bride). 

The five characteristics that we found amongst all of the babygirls we picked from various media were: being decidedly not wholesome, pathetic, emotionally unhinged and dastardly, but all in all containing some kind of charm. 

We went through and put all of our babygirls to the test with our system. The results were surprising, with Izzy Hands coming out decidedly less babygirl than we predicted and Ratagin being the epitome of babygirlness. 

What did these tests show about babygirlness on a whole? The spectrum ranges from morally good characters to bad, but all share a few common traits. However they express their vulnerabilities, either as completely unhinged or emotionally accessible, we as the audience are captivated and find “their weakness evocative”. Another aspect that is continuous through the spectrum of babygirlness, whether good or bad, is that a babygirl is secure in his masculinity however he chooses to express it. Babygirls on either end of the spectrum do end up having a “loving chokehold on their fandom”. Those people in the fandom are not necessarily of quantity, but of quality. Especially for the baby girls on the “bad” end of the spectrum. 

In conclusion a babygirl can be summed up as a fictional male character that is evocative in his vulnerability and at the same time confident in his masculinity regardless of his moral compass.

Co-Written with @robogart

THANK YOU FOR READING ALL THE WAY TO THE END OF THIS SILLY LITTLE ESSAY!

Please feel free to copy and paste the bad babygirl diagram and see where you babygirls fit!! I am excited to see your favorites!!

[aroacesafeplaceforall]

Hello there!

Mod team:

I’m Jamie but I also go by Jay! I’m gender queer and use any pronouns but I am masc leaning (he/him), don’t be afraid to ask! I’m aegosexual-pansexual and a romance repulsed aromantic! I am neurotypical and the OG owner of this blog!

Hey people, my names Noah and I use they/them pronouns :) I have a long list of labels cause I'm a complicated human being lol. I'm non binary, lesbian oriented aroace, with a handful of microlabels (quoiromantic, apothiromantic, aegoromantic, apothisexual and aegosexual). I also experience platonic, aesthetic and sensual attraction B) I have diagnosed adhd and I'm an infp :D

My name is Ray! I go by any pronouns and I’m cogender (female and agender). I am cupioromantic and aegosexual (and many other things, just ask if you want to know!). I also have diagnosed autism and I’m an ISFP

Carl D, all pronouns, allergic to garlic, aroace

We’re here for all your Questions, Rants, Vents and Confessions!

Ask box is always open and we’re always here for your asks!

We are here to educate, explain and help with anyone who needs it!

Stay safe, remember you are valid and its your box!

LOVE U ALL U ARE VALID

Commonly asked questions!

Link to my Aro-spec post

Link to a post containing most Ace Spec identities

Asexual Wiki, Aromantic Wiki,

the Asexual Visibility and Education Network -Asexual resource

AUREA - the Aromantic-spectrum Union for Recognition, Education, and Advocacy

List of Aroace Spectrum resources

Connect to the community - aces and aros

The Battle of the Phobics Link to link post

The comments section link to a helpful article on how to educate/beat the acephobes

Ask box Days!

Sunday: sex stories Sunday, for aro and/or ace specs! Block the tag “aroace explicit” to avoid!

Mondays: free day

Tuesday: rant and vents! Everything goes but everything answered with a ‘.’ Thing

Wednesday: free day

Thursday: minor friendly Thursday! A day for just minors asks to be answered about their aspec ID and questions. Block “aroace minors” to avoid

Friday: free day

Saturday: free day

Recommend blogs

please feel free to ask me first, if I don’t provide a good answer or you want more you can ask again or go to one of these blogs! Please tag more blogs I should add to this list!!

@asexualadvice - asexual advice! (Read blog but helpful info!)

@aegosexual-moments - the aegosexual blog of all time (excluding myself /j)

@aromantic-diaries - Very cool aro person!

(Yes I know my profile pic is off center, suffer, its still off centre, suffer more)

(It’s seperate because aroace is unfortunately usually viewed as one identity, ace and aro are separated spectrums)

(If I hear one more complaint about my icon I’ll change it to what ever random piece of art crosses my dash next and you wouldn’t like that would you??) (i did that and got a new profile pic :D)

The Blogs

blogs that are kinda fan accounts???? wtf????

@aroaceplaceforsome they’re the neutral party here, they use pronouns

@throwawaysoiwontgeteatenbyjamie a whore

@jamies-a-great-person @aroaceappreciationplace -more whores (lovingly)

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO @la-creechura for drawing our profile pic!!!

Banner art by @pride-flag-planets

The forces:

A collection of multi member blogs dedicated to one country of aspecs… all against Denmark

@aussieaspecforces

@indianaspecforces

[rouge-the-bat]

(mspec: short for multi-spectrum attraction, umbrella term for any sexualities for 2+ genders)

♡ also happy mspec lesbian visibility/awareness week!!! 🌙🌙🌸

[thief-of-eggs]

I love the way you write Alastor and the way you write Luci. I know so many writers who maintain a very specific stereotype about aroace people, e.g. “Ew don’t touch me, you’re gross and I want to kill you because i would rather DIE then be touched” or “haha this character hates every single type of affection and is snarky because of it” and it’s just so icky to me… like yes some aroace people hate touch but they don’t hate other people, arocas people can have friends

yes alastor is snarky, it’s not because he’s aroace. he’s just a bitch (said with love) and his sexuality shouldn’t be used as his only personality trait,

idk if any of that rant made sense but I js wna say how much I appreciate the way you write and characterize Radioapple :3

Firstly- thank you so so much, this is so amazing to hear!!! It means a lot to me to have a canon aroace character, which is why I love diving into/embracing it in the fics I write!!

100% as you said, Alastor is a bitch because Alastor is a bitch, nothing to do with his sexuality. He’s a bit self centered, a bit harsh, a bit inconsiderate- but that’s just him and his sparkle. Not his sexuality.

And as for the hating touch- I wish more people understood how asexuality and aromanticism is a spectrum! It’s not a one size fits all! It’s huge!!!

Personally, I like to think that Alastor doesn’t particularly like touch due to past trauma, as well as sensory issues. I don’t think it’s all to do with his aromanticism (I think he’s more the type to be indifferent to romantic things, not repulsed by them) But I do think his touch aversion is real, just not stemming from his aroace identity.

And of course, I’m not in Alastor’s head (or Vivzie’s) but I like to think that touch is OK with Alastor, so long as it is on his terms- and I think “on his terms” includes those people whom he’s given either silent or spoken permission to in regards to touching him. Which is a huge difference from “I hate all forms of touch and I’ll kill you if you touch me”

We see with Mimzie and Rosie and Niffty that Alastor is OK with touch- he lets them initiate touch and he doesn’t bat an eye. Which is why I think so long as he’s comfortable with them, then touch is somewhat permitted. He may not feel the same sort of butterflies or attraction etc through touch- but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it for what it brings to him!

I think it’s a big trust thing, and I also like to think it changes day to day. What’s alright on one day may be too much on the next. But I also like to think that Luci would be 100% understanding of that.

As you said- it’s not just all or nothing with aroace people, and it sucks that that streotype exists. At its core, asexuality is a lack of sexual attraction- but that says nothing against physical touch in general. And aromanticism at its core is a lack of romantic attraction- which again, says nothing on physical touch!

Not to mention, love is such a complicated, multi faceted thing. Aroace people are not incapable of love. Aroace people are not stony beings who do not crave reassurance and human connection. We just crave it differently than others.

[silent-media]

Plurality Terms

Canon dependency - A blanket term for any person in a sytem who needs canon to function. Whether it be unable to form memories without it, experiencing a complete inability to front without fixation on it, etc. Can also apply collectively as a modifier. Canon Independence - The exact inverse of canon dependency. Canon has zero effect on memories, fronting, etc. Often results in people either removed from canon or having an odd relationship with it. Identity Bound - A group of system members who are bound together by being literally the same person, but not. This can be explainable (ie spiritual reasons, fracturing, etc) or just feel like an undeniable fact. This is seperate from Median because they are undeniably seperate, just, also somehow not. Detatched Aging - A blanket term for aging and maturity that is completely removed from how would function outworld. Someone who should be a little might be an adult, someone who should be an adult might be a little, etc. Connected Dissociative - A system that, technically, is extremely dissociative with alot of barriers and blackouts of memory...Except due to the way they function connecting them, they can often "cheat" and present as more functional. Cyborg system - A mishmash of mechanical system and flesh system, usually common in BPD systems where things can change rapidly between logical and emotional rapidly. Flesh system - A system with a heavily emotional and need based function. People form because you're sad or happy, layers pop in and out because of attachment, etc. May or may not actually be flesh. Mechanical system - A system that has a strict logical function. Everything has a place and a time, everything has a reason and cause, etc. May or may not be literally mechanical. Ship-tien - System function that is effected by what host/core/body ships. Fujo/Fuda-tien - System function that is effected or was effected by the host being a fujoshi/fudanshi Sorted systems - Having multiple systems that are sorted by a specific theme, like logic/heart soul/body etc Core based - A system that is focused around one central being or multiple important beings. How this presents is up to the collective and their core but the general idea is that everything happens because of the relation. Fandom-tien - System function effected by fandom things. Like headcanons for a certain fictive coming up all the time or certain ships being the "standard" Multi-Spectrum - Any spectrum that is effected by plurality. This can be romantic attraction, sexual attraction, gender, whatever. Shipless System - Generic term for any and all plurals who do not and cannot relate to shipcourse arguments. This can be being proship because of fictives you have, being ship neutral because you don't want to limit your fictives lives arbitrarily, etc etc. Basically "We aren't even in the same argument" Discoursegenic - Forming people specifically because there is heavy discourse and hatred around the charachter / ship / trope / etc

These terms were made by us to describe our experiences. Please keep that in mind when discussing if these terms are "neccesary". For the most part we are willing to answer any questions about these terms, as long as it's in good faith. Anyone is free to use these terms but please don't twist them to fit an experience you don't have.

[yonpote]

the way dan speaks about his sexuality is interesting to me bc he originally was like yeah on some level i am attracted to women i wouldn’t say i’m totally gay and now it’s like i am a homosexual i would never date a woman

to me it reads as. yes in theory dan has the capability of being attracted to anyone regardless of gender or anatomy. but he just happened to bag the most fuckable emo twunk on terf island fall in love with a boy who would end up being his forever partner and therefore didn't have the necessity to explore his sexuality beyond that, but it was still something that he thought about. i think of people who get into straight relationships and one of them realizing theyre bi but they just never pursued the same gender and then ended up falling in love with someone of a different gender.

i remember talking to a couple people about whether or not dan should be called bi, but as a bi person who has struggled with calling myself bi in the past, i just really dont think that's a call for anyone to make other than dan. he's said he's queer. queer is intentionally not a very well-defined word in terms of a sexuality/gender. queer doesn't mean anything other than different from the norm. nowadays it feels like theres a lot of terms that fall under the bi+ umbrella, or the multisexual-spectrum (mspec) as some people like to call it. idk exactly how it is for dan, but for me, i like the history behind the terms bisexual, queer, and gay so those are what i use for myself, even if you could argue that i should technically call myself pan- or omnisexual. like even if dan is "technically" multi/bi/tri/pan/omni/polysexual, it doesnt matter cuz hes in a gay relationship and he calls himself gay. he has personal trauma and history surrounding the word gay, whereas FOR HIM, the bi label felt like an escape route to be openly queer without seeming "too queer." so his reclamation of the label Gay is so much more than a technical definition.

wait i gotta find a clip of dan in one of the stereos where he literally says "you can call yourself gay even if youre technically this or that you can just call yourself gay" i always think of clipping it and always forget to

[lilliaace]

The "What is a m-spec lesbian" 101 thread.

So since we keep getting these kinds of questions.

@sharksarecool2 @cute-nerdy-metalhead

I figured a "master post' thread would be a good start.

Definition for lesbian: experiencing queer attraction to women. A good way to explain 'queer attraction' (in this case) is subverting society's expectations and loving women in a non-traditional cisheteronormative way (basically loving a woman not in a way that cis hetero men are socially conditioned to love women).

multisexual/multi-spectrum: more than one.

So put it all together: A 'm spec lesbian' is a lesbian that predominantly loves women but has the potential to be open to other options.

Some common reasons to take up the label "bi lesbian" or "pan lesbian":

Trauma has made it so that genuine (any kind of) attraction for men is gone (or almost entirely gone)

A woman who loves other women and acknowledges they have the potential to be attracted to a man/misc other genders but chooses to only act on the attraction towards women

A woman who when it comes to sexual fantasies might involve women 9/10 times where the rare instance a man is involved, it's under VERY specific circumstances

A woman who has paired off with a man because they enjoy the feelings of protection, affection, and/or companionship despite having little to no genuine attraction for the man (Virginia Woolf and Elenor Roosevelt are a famous examples)

You feel like you're right in the middle between "bisexual" and "lesbian"

You feel like a biromantic lesbian or bisexual homoromantic (towards other women)

A bisexual woman who feels very comfortable hanging around lesbian spaces or vise versa (a lesbian woman feeling very comfortable hanging around bisexual spaces).

I personally identify as an asexual lesbian pansensual. I acknowledge the fact that (I'm polyamorous btw) I have one boyfriend and two girlfriends. The boyfriend is pure luck that I ended up with him (a lot of it due to personal life circumstances, a fucked up history before him of dating men, etc.). My boyfriend openly acknowledges the fact that "I am SUPER shocked you said yes to dating me, knowing your bad history with dudes before me". I'm frankly shocked myself, lol.

There are many flag variations that have popped up for things like "asexual lesbian", "bi lesbian", "pan lesbian", and/or "omni lesbian". Tumblr, DeviantArt, Reddit, and/or Google are good places to look for them. Just find your favorite flag color variation and use that.

They've been documented in queer USA history since at least the 1950s. Many Dyke March annual parades have signs that say things like "ALL DYKES WELCOME, period".

At the end of the day, human sexuality is very complicated. So many things influence it (religious, social conditioning, your own genetic preferences, etc.).

[rainbowsforbeginners]

Rainbow 101: 001

Today’s topic, as voted by you: What is LGBTQIA+?

Hello, class!

Welcome to Rainbow 101!

To start us off, today I’ll explain the acronym LGBTQIA+:

It stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer/Questioning, Intersex, and A-spec - And the little “plus” at the end stands for any other queer labels that don’t fit neatly into the main acronym!

You may also see it shortened to LGBTQ+, LGBT+, LGBT, as well as a few others - But, they all refer to the same community!

Now, as this is a beginner-friendly lecture, I’ll also give a brief explanation of the main “flagship” identities - Though I highly encourage you do your own research of any terms you find interesting, as I will likely not be able to cover all nuance here!

Also, if anyone has any comments, questions, corrections, or kudos, please put them in the ask box after class!

Alright, let’s get started:

Lesbian:

Someone who is a lesbian is a women who is attracted to other women - Non-binary people can also use this label if they wish! The term Lesbian is also related to the terms WLW and Sapphic - Though I recommend finding sources who are more well-versed in those labels to understand the nuances/differences!

Gay:

The “proper” definition of gay is similar to lesbian, being a man who is attracted to other men - And non-binary folk can use this one, too! - However, you will also find many people use “gay” as a broad blanket term similar to “queer,” so context is useful here! Gay is also sometimes called MLM (men-loving-men, not multi-level-marketing :) )

Bisexual/Biromantic:

Someone who is bisexual/biromantic is attracted to multiple genders - Commonly interpreted as simply “likes both men and women.” But, as with many of these labels, there can be nuance that is different for every person; Such as having attraction for multiple, but preferring one over another. You’ll often see Bisexual/Biromantic shortened to Bi!

Transgender:

Someone who is transgender doesn’t fully identify with the gender they were assigned at birth. For example, someone who was born as a girl named Jane and later transitions to a man named John. (Something to note here: While many transgender people do fully identify with the “opposite” gender, and undergo various visual/biological transformations (ha!), there are many who don’t do either! Some people only change their pronouns, and some may not change anything!) Non-binary people are also under this umbrella term - though not everyone identifies with the label! You’ll often see Transgender shortened to Trans!

Queer/Questioning:

From what I’ve seen, “Queer” is a pretty broad label, often used as a collective term for all LGBTQIA+ people - But, I’ve also seen some people use it as a catch-all personal miscellaneous label, when they don’t care to explain or define the details! “Questioning” is pretty simple - It just means the person is figuring out some aspect of their identity, but hasn’t quite gotten there yet!

Intersex:

This one I don’t know as much about as I could, but my understanding is that an intersex person falls between or outside of the biological sex binary - And it can be as drastically obvious as physical organ differences, or more often, as subtle as having unusual chromosomes!

A-spec:

A-spec, or the A-spectrum, is a wide category for those who experience little, no, and/or specifically-parametrized attraction! Aromantic (or Aro, little-to-no romantic attraction) and Asexual (or Ace, little-to-no sexual attraction) are the more popular, “flagship” labels, but the A spectrum also includes Aplatonic, Agender, Afamilial, Asensual, and probably a few others I don’t know of! To oversimplify for the sake of comedy, the A-spec is for those of us who look at everyone else and go, “No thanks!” with varying degrees of intensity.

Plus (+):

And the + is for everyone else who might not fit within the above!

…And there you have it - That was a lot, and I’m glad you stuck around to the end!

I want to note here that many of these labels have more sub-labels nested under them, and/or have more nuance than we covered today - So, if any of you have questions or clarifications, or have a correction to make, please feel free to drop a note in my ask box!

Also, any ideas for future topics to cover would be much appreciated!

Batteries and Bars,

Neon

[our-lesboy-experience]

i have a question regarding being both lesbian and a man.

Let's say there's a binary trans guy, fully and singularly on the man part of the gender spectrum. He strongly identifies as straight. But also as lesbian a little? In a weird little trans man way. He's not multi gender, or gender fluid or even remotely a woman or nonbinary in any capacity. It's just he was once a lesbian and in some ways he still is(but not in a woman way, just how he feels attraction is very sapphic, or a queer version of straight, big lover of women he is). But he's also very straight at the same time. Would this guy be a lesboy?(Or lesman? Lesbman? If he doesn't really like to be called a "boy"?)

Like it's if you got a really big rope and that's "straight" and "lesbian" is a little string that winds around the big rope. And when you tie that rope to someone else that's the attraction?

Or maybe this is something he should keep to himself? How does he even remotely explain this to his girlfriend?

-- some straight dude, amidst an identity crisis

he can be! I've seen some trans men who are attracted to women call themselves both straight and lesbian- or even just "identifies as straight, but not NOT lesbian." and you can call yourself lesboy, lesman, lesdude, lesguy, lesbro, whatever feels comfortable

[profoundlyconfusedbeing]

Info about the options:

M-spec4M-spec is listed to represent both the umbrella term as well as M-spec identities that aren’t separately mentioned here. (M-spec means multi-attraction-Spectrum for anyone who doesn’t know the term.)

M-spec4M-spec is combined with T4T once because it is a fairly common combination and I felt like putting it on the list.

If I could add more options I would. If an option you would have wanted to pick isn’t mentioned I’m sorry. (I might make another poll with other options.)

[lesbian-polls]

Wait sorry, what’s wrong with m-spec lesbians? I thought that was what lots of butches were? 😭 sorry I’m from a conservative area + wasn’t allowed internet until I left home so I haven’t had much interaction with the queer community

Since you ask in good faith I'll give you a good faith answer.

M-spec doesn't mean "masculine presenting" it means your attraction is in the masculine spectrum of the gender spectrum, so men and male aligned-NB people (non-binary is not a third gender, it's a collection of every gender that I'd neither 100% woman or 100% man)

Butches tend to present masculine, this doesn't make them men.

A lesbian is a woman or woman-aligned NB person who is attracted to the same gender. That is, other women and woman aligned NB people.

The problem with m-spec and bi "lesbians" is that they're not lesbians at all, they're bi or pan people most of the time who are attracted to men but try to usurp the lesbian label and turn it into a synonym for sapphic or woman-loving-woman.

Lesbianism is the only sexuality that excludes men, both as targets of attraction and emitters of that attraction. Therefore we are being shamed into being attracted to men by this group of people. Hell, they even try to take the reclaimed d-slur.

It's an act of lesbophobia, homophobia (two different kinds of oppression btw) biphobia (bi and pan people have a history of fighting for their own label and protested against being called gays or lesbians) and transphobia since many of m-spec 'lesbians' and their supporters are trans men who claim they have a connection to womanhood by having the "right parts" which isn't true in the slightest and also hurts trans women, many of whom are lesbians as well.

Even misogyny, since m-spec and bi 'lesbians' can't stand the fact that we don't need men in our lives and that bothers them since in their mind everyone needs to center men in their lives.

Would you see gay men being told to include women in their sexuality? No, right? It's the misogyny as well.

Most bi 'lesbians' and their supporters also happen to be white, shielding themselves with their privilege.

To sum it up: m-spec 'lesbians' aren't butches or lesbians at all, they're bi and pan people who disregard their own history and struggle to try and steal our label from us, inspired by homophobia, biphobia, lesbophobia, misogyny and transphobia. They'll call us TERFs (many of us are trans women mind you) while employing TERF points themselves like with the trans man argument.

If you have more questions feel free to DM me. And, if you are not a lesbian please don't vote in the polls since they're for lesbians only. I made this blog as a safe space for lesbians due to our safe spaces on this accursed website being eroded (if you say you're a bi lesbian in a lesbian bar they'll laugh at you since this is online-only problem) and I'd like to keep it that way

EDIT:

This user is right, I got the two mixed up. M-spec is multi-spectrum

[morsobaby]

Reminder that gays and lesbians and all same gender attracted people are allowed to have a complex, weird, contradictory and nuanced relationship to their gender identity and nobody's allowed to argue about that. If another gay person doesn't fit your preference move on. Transmasc lesbians and Transfem gays aren't your enemy. Nonbinary lesbians are nonbinary, yes, even if that means bigender, Xenogender, agender, genderfluid. Yes, even if that means they sometimes identify as heteros, bisexuals pansexuals or other multisexuals due to their gender identity. These people are enjoying the full spectrum of the rainbow and you should rather admire them than throw rocks.

Oh, and yes, even if they AREN'T hetero, bi, Pan or other multi orientation where their gender is concerned. If a genderfluid lesbian is most comfortable labeling as a lesbian (regardless of their current gender status) that's none of your fucking business. They're entitled to their preferences the same as you are to yours. "I wouldn't date someone like that, it'd cause me dysphoria/discomfort/ect or make me feel invalidated" okay, that's completely okay. Don't invalidate or cause discomfort or dysphoria on those people then. If two people are comfortable in their identities and care for each other, it's not your place to police their relationship with each other. It's not hurting other gays if two people who identify as gay but have contradicting gender identities love each other. That is a good thing actually? People caring for each other despite or bc of their differences and finding solidarity and comfort in each other regardless of labels, whilst still acknowledging and identifying with them. People can (but don't have to) change their labels when they're dating someone. Wasn't the whole point to break down the barriers of who is and isn't allowed to date each other based on arbitrary standards or gender boundaries. This is about consenting adults who love each other.

People are allowed to exist as being simultaneously mlm and wlw, nonbinary and other gendered people can and do form relationships with heteros and that's okay. Someone can be gay in one aspect and straight in another. Dykes have been boyfriends to girls only for years. Fags have been girlfriends to other boys for years. Transmascs and lesbians have loved and supported each other for years. And yes, dated too.

When you say gender is complex, when you say sexuality and orientation is complex, do you mean it? Or are you just saying that with a side of "When it fits these boundaries obviously"?

I mean it. Questioning people, genderweird and dual people deserve the same respect as any other queer people.

This post includes aces and aros who date and form qprs, and this all also applies to them. It's people's own business what relationships they form in regards to their identities.