#they were crazy with the transphobia today it was like

[gayspock]

fucking hell. my coworker keeps saying "you know what really boils my piss" and fuck me. now im saying it an all.

[sooniebby]

Pleek danny i am begging for dilf nanamin who cant so much as make small talk with Ijichi's son reader without wanting to grab the reader and bend him over the nearest object,,,, huuhdhjdjsh for kinks,,,,,, sir kink, impact play, brat taming,,,, also ftm reader bcs yk <3

ఌ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

꧁ 𝙆𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙭 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

w.c. › 7.1k

Warnings › reader is kinda ditzy. But also unintentionally bratty and kinda crazy. Age difference, obvs. Plot… again—Femboy-ish reader in the fact some of his clothes are more feminine. Slight transphobia but nothing terrible, just two people who suck ass. Slow-ish slow burn like the Toji fic… also just start fucking randomly

Kinks › use of pussy/cunt/feminine terms, sir kink, impact play, brat taming. Reader is called good boy.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

“Excuse my son, I need to drive him to his performance.”

“Hiii~!”

You wave at the man who gets into your dad’s car. You didn’t know what type of job he did actually. He told you, ‘driver’ and that was it. So you never thought to actually question it. Though, seeing the people he usually drives… you’re starting to think he’s a mafia’s getaway driver.

This guy looked to be a bit younger than your dad, though certainly older than you. Blonde hair that was previously slicked back and now a bit messy. He sat in the passenger seat and was looking at his phone, texting someone.

When he was walking up to the car earlier, you were pretty sure he was holding a butcher knife.. but it was dark so you decided to think you were over thinking it.

You sat in the back seat, watching the street lights fade past as your dad practically speeds down to the place you were performing today.

You played the piano. Not as a job, just as something for extra cash as a college student. It helped a lot—but it was hard to find jobs in the area, most were so far that you had to have Ijichi drive you.

The car came to a halt once Ijichi reached the house you were playing at. Some rich function happening. It didn’t matter, as long as it payed well.

“Thanks, Dad. Bye, Blondie.” You said, not waiting for any type of response as you stepped out. But much to your confusion, your dad and blondie got out of the car. Though they didn’t seem to be going towards the house you were. Just looking at the abandoned building a few blocks down.

Huh… maybe your dad really is in the yakuza business.

Shit, why didn’t that pay well?

You pushed back any curiosity to see what they were up to and walk inside the house. The performance, like always, was easy. You chose the fanciest but easiest pieces to play on the piano. It was hard doing it for hours straight with only ten minutes breaks between.

It was around two hours at the party, that your phone started ringing. You tried to ignore it, wanting to finish the piece you were playing. It was going well until the sound of something collapsing outside caught the guests attention. You heard screaming and yelling as everyone was moving around in a frenzy.

But you stayed put, knowing that if you stood up, you’d get trampled. Everyone was acting too frantic for your liking. Once there was a few people left, you grabbed your bag and walked out of the home, staring right at what looked to be a building collapsed onto itself.

It was the building Blondie and your dad was looking at. It confused you as there was a crowd of people running to their fancy cars and speeding away for safety. No one called the police —all too focused on their own lives. You stepped forward, towards the street to the now collapsed building. It was old.. but how did it just break down like that? That’s not normal. Did something push into it?

“Ijichi.”

A hand grabbed your shoulder. You shrieked and began to flail your arms around.

“Unhand me, troglodyte!!! I took taekwondo four years ago! I.. remember something!!”

“Calm down. Your father is just looking for you.”

You flinched when the hand moved to grab one of your arms, effortlessly stopping your failed attempt of taekwondo. You glanced up to see Blondie, his eyebrows furrowed while there was a small little cut on his cheek. Huh, was that always there? His clothes looked dusty, as if he was rolling around in dirt.

Was he in the building before it collapsed?

“Oh, Blondie—!”

“—Nanami.”

“That’s what I said. What happened to that building? It just fell.”

Blondie—Nanami hummed. “Old buildings can fall apart after a few years of being unkept.”

“Uh… okay.” You muttered, weirded out by his answer but decided that would be enough. “Where’s Dad?”

“The car.” Nanami nodded towards your father’s car that was parked farther away from everything. You saw your father leaning against the car, his arm looking a bit.. mangled to say the least. Feeling a sense of panic, you sprinted over there and came to stop once you got a clear picture of what happened to him.

His arm looked as if it was purposely twisted into an uncomfortable position. Ijichi gave you a tight smile, obviously taken from the pain. He used his free hand to lightly pat your head.

“What… happened?” You whispered, glancing over at Nanami as he walked over. You felt an odd sensation of protection as you quickly stood between him and your father, glaring at Nanami with a tint of suspicion.

Nanami raised an eyebrow, obviously confused on why he was being suspected as a the culprit. It was odd because he was obviously hurt as well—though to a lesser extent. The cut on his cheek wasn’t the only one as there was on his forearm that was actually still bleeding through the light bandage that was used from his sleeve.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Ijichi muttered. “Did you get paid?”

“Oh.. no. I forgot to ask for money—don’t know if she’ll pay me now though.”

“Well—as you can see, (Name), I’m badly hurt. I’ll need to go get this checked out.”

“Yeah, of course,” you smiled. “I’ll drive you. I’ve been getting better.”

“No—I need you to do me a favor.” Ijichi glanced over at Nanami before leaning in close to you. “I’m sure you know I’m not just a driver at this point—but for your safety I can’t say too much.”

You gasped, dramatically putting a hand over your lips. “No…. You’re a Yakuza member?!”

Ijichi stared at you as if you were crazy. “What—? Anyway, I’ll need you to stay at Nanami’s for a few weeks. Just so I can get better at the hospital.”

“Blondie?”

“Nanami.” Nanami cut in.

“That’s what I said,” you rolled your eyes. “Why? I can stay at the house alone.”

“It’s not safe. Someone…” Ijichi paused, as if he was wondering how much he should actually tell you. “It’s just not safe. We don’t know if he’d go after you. It’s safer to stay with a sorcerer—uh.”

You blinked. “Sorcerer? Right…” You grinned, thinking your dad was just trying to be subtle about his connection to the Yakuza. “Of course. Dangerous… gang leaders and all the like.”

Ijichi simply sighed. “Yes, sure. It will only be three to four weeks maximum. I’ll be healed by then. Nanami will drive me to the hospital and then he’ll take you home so you can pack a bag, okay?”

“Fine. Doesn’t seem like I have a choice,” you whined, pouting.

“Yes, you didn’t.” Ijichi said. He used his free hand and opened the door to passenger side of the car. You sat in the back once more while Nanami went to the driver side. As he drove, you couldn’t help but glance back at the collapsed building. While Yakuza were dangerous—you haven’t seen them collapse a building before. That’d just draw too much attention to them.

At the very least, you hoped Nanami lived close to your university. It was tiring having to rely on your dad’s car to get places since you lived on the outskirts of the city. But there was an aching feeling in your stomach. How.. did your dad’s arm twist like that? Will it actually be able to be fixed?

Right before you tore your eyes away from the building, you saw the flicker of red eyes.

𖥸

Blondie’s place was actually pretty nice. It was a nice little apartment—decorated decently. Though it was obviously done by an older man. You felt odd being in a stranger’s place but you trusted your father’s judgement so you didn’t complain a lot. At least verbally.

The apartment was on the sixth floor, with nice glass windows in the living room giving you a nice gaze into the city. The building lights kept the room bright even before Blondie turned on the lights. You checked the bag you were carrying, making sure you had your shots. Blondie was carrying the heavier bags—you had practically forced him to.

Just a couple of pouts and blinks with your long eyelashes got him carrying them.

“I have a spare bedroom that you’ll stay in. There’s no attached bathroom.” He said. He walked over to a hallway that had three doors. The left was the bathroom. The right was your new bedroom and the center is obviously Nanami’s room.

As he opened the door, the room was less decorated than the rest. But that made sense—no one would be in this room often. The room didn’t look too small—a queen size bed in the middle and a singular night stand to accompany it.

A small dresser in front of the wall facing the bed—and…

A tv that had a crack on the right side of it. Blondie noticed your shocked face as he placed your bags on the bed. “The movers dropped it.” He simply said.

“Eh. Does it still work?” You muttered, grabbing the remote that rested on the nightstand. You turned it on and what played was cartoons—but in English.

“Somehow it’s stuck on Australian cartoons. I can’t change it, it was bought second hand.” He said. He grabbed the remote and seemed to try again and see what was wrong with the settings. You wondered how he could understand the English but didn’t ask. He must’ve studied English or something.

Nanami hummed as he gave you back the remote. “You can still at least flip through the channels. A few have Japanese subtitles.” Was all he said as he left the room. You glanced over at him as he closed the door behind himself.

Huh. That was abrupt.

You placed your bag on the floor and decided to just unpack everything into the small closet. It was weird to be staying at a man’s place you literally met today but if your dad trusted him, you’d “trust” him too. But at the thought of your dad, you kept thinking of his arm. The mangled arm that couldn’t possibly be fixed. But he seemed so sure.

You knew your dad treated you a bit childish compared to adults your age with their parents. It was okay when you were a kid but ever since you started transitioning it has gotten worse. But you knew why. He just wanted to protect you… It was evident in him not trusting to allow you stay home alone.

The light clink of syringes caught your attention when you accidentally jostled your bag. You took out one syringe and one of the small bottle. It took forever for you to even get the option to take testosterone. As you prepped yourself for your shot, you thought back to the red eyes. Did you imagine that?

Did you actually see that…? Or was your eyes playing tricks on you?

As you packaged the dirty syringe into a plastic bag, ready to be disposed of, there was a knock on the door. The door opened and Blondie was holding a bowl of noodles. He placed them on the nightstand.

“I would’ve made you a proper meal.” He said, vaguely pointing to his properly bandaged arm. “But I need to be careful. When you’re finished, put the bowl in the sink. Good night.”

Then he left. Again.

Gosh, why was he so abrupt when it came to his goodbyes?

The ramen was okay. It’s as good as gas station ramen is gonna be. As you placed the bowl in the sink, you walked past the living room to reach your room when you passed by a photo. The photo was inside a glass cabinet—connected to the small piece framing around the tv. You leaned in close, wanting to see who it was.

It looked to be a much younger Nanami.

Oh wow—was he emo? You laughed to yourself at his haircut. Next to him was a girl, a guy with white hair—strange, and a guy with black hair.

Wow, another emo.

You noticed someone next to Nanami, on his left.

A guy with brown hair. He looked cute—he had a wide smile. Cute.

You hummed. Their uniform looked kinda weird. Nothing close to what you wore in high school. Hm, were they also about in the Yakuza?

Do the Yakuza hire young people?

As you thought deeply on your “profound” question, you pulled away from the cabinet. Well, it wasn’t much of your concern. If you were lucky, Blondie didn’t work for the Yakuza anymore. With a huff, you walked back to your room and went to sleep for the night.

𖥸

“Blondie?”

He wasn’t there. You checked around the apartment the next morning, wanting to simply talk—mainly ask him to make you some breakfast—but he wasn’t there. Or anywhere for that matter. You plopped down into the couch and checked your phone, pouting to yourself as your thumb hovered over your father’s contact.

“She’s always in your shadow! Why did you raise her like that?!”

“Don’t speak about my son like that! You were the one who decided to not raise him, it’s not (Name)’s fault he doesn’t want to go to you.”

“Him, him, him! It’s time you stop allowing this nonsense to continue, Ijichi.”

“Whose last name does he have? Ijichi (Name)! I’ll be the one to raise my son how I see fit.”

“Fine! Continue letting ‘him’ play dress up! When that child of yours is still living in your home while giving you no grandchildren, don’t cry about how you wished you had a normal daughter!”

“Ijichi.”

You gasped, looking up as you saw Blondie staring down at you. Your eyes felt blurry—you couldn’t really see him. Blondie kneeled down, removing your glasses as he handed you a handkerchief. It was soft in your hand, as you lightly dabbed it under your eyes before full on using it to stop your tears. You didn’t even know what happened.

You didn’t want to think about her.

That woman who carried you for nine months.

Gosh, you hated her.

But she still brought you to tears so easily.

“Th…anks… Blondie.” You whispered.

“Nanami.”

“That’s what I said.”

Blondie didn’t seem to care about why you were crying. Or at the very least, was being respectful in not asking. He was still a stranger. You continued to wipe away your tears, silently grateful he was back from wherever he left off to.

“Where’d… You go?”

“Store. I was missing a few things to make breakfast.”

You glanced over to the kitchen and indeed saw him preparing something. When did he even get back? Were you that deep into your trauma flashback that you didn’t hear him? You felt your cheeks flush hot. Fuck, that’s so embarrassing. As you began rubbing a bit harder to try and lessen your puffy red eyes—your phone began to ring.

With speed you’d question back at, you checked to see who was calling.

It wasn’t your father.

Shit, it was just some guy you had in your class. The damn leech when it came to your recent project you were doing for history.

He didn’t want to do anything and embarrassingly enough, you were doing everything at this point.

You tossed your phone onto the coffee table and sighed, draping the handkerchief over your eyes as you leaned back onto the couch. You’d speak to him tomorrow. The sound of chopping and sizzling filled the room as you slowly drifted off to a comfortable nap.

It always felt good to sleep after a cry.

When you woke up, it was dark out. Shit. You glanced around the living room—noticing you had a blanket on you. As you folded the blanket back and rested it on the couch, you walked to the kitchen. You opened the fridge and saw the food Blonde was probably making. It looked to just be an omelette.

Good enough.

After microwaving and sitting down back at the couch to eat you briefly wondered where Nanami could’ve went.

Ah.

Yakuza, probably.

𖥸

“Ijichi, why didn’t you answer my phone call?”

You sighed as you were roughly grabbed by your infamous slacker. You stared at him with no intention to really speak to him—just let him rant about how “you’re not listening to him” or “why do you hate him?” Whatever bullshit he comes up with.

“I’m trying to help with this project, really,” he begins and then just blabbers on.

You don’t pay attention. It goes on for maybe a few minutes until you see a crowd of people leaving their classroom. Perfect. You pushed slacker’s hands off of you and seamlessly phased into the group of people walking away.

It’s only been about two days but it felt like years since you’ve seen your dad.

Huh.

Maybe she was right about—

You shake your head. Fuck that lady! She’s burnt flesh now anyway.

As you walk away from your university, you came face to face with a dilemma. You don’t know where Nanami’s apartment is—you kinda just left on auto pilot to not miss class. And shocker, you never got his number to call him.

Well shit.

You aimlessly walked around the city for a bit, just enjoying the nice day. The sunlight shined down onto you as you giggled a bit. Hm, the sun is nice. You decided to just text your dad for Nanami’s phone number. So while you waited for him to answer your text—you stopped by a nearby cafe for some coffee.

Right when you left the cafe, you noticed something weird.

Red eyes just staring at you—right from across the street. Inside a building that looked to be abandoned. Wow, when did Japan have so many abandoned buildings. You instinctively stepped forward, trying to see if this was just something you were seeing by chance.

You used the cross walk to go across the street, getting face to face with the building. But the eyes were gone. You hummed, starting to believe maybe you were going through it. This is perhaps the longest you’ve gone no contact with your dad—you’re probably just worried. Especially with the injury you saw him with.

A mangled arm.

Anyone would be reeked with worry.

As you pulled out your phone to check if your dad answered you yet, you felt yourself freeze. There was someone watching you. No… something.

You glanced up, looking into one of the building’s window and gasped in shock at the sight of what you were seeing. It wasn’t human. And it looked like a huge centipede, staring at you as if you were a piece of meat. You booked it, immediately.

Your legs burn from running but you didn’t stop. You kept going and going until you felt a bit safe in a public area. Just… what the hell was that? When did centipedes get so big? And it was looking at you so hungrily?! What the hell?! With your thoughts focused solely on your new discovery of big centipedes, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You shrieked, ready to fight but sighed seeing it was just the slacker.

“Ijichi, man, the fuck are you avoiding me for? I’m seriously trying to get a good grade here! If I fail…”

You tune him out again. Wondering how the fuck he was able to find you. His grip was tight around your arm before it slowly slid to your back. You slightly paid attention to what the hell he think he was doing touching you so much until you felt his hand slightly slide down your waist.

“What in—”

“—look, if the reason you’re just ignoring me because you’re scared about what you really are, most people practically know and don’t care. I don’t care about that queer stuff!”

You blinked at him, wondering how he went from zero to a hundred. You didn’t care that people could probably tell you were trans so long as they didn’t bother you. But now you were about pissed off this guy was making you do more work for this damn project and now making it seem like it was your fault—not his inability to work.

“Listen here, Slacker—”

But you didn’t have to say much when he was pulled off of you. You grinned. “Oh! Great.” Slacker fell to the ground and looked up—you did the same, looking to see who was your savior of the day.

Oh.

Just Blondie.

“Oh, Blondie. I was looking for your apartment, I also need your phone number.” You said, smiling softly, forgetting all about the slacker on the floor. Blondie simply hummed as he grabbed your arm and began guiding you to his place, leaving slacker on the floor yelling after you.

Which was… two blocks from where you were standing.

Oh wow. Definitely made sense in why you got to your university so quick. Blondie’s apartment was just ten minutes away. Ahah… embarrassing.

Once inside the apartment, Blondie seemed set on ignoring you again. Which seemed to be all he was doing these few days you stayed here. But you didn’t know why. You huffed to yourself, pouting as you dropped your bag on the floor and plopped down onto the couch, ready to watch some tv.

“Blondie~!” You sang, grinning lightly. “You’re in the kitchen still, right? Can you get me something to eat? Please~?”

You didn’t get a reply back. You briefly wondered if he wasn’t going to do it so you moved to sit up but was proven wrong when Blondie gave you a turkey sandwich. You quickly took the plate and began eating, humming after having not eaten lunch. But Blondie was still staring down at you, his eyebrow slightly raised as if he was waiting for you to say something.

Your lips pursed as you thought what he needed to hear until you gasped. “Oh, thanks, Blondie.” You muttered with your mouth still full as you began eating again.

You only got a huff in response as he walked away to do whatever he usually does. As you ate, you thought back to that centipede. Was that really real? There’s no such thing as monsters, anyway. You wondered if you should tell Blondie—but what could he do realistically?

Well, he’s in the Yakuza, maybe he could find a way.

𖥸

It’s been about two weeks now. Your dad still hasn’t returned much of your texts but you had gotten closer to Blondie. As much as you could anyway. He was very cut and dry with his answers to you.

You ask him how his day went, he’d answer with a curt: “okay.”

Ask him about what he does for work: “office job.”

He seemed to have trouble really looking at you when you spoke to him. He’d glance at you and then suddenly look at whatever he was doing with such intensity as you tried asking him questions. Or even just talking to him. Boring!

You were starting to believe he had a problem with the clothes you wore. When you dressed in baggy clothing, he would look at you more. But whenever you wore a tighter top or even shorts that showed a sliver of your ass, it was like looking at you would’ve burned his retinas!

Geez, did he not like guys in tighter clothing?

Damn… you must’ve been pretty ugly to him.

As you mentally cried to yourself about being seen as ugly on the couch, you glanced at your phone. You haven’t seen that slacker after you sent in the project. Of course you told the professor you did most and if not all of the work. So, you got an A—obviously.

You haven’t seen any human sized centipedes in a while so you were set to just believe you were imagining it. As you tugged down at your shorts that were acting like underwear at this point, you heard the front door open. Oh, Blondie’s back!

You grinned and went over to him, smiling. “Blondie! You’re early, they let you off?”

Blondie hummed. “I had a half day.” He simply said, walking over to the living room as he sat down with a grunt. He looked a bit tired so you decided to just not say anything else to him. There was always a few days when he just came home with a look of dread and was totally silent.

You were really starting to believe he was a Yakuza member.

As you turned to walk to your room, you bent down for a second to pick up a pillow that had fallen when you previously jumped off the couch. When you stood back you, you turned around to see Blondie staring at you with wide eyes. You simply smiled at him and placed the pillow back on the couch. Weird, why was he staring at you like that.

“I’m going to my room. Call me if you need me.” You said, waving goodbye as you sprinted off to your room, not knowing that Blondie’s gaze didn’t leave you at all.

𖥸

Nanami rubbed the bridge of his nose as he tried not to think about you essentially just flashing him earlier. When you had bent down to grab the pillow, he saw that your shorts, that were too short in his opinion, the crotch area had kinda sort of—clung to one side. So he saw it, at least just one lip—of your cunt.

And he felt angry with himself that his cock actually twitched at the sight. Was he some damn animal? He’d certainly been feeling like that the last two weeks. He couldn’t exactly… speak well with you. You just staring up at him with your cute smile but painfully naughty clothing.

Who just wears a shirt that is practically clinging to your body that it hides nothing to the imagination! And your shorts… who wears such short shorts with no underwear?

He wasn’t sure if he could take another few weeks with you here. Not if he didn’t want to just slam you against the wall and take you there.

But no, he couldn’t do that. You were Ijichi’s son. And he was pretty sure when Ijichi said: “take care of my son.” He didn’t mean fuck his son. Though he kinda wished he did.

It’ll be fine. Just a minimum of two more weeks… then you’d be gone back at home with Ijichi.

𖥸

Nanami wished he had just gone straight to bed. He was sitting on the couch watching tv when you suddenly appeared, dressed in a stupid crop top and short shorts. You plopped down beside him before resting your head right on his lap. When he tried to push you away, you only whined, pouting up at him to let you stay.

Damn brat.

He tried focusing back on the show he was watching as you seemed to only have wanted contact with him. You hummed softly before giggling.

“Nana—Blondie,” you said, looking over at him. “Today’s my mom’s death anniversary.”

He glanced down at you, a bit confused on why you didn’t seem bothered on your mother being dead.

“She died in a car crash. Drunk driving. The hospital said she burned to death in her car… witnesses said they heard her screaming as they tried to open the car door and out the fire.” You sighed, a soft smile on your lips as you recount your mother’s death. “I was 18. It was a good early birthday gift. But Dad said I shouldn’t be so cruel to her even if she was a bitch.”

“It’s not strange,” you said, turning your face to rest on Nanami’s leg as you glanced up at him. Your eyelashes batting as your lips were pulled into a pout. “To not care about a bitch dying, right? I’m sure there’s someone everyone has that they just can’t wait to die.”

Nanami wasn’t sure what brought this out. He was actually a bit worried honestly that you were so nonchalant about death. Though he could tell that despite this act you were pulling, her death did affect you… but perhaps it truly did bring a sense of peace. Especially if her death was truly that horrible.

“I can’t speak on that.” Was all he said, deciding it was best to let the conversation die out. He’d tell Ijichi to schedule you a therapist once he’s better.

“Hm, yeah, I did bring it out of nowhere. Anyway, my birthday is in four days! Getting me anything?” You giggled.

“No. I didn’t know it was your birthday.”

“What? Blondie~! Whaddya mean? I’m practically your roommate by now, and roommates give each other gifts.”

“Are you truly my roommate when I do everything?”

Which was true. You were more like a freeloader. Nanami did the chores, cleaned up mostly after you, and paid for literally everything. You were silently forbidden on doing your piano jobs so you were kinda shit out of luck, relying on Nanami at this point.

You simply huffed. “Meanie.” As you moved your head to face Nanami’s stomach. Nanami couldn’t help but flinch as he felt your nose accidentally brush against his crotch area. His grip on the remote tightened as he so desperately wished he was rude enough to push you off of him.

It was quiet for bit, just the tv going on with the show Nanami was watching. And subconsciously, Nanami began to calm down a bit and just allowed you to stay there. Maybe you really did just want some comfort.

There was something pressing against his crotch. He glanced down to see you, purposefully, rubbing your nose against his crotch before pulling away. You yawned, acting as if you were just essentially teasing him and grinned.

“I’m going to bed, Blondie. Think about what you’re getting me for my birthday!” You winked, standing up as you walked back to your room. He was so sure you were intentionally swaying your hips. What the hell was that?

And why the hell was he horny from a freaking nose rub?!

𖥸

Blondie, Blondie, Blondie

That’s all you called him. Occasionally, you’d say, “Nana—” but then quickly switch back to Blondie. It was as if you were intentionally trying to get him upset. Nanami didn’t know how a calm man like Ijichi could have a son like you.

The only similarity you two had was the glasses you both wore. It actually was the same brand and shape—weird.

You seemed to have two pairs of glasses though. You were the ones similar to Ijichi’s often and this pair of red ones whenever you were feeling “annoying.” Nanami had come to expect the red cat eye glasses whenever you wanted to be a little brat.

And look at that, you were wearing them right now.

Nanami was sitting on the couch, checking something in his phone when you suddenly appeared behind him. He didn’t look up, waiting for you say something until he felt your arms wrap around his neck. His body stiffened as you leaned close, pressing your lips against the tip of his ear.

“Guess what’s tomorrow?” You whispered. “B-i-r-t-h-d-a-y.” You intentionally made each letter sound breathy, pausing just a split second to let them sit heavy in the air.

You pulled away and giggled. “Got my present? You gotta make up for Dad,” you went to sit on the couch and glanced over at Nanami who looked as if he would keel over if a gust of wind blew past him. His grip was tight on his phone, you were a bit worried it’d crack.

“What was that?” Nanami suddenly said, still looking straight.

“Was what? It was for dramatic effect!” You said honestly, not knowing how sexual you had just sounded in his ear. Nanami turned over to face you with a look of pure disbelief while you simply grinned.

“Aw~ poor Blondie, don’t take it so seriously!” You playfully pat his leg before grabbing the tv remote and turning it on. You were engulfed into the random Japanese drama playing while Nanami could only just stare at you in awe.

Wow. You really were a damn brat.

It was fine though. He had the perfect birthday present now.

𖥸

It was your birthday!!

Which meant no school. Why would you willingly go to school on your day? Only losers do that! You sighed comfortably on the couch as you turned on the tv to play random Korean dramas for most of the day. And that’s how you spent most of the day.

It was around noon when your phone buzzed. You expected it to be one of your very few friends that you have but much to your shock with was your dad! You squealed happily and quickly opened the text he sent.

‘Happy Birthday, 🐹, I’ve been feeling better, don’t worry about me. I’ll be able to call you soon. I hope you aren’t giving Nanami too much trouble.’

You pouted but quickly texted him back, stating that you and Blondie were practically pals at this point. It brought a smile to your lips to see the hamster emoji though. You had quite chubby cheeks even has an adult that your dad loving pinching. It always looked bigger when you ate.

It was commented more when you were a kid but there was still some people who would—lovingly—call you a hamster in disguise.

Finally having confirmation that your dad was at least alright, you felt a heavy weight lift off your shoulders. You yawned and stretched out, turning your attention back to the tv as you spent the rest of the day lounging around.

It was dark out when Nanami finally came back home. You waved from the couch, not bothering to get up. You were always lazy on your birthday. Definitely from being a bit too spoiled on these days. But hey, at least you didn’t act like this everyday.

You could see Nanami did have a small box in his hand as he moved to the kitchen. You silently hoped it was a cake as you finally sat up a bit and moved to join Nanami in the kitchen.

“So now you’re greeting me,” Nanami said, placing the box in the fridge. You pursed your lips, wondering why he seemed a bit upset. It wasn’t like you greeted him all the time when he walked through the door.

“You like that stuff? Aw~,” you walk over to him, resting your hand on his shoulder. “You like those couple stuff? So cute, Blondie!”

You hummed when you felt his hand grab yours, slowly pulling it away from his shoulder. You glanced up, wondering if you perhaps went a bit too far but Nanami didn’t seem angry. On the contrary, he seemed like his usual self. He used his free hand to fix his glasses as his grip on yours tighten.

“I’ve allowed you to continually act like a brat throughout your stay here—I know what you truly need as a birthday present.”

With sudden strength, you found yourself pinned against the wall, his body pressed up against yours. You were wearing a long shirt but your usual short shorts.

“Blon—”

“—Sir. Since Nanami is a problem for you to say, that should be easy for you.”

You blushed slightly, having never really called someone that before. But somehow, you didn’t find it in you to disobey. Nanami hitched up your shirt, grabbing the front end and pressing it against your lips. It took you a second but you bit down on it.

“Good boy.”

Oh no.

Y’know, you did find Nanami attractive, but you were always the type of person to want to stick to your age range. But this…

“You kept whining about wanting a birthday present,” his hands gripped your shorts, “do you want this?” He whispered against your ear, practically giving you an out.

You gripped the wall in front of you but felt yourself nodding, blushing in embarrassment.

“I need words, (Name).” He said. You felt your legs tremble. You wanted him to say your name again.

“Yes… keep going.” You whispered.

Nanami hummed in approval as he pulled down your shorts, making you left up your legs so they can be fully taken off. Now you were standing in the kitchen, pressed against the wall with just a shirt. Nanami’s hand traced your upper thigh, his hand ghosting your cunt but he never brought it close enough.

You whined slightly, looking back at him with pleading eyes. He gave you small smirk.

“Despite it being your birthday, you acted bad today, Baby.”

“H..huh? How..?” You muffled out through your t-shirt, a look of surprise in your eyes.

“You don’t really remember?” Nanami gripped your hips tightly as he forced you to pull away from the wall. Your hands pressed tightly against the wall as your back arched. His hands slid down your hips to your butt as he harshly gripped them, spreading them apart teasingly as you whimpered.

“You can’t have short term memory loss, (Name). Think.”

You thought for a second before humming. “Greet… didn’t greet you..” you muffled.

“Good boy. So you know you’ll have to be punished for not properly greeting me? It’s what’s brats get for misbehaving.”

“m… not a brat.”

Smack!

“I don’t like liars.” Was all he said before you felt another slap against your ass. You whimpered, your body shaking at each spanking. He wasn’t gentle in the slightest, not leaving room for a break. It was continuous spankings against each cheek, earning deep screams from you.

The spankings filled the silent apartment, swirling in symphony with your high pitched screams. You didn’t think this was really a good birthday present but you couldn’t deny that it was actually feeling a bit good in a weird way.

After a few more slaps, Nanami began rubbing your sore butt cheeks, pressing a wet kiss into your shoulder.

“Good boy. You handled that perfectly.” He said, leaning close as he grabbed your left leg and lifted it up. Your back was now pressed against his chest as you tried to keep a steady balance with now just one foot.

“Th…ank…you.. Sir.” You muttered out, tears staining your cheeks as you looked up at him. Nanami cooed, wiping away a few of your tears with his free hand.

“Now, do you think you deserve your present?”

You nodded, “yes.. yes! Please..”

Nanami seemed to take a bit of pity on you as he simply nodded. He wanted to tease you a bit more but he decided that since it was your first time and birthday, he’d be nicer. Though next time he’d be much more cruel.

You whimpered as you felt his hand graze your cunt, teasing one finger against your wet folds. It had been a minute since you even touched yourself down there. You were always too anxious that Nanami would be able to hear you or he might come home earlier than expected.

Just feeling his finger teasing you could bring you to an orgasm, but Nanami had different plans. He slipped in two fingers, earning a soft mewl from you. His fingers were large, easily stretching you out as he got you ready for his cock.

It wasn’t until you felt yourself close to an orgasm was when Nanami finally pulled out. Damn tease.

The feeling of a cock rubbing between your folds caused you to flinch as you gripped at the wall as some type of support. This position wasn’t the most comfortable but you were way too horny to walk to the bedroom or couch. You wanted him now.

Nanami was slow as he thrusted his cock inside your tight cunt. He grunted as you gasped, trying to get used to the large stretch. His fingers didn’t compare to it! Even though you were prepared, it took some effort for him to fully be inside of you.

You shivered, suddenly thinking that you were essentially fucking your dad’s ‘coworker.’ Fuck, well, maybe a few pouts and batting of the eyelashes will get you off with minimal punishment.

“Fuck… I’m sorry,” Nanami suddenly whispered.

“Mhm?”

With great force, your whole body was suddenly shoved against the wall once more as Nanami’s hands were on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. You felt him almost pull out fully until he slammed right back inside of you, causing you to cry out in shock.

You helplessly gripped at the wall for some sort of purchase as Nanami fucked into you like an animal. His hands gripped your hips tightly, moving you as if you were a fleshlight on his cock. The only sounds coming from his was animalistic grunts.

Your cunt clamped tightly around Nanami’s cock, as you tried to babble something but only moans left your lips. Nanami seemed so heavily into chasing his own orgasm at this point.

“Si…Sir… ‘m com..!” You tried to say but could only cry out as you felt your orgasm wash over you like a waterfall. Your fingers dug ineffectually into the wall as a way of purchasing yourself against Nanami’s harsh thrusts.

He continued going even after you came, his hips slapping against your sore ass. As his grip on your hips tightened to were it felt as if his fingers was digging into the skin, he slammed his hips one last time. His cock was deep inside when he finally cummed, coating your insides.

You shrieked, shocked that he came inside. The warm cum slowly seeped down your thighs as you felt your knees collapse but Nanami was quick to hold you up.

Nanami leaned against your back, breathing heavily. “Sorry… I didn’t mean for that happen..” he muttered. “Just lost control.”

You hummed, gently wiggling your butt. “Maybe I’m just that pretty.” You teased, looking back at Nanami. You giggled slightly, enjoying his unimpressed face.

A moan left your lips as you felt his cock slowly slide out before pushing back it. You stared at Nanami in shock, surprised an older man seemed to have a quick reload. He simply grinned.

You were screwed.

𖥸

You hummed softly as Nanami rubbed your sore butt cheeks, rubbing some cream on it to stop the pain. It had been just a few days after your birthday and now this “spanking” thing was constant.

And fucking. Very often.

Nanami was always cool and collected during your punishments but whenever he got his dick inside your pussy, he could never control himself properly. It was honestly funny. And a bit scary that he could do more than one round so quickly.

The most you two have done so far was three.

And that was just a few minutes ago.

“Hm, Blondie,” you still called him that outside of sex, “did I tell you about this huge centipede I saw in this abandoned building? It had red eyes and everything, it was like… human sized!”

Nanami’s calming massage suddenly stopped. You looked back and raised an eyebrow, wondering what was wrong. He was looking at you with wide eyes—which was shocking, Nanami never looked at you like that before.

Maybe being a Yakuza member didn’t mean he could handle it.

Well, shoot.

But you couldn’t help but think Nanami wasn’t shocked about the centipede.

More about that you saw it.

Huh. Yakuza members are weird.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

I think I made reader a bit weird lolol. Way longer than I thought it was going to be. I hope I did nanami justice, I have trouble writing him for some reason

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @remdayz @flurrina @iwishtobeacrow @smellwell @kiiyoooo @chill-guy-but-cooler @tomoeroi @mello-life69 @rhetorical-conscience @tehyunnie @ofclyde

[imuybemovoko]

G̴̛̗̟͒͒͑̇̈e̵̢̧̦̗͔̦̼̗̖͉̋n̵̿̈́͑̈́͐̉͑͋̿͂̓͜͠͠ḍ̵̫͒̂͌͗̔̉̚͜͝ė̴̼̞̤̯̗͈̩̥̦͊͋̽͛̆̉͘ŗ̴̥̞̜̫̇̄͊͝ͅ.̵̖͖͓̳̭̤̳̖̯̲̰̇̌̿͋̾̓̈́̾͘̚͝ͅ

If you’d told me three or four years ago where I’d be today, I’d probably have said you were crazy.

As a defense mechanism.

Let’s get into this shit. Using ✨art✨.

(CW: vague discussions of religious trauma, dysphoria, transphobia, homophobia, etc.; art depicting the above and a good bit of blood and violence and also a gun)

In late 2021, I made a series of three drawings in an attempt to somewhat express my journey through this, each based on me at a different phase in my life. I think I’ve improved quite a lot at this kind of art since I did this, but it still holds up, at least to some extent. I may rework these one day, but for now, I’d like to share them on here I guess.

Here’s the first.

Yeah. First one is a bit vicious. I started out by tracing my dumb ass in this weird horrible picture from summer 2020, where I had this awful mess of a beard (I don’t think this drawing captures just how bad the beard was; imagine patchy, unintentional chinstrap because the moustache bit was thin and stupid and the rest of it was thin and stupid but in a way that didn’t look so bad when I had it a couple of inches long) that I grew for reasons I can’t fully articulate but suspect I can boil down to “I wasn’t ready”. 

And then there’s the chains, and then all the shit shoved into my body. A mix of nails and tools, a CD, a bracket that holds the rifle in place, and, I suppose most notably, the Bible stabbed right the fuck into my chest with a big damn kitchen knife. 

This is a representation of every role, every terrible ideology, etc. that was shoved into me growing up, and of the impact that it had on me. I’m trapped, in a weird dark fuckin prison cell, and heavily injured. The bEfOrE tImE was a painful mess.

So this one is based on an image of myself in early 2021, when I was unpacking all the shit that happened and I’d shaved the beard. Sometimes healing is a painful process that starts with tearing a lot of things out of your life, and that’s pretty much exactly what I was going for here.

Also, I’ve situated myself in some weird dingy warehouse, basically a hiding place. For like a lot of reasons. I wasn’t ready for much of anyone to know the journey I was on at this point, because I thought things would go bad if they did. When the reference image was taken, I hadn’t fully figured it out myself. I was still doing a lot of “huh, gender is funky, isn’t it. I’ll unpack how shaving my beard felt ...later, when I’m not so busy.” 

This was a time of exploration, but it was a process that I kept from everyone except some close friends during it. Aside from leaving Christianity, anyway. I was a bit of an asshole about that one for a few months, honestly. But this is meant to be after that, when I started actually healing instead of just lashing out.

Anyway, the amount of weird 3 AM mental breakdowns between the time this image represents and the time of the next one is ...fairly intense. 

And here’s me in like January of 2022, plus a couple of scars I don’t have IRL  but that I carried over across this series of drawings, and standing in a fully made-up space. (Reference photo was taken against a brick wall lmao) Aside from the scars, there are a few relics from the other images in here, most notably the gun hanging above the window. Almost a year after this drawing, that’s a look I replicate almost exactly on a fairly regular basis in colder weather, though I typically use a belt instead of suspenders with those cargo pants. 

The shape of that picture frame is a little nod to my chosen name. I don’t think I’d fully decided on it when I drew this, but it was easily the strongest candidate by then.

Basically these drawings represent a process of me slowly figuring out that I am  ✨the LaCroix of women ✨, “none binary with left girl”, etc. I don’t like using super specific labels, but I do like shitposting (don’t worry, I mean both of those dumb shitposts in a good way, if I still hated myself I’d still have that fuckin beard lol), and I’m some flavor of transfeminine and nonbinary that they/she pronouns roughly captures. 

[notsurewhereiam]

It kind of drives me crazy how little introspection many Hellenic pagans have at how our religion and cultural practices would come to influence some of the deeply violent beliefs of European Christians.

Like early Christianity may have emerged in Palestine, but many of its writers and thinkers were operating from a directly Greco-Roman point of view.

Just as one example, how bigoted Hellenic pagan views of the Galli, a Greco-Roman cultural gender, would become widely influential in the development of transphobia in European Christianity today.

[bluebird1348]

Trigger warning: Homophobia, Transphobia, Enbyphobia.

Personal history.

Last month my mother asked me what is the meaning of nonbinary.

I answered honestly, gave her a simplified definition, I don't remember what I said exactly but generally it was like this: "they're people who do not perceived themselves as part of the gender binary"

...I have known for a long time of my mother's bigotry for the LGBTQIA+ community, my community. She has attended rallies against my rights, every meal prayer includes "please protect the families values that are being attacked tight now" (for those that don't know that's how homophobes perceive LGBT+ rights, as an attack on 'family values'); has called bisexual people the most disgusting people she knows, expresses extreme disgust at the mere hint of lesbians, buys the groomer propaganda, etc.

Yet, I answered earnestly because a deep foolish part of my heart wants to believe she's a good person, wants to forgive all of the hurt her bigotry has unintentionally brought me (I have never told her anything about me being a nonbinary queer person). I answered foolishly hoping for things to be different, so that I can finally start living honestly... Still, I never learn.

What she said next is triggering so you can skip the next paragraph:

She called us crazy, said the good old "only two genders", went off about genitals and how intersex people are "mutations that never finished their development" and that it is an affront to how nature intended (and when I pointed out that several animals don't have the gender binary, she simply ignored me and moved the goalpost towards how humans aren't animals and that it's different)

I really should have known better.

At first, I had decided to simply do what I have been doing all along: Put this whole memory in the back of my mind and keep moving my plan of saving money so that I'll eventually can move out and cut my entire family off without ever letting them know the real me.

Until today that is, when things began to feel off. Recently I have been feeling a bit of hostility from my mother, nothing serious, just off. The best way I can describe it is while she is still acting outwardly kind towards me, the air around it feels different, less warm, she's losing her temper around me far more quickly (don't worry, she just yells and nothing truly hurtful).

At first I thought it was because she was feeling frustrated that I haven't managed to get a job (the job market is so awful) and because I'm being "lazy" (read: chronically depressed) my room is a mess and I barely have the energy to get up and clean.

But now I thinking it more deeply and I remember that I once went over a year without a job, partly due to covid but it was during the tail end of it, and my room back then was an even bigger mess than now and she was frustrated yes but nowhere was she acting like she is now.

Then I thought it was because she's having a lot of health complications right now but I have experienced her other health emergencies in the past and it stills didn't match up with her current behavior.

And today it clicked, we were eating and I was wearing headphones watching a video and I heard my name so I stopped the video just to listen my mother complaining to my brother about how I was "becoming a follower of satan and that I was falling into the hole of believing that wrong is right and despite how hard she has tried to teach me through her lived experiences the way of god" and my brother was just agreeing with her.

I didn't hear the rest of their conversation, my whole body just went numb, I'm just glad I had become good at repression so I was able to act like I didn't hear anything while they kept talking about me while I was sitting right there beside them.

What I meant by things clicking is while I easily dismissed the rest cuz she had figured out I was an atheist, the phrase 'believing that wrong is right' kept bothering me and I was wondering what she meant by that because even she knows that atheists are good people (I know this because she said it herself) and I had no idea what action or words I had done or said to make her believe I was becoming immoral in her eyes.

And then I remembered the nonbinary question. The times I had tried to lightly push back against her bigotry. The times I had accidentally used my preferred pronouns in front of her or insinuated I did not align with my assigned gender (she called me out Everytime, one time she even peeked at my genitals just to make me confirm I was still that gender).

The question hadn't been done out of curiosity, it was a test and I had failed in her eyes. I became a follower of satan in her eyes because I didn't give a bigoted answer or feigned ignorance.

In her eyes, the wrong thing that is right in my eyes is the LGBTQIA+ community and all their allies. Me not being a bigot is the same as being a follower of satan.

....

And you know what? Good.

I would rather become a demon than forsake my community.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary108

12/30/2023

saturday

today has been pretty good.

i decided to procure . some new plugins , today . one of the does this crazy thing w/ eqing, where you can eq the transients separately, it feels like kind of insane and a little bit like cheating but in a good way. w/ these plugins came a really good distortion too, which is exciting, and it has a function that reminds me of super gated velcro fuzz, so i'm interested in seeing what i can do w/ that. or i kind of have figured out one thing w/ it but it feels like it's going to help me do a ton, when i need that kind of fried sputtering thing. i got 2 songs out, the one that was / is still maybe a maybe, and then one i did yesterday but still felt like needed work, i think i basically got the guitar / fake guitar sound to be way better in one part. listening again, it's good, but the back half has another guitar that needs some brightening, and the snare too, i feel like split-eq will be perfect for those kinds of tiny touch ups, and there's some weird shit i think i can get it to do w/ distorting and stuff. that idea is really exciting, i wonder when i'll get to figure it out.

anyway now i am reading and thinking about other stuff. mostly what i wrote here last night, about people's weird and intellectualized transphobia, i don't think theory of a young girl contains that, at least it's not pointing there because that wasn't on the mind of whoever was writing at the time most likely, maybe i will eat my words but basically it seems disinterested in queerness, it mostly (and accurately for the most part) levels the field, not focusing on heterosexuality but instead focusing on things like the basic happenings re: sexuality currently, and so on. e.g. below:

the sexual revolution only opened a market where one could leverage something against another, in order to have access to something they wanted. thinking about courtship rules and methods, how to make someone want you, seduction, and how to make someone accept you as a lay. trading favors, is part of it. this is not all of sex now i think but it does capture the reality of casual sex, broadly.

but this doesn't have to do w/ last night. while i don't think the book is queerphobic i do know that people can read it and take it that way, its critical eye turned at gender how people embody gender/identity and the ways that is socially enforced can basically be read in negative ways.

the first quote here is the most interesting regarding what i am thinking on. all the others are interesting and good, but maybe they also exhibit something that is easy to notice in this kind of work, which is a blurriness / nearness to other kinds of things i've read, for instance, the part about alienated socialization reminds me of ted kaczinsky's manifesto, where he talks about oversocialization, which is an essentially reactionary idea of socialization in urban environments. i don't think tiqqun were meaning to recall that, or point in that direction, but i know, certainly, people will take it that way, because that conforms to an easy thing to believe, that there was a point in the past where all maladies we experience now were not present, and technology prevents us from going back. but i think tiqqun are good at not giving into luddite tendencies, which you can find in this kind of french stuff at times as well. it's an irritating strain in radicalism. the right now will not go away, and the past gave us right now, this isn't a teleological vision, but it is one where there is an ongoing communication with the past and we feel it constantly erupting in new forms, explaining what we have, while things shift away, there is a sense of being out of time always. this makes some people very upset and worried, so they dress like roman soldiers or get naked in forests and do rituals, hoping their simplified fantasies will be revealed as true in history. there is no point in history that is not complicated and miserable, is what it seems like.

still though, the first quote is very reminiscent of a lot of things i see terfs repeat, especially the ideas re: fetishes. obviously what the book means is this applies to every human, and gender abolition is an escape from that, but in the eyes of terfs gender abolition would simply let everyone be "normal" again, when in truth it would obliterate cis-ness especially, and hopefully disentangle people from the pain of having to pass (which cis people experience as well basically).

i dunno though. it's such a bizarre and stupid thing to have to contend with.

it at least made me write something. a good idea i think.

the one above is quite excellent i think, it recalls how i think of porn, to me, as an essentially sanitary service/process which strips sexuality of libidinal force by making it about watching, and constant and easy access, and to allow one to empty themselves of pulsion/fantasy. maybe my disagreements with this people come down to the feeling i have that fantasy is 1) not evil and 2) productive in many ways, at getting one to examine and dismantle what might have produced those wishes. but the wishes cannot ever dissipate entirely. this i guess is tethered to my feeling that many people who are queerphobic are essentially/intellectually repressive. not of themselves truly being queer or whatever but of their abilities to express desire. they can only understand things as received/taught socially, which they are on some level, but that's all that can make it okay. it's a strange issue of scrupulosity a lot of the time it feels like i guess. i hate that i am there having to navigate it as an object of that, basically.

anyway, today was productive basically, and stuff. and nice and stuff too. i am just tired now. i am tired of a lot of things, people are slowly making me sick kind of. right now i've got a friend who is getting really obsessed with r. kelly's music, and another friend/the guy who said the thing that pissed me off so much is another r. kelly head. it's very tiring and bizarre to have things like that, it's such a bother to have people tell you that r kelly is one of the greatest musical geniuses of all time. i don't want to hear that.

anyway, i am tired, so

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hotchley]

🐨 Ramadan Mubarak! Hope you have a peaceful month! Do you have any traditions of favorite foods or things like that? I have a friend who likes to break her fast with Cosmic Brownies. It’s the only time she eats them.

I’m slowly approaching the end of high school, which is a crazy feeling! The senior slide is real. I’m still taking 3 APs, but my morning classes are online so I get to sleep in. I’m holding onto As and one B in my hardest class, so no complaints here.

I got the last of my college admission decisions this week. I applied to 13 schools because I am incredibly indecisive. I got into 7, got rejected by 4, and waitlisted by 2. I was bummed by some of the rejections, but I have some good options. I read a nice quote that other day that “rejection is just redirection” and I like that. I like the idea that maybe my disappointment now is guidance towards where I’m meant to end up. I’m making pro and con lists now, trying to decide which school to pick. The closest is about a 45 min drive and the furthest is 2 hours by plane.

Speech is nearly over! I did two new categories this year, and ended up quite liking them. One that I thought I would be horrible at ended up going really really well. I was just a few places away from qualifying for the state tournament! In my first year of the category! And it was the biggest category in the hardest district in our state. There are six of us from my team in that category, and we get on really well. We spend hours each week researching sustainable agriculture, clean energy, and environmental social governance, and learning some psychological warfare to employ during rounds, so that bonds people quickly. Our coach at the beginning of the season got fired because he never coached us, so my coach from my other category took over. He used to work at my elementary (primary) school, so he’s known me since I was 7 and still insists upon calling me “kid”. It’s just a great group of people. I had a lot of fun, and it’s been my most successful season, so that’s been cool. It’s crazy to think that it’s almost over after spending five years of my life doing this. I have just two more tournaments—one national circuit tournament, and another to qualify to the official National Speech and Debate Association tournament.

It’s our spring break now. I took a vacation two weeks ago, because that was my older brother’s break from school. We went to Hawaii! It was beautiful and warm and very fun. Now I’m just chilling at home. I went into school on a teacher training day to be on a panel about student experiences with diversity and inclusion. I had plenty of stories about homophobia and sexism, and others had even more about racism and transphobia. We talked about what teachers have done well to help us and make us feel welcome, and what could be done to help further. I was in front of the entire staff, so that was quite nerve-wracking, but I was happy with all my answers to the questions I was asked. A bunch of my teachers complimented me afterwards and said they were proud, so that’s nice. It’s cool to feel like you actually might make a difference. I’m leaving soon, and if the queer kids after me get to see just one more pride flag in that building, I’ll be very happy.

I think that’s all my updates! Time just keeps ticking on. I feel like my senior year is going by very quickly. I’m chilling at home today, rereading Six of Crows. I hope you’re doing well and having a good time at uni. I can’t wait to hear what you accomplish. My Internet sister is going to be the best lawyer ever!

Love ya to the moon and to Saturn and to deep space and back <3

Thank you! And a peaceful month is the best wish anyone has ever given me for it!! It has so far been relatively peaceful, barring a few notable incidents... but I'm feeling a lot more connected to my faith which is nice. You wouldn't think it if you saw me, but it's an internal thing. And I prefer that :)

I love, love, love the late starts! I'm also essentially done with my first year of uni- I'm essentially going up to see my friends, sit my exams and also because I have to pay rent so I may as well lol. Which reminds me. I must do a semester two set of events that altered my brain chemistry.

As and Bs is amazing. Like, so good.

American colleges baffle me because thirteen!! I struggled to come up with five and switched one for another three days before I was meant to apply! Of course, rejection is never nice because it's essentially being told you weren't seen as good enough for something you wanted and that's a shit feeling. But you're allowed to feel bad about it. You need to feel bad about it in order to move on. But equally, things will fall into place and you'll end up where you're meant to. I'm proof of that. The pros and cons list is good!

I'm two and half hours away by car- you don't fly to uni here unless it's in another country and there's pros and cons to being close and to being far. I like the freedom that comes with not living at home. It's also a lot easier to actually do my degree. Things get done so much faster. But being at home is also nice!

I can't believe it's almost done!! Yes, things never tend to be as bad as we expect them to be! I'm glad it all went so well. Also, kid is one of the few acceptable nicknames I will take from people who are older. It's a nice one. I hope the remaining competitions go well!!

I'm also on my Easter holiday. It's nice because it coincided with Ramadan so I wasn't going to be doing much anyways. Hawaii sounds beautiful! I'm glad the school thing went well! I remember being part of the group that helped develop a policy to tackle sexual harassment and telling the teacher what a police officer said to us. She was horrified. It was strangely validating to know we weren't in the wrong. And that's the thing. Things may have sucked for us, and we may not have been believed, but that's not for the youngsters to deal with. We deserved better but we can give them better and that's something.

Oh I love Six of Crows! I'm trying to read out of my comfort zone, so I'm currently reading The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With The Sea. It's actually quite interesting. I really do enjoy short stories. Your internet sister actually failed quite astronomically at being a lawyer this year- many, many rejections- but it has made me realise what parts of law I think I may be more suited to, so pros and cons as always.

I love you too <33

[eliotcoldwater]

rlly anxious about mother's day!

[maxbernini]

The fact that they dared to compare skamfr with the l word. When the l word is a show about lgbt people so they could break up one of the couple as *iconic* as they were because there was still representation within the show. Whereas in skamfr not only they broke up the only wlw couple of the show and made straights couple kiss in front of them but they also broke up the ONLY teen wlw couple of any french show. No but seriously apart from them there is NO wlw couple in french media… How crazy it is that they decided that mayla was the *best* couple for this story.

IS THAT LAST PART TRUE?? like they’re literally the only teen sapphic couple in france rn?? 😭 that makes the whole “it just shows there’s a need for happy representation…which we haven’t given here :)” quote so much worse

the l word thing isn’t the worst part of the letter but it SO mindboggling like the layers! the lack of self awareness! saying the og l word was revolutionary because it portrayed lesbians as flawed, real people like the reason it did that wasn’t because the entire cast were gay characters and so were the writers and that was the POINT of the show shsjsksks how many lesbians do you have on your show shirley quickly now 🎤🎤🎤

her saying “i was devastated when bette and tina broke up 😩” as if she couldn’t just fast forward to the next scene and watch another couple get together. what am i supposed to fast forward to now? jo stealing screentime?💀 and if this effected you so much as a young person, wouldn’t you then WANT to avoid making young people today feel the same now that you’re in a position of power?? is that not. the entire point of the skam franchise. save your bleak normal people fanfic for your next project

and as jen said in her tags here, tlw was heavily criticised then and is criticised now for transphobia, racism, offensive storylines. but she’s having a meltdown that people are doing the same. like comparing yourself to tlw isn’t the flex you think it is for so many reasons lol.

[friendofthecrows]

Friends to Accomplices Chapter 1

Brief desc: It's a murder mystery with fantasy elements centering around some unusual high school students. Featuring a tea witch, a supposedly cursed amateur detective, the token green-haired anime bisexual, her himbo weed dealer boyfriend, and more <3

Trigger warnings: In general: this is a murder mystery with descriptions of corpses and deaths. In this chapter: reference to self-harm, small instance of transphobia

(Leaving main text black for eye-strain purposes.) (Will figure out a more graceful way to indicate POV later, for now, it's just (name in parentheses))

Actual chapter start:

(POV Josie)

My father was away again, starting today. This had no impact on me, save for that I had to take the bus to school. The mist concealed the world such that I could only tell anything was coming by headlights feebly peering through the fog, the extra pair of little red lights on the top my only sign that it was the bus. It screeched to a stop in front of my driveway, another wrong-sounding noise accompanying the opening of the door. I climbed on as the bus lurched to a start again and was making my way to the seat I usually sat in on my rides home, but paused. There was a boy here I’d never seen before. Perhaps because I never took the morning bus. But that wasn’t what was important. The boy had the darkest aura I’d ever seen. Interesting. I stopped next to his seat. “Hello. May I sit here?” I asked.

He looked up at me, surprised. “I guess,” he said and went back to reading something on his phone.

His aura had looked black at first glance but the longer you stared at it the more you wondered if it was actually a dark red.

“My name’s Josie. What’s yours?”

“Philip.”

He started to read again, but only a second later looked back up.

“Why did you want to sit next to me?”

“You seemed interesting.”

“So, you think someone staring at their phone just like half the other kids on this bus is interesting?”

“No. It wasn’t what you were doing.”

“Then what was it?” He asked.

I couldn’t exactly say his aura without sounding completely crazy. I gave him a quick glance up and down.

“Mostly the scars,” I said.

He paled and tugged his sleeves down.

“No, the ones on your neck that you try to hide with the choker,” I said.

“You’re observant. I don’t think anyone’s ever noticed those before. Though it’s not like I didn’t notice yours.”

He hesitated momentarily, and I felt his eyes scan me in more detail.

“That’s odd. Those were defensive wounds,” he said.

I flinched. “How could you tell?”

“Wrong angle for self-inflicted. Low odds of being accidental because they all appear to be from blades. Why don’t you cover them?”

“I thought they were faded enough. I was right until today. You’re pretty observant too. So what were you reading about?”

"Researching how much force exactly it takes to decapitate someone depending on the type of weapon," Philip answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Forensics class assignment?" I asked. I doubted it was a forensics assignment. Maybe he wrote mystery?

"I'm a 9th grader," he said.

"Same. I thought maybe you just looked young. So, are you writing a mystery?"

He shook his head and went back to reading. I decided not to bother him for the rest of the bus ride. I had a French test to study for anyways.

************************************************************************

(POV Philip)

I looked around. I was in world history. My tablet was out, and a notes file was open, full of notes on the French Revolution. The teacher was explaining all the known details of what Maximilien Robespierre did after he developed a God complex as if it was juicy school gossip. I was bored. Time to see some dismembered bodies. We were supposed to have our tablets out to take notes anyways. I wanted to see what they identified as the weapon in each case and notice the differences in how the finished work looked. Specifically, I was interested in how to tell the difference in victims dismembered with different types of swords, but I hadn't come across any who were dismembered with a sword yet. I smiled at one especially gruesome picture, where someone appeared to have removed the head, arms, and legs with a paring knife. I wondered how long that must have taken. Imagine someone showing up at your door in the middle of that. Desperately trying to saw away at the corpse while someone waited outside, completely oblivious. The thought almost made me laugh. They couldn't think of anything better to use? The next image was far more promising. "Man arrested after killing wife with sword," the description read. It didn't say what type of sword, but I screenshotted it anyways. Maybe it would give more detail in the article. It didn't. Apparently, they hadn't actually found the weapon yet. Well, it was posted today, the same day the body was found and the arrest was made, so there was hope yet.

"Philip Jensen, please come to the office, Philip Jensen, please come to the office" a school office employee droned over the PA system.

************************************************************************

(POV Josie)

I opened one side of the heavy double doors to the green wing stairwell. The ones at the end of the hallways were always empty during classes, well, unless you were trying to skip them. For this reason, I took a moment to walk down from the third-floor landing I started on to the first, making sure to be careful so as to not join the other three accidents this month.

An energy almost as dingy as the shade of blue the old school staircase was painted in walked through me on its perpetual journey up down the spiral of steps that still squeaked from the morning’s damp sneakers as I spun around at the bottom to start my way back up. Only to the second landing though, Lindsey was in English right now and should be coming through those doors any minute. We had to do this quickly if we wanted to return to our classes with the pretense of the restroom still intact. Although, I suspected even this much smoke will trigger the sprinklers and fire alarms and get us in trouble.

I started pulling materials out of my backpack. A large glass bowl, a sage smudge stick, and a lighter. It wasn’t our first resort, but I doubt our second resort was going to be as effective as we hoped. (The first resort had been attempting to negotiate.) The doors slammed shut and I looked up to see my friend, already pulling her backpack off her shoulders. She plopped it down next to mine, unzipped it, and withdrew our second resort. A rather life-hack-ish idea if it were to work. She held up a spray bottle of water lightly tinted from the rosemary, basil, thistle, and oak she’d boiled in it the night before. It was just barely clouded with salt, and two crystals – lepidolite and black tourmaline – were visible sitting in the bottom. I would have done this myself if it weren’t for the honors French oral exam I had to study for. Plus, Lindsey had wanted to be helpful. It is certainly better to get in trouble with someone else rather than alone, at least.

The lights flickered. The spirit must suspect what’s about to happen and is not happy about it. Lindsey took this opportunity to start down the stairs. I saw the energy change location and go towards her. She slipped, or more seemed thrown off the step, but caught herself on the railing with her free hand. With the other, she sprayed the infusion all around her. The energy faded, flickered, and disappeared in an instant, only for me to sense something behind me an instant later.

I lit my lighter, and a force tried to push it from my hand, but I was stronger. I worried about the sage staying alight. I got it lit, and it was blown out like a birthday candle before it could even smoke.

Lindsey’s heavy but careful footsteps approached. “Light it again,” she said and began to spray the infusion, not over the bowl but all around.

“Thank you.” I was thankful that I hadn’t tried to do this myself.

The smell of the sage was strong and floated up and around, almost seeming to fill the huge space.

“With this smoke, I banish you, spirit whose intentions are cruel. Leave this place and leave this school; there is nowhere here for you. This is my will, so mote it be.” I said and repeated it as I walked down the stairs, trying to ensure that there would be nowhere in this stairwell for the spirit to be.

It didn’t take long for the sprinklers and smoke alarm to go off, so I had to hurry down the rest of the stairs, leaning over the sage to keep it from being put out by the sprinklers. Once at the bottom, I could feel that it was gone. I stood up straight and let out a deep breath as the sprinklers put out the sage for me. Ideally, we would do a protection spell after this, but a teacher had already thrown open the double doors and was starting towards us angrily. He opened his mouth to yell at us, but we just apologized and marched soggily to the principal’s office. When we entered the school office, the principal was out of his office and standing in front of the front desk, already busy with someone.

"She says you threatened her with a knife." the principal said to him, looking exasperated.

“When, supposedly, did this take place?” Philip challenged.

“When she caught you skipping class in the blue wing stairwell. Only a few minutes ago.”

"So, I could have passed her in the hallway… Anyways, I was in world history at the time she claimed it happened," he said. "Plus, I was researching stuff when it happened as well. I even have proof."

"Where?" The principal asked.

"I screenshotted a picture in world history, and it has the time at the top. Not only that, but it was posted today, so there is no way I could have taken it at the same time yesterday or something." Philip said confidently.

He pulled out his iPad and showed the principal the picture.

"Why on earth would you look at that during world history?!" That got a strong reaction out of the principal.

"Anyways, the picture proves her statement false," Philip said.

"Okay, Philip. But if you were in history class at the time, you could have just asked me to call up Mr. Garnett and ask. Go back to class."

Philip turned and stopped. He looked at Lindsey and me.

"...What happened?" Philip asked.

"I burned something in the green wing stairwell and set off the smoke alarms,” I responded.

“And the sprinklers,” Lindsey added.

Philip beamed. “So that’s why they went off. We almost went outside. That’s so unexpected from you.”

“Philip. Back to class,” The principal said. "You two, my office now.”

************************************************************************

(POV Josie)

Lindsey is better with people than I am. Instead of getting suspended, or really anything serious, we had a Saturday detention. But we weren’t sent home early and instead had to go to the nurse’s office to get dry clothes. “So…you’re friends with Philip Jensen?” Lindsey asked pretty much as soon as we were out of the school office.

“Probably not yet, but he’s interesting. Why?”

“Have you heard the rumors about him?” She looked at me with such concern you’d swear I’d just taken a bite of cheeseless pineapple pizza with anchovies.

I laughed. “Of course, you’ve heard rumors about him. You’ve heard rumors about everyone.”

“Seriously Josie you wouldn’t believe- “

“Probably not”

“Can you at least humor me? I’m trying to warn you, plus, you’ll find this interesting. I promise,” she said.

“Okay…”

“Have you noticed how everyone avoids him? There’s a reason for that. Everyone says he’s cursed. Also, his family was dismembered. And they never found out who did it. Whether he attracts death or causes it is still up for debate. They also say that after his family died, the first people to adopt him sent him back to the orphanage in less than a week.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Of everyone you shouldn’t dismiss the idea that he might be cursed so quickly.”

“It’s not that. Orphanages don’t even exist in the United States anymore,” I said.

She stared up, racking her brain for something. “Okay so that bit of information is false, but that doesn’t mean the rest is.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised about a curse. But he’s 14 and looks weak. He couldn’t dismember someone now, never mind however long ago this was supposed to have happened. Unless he was either a lot stronger back then which would be weird, or he had an amazing blade and was really skilled which would be weird, or both. Odds are too small,” I said.

“Wait why would you not be surprised about a curse?”

“His aura is weird. And his energy in general. I can feel something that’s Not Him in it whenever I’m close,” I said, “After talking to him I’m starting to suspect his aura is just that dark naturally though. I’ve never met anyone with an aura like that before, but I’ve never met anyone like him before either.”

“Oh? Isn’t a dark aura bad?”

“You tell me, deep violet.”

“Trauma,” she rebutted.

“Isn’t it awful to avoid someone because their family died?”

“Yeah. You’ve made your point. Hopefully, they were as awful as mine are, and it isn’t such a terrible thing,” she said.

“Might still be a terrible thing.” I pushed open the door and held it for her.

“It wouldn’t be” She breathed as she walked past me.

We stood awkwardly behind the nurse as she opened one of the tall cabinets that lined the back of the room. In this one there was food in the top half and clothes in the bottom. The clothes were very clearly bisected to girl clothes on the left and guy clothes on the right. Why would they do that? Anyways, I wouldn’t much care if the nurse didn’t immediately reach towards the right. She handed me a school sports team t-shirt, ugly khaki shorts, and dirty sneakers that I was pretty sure would be too small. Lindsey was handed a school band shirt, almost identical shorts except that they were grey, an inch shorter, and had a proportionally smaller waist, and mickey mouse slippers. The nurse’s office had a single stall-free bathroom, so I offered to go second. Lindsey returned. It was the worst I’d ever seen her look in an outfit.

“Your turn,” she said unenthusiastically.

I did not fare better. I looked at the clock as soon as I was out, and it was exactly a minute before 1st lunch.

“Ugh, I have Algebra,” she said. Third lunch.

We walked together until the stairwell when I promised I’d text her after school, and then we went our separate ways. I saw familiar green hair on the second landing.

“Dragana!” I said and waved.

She waved back and went to the side to let people pass while she waited for me. Soon we were side by side. Our hands slipped into each other.

“Thanks for the fire alarms earlier. I’m guessing the banishing went as expected?” She snickered.

“Yeah…We succeeded in the end though.”

She patted my wet hair. “Depends on what you mean by succeeded. Nice job though.” She bumped into me encouragingly.

Dragana and I walked into the crowded cafeteria. I detected subtle notes of the rumored pizza for lunch underneath the heavy stench of AXE Body Spray. I started to walk over to my usual table. I needed to be cheered up after almost getting suspended. I stopped about halfway to the table. I could see there were no seats left from here. I knew if I walked over and asked, they'd pull a chair over for me from somewhere else, but I didn't want to bother them. I sighed.

"Are you okay?" Dragana asked.

"Yeah, just all the seats are full. Thinking of where else to sit."

A chair scraped against the linoleum in a section of the cafeteria filled with excitable jocks yelling and throwing things, and Dragana’s boyfriend Jake headed towards us. He looped his arm around her waist. “I saved a spot for you, babe.” He said, with his usual big, stupid, crooked smile.

“No, you didn’t, all the seats are full,” she giggled.

“That can change.” He shrugged.

“I’m just going to go sit over there…” I said awkwardly, pointing to a table with only one kid sitting at it.

“See you after school.” Dragana gave Jake a quick peck on the cheek and followed me.

"Hi!" Dragana chirped as she sat next to Philip.

I sat across from her.

"Hello," he responded.

He was looking at his phone again.

"Still researching decapitation?" I asked.

Dragana's eyebrows shot up.

"No. Now it's whether traces of blood are detectable on clothing after years of being worn and washed as normal."

"You have odd hobbies. It's cute," Dragana said and messed up his already very messy hair.

"I get bored easily. This isn't boring.” He was quiet for a moment. “Do you guys hear that?”

There was a cacophony in the cafeteria. 50 table’s conversations, all speaking loudly to be heard, and the jocks’ throwing things seemed to have evolved into a competition of who could yell most obnoxiously as they did so.

“You’re going to need to be more specific,” I said.

“Sirens?” Dragana asked.

“Why? Is there someone you’re worried about?” I asked.

“I don’t know why…but I have a good feeling about this.” He stood up.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Uh…” He waved his hands around a bit as if looking for an explanation that escaped him like an Elefun butterfly. “Outside?” He said and began to wander off.

“Can we come with?” Dragana asked.

He looked at me. “You’ve proved yourself observant. If there’s anything interesting, why not?”

Somehow that came across as spectacularly arrogant. We followed him outside as the sirens grew louder. I’m not sure what Philip expected, but I expected them to fade to quiet again soon. We got close enough that we could see through the windows on the doors to the outside. He rushed out, and a door almost swung back into my face, but I caught it in time. I held it open for Dragana and then followed. Outside there was a scattering of tables, all empty due to it being October, and several huge light posts even though as far as I knew outdoor events after dark almost never happened here.

There was a girl standing against one but with blood all down the front of her frilly pink lolita dress. Where the stain started was the top of her neck, which a red ribbon was tied around. And around the post. She wasn’t standing. She was being held up by it.

Police cars pulled into the bit of driveway that passed here and stopped. I looked at Philip, curious as to how he was reacting. He was on his phone again and appeared to be finishing up a text. He clicked send and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

“Don’t go near it!” One of the officers shouted as he climbed out of his car.

“Don’t worry I know better than that,” Philip shouted back.

“Philip?” The officer smiled.

A much less enthusiastic-looking lady climbed out of the driver’s side and began heading towards us. There were two more as well, from the other car. A big Viking-looking dude and an equally tall but much narrower older guy with on-point makeup.

“How did you get here before us?” The enthusiastic officer asked.

Philip tilted his head and looked into the officer’s eyes with as much feigned concern as it looked like he could muster, which was subtle at best. “It’s a school day.”

“Oh. Yeah of course.” The officer scratched the back of his head. “It’s easy to forget you’re like 12 or something.”

“I’m 14.”

“Still too young to be here. In fact, even if you were older, you’re not a police officer, and shouldn’t be interfering with investigations. And both of you, there’s a body here? Perhaps, Modred, let’s do what we’re supposed to before catching up with friends?” The lady officer said.

“Oh, come on Alicia, it’s the kid who solved that arson. Let’s just hear- “

“I don’t intend to interfere.” Philip cut Modred off, getting that arrogant tone again and walking a few steps to the right so Alicia wasn’t blocking his view.

“You and whoever these two are. Please leave.” Alicia instructed.

“Except that we’ve been at the crime scene? You can’t simply send us back without asking if we saw anything, or disturbed anything for that matter, or at the very least collecting ‘these two’s’ contact info. You might need to know who’s been in the area later. We might have seen something. I, for one, noticed several things you might want to know,” Philip taunted.

Alicia turned red and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Guanyu if you’d talk to them?”

“Can I?” Modred asked.

Alicia threw her hand up. “Fine! Why not? Who saw it first and called us?” Alicia turned towards the big Viking-looking guy.

“Er, well they said they saw from the classroom window, so one of them, I gather,” he said and gestured towards all the classroom windows facing this patch of grass. Curious faces crowding most of them.

______________________________________________________________

Currently very short tag list (ask to be added to it): @daughter-of-night

[antiterf]

I've been following you for so long and it's kind of crazy in like such an amazing way to have been a.... I guess like part? Not really but I don't know another way to put it. Anyway a part of your transition. There have been so many times I've been close to... ah walking out on life. But today... today I've never been happier that I didn't. Not just with looking where I'm at right now, but looking at where you're at and where other people are at. I'd have missed all these amazing things... and I'd have hated that.

It is kind of crazy, I've been thinking a bit about how I've had this blog since I was a month away from turning 16, when now I'm a month away from turning 21. I doubt anyone has followed me for THAT long but it's interesting to note how much I've changed over that time and seeing it through this blog. Not only with my transition but my knowledge and internalized transphobia (though I guess that could be a part of transition).

And while it’s not possible that I remember every single person that’s ever interacted with this blog I know that watching the same people on social media change over time fills makes you feel like you have a connection to them in some way, if that’s what you were trying to say.

Other than that, taking time to appreciate the fact that you are here and alive during the good times is one of the best things and I’m saying that because I do it... a lot. When I do I don’t think about how I would have hated to have missed it though, I’m just happy that I’m here for it. We’re both here and while the world may seem to be up in fucking flames, we survive, grow, and live; watching each other as we do so.

[thechangeling]

Say my name or I won't survive

This is an extension of my headcannon for non binary Kit. He uses he/they pronouns. Kit comes out to Jessa as nonbinary.

Tw: mentions of transphobia/enbyphobia

A lot had happened since that conversation with Magnus. Kit usually didn't like to make a habit out of breaking down in people's arms. But it had become clear in that moment that they needed to talk to someone. That they needed to face the things they had been pushing down, trying to avoid.

Kit was currently standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom. Magnus had let them take some clothes that had been magically altered to fit Kit. Just so he could experiment with wearing them.

So far he hadn't made it out of his room wearing a dress or a skirt, but Kit was trying to take baby steps. Well mostly they were just scared. Scared of what Jem and Tessa would say.

Scared of what everyone would say. Like what if he was just making everything up? Or maybe he was just confused? Shadowhunters were big on tradition. Asking people to use different pronouns for Kit and stop using his full name might be a challenge for some people.

Like Jace, their brain supplied.

Kit stared at their reflection on the mirror. Magnus had started teaching them how to apply makeup and experiment with it. Kit confessed that when they were younger they used to steal eyeliner and lipstick from drug stores and put it on when Johnny was otherwise occupied. Kit was still no where near Magnus's level of talent but they were pretty good.

Kit had done simple makeup today, not looking for anything too crazy, just a little mascara to make his eyes pop and concealer to cover his light bruising from training. He hadn't wanted to look too girly during this conversation, he figured it was better to ease Tessa and Jem into this whole thing.

Also Kit didn't always feel like looking too girly, even though as Magnus constantly reminded them, clothes and makeup didnt have a gender. They liked playing around with different concepts, different styles. The societal ideas of femininity and masculinity were just that, ideas. There were no real rules, not when Kit stopped playing the game.

They stared at themself in the vanity mirror, trying to think of exactly what Kit was going to say to Jem and Tessa. Just saying the words, "I'm nonbinary" didn't seem good enough. They felt like they needed to give a proper explanation of their feelings and experiences or else they would be accused of faking it.

The urge to prove ones validly, the need to make sure people knew he was real and he wasnt crazy, it was more importent then anything. It was infuriating. Knowing that his experiences could be so easily dismissed as delusional feelings.

Not trans enough. Not cis enough. Not gay enough. Not straight enough. Kit's mere existence was a controversy on it's own. It was exhausting enough to make Kit want to abandon the whole idea of coming out again all together. Maybe it was easier just to smile and nod everytime someone misgendered them. Ignore the clenching of their stomach and the punch to the chest that came with it.

Smile and nod and be the man he was meant to be. But he had been doing that for 18 years and he couldn't survive it much longer. Kit needed to come out. People needed to acknowledge his reality and use the proper pronouns for him.

Or else Kit was going to wither away, shrivel up into something unrecognizable. A shell of their former self. They were going to die if they had to hear "Christopher" one more time.

The only time it was tolerable was when Ty said it. Kit could almost pretend that he could be the person Ty thought he was, if it would make Ty happy. He used to think that he could let himself wither away and die as long as Ty was ok. As long as Ty was safe and happy.

But that wasnt ok. That wasnt fair. Kit deserved to be safe and happy as well. One of the things they had learned with Jem and Tessa was that Kit deserved to put themself first sometimes. Kit deserved good things despite what Johnny Rook had made them believe. Kit wanted Ty to be ok. They wanted Ty in general.

But Kit needed this.

He took a deep breath and exited his room, heading downstairs to the kitchen where Jem was cooking breakfast and Tessa was trying to get Mina to settle down. Everyone looked up as soon as Kit entered the room.

"Kitty!!!" Mina screamed excitedly, waving her arms around. Tessa shushed her fondly, scolding her for yelling.

"Good morning Christopher," Jem said with kind a smile. "How did you sleep?"

Kit tried to ignore the way their stomach clenched at the sound of their birth name. Dead name, their brain supplied. They needed to tell Tessa and Jem. Kit slid into a nearby chair with a heavy sigh.

"I need to talk to you guys about something," he muttered, trying not to sound too nervous or dejected. Tessa and Jem shared a worried glance.

"Is everything alright Kit?" Tessa asked sparing Mina a glance, probably wondering if she should be removing her from this conversation. Kit shut his eyes briefly and took a breath.

"Yeah I hope so. I just need to tell you something," Kit ran their fingers through their curls. Jem and Tessa watched them, waiting patiently. Kit tried to ignore the shakiness of their breath and the way their palms.

"Here's the thing," Kit began. "You might not get it but I need to ask you to respect it ok?

He didn't wait for their responses. "I'm nonbinary. Which basically means that I'm neither male nor female. I'm something else, something seperate. I don't know I guess I just think of myself as a person who doesn't really have much of a gender," he was staring at the tabletop refusing to make eye contact. "It's just sort of like, if you think of the colour spectrum as gender, I would be a blurry watercolour. A mixture if all kinds of different things and sometimes some colours are more vibrant then others. And then sometimes it's just gray."

Kit wasnt sure if any of this was really making any sense but they knew they had to try. Jem and Tessa were both still silent. Mina was happily chomping down on her breakfast and ignoring all of them. Kit took this as a sign to continue.

"I don't exactly know why I'm like this or how I know. But maybe there are some things that you just can't explain. You just know. Like I know that the sun will set and then rise again tommorow and I know that I love you guys," Kit voice faltered at the last part. He looked up at Tessa and Jem, panicked over seeing their reactions.

But they were both just staring at Kit with huge, loving smiles on their faces. Kit's breathing slowly began to return to normal but their hands were still shaking. Tessa csne towards them slowly, grasping Kit's hand in hers.

"Baby it's ok," she cooed. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. It's just like we told you when you first came out as bisexual, we will always love you no matter what." Jem nodded.

"I have admit this whole thing is rather fascinating," Jem chimed in with a smile. "I've never heard the term before." Kit fought the urge to remind him that two weeks ago he had never heard of playstation, but decided against it.

Mina was paying attention to them now and she was smiling at Kit. "No bany!" She cried excitedly. Kit couldn't help it, he through his head back and laughed. Mina scowled at him slightly. "Not quite Min-Min," Kit told her playfully.

"Do you have different pronouns that you would like us to use?" Tessa asked. Kit's heart fluttered at the question. They didn't actually think either Tessa or Jem would think to ask.

Kit cleared their throat. "Yeah do you think you guys could use alternating he/they pronouns for me? Like use he in one sentence and then use they?" Kit instantly felt kind of guilty for complicating things further. "I'm sorry I know that's kind of confusing."

Jem shook his head, "no it's fine! We just want you to feel comfortable." Tessa nodded in agreement. "Is there anything else?" Kit pulled Mina's hands off of their shirt. She had begun to tug and pull out of boredom.

Kit nodded. "Yeah do you think you could stop calling me Christopher please?" He hoped he didn't sound to harsh. There was something so guilt inducing about having to ask for these things. It felt like Kit was making unneccessary demands. But he wasn't. He had every right to.

Jem instantly looked sheepish. "I'm so sorry Kit," he said softly. Tessa looked guilty too. Kit shook their head.

"Its ok. You didn't know. Just don't do it anymore ok?" Kit felt significantly lighter, like a giant weight had been lifted off of their shoulders. They slid out of their stool to walk around to the other side of the kitchen island and hug both Jem and Tessa.

Kit knew it wouldn't always be this easy. He knew that this life would be complicated and difficult, but it would also be full of exploration and freedom.

Kit would always have a place he belonged.

"I am also a we."

- Sense 8

Tag list you know the drill, let me know if you want on or off: @scrat-is-god @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @knifescythe @ti-bae-rius @dianasarrow @doitforthecarstairs @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies @zfoxdraws @julieandthefandoms @older-brother-kit @ilikebooks8 @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @autumnangel20 @hufflepuffyskam

[queer-and-dear-books]

Title: The (Un)Popular Vote

Author: Jasper Sanchez

Genre: YA Fiction | Friendship | Political | Drama | LGBTQ+

Content Warnings: Transphobia | Homophobia | Deadnaming | Bullying

Overall Rating: 9.2/10

Personal Opinion: In this microcosm of today’s society, we witness the political landscape of high school. Except, instead of a popularity contest, there are real stakes involved. Mark is trans and going stealth, he has been going under the radar ever since transitioning. However, after a homophobic bullying incident not only goes unpunished but the victim got suspended, Mark decides to run for president so he can change the school. With his wonderful found family and a whole diverse student body behind him, will Mark be able to win against his opponents? Read it to find out and see because I guarantee the results won’t disappoint.

Do I Own This Book? Nope.

Spoilers Below For My Likes & Dislikes:

Likes:

- First of all, praise to all of the diversity in this group of friends here. Mark is pansexual and trans. His love interest, Ralph, is Jewish and has severe anxiety. Ralph’s twin sister is dating a demigirl, Nadia, who happens to be Muslim. The best friends are Jenny Chu (Chinese and aro) and Pablo Navarro (Hispanic and ace). Their underclassman Benji is a high-femme gay who lives with unabashed pride in himself that he may be the coolest guy ever. We have Christian and Luis who are freshmen gays with a robot baby. Beatriz, the Latina captain of the girl’s champion soccer team. Vinh is an Asian American influencer and Kai is an indigenous dude on the wrestling team. There’s even a Korean teacher, ZP (short for Zielinski-Pak). There is such a variety of different voices and faces that it just felt so refreshing to read.

- Second of all, the intelligence of these characters is beyond incredible. Even with people like Henry McIver and Clary Cassandra. They discuss all sorts of talking points such as philosophy, theology, politics, and more. And the debates are so well thought out that even the nonsensical cringey ones rooted in white supremacy feels just so authentically real. It’s crazy that all of these characters just know so much and it’s clear that their school is for nerds but since the main characters are on the IB track, they’re like the cream of the crop.

- Mark is a good person. He struggles a lot with that view of himself as Ralph claims. And likewise, Ralph struggles to see himself as good too. But that’s probably why they have such good chemistry together. They can see past the faults and the ways they try to hide, digging deeper and holding each other’s hands through all the tough parts. They’re cute together and I love that.

- Going back to Mark, he cares so much about other people. And he believes that the world can be better if they just work toward that. So it pissed me off when his dad and Henry just claimed it was for his vanity. They made their assumptions about him because their own worldview is twisted into the mindset that people are always selfish. So I get why they acted the way they did in that sense when they called out Mark on his so-called hypocrisy. But it is just wild that they couldn’t even begin to recognize that the people they were describing were themselves, not Mark. At the end of the day, even if he chose to ran for less than selfless reasons, he is still the best presidential candidate of the three choices. Because he’s aware of his shortcomings and wants to do what’s best for others in the end. Even if he is a privileged rich white kid. He understands that everyone, no matter the differences, deserve to be treated with respect.

- Nadia is such a cool person. She kept assuring Mark that the numbers were there when the votes were coming in. She really did have her finger on the pulse of their school. She knew everyone. And she also did great convincing Mark to participate with the stoners to get their vote. His speech to them was truly something else.

- Amber Carr is an enigma for me but I respect the fuck out of her. She’s so passionate about journalism. She also doesn’t out people for a juicy headline. What she did to Jenny was so awful though and I’m glad that Mark questioned her ethics on that but I respect her because she truly does want what’s best for the school in the end and she clearly respects Mark a lot. When he was about to come out to her and she shut off the camera, my heart went out to her. I think she’s also black? Not sure but if she is, it is another check in the diverse column for this book.

- The speech Mark gave was honestly inspiring. I would’ve definitely voted for him had I heard it. About how no one should vote for him unless they believe in him, truly. I wish we got to see Henry’s smug face fall when the gym applauded for him. 

- Pablo is so cool too. He’s so chill and knows how to stay in his lane and also knows how to be present for his friends when they need him. And his parents are cool too. The way they’re okay with the kids drinking as long as they stay under their roof. That’s how you raise a kid properly. I see where Pablo gets it from. I hope he finds the perfect partner for him in the future, the Swiftie sap.

- Love and respect Mark’s mom though. She really was a queen in this. Supporting and choosing her son without hesitation. And encouraging him to run. Staying in touch with the father because she knew that’s what Mark had wanted at the time. And saying Mark reminds her of the man his father once was, the kindhearted and down-to-earth politician that he used to be. 

- Anyway, Mark Adams for prez of the United States of America: 2048.

Dislikes:

- Henry McIver is an enigma to me. He’s clearly not phobic in any sense of the word. He didn’t participate in verbally assaulting Benji like his teammates did. And he apologized to Mark once he found out that Mark was not, in fact, a cisgendered man. But his rhetoric is so similar to white supremacists that it makes me cringe. And he was still a bystander when Trevor and Kevin were bullying Benji. But his fanbase worships him, how can he not stop them? Is he that afraid of ruining his own popularity? I get that he’s dirt poor and doesn't have the “privilege” to be himself but I don’t get it. I don’t get why he “has to” do some of the things he does to survive in this school. If he’s queer in some aspect and Benji knows because they went out or hooked up or something, then maybe that’s it? He’s scared of the guys on his team turning on him? And maybe his parent(s) are super homophobic. Who the fuck knows. But I wish we had more perspective on him since I do not get him.

- Fuck Kevin Guo. I know Trevor is the one who punched Benji and fuck him too, but it bothers me that one of the biggest bigots in the school is an Asian dude. And the fact that h shares my name bugs me so much. How dare he! This complaint is personal and has no bearing on the overall rating of this book. I just gotta voice it.

- I mentioned that I don’t get why Amber slut-shamed Jenny like that. Is it just a commentary on the inherent sexism? How Jenny got villified while Dante Gomez, the guy she slept with and also a political candidate, continued running unaffected? If that’s it, I do think it needs to be a bit more heavyhanded in its execution.

- Jenny being all moody and mad toward Mark for like a whole week bugs me a lot too. I mean, I get it on some level and I’m glad she still cares so much for him when he wanted to quit. But girl, you need to do some actual communicating. Life is not like a television show. You told him to remove you from the ticket so he wouldn’t lose and he did! She should have been proud of him for winning, not sulking in her corner.

- I also think Ralph’s reaction to Mark revealing his father’s still alive was way overblown. Mark was clearly in distress so obviously his dad is not a good person even though Mark said he used to look up to him. Like, it should’ve been much more obvious that Mark’s whole relationship with his dad sucked but Ralph didn’t listen. I’m glad he acknowledged it though and also apologized. Plus, given his own relationship with his deceased father, I do think his reaction was somewhat justified. He’s human.

- Fuck Mark’s dad. I’m glad we know the author is transmasc but holy shit, every time Mark’s dad uttered that deadname, I actually physically cringed. It was just so bad. And overall he’s just such an entitled asshole who doesn’t get that Mark’s life doesn't revolve around him. If he had accepted his son for who he is in the first place, his campaign for governor would’ve been fine. I know it. I don’t care what he thinks. The fact that he said Mark was just playacting his gender is just so gross too. I’m glad Mark gave him a real verbal dressing down at his hotel. He deserved it. Fuck that guy to high heaven.

[omegawizardposting]

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: our generations are terminally online, and it is absolutely, without a fucking shadow of a doubt, ruining them.

How do I know?

Because I’ve been terminally online for almost a decade.

There were good parts about getting involved in online communities, sure: I finally felt that I could be myself, without fear of transphobic violence or rejection; I learned a lot about my own people, and people from other walks of life; my world grew beyond the confines of my hometown.

I also, almost immediately, became an anti-SJW due to my conservative upbringing. I internalized a lot of transphobia, homophobia, and toxic behaviors. Being an anti-SJW very nearly turned me into my narcissistic mother, who has emotionally abused me my entire life, and I am still recovering from it.

It has taken me years to feel as comfortable with myself as I did in the first few months of coming out online, before The Discourse got to me.

The only problem is that now everybody else is terminally online too, and they have hurt me. They have put me down, harassed me, told me I deserved the sexual abuse I experienced, told me I should have experienced more, vilified my identity, destroyed my confidence, put so much anger and fear and grief into me that I cannot believe I’m still alive.

Some really fucked up shit has happened to me, but none of it over such a prolonged period of time, none of it so lasting, so permanent than what I’ve experienced on the Internet, at the hands of people who have replaced their empathy with lines of code.

It is so, so easy for young people to fall into some of the nastiest rabbit holes the Internet has to offer. I know; I was trapped in one for a long time, and I’ve been the repeated victim of those who are trapped in others.

Sex-negative, anti-kink, Puritan rhetoric rebranded for the modern teen; don’t show your ankles, someone might get off on that. Everything’s a sex act, and you must be punished. Your thoughts are crimes, and you must be punished. Your pain is not valid, and you must be punished.

You must be punished.

I’m twenty-eight. I’ll be getting a job soon. I’ll be out in the real world again for the first time in eight years. It’s terrifying. I’m exhausted, an anxious mess just thinking about it.

But the mere prospect of not having the time to give a fuck about whatever inane bullshit twitter is spouting today is such a good one. It’s freeing. It’s a relief.

I’m going to be talking to normal people, who don’t care about whether or not age gaps between fictional adults are problematic, who don’t care about someone’s SO liking feet, who, if I told them about the bone-stealing witch, would think I was crazy, because I am, I am, I’ve been crazy for so. fucking. long.

I don’t want anyone to ever feel like this ever again.

[racke7]

An attempt at listing everything “Problematic” with the HP-verse. And its relation to the story. Feel free to add more.

Goblins.

Somewhat infamous as an antisemitic thing, goblins have long since become a staple of fantasy-worlds everywhere. Them being included in HP is nothing really worth frowning about. However, placing them in the exclusive position of “greedy bankers” is very much not a good look since this brings them closer in line with the antisemitism that they originally spawned from.

That said, the goblins and their bank have little to no impact on the story. The few goblins we see barely have speaking-roles, and so it can likely be assumed that there was no intent to do something with this antisemitic portrayal of them.

House-elves.

Seemingly adapted from stories about the common fae-creature “brownies”, house-elves are presented as slaves who love doing household-chores but who can be abused by “nasty owners”. The only house-elf we see who wants freedom is treated like a crazy person, and the only person we see trying to campaign for their freedom is openly mocked by the narrative.

Despite common fanon, there's no indication that house-elves actually need to be “bonded” with anyone.

Considering that this attitude existed towards actual slaves in history, where black people were portrayed as “needing to be owned” but that decent folk shouldn't be “cruel” about doing so, this is a volatile mix of historical racism presented as if it isn't messed up.

The “crazy” house-elf who wanted freedom shows up on multiple occasions throughout the books, helping out his rescuer, until this finally kills him. It's a heroic sacrifice and it's treated as such, but his death is also used by the story to showcase how “noble” his rescuer was for actually rescuing a tortured slave.

Understandably, the situation with the house-elves is an extremely volatile topic, and it's hard to say with any certainty what the full intent behind them was.

Homosexuality.

There's one character who is supposedly homosexual. This character is an old man who never speaks of his sexuality in the story, but who dresses in flamboyant clothing and is never hinted at “having been married” despite his age. Towards the end of the story, there are hints that he had a romantic relationship with a man in his youth, which unfortunately ended in tragedy.

With Dumbledore being a reoccurring if distant character, it makes sense that he was never all that open about his personal experience with romance or sexuality, doubly so considering the trauma attached to his “first love”.

That said, considering that the person he fell in love with grew up to become “magical Hitler”, and that Dumbledore refused to indulge in romance ever since, the fact that this is the only homosexual relationship in the series means that this then serves to underline the idea that “homosexuality is an evil to overcome”.

Keeping in mind that this idea is what fuels things like “conversion therapy”, the fact that the series doesn't dispute the validity of this idea is very much not good. It can at its most extreme be interpreted as if the presence of the homosexual character is in fact designed to undermine the battles that current homosexual people face.

Gender-roles.

No girl in the entirety of the series asks a boy out. It's always the opposite. There's also the fact that the girls can access the boys' dorms but the boys can't access the girls'. This all implies that girls need to be sexually wary of boys, but that boys have no need for such worries.

Considering the many problems our society has with recognizing male rape-victims, or abuse-survivors, this doesn't paint a pretty picture. (Not to mention the transphobia that the author began spreading in the years since.)

That said, considering that this is a part of our culture that we're still struggling with, it's not unlikely that this wasn't in fact intended to portray much of anything at all, any more than a regular story about people “driving cars” would be intended to portray how Global Warming isn't anything to worry about.

It doesn't get a lot of screen-time, and it's unlikely that there was any real malice intended upon writing it.

Disabilities.

There's a man with a peg-leg and a missing eye, and one of the villains receive a hand-prosthetic. Other than that, no mention is made of any kind of disability in-story, but considering the great many stairs and distances involved it's unlikely that Hogwarts is in any way designed to be “accessible”.

Keeping in mind that magic in-setting is very good at solving “non-magical injuries”, a few assumptions can be made about people being “cured” of their disabilities even before arrival.

That said, nobody in-story ever makes any claim about being cured, so it's unlikely that there was any real thought put into this. And with how sparse “disability representation” is in media of today, it's likely that including such characters simply never occurred to the author.

This isn't necessarily a good thing, but it seemingly wasn't done out of any malice.

Obesity.

Whilst obesity is the most obvious indication of “evil” characters in the story, it should be noted that most everyone “evil” is described as unattractive. Evil characters are grotesque or horrifying or simply ugly, regardless of if they're “thick” or “thin”.

That said, fat-shaming is a very serious problem in our society, especially within medicine. And seeing its prevalence in a series aimed at children and young adults isn't exactly a good thing.

Considering how so many “non-good” characters are described as unattractive, regardless of their body-types, it's hard to say exactly how much of it is intended to actually shame overweight people, and how much of it is the “Disney-effect” of goodness somehow making a person prettier whilst wickedness makes them uglier.

[asktheheirofslytherin]

the crazies commented on my marauders post :/ (i hate jkr for her transphobia but that's disrespectful even for her)

[[OOC: Oh man. I was just going to have Voldy make some typical Voldecomment, but I’m pretty sure you’re a good decade younger than me (I just became aware that is a phrase I can say to people. Yikes. I’m old), so I feel obliged to fill you and my other teenaged followers in on a bit of Fandom History. It won’t be too long, as I need to go to bed, but apologies in advance if any of this is Review, and you just wanted commiseration.

Witchcraft was THE #1 criticism of HP in the late 90′s/early 00′s. It got banned from school libraries, people burned it in public, op-eds were penned about it in newspapers, the whole nine yards. I personally had actual real friends who were not allowed to read HP as children. I remember not being allowed to bring up it’s existence in their homes. The satanist shtick had become so commonplace, I filtered it out as background noise years ago. There seems to be far fewer of them/they are far less vocal about it today (or maybe just easier to avoid?) but there was a time...hoo, boy. You couldn’t throw a stick without hitting one of these people. Harry Potter, for a time, replaced sex, drugs and rock and roll as the main corrupter of the youth. (Before they all jumped to smartphones, which have had a good, steady run. Can’t wait to see what’ll be next!)   

Anyway, don’t go thinking you have to even engage with these people, or even defend what shred of honor JKR may have left. JKR has likely heard enough witchcraft nonsense about Harry Potter that if she got a cent for each comment and no other income, she’d be a billionaire. She probably plays “Satanist Bingo.” Hell, she probably stopped caring years ago. 

My advice is don’t engage with these people, but if I were to do so, i would 100%  take advantage of the fact they are clinging to the first known insult of HP, and it’s pathetic they haven’t come up with any new material since 1997.]]