#we've never really talked about gender...

[murphywilling]

Kid: Come on, you tiny little boy

Me: Tiny little boy?

Kid: Yeah, you're a girl but some girls are girl-boys

[somekindafairy]

thinking about the fact that me and my best friend from childhood and early adolescent started t within a year of each other despite at that point living on opposite sides of the country and not having talked in at least 5 years. (now close to a decade maybe longer)

[zebrabyopn3]

I really believed things like "we shouldn't speculate about Aaron Bushnell possibly being a trans woman" and "we shouldn't dig too much and try to project meaning into the name of his accounts" and "don't inject white queerness into this discussion" and "if she is trans, it doesn't matter and it distracts from his sacrifice", and then, "do we only care about the Palestinian cause if a white, heroic trans woman is at the center of it?"

But, like. Did we really only care about his sacrifice once we knew that Aaron went by LilyAnarKitty in twitch, reddit and discord? Did we only care then, at that point? We didn't. We cared before that

I saw trans women asking if it was real; questioning if posting a picture of his flaming body was even necessary; warning people to not needlessly watch the video (thanks to those warnings I haven't watched it); sharing posts about it and talking about the importance of what he did; rejecting the idea that he was complicit in the genocide just by being an active member in the air-force; and rejecting the idea that his suicide was because of poor mental health

Saying that we did not care before we tried to project transfemininity into him is a ridiculously bad-faith interpretation of the sentiment of enemy-viv's post about Aaron's online presence

I didn't know Viv personally, nor did I reblog the post she made. I did read it, and I didn't know how to feel about it. I really thought we shouldn't speculate about Aaron's name in twitch. Then I learned about his choice of pronouns on discord. I knew about the comments he made to journalists and his choice of pronouns, so I decided to respect that, but I felt like Viv's post spoke about something important that I felt in my chest

Then, people attacked and harassed her for "not caring for Aaron's death, for Palestine, for the cause". And I stayed silent. I even thought they were right. It hurts. I feel like I failed Viv, despite not knowing her

She was bullied off the site for wondering if Aaron's sacrifice was also a sacrifice made in the closet, to not distract from the conversation in the public's eye. She made a post on tumblr about it. She did not personally distract everyone from his sacrifice until people decided to dogpile on her, make vague posts about her, sending other people anon's about her comments, harassing her until she decided to terminate her blog. Making a call out, pretty much. I thought we were over that. We learned nothing. People really decided to use their time to harass her rather than talk about Gaza

Never did she deny or question how meaningful his death was, nor did she say that Aaron's transfemininity made his sacrifice more virtuous, nor did she use his death to talk about how trans women are the only ones that care about Palestine, nor did she say there were no trans Palestinians, nor did she say that queer Palestinians aren't dying right now, nor did she say that we should stalk all of his online presence to be 100% sure of his transfemininity, nor did she say she wanted people to exclusively talk about Lily instead of Aaron's death or the struggle of Palestinians

Viv's pain was genuine. She, and now I, felt that we might've possibly lost a sister. Regardless of that, we lost someone who made a sacrifice of a greater magnitude than anything we've ever done; someone who took a stance and called attention to how cruel the genocide of the Palestinians is, by going out in flames

And people used Viv's pain, her comments, her vulnerability to harass her to the point that she left. A lot of people just want to pretend that we can't think of Aaron's gender and identity in the context of his death, while also recognizing the importance of his sacrifice in boosting Palestinian's voices and condemning their genocide

Some of you don't love any trans woman you meet. It's too late

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

Little Do They Know - LN

Summary: Lando and y/n are in a secret relationship, but he makes no secret of his obsession and the world is just begging for y/n to notice and do something about it (that something being to date the man at the very least)

Sidenote: petition to bring back the white fireproofs from below? I never been a white fireproof girlie but the Alpinestars design and the black collar...it better than the normal bland white fireproofs we seen in the past.

F2 champ 2023/McLaren Reserve!reader

No part 2 requests please

When McLaren announced they were taking on F2 champion as their reserve driver, it only surprised everyone because y/n is a woman and the idea of there being a woman on the grid if one of the McLaren drivers was unable to drive has somewhat shook the F1 world.

It's unlikely, rarely do drivers ever sit out of a race unless hospitalised. Mainly because losing that many points in the standings is not worth the loss overall.

"I like these fireproofs." Y/n comments as she appears from the unit, joining Lando and Oscar.

"You look beautiful in them." Lando smiles taking her hand and raising it to make her do a spin. "You are so pretty."

Oscar has already moved away because despite y/n being the third driver, he is always the third wheel.

"You scared Oscar away again." Y/n sighs before her name is called by one of the comms team. "I gotta go. Have fun actually being in the car."

Lando winks at her withholding the urge to kiss her goodbye as she walks over to the comms girl, Ally. Usually there's not much interest in a reserve driver but usually a reserve driver isn't so focused on but her gender does make her someone they want to talk to.

"So how is the team feeling about the first race?" The reporter asks making Lando puff out a breath.

"Great. Oscar and I are great. We have y/n who is the most amazing reserve driver. Does the sim runs, testing, she is the greatest addition to the team and actually I think she's the best person in the team. Always has a laugh, super cuddly, the smartest person technically I've met to join the team. No offence to Carlos, Daniel or Oscar."

"That's some very big feelings for y/n. I'm sure it feels nice for her to learn all of that." The reporter smiles making Lando shrug with a grin.

"She's amazing to me. I can't talk about her enough. Guess I'm her number one fan and I'm not sorry for it." Lando states continuing to praise her.

It's only in his next interview that he's actually asked about her, although as proven he doesn't have to be to feel the need to talk about y/n.

"So how are you feeling about y/n?"

"She's my new favourite person. From my side of the friendship, she's easily my best friend."

"Oscar has to be hurt."

"No. He's got other friends. I just force y/n to be my friend and keep her away from the other drivers. Wouldn't want them tainting her." Lando jokes not even caring how he sounds, it is actually a joke. Y/n is friends with most of the drivers on the grid. "No, really everyone loves her. But we've really gotten close and I'm so happy to have her around."

After a few more interviews that seem to either ask about the car, his feelings or inevitably how the team is which leads to Lando bringing up his favourite person.

"You are not subtle." Y/n comments as she comes across Lando having herd from the comms team that Lando hasn't shut up about her.

"I'm just talking my girlfriend up-"

"Well the whole point of us keeping the relationship between us is that you at least try your hand at subtlety." Y/n smile, not actually made but finding it pretty endearing. "You know the comms team agrees that for now, it's better not to be airing anything out. As much as I know you really want to display that I'm not up for any other drivers to have. It also wouldn't kill you to compliment your own teammate every once in a while."

"It's not like I insulted him." Lando murmurs earning a small laugh. "Plus Oscar knows."

"He does. So I'm sure he'll take it on the chin. But giving him a compliment wouldn't hurt either."

"Ok, I'll do better." Lando promises before pausing. "I gave him loads of praise last year when he was new."

"Then it shouldn't be hard to keep going with that." Y/n smiles patting his back. "On the bright side neither of us are busy doing other stuff. So the McLaren trio...once we find Oscar, can strut around here."

-

It's post quali that y/n gets caught by Naomi and Simon.

"You have been the talk of the paddock, or at least the media in the paddock." Simon comments making her laugh and shrug as if she doesn't know exactly what they're talking about.

"Yeah, we expected a strong backing from McLaren. But Lando seems obsessed with you." Naomi admits making y/n puff out a breath.

"I don't really know what you mean, he's very supportive but no more to me than he was to Oscar last year." Y/n states then tilting her head. "I'm just...super happy to have been so accepted into the team. Lando, Oscar, Zak, Andrea. I know I'm just the reserve but they've been, just great. So welcoming and trying to make sure I'm getting to see everything."

"That is amazing to hear. We've made so many leaps forward for woman in F1, but seeing you be part of the face of McLaren. You're so young, just hit 22 right?"

"Yeah, just newly 22." Y/n confirms with a smile.

"I bet Andrea feels like he's babysitting with three such young drivers. Speaking of-" Simon chuckles earning a smile before y/n feels two large and far too familiar hands clap on her waist a voice shouting a boo that does make her jump.

"Zero survival instinct." Lando comments then greeting Simon and Naomi as he's handed a mic to join them. "Zero survival instinct from her."

"Yeah, the mic didn't quite pick up the first time you said it." Y/n hums then smiling. "Since Lando's here I should probably-"

"Stay. Double the McLaren drivers, double the fun." Lando grins making her laugh and smile but even he can tell it's not the most genuine laughter. Then he looks at the hosts. "That's what I find."

"I feel like we're interupting someone." Simon jokes while Y/n shakes her head at them.

"Lando just likes to annoy the comms team. I am going to go, because I promise Laura I'd chat. But you enjoy the main character's company." Y/n smiles giving them each a hug and then finally laughing when Lando drags her into a hug and squeezes her before allowing her to leave.

Lando waits till she's gone to speak into the mic with his own amusement.

"She loves me really. I just like to annoy her." Lando grins then earning a look from the comms girl with him. "Anyway, she'll kill me if I keep talking about her. So qualifying?"

-

Y/n yawns as she hears the light tapping on her hotel door, Lando's gently knocking just loud enough to wake her up from her dozing.

As soon as he walks through the door, he scoops her up, nuzzling his face into her neck as she wraps her arms around him on top of his shoulders.

"Mmm...Are you mad?" Lando asks earning a very tired and short laugh.

"No. I'm not mad. I love you, even when you insist on being so obvious." Y/n assures him while he kicks the door closed and carries her to her bed, lifting her legs up to wrap around his waist.

He lies them on the bed with her under him while his head rests on her chest and her hand moves up to play with his curls. She also feels one of his hands come up to play with her boob but he suddenly frowns and looks up at her before returning to look at her boob as if he's inspecting it.

"You know, I've only known you 5 months. I've been dating you for 4. But...I know exactly what you boobs feel like when you're...you know." Lando mumbles making her almost choke out on her breath.

"First of all, you can say the word period Lando. You have a mother, two sisters and god knows how many female friends. But second of all, I only just came on when I got back. And lastly, how in the hell can you tell from my boobs?"

"They're a bit bigger, almost like...I don't know they're swollen or something. Do they hurt?" Lando asks seeming genuinely concerned for her like he's accidentally hurting her.

"No-well they're tender, I guess...more like when you press a bruise but not a super bad bruise." Y/n shrugs then clearing her throat. "Did you get in trouble with comms?"

"A little bit, they told me to reign it in. It's not so much the media but fans are going wild about our interactions. At least that's how they worded it." Lando smiles looking up at her. "I figured you'd know about them already because you're a little weirdo who watches every edit of me online."

"You can't call me a weirdo after you just told me you know when I'm on my period from feeling my boob." Y/n snorts gently pushing his head playfully. "But I have seen edits already of you grabbing and squeezing me on the Sky interview."

"That's what I like to hear." Lando grins moving up to kiss her a couple times and successfully roll so he's lying next to her, hiking her leg up to lie on him but so her body is still just nuzzled against his side. "I quite like going about talking you up but no one realising we're actually together. They just think I'm crushing hard and you're playing hard to get."

"Playing? I am hard to get, you were begging me for a date." Y/n teases then squealing when he reaches over to poke into her side to tickle her. "Ah, ok. Not begging, but it took you more than one attempt. Even you have to admit that."

Lando hums then yawning and reaching over to grab the blanket to pull it over them and turn off the lights from the bedside switch.

"Did you just put us both to bed?"

"You're tired, and I know I woke you up. You had that sleepy look."

Y/n smiles holding onto Lando more tightly before she allows herself to just completely pass out and fall asleep.

-

It was months more of Lando being all over y/n, not even commenting on speculation while y/n would simply shrug and say she just didn't understand the speculation.

The whole thing with the media and fans was beginning to be pretty entertaining.

"We've been dating for almost 8 months, did you know that?" Lando states as he walks into the McLaren unit making y/n look up form the data she'd been reviewing with some of the engineers who look suddenly uncomfortable and like they want to make an exit. "Sorry."

"I'll be right back guys." Y/n smiles then standing up and moving with Lando as she takes hold of his hand as she passes him. "You could choose better timing. But I did know...why do you bring it up? Because I know you wouldn't if you didn't think it was of some significance."

"I just was thinking...maybe..."

Y/n hums looking at him for a moment amused because she knows exactly what he's asking.

"You want me to finally just hard launch us so hard we might as well be one of the Red Bull rocket ships?" Y/n jokes then sighing as she leans back on the wall. "Like I said, your timing is a bit annoying. But I have been thinking about it. I feel like it's not someone that I'm going to struggle with like I kind of thought I might when you first asked."

"You don't have to."

"No. I want to. Plus I'm kind of a little sick of some fans who don't think we'd be good together getting smug online. So I think I'll happily finally let the world know but...I would rather you be the one to tell everyone. I'll confirm as secondary source."

"You speak like an encyclopaedia." Lando grins before kissing her a couple times. "I got a few photos and videos I've wanted to share of you-of the PG variety, get your head out the gutter with that smirk."

"Do I get to see first?"

"As if I'd finally post about you and not get your approval for the go ahead." Lando scoffs then stealing more kisses just to communicate his excitement about it. "Alright, I'm going to warn comms and marketing all about the impending media storm and circus. I'll let you finish up here too, come find me afterwards. Ok?"

"Ok." Y/n nods before being locked into a longer, much more heated and possessive kiss for much longer than the previous short pecks.

"Alright, gorgeous. I'm going. I promise. I won't come interrupt again."

"Thank you. I'll see you in a bit. I love you."

"I love you too. A lot."

And then he rushes off in an excitement.

Y/n spends another 30 minutes with the engineers before she finally gets up moving to find Lando and thankfully finding him tapping away at his phone.

"Boo." Y/n yells but annoyingly has no success in her scaring attempt. "Boo, you're supposed to scream."

"The only one of us making the other scream is me, baby." Lando smirks earning a deadpanned expression before he holds out his phone to her. "Ok, I think I got all the photos and videos. You say the word and the world knows."

Y/n flicks through he photos and videos then groaning at the last one.

"Really? You have to include a video of me drooling?"

"Aww...but you're so cute and you're drooling on me." Lando grins acting as if that makes it any more appealing. "I can remove that one if you really want."

She really wants but Lando looks genuine in not doing it just to rip the piss out of her and it does make it all a little more light-hearted.

"Fine, post it. But I already know I'm never living that video down." Y/n laughs handing it back. "Go on, post it. Preferably now before I lose my nerve and stop you."

That gives him the right hurry up and he just puts caption of red love hearts before hitting to post it. Then turns off his phone and tosses it away.

"Your phone too, no point in keeping it turned on. It's just going to blow up, even if it's not from socials. People are going to be messaging you about it." Lando states and actually she knows he's right.

-

Y/n gets locked into a Sky segment by Jenson Button, the man who seems to always be around when there's a juicy moment going on in the paddock

"So, when I woke up this morning. Seeing endless posts of the same video of you drooling on Lando Norris was not how I expected to spend my day when I looked at my phone." Jenson states making her smile.

"Well, you're welcome for spicing up your day." Y/n laughs making Jenson chuckle.

"So is this the official confirmation?"

"Yeah, I put it off for 8 months. Lando was ready to just confirm everything from the get go. I do have to say the way people just mistook it for a crush because I'm so good at bluffing. He did sort of counter my efforts constantly because he couldn't keep his mouth shut about me." Y/n grins before shrugging. "But the time felt right now."

"I really have only seen good things. everyone is so happy there's a new...Mr and Mrs McLaren."

"Oh god, that sounds so weird when you put it like that." Y/n shivers before she suddenly finds almost a repeat of history.

Large hands on her waist but this time she doesn't jump quite as much when he holds her tightly.

"Sorry guys, I have to steal her. She's wanted in the garage for something. Is that ok?" Lando asks looking between the hosts while y/n holds the mic to his mouth just out of instinct the camera might want to hear what he says.

"Yeah, of course. Sorry for keeping her from work duties."

"It's not work. When he says I'm wanted, it means he wants me in the garage because he's clingy and needy and now he doesn't have to hide it." Y/n states honestly before smiling. "But I'll take an out when I get it. I'm sure I'll come back and we'll talk later."

The group laugh and agree they'll likely see her later before Lando successful steals her away to the garage.

"So am I going to be called out on camera more often now?"

"Only when necessary." Y/n grins before moving around to look at his car. "Can I get in?"

One thing Lando rarely gets to see but has really grown to love completely. seeing her in an F1 car, specifically his F1 car. But really he'd love to see her in her own.

He has actually see her do tyre testing in one of the old cars. Getting to choose her own number for the testing and fully commit herself to it all.

She chose number 7, because she thinks it's lucky and she liked the idea of having Kimi Raikkonen's number.

"You don't have to ask." Lando states then watching her grin and climb into the car.

Her helmets aren't around so he just grabs his own and places it over her head gently, making sure she sees it coming before he does so since having your head shoved in a helmet definitely needs warning beforehand.

Later on, on their way out of the paddock. Lando and her both stop to sign things. Initially she never used to get asked, but a following has amassed for her and especially in the confirmation of her relationship with Lando. There's a whole load of people who suddenly want to have her sign things. Surprisingly a lot of Lando's mini helmets.

"Hey, I made you this bracelet and one for Lando too. I made them before you told everyone that you guys are dating. But now you get to match anyway." A young woman states brightly looking almost nervous as y/n suddenly feels struck with a slightly new emotion.

She's watched Lando and Oscar, and actually a lot of the drivers get bracelets. But she's never been given a bracelet for herself. Hell she's even been used as a means to give other drivers a bracelet.

"Thank you so much. I'll make sure Lando gets his." Y/n smiles before quickly wiping at her eyes. "These are happy tears I promise. I've just never had someone make me a bracelet and give me one."

There's more than one person pointing their phone at her, proving the embrassing moment of crying over a bracelet is captured on video. But another thanks and she moves over to Lando.

"Hey, I'm just going to go ahead. But a fan made us matching bracelets and I promised I'd give it to you." Y/n smiles earning Lando's immediate attention.

"Thanks-are you crying?"

"I'm fine. Happy tears...I've just never got given a bracelet that's actually for me. Didn't realise it would feel so nice." Y/n laughs sniffling a little before she's yanked forward into a hug that she immediately returns.

"Baby, that's so cute. I'm done here anyway, let's go. It was nice meeting you guys. We'll be back tomorrow. Bring bracelets for y/n if you can!" Lando instructs making y/n tsk since she doesn't want people to be forced to make her bracelets.

After a short ride to the hotel, y/n and Lando get to their room where Lando places down his impressive collection of gifts from fans and ditches them in favour of following y/n into the bathroom since she always showers getting back from the paddock.

"You know, as far as announcements of relationships go. I'd say it was pretty well received." Lando comments making her look at him for a moment as she pulls off her clothes and moves to turn on the water.

"Yeah, I've received a lot of love."

"You have no reason not to. Everyone loves you...They'll probably be saying I've tainted your innocence soon."

"My innocence?" Y/n giggles making Lando smirk as he removes his own clothes. "Just because you have a cocky smirk, doesn't mean you're some big bad man causing trouble and ruining the reputations of everyone woman you involve yourself with."

"Not the reputation...but I've certainly ruined you for any other man...they'll never treat you as good as I do."

"Depends in which department you're talking about." Y/n teases making him raise his eyebrows since he knows she's just trying to wind him up on purpose for her own inevitable pleasure.

"Really, you want to play the game like that? Because I think we both know you'll regret it soon."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm perfectly innocent and have no-ah Lando! You can't just-" And she's silenced by a kiss as she's pushed into the open style shower until her back hits the wall.

"I can."

Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

I don't know you anymore (maybe I never really did)

let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.7k

genre: fluff, angst (happy ending to come)

warnings: slytherin reader, some serious emotional dodging and avoidance but you know me it all ends up ok, peter is your bestie and that's just the way it is sorry, no happy ending YET but I promise it's coming this is not a tragedy

a/n: happy ending next week I love y'all too much to leave you with heartache

"Sorry, love," Remus begins to bend down, hand reaching to pick up the book you'd dropped when the two of you collided in the library, but you quickly shoot your own hand out to snatch it up first. "What are you doing here this late?"

"Getting a book," you say plainly. Remus's brows furrow slightly, his eyes drifting over your figure as if to somehow see why you're acting so strangely.

"Alright, dove. We're all planning on studying pretty late tonight - you're welcome to join us. We can always sneak you back down to the dungeons whenever you're ready to call it a night." Remus is quiet when he talks, that soothing, soft air he has about him making your shoulders drop as you lean against the bookshelf next to you.

"As if I can't sneak myself around the castle without your help," you bite back playfully. A smile twitches across Remus's lips as he thinks, just for a moment, that you're back, that you'll follow him up to his common room and spend the night laying on a couch with him, your legs slung over James's lap while you throw wads of paper at Sirius's head. His heart thumps a little painfully when he realizes that he can't remember the last time you've done that with them - he can't remember the last time you've hung out with them at all. 

It's as if you remember that fact at the same time he does, as the faint smile slips off your face and you straighten. "I can't tonight," you say kindly. "But thank you." Remus blinks as you begin to move past him, your polite voice ringing through his head. Like we're strangers, he thinks weakly. Except you're not even that nice to strangers.

Remus is busy slouching against the nearest bookshelf and wondering what they possibly could have done to make you avoid them so desperately but so kindly when he hears you let out another sigh from where you've walked past him.

"Wow," Sirius drawls as Remus turns to see him and James standing in front of you and you pointedly looking past them, like you're a trapped animal searching for the nearest escape route. "I'd almost forgotten you go here still." Your gaze snaps to Sirius and you narrow your eyes at him.

"It's good to see you," James interjects, seeing the two of you size each other up and eager to avoid a showdown between you and Sirius. "How have you been, love?"

"You see me in class almost every day," you snipe back at Sirius before turning to James. "I've been busy, and I still am now so - if you'll excuse me." With that, you slip between the two of them, exiting the library swiftly. Remus sighs and Sirius scowls at the now empty doorway, James opting to look down at the floor, staring dejectedly like a kicked puppy. No doubt you're holing up down in the Slytherin dorms all night now - as far away as you can get from them. Sirius smoothes a hand over James's unruly curls as Remus squeezes his shoulder comfortingly.

"We'll figure this out," he says gently, and as Sirius looks at him, he begs himself to believe it.

"You lost, Pete?" You don't look up from your book as Peter plants himself in the seat opposite you, frowning at you.

"Like we've never had breakfast together before," he huffs back, and you can't stop the smile that flits across your lips at the confidence that he's so clearly been nurturing. You close your book with a thump and place your chin in your hand, staring at him and waiting for him to continue. "Half the time, you're at the Gryffindor table. It can't be so different for me to come over here."

"Hm, maybe it's not," you shrug, picking your book back up to toss it across the table at him. "Read the back of that. You can borrow it when I'm done - I think you'll like it." Peter picks it up tentatively and gets about halfway through the synopsis before he's dropping it back on the table and crossing his arms.

"You're making them miserable," he says bluntly. You pout in a mocking sort of manner, but Peter's frown tells you that he doesn't believe you're as heartless as you typically let on.

"I thought you just came here to have breakfast with me," you switch tactics. 

"Tell me what's going on with you," he pushes. You straighten up in your seat.

"Why don't you just ask them?"

"I have - they don't know. Every time they try to talk to you about it, you find some reason to run away."

"Would you like to see that first hand?" 

"You can't run away from me. I'll cry," Peter insists. You sniff indignantly, mostly because you know he's right. The two of you stare at each other for a long time, and it's to your surprise that he doesn't waver. Your heart does something strange in your chest when you realize that his determination may be because this is more serious than you'd thought - you're hurting them more than you thought.

"They need to get over me, Pete," you say quietly.

"Why?" He presses.

"Because if they don't then this gets messy. None of us want that," you insist. Peter softens a bit, looking sympathetic.

"It's already messy." The bite has left Peter's voice as he reaches to pat your arm across the table. You look at his hand pointedly and he's reminded swiftly that anyone else who reached out to console you like that would get a smack from you. He smiles as he thinks of the kindness that lives in you that you seem to be blind to.

"I'll talk to them," you sigh, leaning forward to let your head thump down onto the table. Peter pats the top of your head gently and, for that, he does get a smack.

"James," your voice makes him stumble to a stop, whipping around to look at you so fast that you nearly run into him, sidestepping him at the last minute as he looks at you, bewildered.

"Are you talking to me?" He asks, confusion and surprise making his voice thick. Something painful twinges in your chest at his shock. Of course I am, you want to say. Who else would I ever want to talk to?

"Yes," is all you end up saying. James shifts on his feet and looks at you a little wearily.

"Are you ok?" He asks and a breath leaves your lungs quickly. 

"I'd like to talk to you… if you have a moment?" James looks at you strangely, but he just nods and leads you out of the hall to the quiet courtyard. There's no, of course I have time for you, pretty thing. I always have time for you. It's just James, stiff and silent and hurting… because of you.

"Peter says I'm making you all miserable," you say bluntly, regret immediately seeping into you at the way James flinches, sitting on the bench in front of you slowly. You stay standing in front of him, looking down at the way he runs a hand through his curls.

"It's just," he begins, looking around as if to find the answer somewhere, or maybe just to find some way of getting away from you. "If we knew what we'd done to upset you then maybe we could make it better. You're just freezing us out, lovely, and that means we can't fix… whatever it is that's happened."

"It's not…" Now it's your turn to look around vaguely, wishing you could get out from under his sharp gaze. "It's not anything you've done. It's just - it's the way things go sometimes. It's ok, James, you just have to move on." But James's face hardens at that, a sternness you're not used to overtaking his features as he stands so that he can look you eye to eye. You have to tilt your head back to look up at him.

"That's what you want us to do? Just… move on? Forget about you? Pretend we were never friends?" The sombre tone in his voice doesn't suit him, and neither does the timid hurt in yours.

"Are we friends, James? Is that what we all are?" James blinks at that, taking a step back and sitting back down onto the bench rather abruptly. When he looks up at you this time, there's something akin to remorse swimming in his eyes.

"Is that what it is, lo-" the pet name dies on his tongue as he presses his lips together firmly. "I'm sorry. I thought - we all thought that you felt the same way about us that we do about you. We thought… we thought we were all more than friends with you and that you… I'm sorry. We never dreamt of making you uncomfortable." You scoff at his words, shaking your head fondly and toeing at the dirt by his feet with your shoe.

"Uncomfortable?" You say disbelievingly. "Please - you three are the biggest gentlemen I've ever met. I don't think you could make me uncomfortable if you tried." James's shoulders sag in relief, but the look he gives you is still that of a lost, confused puppy. You look past him to see a group of students hurrying to their next class and open your mouth to remind James that the two of you also are officially late, but he speaks before you can.

"Then what is it? Please, just… what did we do?"

"It's like I said, James… it's just a bad idea. It's wrong and I can't do this. I… we have to get to class."

But James doesn't go to class that day. He sits on that bench, staring at the place you'd been standing in, until Remus and Sirius find him that evening. And as the two of them tug him up and inside, all he can think of is how they really have lost you.

[terastalungrad]

The really annoying thing about the "male-presenting Time Lord" line is that, if you remove the gender essentialism, it's very nearly brilliant.

Let's look at the scene:

DOCTOR We've still got to fix you two, because the metacrisis might have slowed down, but that thing is wrapped around your cortex.

DONNA Yes, we know.

ROSE We know everything, thanks.

DONNA And you know nothing. It's a shame you're not a woman any more, cos she'd have understood.

ROSE We've got all that power, but there is a way to get rid of it. Something a male-presenting Time Lord will never understand.

DONNA Just let it go.

ROSE And we choose to let it go.

SHAUN Like I said, mate. How lucky am I?

ROSE After all these years, I'm finally me.

... and let's work out what's happening.

Donna says "cos she'd have understood". Not, "cos you'd have understood". She's not saying the Fourteenth Doctor would understand if he was a woman. She's saying the Thirteenth Doctor would have understood.

Because - we know from Wild Blue Yonder and The Giggle - Donna saw the Thirteenth Doctor. And here, before letting go of the metacrisis, she remembers the Thirteenth Doctor. She can see the ways she was different from the Tenth/Fourteenth.

Donna's talking about letting it go. Letting the Doctor go. Allowing yourself to become what you're supposed to be.

The Tenth Doctor - Donna's Doctor - could never do that. His rage when he realises he's going to give his own life to save Wilf. And his dying words - "I don't want to go".

But the Thirteenth Doctor?

DOCTOR Oh, the blossomiest blossom. That's the only sad thing. I want to know what happens next. Right, then. Doctor Whoever-I'm-about-to-be. Tag, you're it.

She lets it go.

And in The Star Beast, moments before Donna and Rose let it go, the Thirteenth Doctor's regeneration was explicitly framed as a trans narrative. The Doctor is male, and female, and neither, and more.

And Rose's first words after letting go of the metacrisis? "After all these years, I'm finally me."

There's so much to love here. A literary connection between the Tenth and Thirteenth Doctors' deaths. Metacrisis as oppressive cisnormativity - without letting go, Rose can't be herself.

And it's so annoying that the final line as written is a crusty old bit of "tch, men just can't let things go, can they?" The episode gets so close to a wonderful scene that's simultaneously a love letter to the Doctor AND a really vibrant, exciting sci-fi trans story ... but at the last minute, it crashes back to earth. Caught in the mavity well of gender essentialism.

Anyway. Tell you what you should do, and that's listen to Doctor Who Redacted on BBC Sounds. A trans main character, a trans head writer. That's how you do it properly.

[genderqueerdykes]

Testosterone HRT Overview, Guide & Information for All People Seeking It

Hello, we're a genderqueer person who's been taking testosterone HRT since 2015. I've also worked in a pharmacy and we've seen a lot of the roadblocks that comes with people trying to start HRT. Nobody really explains how difficult it can be, even when you get your prescription. Because testosterone is a controlled substance in many places, it creates hurdles. There can be a lot going on, and some folks become very disheartened if their T isn't covered by insurance. i get that. We wanted to create a relatively easy to digest and succinct post detailing some common hurdles people have to face on the doctor/prescriber and insurance level, as well as after getting their hormones. *please note that a lot of this information is United States centric as that's where i live, i can't give information for a country i've never lived in, unfortunately.*

The estrogen HRT version of this post is here!

Doctors, Insurance & Getting Your Prescription

If your primary care provider is already familiar and comfortable with prescribing HRT, you can go through them, find an informed consent clinic, or seek an endocrinologist or gender affirming care specialist. Planned Parenthood is a good option for many people. If you don't have insurance, check to see if your area offers medicaid or other low income insurance plans, T can get pricey in some areas, especially for topical. if you can't access insurance please look into services like GoodRx that offer coupons and discounted rates for prescriptions.

Here is a list of informed consent clinics in the US for HRT.

Your provider will ask you some questions about your experience with gender, any dysphoria, why you want to seek medical transition, if you'd like to seek surgeries, assess your mental health, and then screen you for potential health problems or roadblocks. Your liver enzymes will be screened, as will your hormone levels, blood pressure, and some other things. Make sure your doctor knows to note that you are a transgender patient so that your blood tests are not discarded because your gender says "F" instead of "M" on the paperwork.

In some areas it is required to seek treatment with a therapist who specializes in transgender care to make sure this avenue is right for you. Not everywhere requires this step.

Make sure you talk to whoever is prescribing the testosterone to you about insurance, and if they are aware that testosterone is a controlled substance. A controlled substance is a substance that has been restricted by your country's government or governing medical organization and has to be monitored carefully. You need what's called a "prior authorization" from your doctor in order to get your insurance to give you your hormones in most states. Talk to your doctor and pharmacy about prior authorizations for your testosterone and syringes if you need them.

Currently, the only forms of testosterone available for masculinizing HRT are testosterone cypionate (injectable), topical gel, and patches. Topical forms are usually applied daily, injections can be done once or twice a week, or even more or less frequently if a person needs it. There is no pill option available for masculinizing HRT currently.

Do NOT become disheartened if you do not see the effects you want to see right away. It can take several years for the full effects of certain aspects of medical transition to show themselves. Stay patient, talk with your provider, talk to other trans people!

Stay patient, Stay positive!

HRT and Administering Testosterone

When you get a prescription, how things go will depend on if you get your doses administered at the clinic, or if you choose to do them at home. If you are not comfortable self administering, ask if they will at the clinic. many places offer this service.

if you choose to administer at home, if you are using injectable T, note that pharmacies may give you the wrong gauges of needles because they don't often give out needles for HRT. You need two different sizes- a thicker, longer needle for drawing from the vial, as testosterone cypionate is thick. You will generally be given large 18g needle for drawing and a small 22 or 23g needle for injecting. Many people have preferences for different gauges so ymmv. Depending on if you are injecting intramuscularly or subcutaneously the gauge of the needle with vary. Sanitize your injection site and your hands, never using the same needle tips twice for any reason. Never use needles that have touched another surface, and get a sharps container.

Make sure you are injecting in different spots every time you inject. you do not want to inject into the same patches of skin every time, as this can cause tissue damage, tissue death (necrosis), and severe scarring after long periods of time of having to heal but being interrupted over and over again. inject into slightly different spots every time to make sure your skin and muscle tissue can heal.

Here is a guide on safely injecting your own testosterone, including steps on how to prepare your skin for the injection, hold the vial while drawing, change needles, and more.

Another guide for hormone injections.

Make sure to check with your provider to see what type of injection you are meant to do, many do intramuscular injections, but many opt for subcutaneous (just below the skin) injections because they are less painful and require less frequent injections.

If you receive topical testosterone like androgel or other alcohol based testosterone gels, make sure you read the informational packet that comes with it to ensure you are administering it in the correct areas- your exact formulation will need to be applied in a certain area, if you do not have the guide or packet that came with it, please read this page to figure out where you need to apply it. if your topical T isn't working you may be applying it in the wrong place.

When applying topical T, make sure you clean the skin before putting it on, and do not shower or go swimming for 2 - 5 hours after application. make sure you cover the skin with some kind of clothing. You want to make sure it doesn't rub off on other people, as other people can absorb it as well by touching you. Do not ever have someone else apply topical testosterone for you, even if they are also trans, as this can mess with their levels in a bad way.

After starting T you may have to adjust your dose over time to achieve desired effects. if so, you will start on a starter dose and then you can move up to higher doses as your body adjusts. This process is called titration.

No matter HOW tempting it is, NEVER TAKE MORE T THAN YOU ARE PRESCRIBED! It is processed through your liver, which can completely wreck it if you take more than it can handle. Slow and steady wins the race with HRT. If you take too much T at once, your body can also aromatize it, meaning your body will convert it and encourage the production of further estradiol, which will provide unwanted effects. Do not increase your dose without your doctor's advice or knowledge, and do not go any faster than advised.

Effects of Testosterone HRT

Growth and thickening of facial and body hair begins 3 - 6 months after treatment starts and the full effect happens within 3 - 5 years.

Menstruation (periods) stop. This occurs around 2 - 6 months within starting treatment, and is one of the most desired effects.

Voice deepens. The vocal cords thicken, which can cause uncomfortable sensations in the throat for a time, such as a scratchy feeling, dryness, tightness, pressure, and a 'sore' throat that isn't sore in an illness related way. This begins 3 - 6 months after treatment starts, and the full effect happens in 1 - 2 years.

Body fat redistribution begins 3 - 6 months after treatment starts and the full effect happens within 3 - 5 years.

Growth or enlargement of Adam's apple.

Clitoris grows larger, and vaginal lining can thin and become drier. Some experience vaginal atrophy and/or painful levels of dryness, while some maintain a healthy level of vaginal fluids without problem. This begins 3 - 12 months after treatment starts, and the full effect is usually seen within 1 - 2 years, though some experience growth over a long period of time if their dose is low.

Change in body odor and increased sweating occurs within 1 - 3 months of starting treatment.

Muscle mass and strength increase, this will begin within 6 - 12 months and the full effect will be seen within 2 - 5 years.

Possible libido increase, though some report no changes or even the inverse.

Potential but not guaranteed balding or receding hairline, which is treatable, and not seen in everyone.

Potential increase in energy in general, some report an almost antidepressant like effect.

Possible increase in red blood cell production leading to high blood pressure, which is treatable via medications and donating red blood cells when appropriate and safe.

There is not really a guide book to masculinizing HRT and medical transition, most of the information there is is passed along between each of us. We will continue to edit this post as we think of more important information.

[grison-in-space]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ichorai]

sorry ; daryl dixon.

track three of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; daryl dixon x doctor!reader (gender neutral pronouns)

synopsis ; you were on your knees, and daryl was too. he wouldn’t look at you—he couldn’t—terrified that negan would bring that bat down on your head if he noticed.

words ; 7.9k

themes ; heavy angst, mild action, doctor au

warnings / includes ; death and violence, negan at his worst, vulgar language, guns/weapons, descriptions of injury/blood, mentions of maggie's pregnancy, negan goes on long ass monologues, poor rick is going Through it, the walking dead s6-7 spoilers (fic starts right at the season six finale), mild sexual dialogue from negan

main masterlist.

Maggie hummed with discontent when you pressed a cold, damp cloth to her forehead. There was a pallid color to her skin, and her temperature was beginning to rise, despite her violent shivers beneath the blanket. The inconsistent, rocking motions of the RV weren’t doing her any favors, either. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you to Hilltop real soon,” you said, feeling mildly guilty that you couldn’t help her more, despite being a doctor yourself. Alexandria was completely out of medical supplies and this was urgent—if Maggie didn’t get help soon… you’d never be able to forgive yourself if something bad were to happen to her or the baby. “Hang on for me, okay?”

The brunette slanted her lips in a tired smile, eyelids heavy. 

Rick knelt down beside you, speaking in a low, comforting tone. “We’re gonna get there. Once we get the medicine from Hilltop, Y/N will fix you right up.”

A small sigh fell from her pale, trembling lips. A thin film of tears warbled over her eyes. She was terrified. 

“Oh, Maggie,” you murmured, gently pulling away the short strands of hair sticking to her face. 

“How do you know?” muttered your friend, gaze trained on the ex-cop. 

“Everything we’ve done… we've done it together. We got here together and we’re still here. Things have happened, but it’s always worked out for us, ‘cause it’s always been all of us. That’s how I know. As long as it’s all of us helpin’ you, we can do it.”

A hot tear meandered down Maggie’s cheek. You nodded gratefully at Rick—he’d always had a way with words that you’d never really gotten a grasp of. 

The next hour passed by slowly. You switched between cooling her head, and helping her drink some water, sometimes just holding her hand and telling her that everything was going to be fine. To take her mind off the pain, she’d asked you to tell her about how you and Daryl met, all those years ago long before the dead began to walk. 

“I’m glad Daryl’s not here right now, because he always tells the story differently than I do. Well, how I remember it, he and his dick brother used to come to a small convenience store near their trailer park. That’s where I worked. I was around… nineteen at the time? Almost twenty. I was just working a couple jobs on the side to pay off my growing student debt. Daryl was twenty-three, almost twenty-four. Merle tried to cozy up to me—and I didn’t have any of that. I told him to fuck right off. And later that night, just as I was to close up, Daryl came by and apologized on his brother’s behalf. He was real sweet, so I—”

“What the bitch?” barked Abraham from the driver’s seat, effectively cutting your story short and rolling the RV to a grueling halt. 

“What?” asked Rick, standing up to look out the window. You followed suit, eyes widening upon the sight. 

More than half a dozen Saviors blocking the road with three of their cars—and all of them holding large guns. A lump formed in your throat, and you cast your worried gaze to Rick.

“We goin’ through?” asked Abraham, jaw set. 

Rick gnashed his jaw together in thought. “No,” he said. “We’ll talk to them. C’mon. Y/N, you stay here, watch over Maggie.”

Teeth worrying into your bottom lip, you nodded, stepping to the side to let the rest of them file out of the RV, their own loaded guns at the ready. 

From inside, you couldn’t hear what the Saviors were saying, but from the smug expression of the one in the center with a hideous pornstache, you knew it couldn’t be anything pleasant for your group. 

Three minutes later, they came back in, all looking a bit disgruntled. Rick, most of all.

“What’s going on?” you asked Carl, placing a hand on his forearm. 

The young man that you were so fond of grimaced, shaking his head and lowering his voice to a whisper so that Maggie couldn’t overhear. “They won’t let us through. Want half our stuff.”

Your breath hitched. At this rate, you didn’t know how long Maggie could last without the proper care and medicine. And Alexandria was running low on supplies as it is—taking away half of everything would put the community in a pretty dire situation.

“Alright, thanks kid,” you told him, trying your absolute best not to cry from frustration, your nose burning with the effort. 

The truck began to pull further away from the Saviors, until they were only but little dots against the horizon. 

“Logrun Road’s a straight shot,” said Eugene, repeatedly tapping his finger against the map spread out across the RV’s pull-out table. 

Next to you, Sasha shook her head. “We want visibility.”

You pursed your lips, craning your neck to scan the small, faded texts of the map. “Can we go down Shelton?”

Eugene hummed in agreement, drawling out in his thick Southern accent, “Golf course, country clubs, sloping terrain—no bum rush from the bogeymen. We’d see ‘em from a good piece. It is a longer trip by a third but we’d get the scenic safety of clear-cut dingles and glens.”

Both you and Sasha stared at him blankly. 

“You’re being serious, right?” asked Sasha.

“As coronary thrombosis,” replied the man across from you, stony-faced. Besides, Eugene was never one to joke around.

Sasha rounded her gaze to you expectantly, waiting for you to explain in normal terms. “He’s serious,” you said. “It’s a longer route, but it’ll be well-sheltered and hopefully keep us hidden from the Saviors. I’ll try to keep Maggie steady until then.”

The two nodded at you, and you pushed away from the table, heading further back into the RV where Maggie and Rick were. She was pale and clammy, but still had enough energy to talk to you, so you took that as a good sign. 

Not even ten minutes later, while you were taking measurements of her blood pressure and body temperature, the vehicle came to another rumbling halt. 

“Bitch nuts,” cursed Abraham, loudly for both you and Rick to hear. 

The Saviors were blocking the road. Again.

You could feel panic seize about your chest, constricting your lungs. The situation wasn’t looking good for Maggie, not one bit—but you couldn’t give up hope. Not now, when she needed you the most. You blew out a shaky breath, absentmindedly wishing Daryl was here with you to give you some comfort of mind.

“We making our stand?” asked Sasha, staring out of the window, where more than a dozen saviors were lined up. 

Carl, ever the fiery one, spat out, “Yeah. We end this.”

The blue of his father’s eyes flashed dangerously. “No. Not now. It’s too dangerous for Maggie. They’ve been waiting—they’re ready. We ain’t. With one of us behind the wheel, and Y/N with Maggie, that’d be five on sixteen. We’re gonna play it our way. How we want it.”

Reluctant, Carl nodded. 

Slowly, the RV started backing away. Three successive, warning gunshots were fired into the air. You could feel a sick, twisted rage curl up within your stomach. 

If Maggie died on your watch—her blood would be on the hands of the Saviors.

You fumbled for another map pinned up on the cork board, eyes roaming over the roads, desperate for another available route. Could they possibly have you surrounded? No—the woods were vast, and the roads were winding—there were so many paths left to take to Hilltop. The Saviors simply wouldn’t have the numbers to stop you.

Wouldn’t they?

The RV came to another stop. This time, there were no Saviors blocking the road, but instead, a line of chained-up walkers. Not wanting to risk damaging the RV by driving through them, the rest of the group filed out to check if the coast was clear. You told Maggie you’d be right back, before hopping out of the RV, lingering by the doorway to narrow your gaze at the restrained walkers.

“That’s Michonne’s,” breathed out Carl, his single eye widening. A lock of her hair was stapled against the center walker’s forehead. 

Horror, as black as tar itself, seeped into your chest when you glanced over to the next snarling form, just to see two of Daryl’s arrows embedded into its decaying stomach. Daryl always retrieved his arrows. Which meant… something had happened to him.

“That’s Daryl’s,” you said, loud enough for Rick to hear. “Oh, no, Rick… they did this on purpose. They knew we were coming this way—!”

Just as Rick was about to cleave his axe into the walker’s skull, ricocheting gunfire crackled into the ground, making the dried leaves flutter up with the sudden force, plumes of dust and smoke flying with each bullet. 

“Get back to the RV! Go!” yelled Rick. You scrambled up the steps and ran to a concerned Maggie, trembling as you carefully hovered over her, in case any bullets pierced through the walls and accidentally hit her. Carl and Sasha began shooting blindly into the woods, having not a clue where all the shots were coming from. Rick surged forward and thrust his axe down onto one of the walker’s rotting arms, effectively leaving a gap open for the RV to drive through. 

The rest of the group rushed inside, and Abraham practically threw himself into the driver’s seat to get the RV moving.

The shots died away after a few minutes. With shallow, inconsistent breaths, you slid off of Maggie, slumping down beside her. She croaked out a question, but it fell upon deaf ears, ringing with static and white noise. A warm tear fell from your burning eyes, and you quickly brushed it away with the back of your palm.

Something happened to Daryl. And it was killing you that you couldn’t help him. That you didn’t even know where he was. 

You looked out the window through a watery film of tears, watching the yellow-green fields pass by in a blur. A quick glance at the lowering sun told you that the group was going to lose daylight soon enough, as well. 

A strange, creaking noise was coming from below the RV. 

“What’s that sound?” said Sasha, worried. 

“Undercarriage could’ve caught a bullet,” replied Eugene. “Could be transmission. Could be nothing.”

Agitated, Rick growled out, “They were firing at our feet. They blocked the road, but they weren’t trying to stop us.”

“They want us in this direction,” you murmured, making his wild gaze swivel to you. You gestured to the map. “Rick, they know we’re coming. They know we wanna go North.”

“Meadows would take us East a piece,” said Eugene, “but we can get back on track on Mayhew.”

It would take too long, you thought. Maggie doesn’t have the strength to carry on anymore.

Shaking her head, Sasha said, “We’re down to a third of a tank—we could top off at the next stop, but it’s risky. We can’t have any refills after that.”

A low moan fell from Maggie’s pale lips as a wave of pain washed over her, moving in and out of a hazy unconsciousness. You were quick to check her temperature, blanching at the fact that she was nearly scalding to the touch. You quickly placed the damp cloth to her skin again, trying your best to keep her temperature down.

“Rick, she’s burning up,” you told him, voice thick with worry. 

It was then that the RV came to another stop. 

This time, there were more saviors—around three dozen, maybe even four.

“Go back,” said Rick, eyes wide and stress evidently painted across his strained features. 

Abraham squared his jaw. “We have nowhere to go back to.”

With a shaky breath, you stroked Maggie’s head, your heart shattering into millions of pieces. “I’m sorry, Maggie,” you said, a sob bubbling in your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry—I wish I could do something, I’m sorry.”

Disoriented and not having heard a word of your apologetic babbling, Maggie croaked out, “Are we there yet?”

More tears slipped down your cheeks. Rick was by your side, placing one hand on your shoulder and the other on Maggie’s arm. You stifled your sobs with your palm, and Rick replied in your stead.

“Yeah, Maggie. We’re—we’re getting there.”

The woman’s eyelids fluttered lethargically. “Were there… I heard shots.”

Rick’s expression softened. “Yeah, the Saviors—they’re gone now. We’re gonna get you there.”

A ghost of a smile tilted the corner of Maggie’s lips up. “I know.”

“You’ll be okay,” you told her, sniffling. “The baby’s going to be okay. This isn’t the end.”

“There’s more,” agreed Rick. “There’s gonna be more, I promise.”

A beat of silence. 

“I believe in you, Rick,” she hoarsely said. Maggie’s gaze slowly moved from Rick to you. “In both of you.”

Maggie was asleep again. You made sure to give her plenty of water and what was left of the antibiotics you had saved—but that was the very last bit of supply you had. There was little else you could do for her other than getting her to Hilltop for the proper medicine and treatment she needed.

“So what’s the play?” asked Abraham. “They’ve cut us off every turn we made.”

“She needs medicine,” said Rick, desperation lacing each word. “She’ll die without it.”

“We only have two plausible routes North from here. They’ve cornered us,” Sasha whispered, gaze trained on the map.

Hopelessness laid uneasy on all of your shoulders. 

“They’re probably waiting for us right now,” said Aaron.

Eugene gritted his teeth. “So, they’re ahead of us. Heck, probably even behind us. But they’re not waiting on us, per se—they’re waitin’ on this rust bucket. They don’t know the moment-to-moment occupancy of said rust bucket. And the sun sets soon.”

“We need to leave now if we want Maggie to make it to Hilltop,” you said, voice trembling with a myriad of guilt, anger, and frustration. “We carry Maggie, and we go on foot. Through the woods. They can’t block us there.”

Eugene took the RV in hopes of tricking the Saviors. Everybody else in the group set off into the woods, taking turns carrying Maggie on the makeshift stretcher, bundled under two layers of blankets. The sun had long set, and the whispering winds were cold this time of year. 

“Just let me walk it,” she rasped, voice scratchy and throat dry. 

“No,” you were quick to reply. “You’re in no condition to walk right now, Maggie. It’s only a few more miles. Just rest up a bit more, okay?”

Though she didn’t look happy, Maggie didn’t protest any further, letting her tired eyes slip shut once more. 

After a couple more minutes, Aaron stepped in to carry one end of the stretcher for you, telling you that you also needed to rest your arms for a second. With a grateful nod, you reluctantly let go, falling into stride with Carl.

“Are you okay?” the young man asked, his hand brushing yours, his nonverbal way of saying that he was here for you if you needed him. “I’m sure Daryl and Michonne are fine. They’re fighters. Maggie’s going to be fine, too.”

You sent him a fond, but tired smile. “Yeah, I hope so, kiddo,” you told him, cuffing his shoulder affectionately. The thought of Daryl out there, probably worried sick for you as well, made your stomach twist into knots. “I really hope so.”

It was at that moment, a shrill whistle sounded out from the darkness of the forest. The group halted in their tracks. One by one, more whistles were added to the ear-splitting melody. It sounded like there were dozens, if not a hundred voices surrounding you. 

“Go!” yelled Rick. “Go!” 

The rest of you broke out in a sprint, and you grabbed Carl’s hand, winding around tree trunks and hopping over overgrown roots, ignoring the stinging scrapes of twisting branches against your face. 

The whistling only continued, growing louder, louder, louder—

Until you came face to face with the source itself. 

Car lights suddenly flashed open, momentarily blinding you. You drew Carl closer to you, instinctively protecting him, but it was no use. They had your group surrounded. Saviors, hundreds of them, gathered around you with leering expressions. All of them were clutching guns.

Raw fear curled around your lungs when you saw Eugene on his knees not too far from you, tears dripping down his face. 

Rick looked destroyed. Devastated. 

You were shaking so hard that your knees began to buckle beneath you. 

Finally, the whistling began to dwindle away. 

From the crowd, stepped out a familiar face—the man with a hideous pornstache that stopped the RV on the initial route. 

“Good,” he called out. He swept his arms out in a faux inviting gesture. “You made it. Welcome to where you’re going—because you ain’t goin’ anywhere ‘til we’re done with you. We’ll take your weapons.”

When he pointed a gun straight at Maggie, you immediately did as he said, pulling out the pistol wedged in your belt. There was a knife inside your boot, but you weren’t too keen on giving that up yet. You tossed your pistol on the ground just as Abraham threw down his rifle. The rest of the group followed suit.

Trembling, Rick spat out, “We can talk about this—”

“We’re done talking,” interrupted Pornstache. “Okay. Get her down, and let’s get you all on your knees. Lots to cover.”

“She can’t,” you snarled, stepping in front of Maggie protectively. “She’s sick, she can’t—”

“Oh, she’ll be far worse than just sick if you don’t get her on her knees,” the man easily rebutted, eyes roaming over your protective form. 

Lips trembling, you turned around, and with Abraham on her other side, you helped Maggie limp off the stretcher and gently set her down on her knees. Your eyes glistened and warbled with unshed tears. Maggie could only shake her head, as if telling you that it wasn’t your fault.

Terrified, Rick glanced around at the rest of the group. He’d failed you. All of you. 

“Gonna need you on your knees, sweetheart,” said Pornstache, slowly dragging the end of his gun up your cheek with a salacious grin.

With a withering glare, you sank down beside Maggie, Rick on your left side, breathing haggard and lips quaking. Sasha and Abraham followed suit. Carl was the last, fists clenched by his sides. 

“Dwight!” whistled Pornstache. “Chop chop! Bring out the others!”

A blonde man with half of his face horribly marred by what looked to be a severe burn injury, stepped forward, yanking open the back of a truck. 

And, to your horror, he dragged out your boyfriend, covered in blood—blood that you could only pray wasn’t his, even though you knew deep down that that was only wishful thinking. Following Daryl was Michonne, Rosita, and Glenn, equally distraught. 

Daryl caught your eye for a brief second, pure terror within his irises. He looked over you to make sure that you were alright, and you did the same with him, a tear slipping down your cheek.

I love you, you mouthed to him. He dipped his head once in understanding, before forcing his gaze away, not wanting to give the Saviors anymore reason to torture either of you. 

“Maggie…?” Glenn painfully rasped once he caught sight of his wife in such a state. He tried to make his way to her, but the Saviors grabbed his arms and forced him down, guns digging harshly into his back. 

“Alright!” exclaimed Pornstache. “We got a full boat! Let’s meet the man, eh?”

He knocked twice on the door to the RV you were in not even an hour ago. 

The door slowly swung open, squeaking on its hinges. 

And out strode a tall man clad in a leather jacket, a bat covered in barbed wire hanging off his shoulder. He took his sweet time making his way towards the group, feet languidly dragging along the gravelly dirt, and a smirk accentuating his smug expression. 

“Pissing our pants yet?” he drawled, voice tapering into a light chuckle as he stepped out into the light, smiling down at your group on your knees. “Boy, do I have a feeling we’re gettin’ close. Mm, yeah—it’s gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Now which one of you pricks is the leader?”

Pornstache pointed at Rick. “It’s this one here.”

The man with the bat grinned wider, before stepping right in front of Rick, who craned his neck to glare up at him. “Hi there. You’re Rick, right? I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killin’ my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people… you killed more of my people. Not cool, man. Not cool. You have… no fuckin’ idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you’re gonna be up to speed shortly. Mmh, yeah. You are so gonna regret crossin’ me in a few minutes. Yes, you are.” A dangerous, wolfish grin flashed across Negan’s face. “You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter what—you don’t mess with the new world order. And the new world order is really very simple. So, even if you’re stupid, which you may very well be, you can understand it. You ready? Here goes—pay attention.”

He lowered his bat off his shoulder and slotted the barbed end right below Rick’s chin. You held in your breath, your entire body wracking with tremors. Though you knew you needed to stop, you couldn’t help but chance glances at Daryl every so often, your concern for him rapidly growing. Some of that was his blood, it had to be—his eyes were sunken with exhaust and his chest, the very chest you would fall asleep on every night, was rising and falling unevenly, making you believe he was hurt, but you just couldn’t see what was hurting him. 

“Give me your shit… or I will kill you. See? Simple as that.” Negan pulled the bat away from Rick, and began walking around the group as he spoke. “Today was career day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That’s your job. Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow. But swallow it, you most certainly will! You ruled the roost. You built something, Rick. You thought you were safe, I get it. But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close. In fact, you are pegged—more pegged if you don’t do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. If that’s too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it’ll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So, if someone knocks on your door… you let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us? And we will knock it down. You understand?”

Rick swallowed heavily. Narrowing his keen eyes, Negan cupped his ear and leaned down closer to the kneeling man. 

“What? No answer? You don’t really think that you were going to get through this without being punished, now, did you? I don’t want to kill you people. I just wanna make that clear from the get go. I want you to work for me—and you can’t do that if you’re dead, now, can you? I’m not growin’ a garden. But you killed my people—a whole damn lot of ‘em! More than I’m comfortable with, honestly. And for that… for that you’re gonna pay.”

Your hands curled into fists on your knees. You knew what was coming. And you’d be damned if you were going to let it happen.

“So, now… I’m gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you.” Negan inhaled sharply, as if he enjoyed prolonging the torture. He bent down once more, showing off the barbed bat. “This right here—this is Lucille. And she is awesome. All this… all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor!”

Negan stopped in front of Abraham, who straightened and glared defiantly at the smirking man. In thought, Negan subconsciously rubbed his bearded jaw with one hand at the sight of Abraham’s own mustache. “Huh. I gotta shave this shit.”

On he strolled, before halting in front of Carl. “You had one of our guns. Hm. You got a lot of our guns.” Carl only scowled at the man. “Shit, kid. Lighten up. At least cry a little.”

Chuckling, Negan moved on. 

You could feel one of your eyes twitch when you saw his shoes stop right in front of you. His bat was beneath your chin in an instant, forcing you to look up. The sharp metal on the bat painfully scratched against your jaw, and fresh tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“My, my, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you? What’s your name, darlin’?”

Hatred simmered within your chest, but you forced your expression to remain indifferent.

You quietly told him your name, wincing when his bat dug deeper into your neck and he ordered you to say it louder. You repeated yourself, voice cracking. A single tear meandered down your cheek and slid down your chin, dripping onto Lucille.

Negan hummed, nodding in satisfaction. “Now that’s what I want to see, folks! A little emotion around here—Y/N’s got the gist of it!”

“Kill me,” you gritted out, making the rest of the group’s eyes widen. You could feel Rick’s stare burning holes straight through you, but you refused to meet his gaze, staring straight up at Negan. “You can kill me. Just don’t hurt them. Let them go. Maggie, on my right, she’s real sick and she needs medicine—if she doesn’t get the proper treatment soon, she’ll… she’ll…”

The man in front of you barked out an amused laugh. “She’ll what?”

“She’ll die,” you snarled. “So kill me. Get it over with—and let them go.”

And for a split second, you let your eyes return to Daryl, one last time. He wouldn’t look at you—he couldn’t—terrified that Negan would bring that bat down on your head if he noticed.

But it was all futile. He noticed anyway. 

He followed your gaze over to Daryl, lowering his bat to gesture between the two of you. 

“Ah… you two are a thing, ain’t ya? Damn. And here I thought you were available for takin’, sugar.” Negan tossed his head back and chuckled with mild disappointment. “God, look at you bein’ all heroic, offering yourself up for the chopping block! No, no, darlin’, this ain’t a game of who gets to be a martyr and save their friends. You don’t decide what’s happening here. I do. You think I don’t know you’re the doctor of the group? My people have been reporting to me—they know you’ve been the one taking care of Little Miss Sickly over there. No… you’re far too valuable for me to kill. We need more people like you, darlin’. Plus, I wouldn’t want to bash in your pretty little face, now, would I?”

With a hum, Negan stepped away from you, fixing his gaze upon Maggie.

“Jesus. You look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now—!”

“NO!” screamed Glenn, scrambling onto his feet and lunging at Negan. Before he could even begin to make contact, Dwight grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, threateningly shoving Daryl’s crossbow into his face. 

Maggie cried out—both from a fresh wave of pain seeping through her bones, and from the sight of her husband being dragged back to his spot like a ragdoll. 

Huffing out a sigh, Negan grunted out, “Nope. Nope, nope, get him back in line.”

Glenn screamed, choking back a sob. “No… don’t. Don’t!”

Negan could only smile. “Alright, alright, listen. Don’t any of you do that again—I will shut that shit down, no exceptions! First one’s free—it’s an emotional moment. I get it. Mmh. Sucks, don’t it? The moment you realize you don’t know shit.”

Rick trembled violently beside you. Tilting his head, Negan glanced between him and Carl, realization dawning upon him when he noticed the physical similarities between the two.

“This is your kid, right? Ohoho, that is definitely your kid!” 

“JUST STOP THIS!” yelled Rick, so sudden that it made you flinch.

Equivalent in volume, Negan bellowed back, “HEY! Do not make me kill your little future serial killer! Don’t make it easy on me! I gotta pick somebody—everybody’s at the table waitin’ for me to order, hm?” 

The man whistled out a shrill tune, one that sent a shiver dance down your spine. 

“I simply cannot decide. But I got an idea.” With that, he pointed the bat at Rick. “Eenie.”

He moved to you, before narrowing his eyes, and skipped over to Maggie. “Meenie.”

Abraham. “Minie.”

Michonne. “Mo.”

Glenn. “Catch.”

Daryl. “A tiger.”

Rosita. “By.”

Eugene. “His toe.”

Sasha. “If.”

Aaron. “He hollers.”

Carl. “Let him go.”

And so on he went. 

My mother told me to pick the very best one. And you… are… it.

Your heart dropped when the end of his bat stopped in front of Abraham. 

No. No… no… no…

“Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy’s other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we’ll start! You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you’re all gonna be doin’ that!” 

And with that, he swung the bat back and brought it clean down on Abraham’s head.

Screams erupted from around you. You could feel your vision blur over with your tears, and you closed your eyes shut, not wanting to see such a gruesome sight, curling in on yourself as you listened to the repeated, sickening squelch of Negan’s bat repeatedly hitting your dear friend. Negan gloated and laughed and jeered. You cried and sobbed and flinched with every strike.

His blood—Abraham’s blood—splattered on your face. You could feel it. 

Warm, moist, and thick. Dripping down your cheek. 

“You guys… look at my dirty girl!” proclaimed Negan, jutting out the bloody bat for all to witness. The monster of a man tilted his head at Rosita, whose eyes were horrified and bloodshot, dripping with fat tears. “Sweetheart… lay your eyes on this!”

When Rosita began to cry harder, Negan hummed. “Oh, damn. Were you… were you guys together? That sucks. If you were, you should know—there was a reason for all this. Red—and damn if that isn’t a good name for him—he just took one, or six, or seven for the team! So take… a damn… look.”

Rosita refused to move her gaze from Abraham’s mutilated corpse.

And, much to your horror, Daryl growled out as he surged forward on his feet, landing a clean punch against Negan’s jaw. You screamed out his name when three Saviors grabbed him and beat him back onto the ground, pinning him tightly against the gravel. A sob wracked through your frame and you could feel your stomach twist into itself. Daryl was still struggling against them, clutching his side as he panted out.

“No!” yelled Negan, clearly furious. “Oh, no. That—is a big no-no. The whole thing—not one fucking bit of that shit flies here!”

Terror clutched at your palpitating heart when Negan shoved Lucille right up into Daryl’s face, smearing Abraham’s blood all over him. 

Dwight strode up and pointed Daryl’s own crossbow against the back of your boyfriend’s head. A sob fell from your lips. You couldn’t watch this—you just couldn’t.

“Daryl,” you cried out, hiccupping through your words. “Negan… no. No, please, don’t! I’ll do anything, please! Not him. Please, not him!”

Amused at your pleading, Negan casted a sidelong glance to you, before grabbing at Daryl’s hair and pulling him upright. “See what you did there, Buckaroo? You got your little partner all upset! Look, they’re crying their eyes out, worried for you.” Negan got back up on his feet. “Get him back in line,” he barked, though his eyes were trained on you.

And in two quick strides, he was back in front of you, gripping your face tightly between his gloved hand. “Look at you, darlin’, all covered in blood. Would it be weird if I say it makes my dick hard as fuck?” You scowled, trying your best to pull your face away from his uncomfortably rough grip. “Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart—your boyfriend here didn’t listen to me earlier. I said the first one was free, didn’t I? And what does that mean? Second one’s got a price, hm? I said I’d shut that shit down—no exceptions. I don’t know what kind of lyin’ assholes y’all have been dealing with… but I’m a man of my word. First impressions are important! I need you all to know me. Know that I’m not joking around with this shit. Now, if you weren’t a doctor and you weren’t so fuckin’ hot—I would’ve bashed your head to pieces without battin’ an eye! But, lookie here, I’m faced with another dilemma. I need to kill another one of you to get my point across.” 

A wail bubbled up in your throat and you began to claw at Negan’s fingers now painfully squeezing your jaw. “No… please, please… don’t, please—!”

“And I want you, darlin’, to pick which one of your little friends I kill.” 

“No!” you spat, breathing shallow and panicked. “Me—just kill me, Negan—you don’t have to hurt anyone else, please, please, let them go, you—”

Getting irritated with you, Negan shook your face until you stopped blubbering. “You’re not listenin’ to me. Pick. Someone. Not you, and not your little boyfriend. I want him to live with the fact that one of his friends died because of him. Pick someone. Anyone, sweetheart. You’ll be doin’ em a favor, honestly. They get to save the rest of you from a miserable death! Now, doesn’t that sound appealing?”

A beat of silence. Negan stared you down, and you glared right back.

“Eat my shit,” you snarled out.

Narrowing his eyes, Negan finally relinquished his hold on you. You gasped for breath, chest heaving, stabilizing yourself with your hands on your thighs. “Goddamn, you’re feisty! Might have to keep you around after this—holy fuckin’ shit. Mmh, alright… fine, then. Since you won’t pick—I’ll just have to kill your precious patient’s boyfriend, hm?”

Before any of you could react, Negan spun on his heel and arced his bat through the air, right onto Glenn’s head. Again, and again, and again.

A piercing scream echoed across the forest. Maggie’s scream. 

Your mouth dropped open as a silent cry scratched down the sides of your throat. 

Glenn was still alive, somehow, after all those bashes. Blood caked his entire skull and part of his head was caved in—to your nauseating horror, one of his eyes had come out of its socket.

“Buddy, you still there?” exclaimed Negan in astonishment, bending down to inspect his handiwork. “I just don’t know… seems to me like you’re tryin’ to say something! But you just took a hell of a hit! I just cracked your skull so hard, your eyeball popped right out! And it is gross as shit!”

After all that, Glenn managed to slur out, “Maggie… I’ll find you.”

Sobs rang throughout the clearing. The rest of the group cried tears for Glenn—without him, all of you would’ve been dead three times over. 

“Awh, hell. I can see this is hard on you guys,” said Negan. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But I did say… no exceptions!” 

With that, he brought down his bat again. Over, and over, and over.

Maggie cried so hard her voice started to give out. 

Daryl, your beloved Daryl, flinched with every stroke of the bat, his eyes red and puffy with tears. You could see it already—the guilt behind his gaze. He thought it was his fault Glenn was killed.

You shut your eyes again. 

“Lucille is thirsty! She’s a vampire bat!” proudly declared Negan, as he swung one final hit on Glenn’s long-dead body. “What? Was the joke that bad? Tough crowd, huh?”

“I’m gonna kill you,” whispered Rick once Negan was done. Rick had blood splattered all over his face, as well. Abraham’s blood. Glenn’s blood. 

Negan squatted down beside him, tilting his head. His bat was dangerously close to you. “What? I didn’t quite catch that, Rick. You’re gonna have to speak up.”

Squaring his jaw, Rick drew in a sharp inhale. “Not today… not tomorrow… but I’m gonna kill you.”

Negan sucked at his teeth. “Jesus,” he softly said. “Simon. What did he have? A knife?”

Pornstache raised his brows. “He had a hatchet. An axe.”

Snorting, Negan shook his head. “Simon’s my right-hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without ‘em? A whole lot of work. You have one? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing? Oh… or did I…”

The man waved the bloodied bat in front of Rick’s face, taunting him. 

“Sure, yeah. Give me his axe.” Pornstache handed Negan the small weapon and Negan smugly slid it into his belt. Suddenly, Negan grabbed the back of Rick’s jacket and yanked him up, practically dragging him by the scruff towards the RV. Your breath hitched, wanting to stop him, but all the guns trained on the backs of your friends made you freeze. All you could do was lower your head and stave away your raucous sobs. 

“I’ll be right back, folks! Maybe Rick will be with me! And if not… well, we can just turn these people inside out, won’t we? I mean… the ones that are left!”

They were gone for hours.

During those hours, part of you wanted to go to Maggie, comfort her, check if both she and the baby were alright. No doubt she was in a tremendous amount of both emotional and physical pain. The other part of you wanted to go to Daryl, curl up in the safety of his arms and cry into his chest. 

But you couldn’t do either. Not with the Saviors pointing the barrels of their rifles to the back of your skulls. 

The sun was already beginning to rise, tinting the sky a sweet, soft shade of blue. A stark juxtaposition to the dark red blood steadily drying on the rocky ground.

When Rick got back, Negan ruthlessly threw him down in front of the group. He looked exhausted. More than that—he looked dead inside. The light behind his eyes was gone.

“Do you know what that little trip was about?” asked Negan. 

Rick looked around wildly, as if making sure that everyone else was alright. 

“Speak when you’re spoken to,” Negan hissed.

Begrudgingly, Rick bowed his head. “Okay… okay.”

Negan wolfishly grinned, though there was a dark glimmer to his irises that you misliked. “That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand. But you’re still lookin’ at me the same damn way. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that’s not gonna work!” Once again, Negan squatted down beside Rick, that smug expression still plastered across the man’s coarse features. “So… do I give you another chance?”

After a moment’s pause, Rick hacked out, “Yeah. Yes.”

Satisfied, Negan clapped Rick on the back, before getting back up onto his feet. “Alright! Here it is, the grand-prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone’s last crap day… or just another crap day. Get some more guns to the back of their heads. Level with their noses, so if you have to fire… it’ll be a real fuckin’ mess.” 

You could feel cold metal graze the very top of your temple. 

“Kid, come here,” said Negan, making your heart plummet to your stomach. Rick’s expression shifted to one of pure dread.

Carl didn’t move. 

“Kid… now.” 

With cautious movements, Carl stood up in front of the taller man. 

“You a southpaw?” asked Negan while he unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of its loops.

“Am I a what?”

“A lefty,” clarified Negan. 

Carl scowled. “No.”

“Good,” retorted Negan, before grabbing Carl’s left arm and tying the belt around his bicep. “That hurt?”

Gritting his teeth, Carl bit out a negative. 

“It should. It’s supposed to.” Negan smirked, knocking Carl’s cowboy hat off his head. “Alright, get down on the ground next to daddy, kid. Spread them wings!”

Slowly, Carl lowered himself down beside Rick, his cheek pressed flat against the dusty gravel.

“Simon, you got a pen?” 

Pornstache nodded, brandishing a marker from his pocket and tossing it over to Negan. The man uncapped the black pen with his teeth, flashing you a wink and spitting out the cap somewhere to the side. He kneeled down by Carl to draw a straight line just below the junction of his elbow.

“Sorry, kid,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “This is gonna be as cold as a warlock’s dick, as if he were hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across your forearm! Gives you a little leverage, don’t it?” 

Stammering, Rick muttered out, “Please… please don’t. Please don’t.”

Negan tilted his head, lightly chuckling. “Me? Oh, I ain’t doin’ shit. Rick… I want you to take your axe and cut your son’s left arm off—right on that line! Now, I know you gotta process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though—I’m gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then your kid dies. Then the people back home die. Then you… eventually. I’d keep you breathing for a few years just so you could stew on it!”

“You… you don’t have to do this,” pleaded Michonne. It was the first time she’d spoken since she got out of the truck. Seeing Carl splayed out in front of her, practically her son, made something inside her snap. “We understand. We get it, we—”

“You might understand! I’m not so sure Rick here does. I’m gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it’s gonna have to be like a salami slice. You remember those, right? Nothin’ messy. I want a clean, forty-five degree cut. Give us somethin’ to fold over. You got Y/N right there to fix him up nice and good. The kid’ll be just fine. Probably.”

Rick was just about losing his mind, rocking back and forth, murmuring incoherently beneath his breath. Sweat dripped down his bloodied face, his hair, mixing with the salty tears leaking from his crazed eyes. 

“Rick. This needs to happen now. Chop, chop. Before I crush the little fella’s skull myself.” 

Swallowing down his sobs, Rick choked, “It can—it can… it can be me. It can be me. Wh… you… you could do it to me. I c-can go with—with you.”

Negan smiled at his desperation. “No. This is the only way. Pick up the axe, Rick. Not making a decision is a big decision, let me tell you that. You really wanna see all these people die? Because you will—if you don’t PICK UP THE FUCKING AXE!”

Rick began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh, my God,” said Negan, pulling at his face wearily. “You gonna make me count? Okay, Rick—you win. I’ll start counting. Three!”

“PLEASE!” screamed Rick. “IT CAN BE ME. PLEASE!”

“Two!” Negan kneeled down and slapped a sobbing Rick across the face, before grabbing his cheeks, not unlike he did with you hours before. “This is it, Rick. Make a decision. One!”

With a gut wrenching scream, Rick’s trembling fingers curled around the handle of his axe.

“Dad…” whispered Carl. A tear slipped down your cheek as the events unfolded in front of you. “Just do it.”

Rick cocked his arm back, seconds away from bringing it down to cleave Carl’s hand off. 

But Negan grabbed Rick’s wrist at the very last second, stopping him.

The man smirked, pleased with himself. “You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?”

Frantically, Rick nodded his head. 

“SPEAK WHEN YOU’RE SPOKEN TO! You answer to me. You provide for me!”

“I’ll provide for you!” cried Rick.

“You belong to me! Right?” hollered Negan.

Hiccuping a sob, Rick bobbed his head. “Right.”

“Now that… that is the look I wanted to see.” Negan grabbed Rick’s axe from him and stepped away. “We did it. All of us, together. Even the dead guys on the ground! Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure! Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope for all your sake… that you get it now. That you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you before… that is over now.”

Negan clapped his hands together, sighing out in relief. 

And strangely, you were slightly relieved, as well. Maybe he was done. He wasn’t going to kill any more of you. This was all over for now. 

Right?

“Dwight,” said Negan. “Load him up.”

To your shock, Negan pointed Lucille straight at Daryl.

“See, he’s got guts. Not a little bitch like someone I know,” Negan told Rick. “I like him. He’s mine now. You still wanna try something? Not today, not tomorrow? I will cut pieces off of… what’s his name?” 

“Daryl,” said Pornstache.

“Wow. That actually sounds just about right. I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep! Or, better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me.”

“No…” you croaked out, when Dwight grabbed your boyfriend and dragged him back to the truck as if he were a wild animal, crossbow pointed at his chest. Maggie sobbed from beside you. “No, Daryl… please, no, don’t—please don’t take him from me!” you cried. “Please, I need him… Daryl!”

Negan smiled down at you. “Mmh. Alrighty, then. I’ll take you, too. Come on.” 

A gasp lodged in your throat when he suddenly grabbed your arm and yanked you upwards. 

“No, wait, I’m the only doctor they have, they need—Maggie needs m—!”

“I don’t give a rat’s flying blue ass,” growled Negan, shoving you in the direction of the truck, where Daryl watched you with wide, scared eyes. You craned your neck around to look at Rick and Maggie and the rest of the group—your family—one last time, unsure of when, if ever, you’d see them again. “You’re mine now. Got a whole lot of shit you can do for me, that’s for sure, darlin’. Load ‘em up!” 

One of the Saviors pushed you into the truck just as Negan yelled out, “Welcome to a brand new beginning, you sorry shits! I’ll leave you a truck. Keep it—use it to cart all the crap you’re gonna find me. We’ll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then… ta-fuckin’-ta.”

You collapsed straight into Daryl once you were inside, thundering sobs spilling from your lungs. He wrapped his burly arms around you, smelling of dirt and blood and motor oil. No words needed to be said. No words could be said.

The both of you had lost so much today. 

And now… you’d lost your freedom, as well.

Daryl began crying into your shoulder, and you could only hold him all the tighter. 

[ultfreakme]

Actually you know what, thinking on it, Sokka's sexism in the original was really weird and when writing fic, I had a hard time understanding where that even came from. We've been told Gran-gran left NWT because of the sexism and stayed at SWT, Hama was a fighter, Hakoda didn't condemn Katara for fighting or learning bending, there's a trivia thing where we learn Hakoda actually wanted to find a waterbending teacher for Katara. Now sure you can say fighting doesn't mean sexism wasn't present, but Sokka's conveyance of that sexism didn't work if that's the case.

Sokka specifically underestimates girls in fighting. That's how his sexism is largely expressed. Kanna wouldn't have raised Hakoda that way and in turn Hakoda wouldn't have raised Sokka like that.

He would be overprotective of Katara and stifle her as a bender, but not because he's sexist, but because Hakoda said "Hey you're our last warrior"- and this is actually the crux of his character.

One big argument people make is that Sokka's character arc with Suki apparently won't happen. But interviews state that the new focus on Sokka-Suki would be about them finding strength and solidarity as non-benders. In the original we do see Sokka trying to figure out his place and part in the war and among Gaang, he does feel insecure about his strength and ability to protect people. I think taking the new direction would connect well with the Serpent's Pass reunion.

I understand why people are hesitant but I just saw posts saying Sokka's sexism is inherent to his character as Toph's blindness is!?!?!? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU????? There's so much to unpack there I don't even know where to begin. Like this is getting ridiculous and in trying to say Sokka's sexism is good actually, you guys forget that the original was kinda fumbling its way through Sokka's sexism arc. It's not that fast or easy to make someone dismantle sexism, and the Kyoshi Warriors + Suki are playing into the idea that a woman is only equal to a man when she has combat prowess (I still kinda cringe at Suki saying "I'm a warrior....but I'm also a girl" she says that about her romantic interest in Sokka and kissing him, like why is being a girl or romantic interest associated with 'girl'?). They could've stretched out the arc and included Yue in helping Sokka learn that women aren't inferior but all talks of women's equality was restricted to combat.

I ADORE the Katara v Pakku fight and I think that was a far better discussion and showcase of misogyny and commentary on inequality. Because yes it was a fight, but it was, underneath all that, about Kanna and Yue.

It is the first time we see that actually, Kanna and Yue should get to choose because that is a fundamental right they should have. Healing was allocated entirely to women, but Katara learned it and it was never seen as an inferior form of bending. Everyone should get to pick if they wanna fight or they wanna heal or both. Katara'a fighter, a healer.

So I just wanna ask; Do you want Sokka's sexism to be there to comment on the unfairness of gender inequality? Do you want it there to give this one male character a character arc (because Sokka never talks to Katara- the one whom he hurt most with that attitude- or acknowledges his contribution in suppressing her advances in bending after this little lesson he learned from Suki)? Or do you want it there because the og did it so it has to be there? Because if it's the first, KATARA's arc does it a million times better and that's still in the show.

[doberbutts]

Scrolling the fandom tag for BES and once again finding longwinded rants about how white trans mascs aren't allowed to find any similarities with themselves in Mizu's story because A: it's racist and B: her story is more for trans fems (and ofc it's not trans fems saying this) and I'm like

So trans mascs of color don't exist and mixed race trans mascs don't exist and there was never a single trans masc that felt caught between womanhood and manhood and felt joy at just being free to be themselves rather adhere tightly to society's gendered expectations? There was never a trans masc that saw themselves in cis women who lived as men or in masculinity even if it was just for safety? You sure about that?

Like I've said before I'm not really offended either way what pronouns someone uses for Mizu because I think any of them in English are varying degrees of incorrect because *Mizu is [half] Japanese living in 1600s Japan and Japanese pronouns are not one-to-one equivilants of English pronouns and 1600s Japanese gender roles are not one-to-one equivilants to modern American gender roles* and *Mizu herself reacts with violent rage when called a woman, while the creators explictly stated that she is a cis woman and exclusively use she/her to talk about her in interviews*

But it is really interesting that non-trans-mascs are so, *so* angry that trans mascs watching this show are seeing themselves in her journey. I think there is something to be stated for people who are not understanding the racial aspect of it- I'm mixed race myself though not with any Japanese blood, so maybe that lets me see a portion of this story more easily than someone who has never been so caught between worlds and identities, but also like. Japanese trans mascs and trans men exist. I just watched a documentary about being transgender in Japan, I know they're there. Being trans masc is not exclusively a white thing nor is it exclusive to Western gender roles. We've existed, everywhere, as long as gender has. Whether we were explictly called "transgender" or a different word.

I'm neither a woman nor a lesbian but that didn't stop me from seeing myself in almost every butch and stud I've ever met. And those I've talked to about it have said they've seen themselves, in me. We're allowed to have similarities and to share experiences.

[the-possum-writes]

could you do a detailed smut/fluff with adult!Finn after reader has been away on an adventure?

Long time no see 🔞

❥Character: Finn Mertens

❥Tags: NS/FW, gender neutral reader, private parts aren't specified, Face sitting, Oral, Established Relationship, Fluff, Vanilla, No beta,

❥Synopsis: Coming back to Finn after spending months climbing through snow covered mountains. As much as you love traveling, you love him even more.

❥Wordcount: 2400

❥Taglist: @watchingfromthefloorboards @foxpearlwilder

With the treefrort being no taller than a sapling it made it harder to find Finn's mobile home with how much he loves to move around without telling you, but the again, you can't say no to a challenge. 

The air is humid, and the sky grows gloomier as clouds block off the day's final rays of sunlight. The trinkets on your backpack clink together as you hike uphill toward the parked metallic trailer, where the candy horses are already preparing for sleep; any doubts about no one being home are thrown out the window when orange light shines behind the solitary door. A single knock is made while speaking clearly. "Sir Mertens, we've come to discuss your expired warranty," you say as solemnly as you can.

Footsteps approach you as a muffled voice talks from inside the trailer. "A warranty? But I paid choose goose years ago." When the door finally opened, Finn was shocked to see you instead of some unscrupulous lawyer. Even in this temperature, he is dressed in just a pair of faded gray tank top and a pair of denim shorts. He is just as you remember, tall, chubby, but neither too skinny nor excessively jacked up, and his blond beard matches the blond hairs on his head that aren't covered by his customary bear hat. However, he appears to be immune to the autumn season since when he greeted you with a bear hug, you felt firsthand how naturally warm he truly is, with his body heat surrounding you even through the layer of clothes you dressed yourself for travels.

After a minute of hugging you, he laughs in your ear and releases you. "I should've known better; lawyers wouldn't bother trekking up this steep hill just to charge me with a stupid warrant."

"You obviously never met a lawyer then, they're more relentless than a honey badger with a grudge." you point out. This gained another laugh from Finn, "Come inside! you look like you've fought one yourself."

And he wasn't lying, expeditions didn't really leave you looking fresh like a cabbage.

As you step inside his cozy trailer you soon realize why Finn was dressed in light clothes, it's just as warm as he is with the orange lights coming from a heater in the corner of the main area that looks like a living room, a few more looks around the place hold the trademarks of a single occupant, empty pizza boxes stacked together in the trash bin, clean but unfolded laundry basket out in the open and countless trinkets, weapons and treasures mounted on every inch of the walls. You drop your backpack to the carpeted floor as you take in the details of the treasures, some look familiar to you while others are completely brand new. You make a mental note to ask about them later for now you only have one thing in mind as you remove your coat.

"I'mma hog the shower bit." you affirm, not really asking for permission but you do toss in a suggestion for good measure. "You could use one too, I may look the part but you smell more like a badger than me." 

Finn scoffs at your jab until he caught a whiff of himself and agreed non verbally. The last thing you saw before closing the door to the bathroom was Finn grabbing two towels from the cupboard but not a pair of new clothes considering the basket was right there, it sent a shiver down your spine and settled in your stomach, but you choose to ignore it for now as you get your priorities straight.

The sigh you release when the warm water crashed on your body could easily be confused for something pornographic, but considering the rough terrain you've traveled through and the rough weather outside it's no brainier you'd feel so satisfied with something as mundane as a hot shower. Your hands are combing through the knots in your hair when you heard Finn follow you into the shower, you step aside to allow him some room under the shower head as he shakes his head like a dog. "Can you pass me the shampoo? it's on the sink." he asks, eyes closed as he lavishes in the hot water just like you did earlier. You poke your head out of the shower curtain to retrieve the bottle on the ledge of the sink, almost laughing your ass off when you read it's one of those '13 in one for men' brand. "For real? why not have a shampoo and conditioner like Jake did?" you snort.

"Hey, I'm a busy guy. Why waste my time with a ton of bottles if one has it covered?" is his defense, but you comply nevertheless as you squeeze the shampoo over his open palm as he washes his rowdy blond locks with it, you can't help but feel a twinge of jealously, Finn could use car shampoo and his hair would still look majestic and soft. Good genes i suppose. Your eyes went to the single hand washing his hair with his other shoulder leading to a scarred stump you've seen replaced with a multitude of weapons and robotic prosthetics but now it's just as nude as the rest of him. He helps you out with your own hair, scrubbing your back and even cleaning behind your ears like a cat grooming it's partner, and yet you allow him, let him satiate his touch starved need with these caresses on your body that don't necessarily lead to anything promiscuous under the shower head but knowing the two of you it's just a matter of time. He's the first to walk out of the bathroom, handing you your towel as he dries out his long hair in his bedroom. While you follow behind his steps it's like walking in on an undisturbed nymph bathing in a pond during golden hour, with the orange light casting striking shadows and highlights over every noteworthy angle on his body, from his sturdy thighs to his firm shoulders and lastly his prominent ass, it's like you're hypnotized when you slowly walk up to him to wrap your arms around his midriff and press your exposed body to his. "So, what did you bring me from your trip?" Finn asks softly while lowering his hand to meet with yours, caressing your scarred knuckles with his large thumb.

"Since when am i obligated to bring you stuff from my trips? there's not exactly any souvenir shops on top of freezing mountains." you jest, resting the side of your head against his back as your other hand trails up and down his hairy navel, feeling his muscles tense down south.

"You always bring me something," he snorts, "Either way, I'm glad you came back safely."

Finn tosses the wet towel elsewhere as he turns around to face you, expediently but suddenly smashing his lips against yours with a fervor you've only witnessed when he's fighting monster taller than himself, he doesn't leave any spot of your mouth untouched with drooling dripping from the corner of your mouth as you caress his tongue with your own in a cacophony of grunts and gasps that escape past your hot breaths. Finn drops himself back into the edge of his bed and brings you along with him with the only thing keeping you above him being your knee in between his parted legs, if his body is naturally warm like a radiator then the growing length nestled in his loins is overbearingly hot, you raise your knee to tease more of him in an attempt to seek more of the noises that were getting caught in his throat. Seeking more from him, you quit the teasing and get down to your knees, kissing the interior of his firm thighs as you make way to the bulbous pink tip eagerly twitching in your direction. You place one smooch on Finn's tip, before placing another, and another until you take his entire gland past your chapped lips, humidifying them with the droplets of precum slipping through his head as you take more of him with a needy groan.

Finn fidgets a bit in his spot, you raising your view to see him lovingly staring back at you through his gorgeous blonde eyelashes, compelling you to take more of him as you keep eye contact so the memory of you stuffing your mouth with his cock becomes engraved in every cell in his brain. Finn's mouth opens up ever so slightly to expel sighs, grunts and whines every time you bob your head up and down, focusing on the way your tongue swirls around his tip like a lollipop. He's so painfully close it has you aching for him more than all those nights you spent alone on snowy terrain, so you removed yourself from his cock with a final slurp and an audible pop, leaving behind a mess of saliva dripping down your tongue. "...ah, ah, not yet." you insist, ignoring your pained knees as you stand up in front of Finn, softly pushing him on his back as you climb him like a tree.

Almost as if he read your mind, Finn grabbed hold of you with a single hand. "Come here," he pulls your hips to his face, stuffing his mouth with everything you could offer to him. You gasp in bewilderment as Finn takes in as much as he can in his own mouth, sucking, nibbling and letting his tongue run wild all over you as your body instinctively jerks back and forth while tugging on his blonde hair. The action has Finn growling from under you, with his own hips jutting forward even though there's nothing to rut against, Finn has learned to become a patient man when it comes to his urges but it's like the build up from months without any lewd contact finally went to his head and has him tapping into a lustful state. And boy, you're all in for it. You remove yourself from Finn's face, ushering the most basic english through needy pants. "Need you inside, now."

This has Finn tossing you to your side, keeping you in place as he dips his head in between the crook of your neck and shoulder to lick and bite to his pleasure. He guides his fingertips to the opening of your mouth, letting him wet his digits with the excessive saliva pooled in your tongue as you got his fingers nice and wet. It's in your best interest after all. "That's it babe, i need 'em nice and slick, I want you to take me... all of me..." he whispers in your shoulder. After he's satisfied with the copious amount of drool he guides them to your already wet opening (thanks to his own saliva from earlier) and slips in one finger after another, poking and prodding inside you as he stretches you out a bit. His touch has every nerve in your your legs twitching, growing accustomed to the isolation and lack of his touch after all this time has you whimpering like it's your first time with him, and Finn dwells in this. "Missed me after all huh? or did you miss my cock?" Finn replaces his fingers for his hot rob, rubbing the tip over your entrance in a teasing manner just like when you rubbed your knee against him.

"Everything. I missed everything about you Finn-" you confess absolutely breathless, taking his mouth for another kiss as his slips himself inside you, with both of your grunting in unison.

"I missed you to," is the last time you hear him speak in a soft tone. "...Won't keep you waiting." Finn's voice struggles to sound coherent as he secures his arm around your midriff as he drills into you from behind, already starting with a rough pace as he keep true to his word like the knight he is. Your cries of ecstasy combine with his own mix of grunts and growls, even biting into your shoulder to add more marks to the growing collection on your skin. Finn didn't stop his onslaught on your for a second, not when he switched your positions and laid you on your back as he raised your legs over his shoulder to fuck deeper into your wanton body, taking in all of his rough biting that you returned with long scratches on his already scarred back, the angle not only allow for deeper thrusts but it also gave you a beautiful view of his gorgeous body. Just like the treasure mounted on his wall, some of his scars were familiar while there were new ones to the collection, one of them being the unfinished tattoo decorated over his beefy hairy chest, you run your hands over his torso, feeling the muscle underneath flex with every movement Finn provides both for your pleasure and his love for you. It's these touches of yours that has Finn slow down from his heated session against your lower regions to dwell a bit in the feelings that have you two in this situation in the first place, his thrusts become slow and shallow, taking the time to release his hold on your thigh to grab your hand and kiss your knuckles which although were scarred and calloused they felt soft against Finn's lips.

The moment is tender in it's own right, and yet it doesn't fail to have you craving for this silly man all over again. You nudge him with the sole of your foot, silently prompting him to continue.

Finn resumed his onslaught into your warm insides but with more adoring looks and complements that remind you that you're also worthy of his love and attention. "You're taking me so good... No one else can rile me up like this..." Finn calls out your name multiple times, feeling himself near the edge as his hips loose rhythm in favor of faster and harder pelvic thrusts that feel like he's straight up rearranging your guts.

"Finn, Finn please...please..." you find yourself begging, almost teary eyed.

Finn complies and smooches you one last time, driving you to that sweet sweet liberation that has you aching your back and wrapping your legs around Finn's waist, meanwhile he releases a combination of desperate whimpers and grunts as he empties a vast amount of pent up come inside your tight little hole that rushes out from around him and leaks into his bed sheets. The blow up has Finn crashing down on you, needing to tap him in the arm to remind him he's crushing you.

"My bad." he rolls sideways but not without pulling your against him, as he closes his eyes to take in the feeling of you body against his no matter how sweaty the two of you are.

You in return, appreciate his peaceful face from up close. To the scar on his cheek from the beard scattered over his lower jaw, he's marvelous, not to mention when he finally opens his eyes to look at you with those glistening pools of blue. "Like what you see?" he jokes, smiling at you despite the few missing teeth.

"Very much," you place a kiss on his nose, watching him scrunch it a bit.

"Well, if you stay for the weekend i can make it worth your time before you go back to mountain climbing." he states, which has you reconsidering.

"Hmm, actually i think I'll take an indefinite hiatus from traveling. Or atleast until i can get you something better than this dinosaur tooth i brought you." you accidentally slip up which has Finn sitting up with a knowing laugh of victory.

"Hah! I knew you brought me something!"

[thatoneapollokidevan]

heard you were suffering from writers block so I am here to ask for a fix :)

imagine:

being Pavitr’s friend for YEARS. I’m talking since diapers. Only to see him run after the same girl, Gyatri. You encourage him, of course. But, one night when he comes home with flowers, you attempt to cheer him up, assuming Gyatri rejected him. When in reality, he bought you flowers with her help and even prepared a little speech so he can finally tells you how he feels.

(I have a Hobie idea that is similar to this as well that’s more abt babysitting Mayday.)

i love this idea so much

since you didn’t request gender it’s gonna be neutral

no pronouns used for reader (as usual)

btw English isn’t my first language so it might be some grammar and spelling errors

• You’ve been his friend for as long as you could remember your earliest memory is when you were 5 and your and his family were having a dinner together

• there’s even pictures of when you two were in diapers together

• and you might have developed a teeny tiny crush on him

• but you’ve never acted on it bc of his crush on Gyatri

• Tbh it was a little sad seeing him being so hopelessly romantic for her but you were his best friend (sorry Hobie)

• You didn’t want to end your friendship bc of a stupid crush

• So no matter how sad you were you were always by his side

“Tonight is the night I’m going to tell her how i feel” he said

“Yeah at least I’ll finally catch a break from you straight up simping for her” you said jokingly

”I’m not simping” he said jokingly offended

“whatever help’s you sleep at night” you said and Pavitr slightly elbowed your side

• little did you know is that the person your best friend had been obsessing over was you and Gyatri had helped bim trying to confess to you

• but he made sure never to lie

•whenever he said that he was gonna tell her how he felt he meant tell her how he felt about you

• It was the next day aka Saturday

• he picked this day so he could confess to you during the sunset

• he had called you to sit by your favourite place

•it was a tall rooftop with an entrance that was almost secret

•you first thought that he was rejected bc he sounded a little more nervous and shyer on the phone

• never in a million years would you imagine that he was there with flowers…. For you!

“What the heck is all this” you said with a small chuckle

“Hi there, Y/N,

I've known you for what seems like an eternity, but even in all our time together, I've never been able to put into words how I truly feel about you.

Every time I see you, you make my heart skip a beat. Your presence alone makes me feel at ease, no matter what troubles I face in life. Being with you is like being in a warm embrace; I feel safe, protected, and loved.

I cherish every moment we've had as friends, but what I really want is to explore something more with you. I want us to be more than just friends. I want to be your partner, your lover, your everything.

No matter what happens, I promise to always be there for you. Whether we live on the same planet, or in different galaxies, my love for you will never fade.

Will you be mine?”

• You looked at him blushing like crazy

“y-you were into me this hole time!”

“Y-yes heh suprise!”

“please don’t just look at me like tha-“

•you interrupted him by hugging him

“Yes, I’d love to be yours” <3

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making out with my best friend?

Ok so, my (16ftm) best friend (17mtf) and i were hanging out in the choir room during our shared lunch period because she had asked me to come there and cuddle her because she's been feeling terrible lately, and while we were cuddling she told me what the reason was: her partner (20, gender fluid) had cheated on her and she found out over our winter break from school (as of writing this, 1 week ago). She was really upset about it and ended up kind of just rambling at me about how she's going to give them another chance because she loves them and still wants the future theyve been planning together for over a year and a half.

A bit of context is needed before i get to the part where i might be TA. From late october of 2022 to early september of 2023, i had a huge crush on my friend and she knew about it since december of 2022. While i dont actively have a crush on her anymore, im the kind of person whose attraction/feelings never really go away fully. This didn't change anything about our friendship, but its also worth mentioning that she also had a crush on me for a few weeks until she started dating her partner in november of 2022. Throughout our friendship, we've talked a lot in a specific channel in a discord server i made with all my closest friends. That channel is named horny jail. This is relevant.

All of that is important because today when we were in the choir room and she told me about her partner cheating, she also mentioned that there was a small but extremely loud part of her brain telling her to use me as a way to kind of justify giving her partner another chance, because "if i do it then i can't be mad at [partner] for doing the same thing". She then clarified that "use" meant doing gay horny shit because of the things ive told her, not like emotionally manipulating me. She then asked if i would be okay with making out with her, and i hesitated for a while and thought it over because she was clearly very upset and on the one hand, i could help make her feel a bit better in the moment, but on the other hand i know she's going to regret it soon. As you can see in the title, i decided that helping her feel better in the moment was more important, so we made out for a few minutes and then we went back to class.

I feel like i might be TA because i knew she was incredibly vulnerable in the moment and would regret it, but i still made out with her and im like 10% sure it was partially me just indulging the part of myself that still is attracted to her.

So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[literary-butch]

The way Leslie Feinberg talks about the women's liberation movement in Stone Butch Blues (I think in chapter 13?) really fucking resonated with me and made me go oh shit because this is what we've never recovered from. This line that says you must fit into the conventions that is either 'man' or 'woman' but only ever in the way other people describe for you. We had this for the gay lib movement, third wave feminism, the debates about lesbian sex ethics, modern trans debates. Its why we hate women who are masculine and men who are feminine, its why we hate drag performers and any trans person who doesn't perfectly pass as cisgendered. Its why nonbinary is only accepted if you can be seen as woman-lite. We are still culturally clinging to the differences between the binary sexes instead of deconstructing the ways compulsory gender has harmed most of us. I think we need some serious thinking about the nuances between freedom to express and cultural gender identity, how we can enjoy butch/femme identities without forcing them into a new binary all over again, and ALSO about how specifically lesbian trauma around cismen affects how we treat and see masculine presenting women, butches, and the trans*/nonbinary people in our community.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

I want to write a meta on Stede Bonnet of Our Flag Means Death and internalized homophobia. A lot of this is going to be a rehash of something I said to an anon back in october of 2022 but I feel like it deserves to be put out without rancid anon takes attached.

Our Flag Means Death as a show is trying to do a deconstruction of toxic masculinity. I feel very comfortable in saying that seeing as David Jenkins had "A lot of what we're taught about what it means to be a man is wrong" and a show about gay men with a thesis like that is necessarily also deconstructing homophobia, even if it doesn't center homophobia, which ofmd does not, it keeps it in just out of frame at all times, because it prefers to center queer joy. However that doesn't mean it's not there and I want to talk about the one place where it exists that I feel like people don't really touch on.

Stede is a character that comes from a background of wealth, of rigid adherence to social norms that he was never able to fully fit into. There are rules for what men do and what women do and those rules must be obeyed and Stede learns this the hard way, by getting tied in a boat and having things thrown at him for picking flowers. By being bullied relentlessly for being soft and weak. Under such conditions you can’t not internalize those rules.

Stede also is very insecure, in episode 2 it's established that he struggles with feelings of inadequacy. A lot of Stede’s guilt comes from his inability to preform the roles of husband and father, roles which were thrust upon him without his consent and stand in opposition to his identity as a gay man, at least in the 1700s. Stede considers himself a coward for his inability to preform these rolls. Stede is unable to forgive himself for being unable to fit into the heterosexual expectations that society as placed on him.

Blackbeard is also a hypermasculine figure. A role that Ed finds himself unable to fit into. That’s why Ed and Stede seem to be in the same place when they first meet. They’re both trying to break out of these rigid boxes that have been forced upon them. Blackbeard is less heterosexual, more specific, but it’s still a distinctly male expectation which is tied up in cultural ideals about masculinity, especially non-white masculinity. And the whole show Izzy, a gender conforming character who seems to go out of his way to talk down to any man he perceives as even a little bit soft, is trying to force Ed into it, and when he tries to imply that Ed isn’t Blackbeard enough he does it by emasculating him

Ed is open, at least when he's made to feel like he's in a safe environment, about not wanting to be blackbeard anymore. Stede suggests retirement and provides him space to experiment with reinventing himself, but at the end of the day Stede doesn't believe him because Stede venerates Blackbeard as one of the most fearsome pirates of all time (something I expect to be a large point of contention between them in the next season). When Ed finally shakes off his captaincy and tries to leave Blackbeard behind for good Stede ends up blaming himself for it, because he perceives Ed's desire to leave a role that is hurting him behind as him being ruined, the same way Stede perceives his own failure as a husband and father as an inherently corrosive thing.

Unpacking Chauncey's speech in season 1 episode 10 and why Stede agrees with it is fundamental here. Gay people have been for centuries been portrayed as corrupting influences trying to convert people to our lifestyle. We've been portrayed as horror villains. Our sex is portrayed as defilement. We're accused of being groomers who want to corrupt others to our way of life, we're accused of recruiting. This is one of the more classic homophobic tropes. So when Chauncy says you're a monster who defiles beautiful things there is venom and oppression behind it. And Stede agrees to it because he does believe himself to have corrupted Ed away from being Blackbeard into being kind of a pansy like Stede. And that he defiled his family by leaving despite it being what he needed to do.

And so his reaction to this is to shove himself back into the closet and try to be Mary's husband again.

I'm not passing moral judgement on Stede, it's just difficult to interpret the show without seeing the subtextual journey of overcoming internalized homophobia that Stede goes on.