#a part of me really doesn't want to be trans because i just. don't want to go through all the fucking hoops of getting meds and getting

[anamericangirl]

I'm a lesbian and I wanna tell a story. Nobody'll believe it but I don't care, just sharing it.

I've been dating on a few different apps, doing strictly no-sex-on-first-date meetups to find a girl I like. I've had a few fun first dates but nothing that really stoked any flames, and they've been very mutual, no bad breakups so far, very open, good girls, even got three kisses so far and two of those were really good kisses.

I recently swiped right on a really cute girl named Judy, and I went to meet up with her at Panera Bread. Well, she looks a lot different than her picture. She was trans, and looked very masculine (facial hair and all), and her picture was really obviously doctored. I got up, said "Nope, sorry. Nope. Not doing this, I'm sorry." and started to leave, and Judy followed me, yelling that I'm transphobic so everyone in the Panera Bread could hear.

I turned around and said, "You lied to me. Your picture was a lie. Please leave me alone. I'm a lesbian, I am looking for women, I am not attracted to trans women."

She said back to me, "I bet you use dildos all the time, how's a penis any different?"

I was naturally very disgusted by this and said, "I'm not doing this. Please leave me alone. That is a disgusting thing to say to someone and even if I were attracted to trans women, saying something like that to try to guilt trip a woman into a date is disgusting. Leave me alone. Go away."

She followed me out to my car, and stood behind it. I started to back up and she got out of the way, then flipped me off and yelled something as I drove off.

Well, it doesn't end there. Judy is now stalking me. Again, I said up top nobody'll believe this, but yep, that's where we are. Judy found out where I work and has been talking to my coworkers and waiting in the parking lot for me to come out. I called the police and the police are refusing to do anything, basically telling me to handle it myself.

I started parking elsewhere, and told my coworkers about her, and they said they'd tell her to leave if she comes into the lobby. She hasn't for the last few days.

There's more, there's a lot more, but this is really long already. She has been sending mail to my company addressed to "Everyone at the Company" which is stating that I'm a bigot and transphobic.

The reason I'm sending this is because this isn't even the first time a trans girl has attempted to call me a bigot for not being interested in penises. It's an absolute outrage. I literally am part of the LGBT, I am the first letter, I am a lesbian woman, I am attracted to other lesbian women, I am not required to be attracted to trans women and I am not attracted to trans women, I don't care how far along in their transition they are. I am attracted to women. Real women.

That all said, hi, AnAmericanGirl, I think you're very attractive and if you were a lesbian I would love to take you to Panera Bread. The broccoli cheddar in a bread bowl is wonderful and I'd absolutely talk to you all day long about my sneaker collection and my gym routine. Thank you for being a real girl, and I don't just mean cisgendered, I just mean you are who you say you are and you're not just lying to people and looking for a reason to call women bigots.

50 squats a day! -Lesbianonymous

That story does sound quite.....fantastic.

But that's the world we live in now. Regardless of your sexuality if you don't want to date a trans person you're """""transphobic"""""

Thank you for the compliments I appreciate them very much. I'm not a lesbian but I do agree Panera is very good. :)

#anon #answered

[uncanny-tranny]

It's okay to want to pass or to bind or tuck or things like that, and it's insensitive to imply that trans people doing so is proof they are trying to "conform to cissexism". It is okay to want to transition "traditionally". It is okay to not want that, too. What isn't okay (and will never be okay) is to degrade other people for the choices they make or for the choices they have to make.

#trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #as always: saw something that really missed the mark somewhere else #i've seen BOTH sides degrade peoples' choices and it's bad! no matter why you're doing it! #just stop! *the sound of my scream blasts everything away from me within a twenty mile radius like i'm todd howard* #do you honestly and truly know if somebody or some rando is trying to be cissexist by transitioning? #as somebody who does want to 'conventionally' transition in many ways - you don't know. you can't know #what's more important - degrading people or protecting them? #i'll tell you when you degrade people for no reason you will be alone. you don't want to be alone especially if you're a minority #a trans person who isolates themself because they degrade other trans people - for example - will be alone when they are targetted #that's what i mean. i've seen it a lot more than i care to. it's upsetting and tragic and i hate it. i want it to stop #transition (or lack thereof) is all about you. nobody else. it shouldn't BE solely for somebody else #absolutely there are cases where part of transition is for somebody else and that's fine. but if that doesn't apply that's cool #my transition is focused on me. because i do it for myself and my comfort and my safety and prosperity. because i want to Live and not live #big L live is different than little l live

[octobergraves]

the thing that really put it all into perspective was when i told my friend i wasn’t sure if i was nonbinary or trans and she said “well if you woke up as a guy tomorrow how would you feel? do you think you’d still be nonbinary?” and i haven’t known peace since

#dismiss the bis #a part of me really doesn't want to be trans because i just. don't want to go through all the fucking hoops of getting meds and getting #surgery and coming out to people and etc etc #i literally can't even get meds for my 18 mental illnesses and now im gonna get hrt? in THIS neighborhood? #i couldn't even get my family to call me a far more feminine name than my birth name and now im gonna tell them im trans and it'll be okay? #unlikely #also my 'friend' group is super uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh bigoted so i doubt they'd be chill with it either #so it'd. definitely be easier to just live out the rest of my life as a woman. but god it Sucks lol #sorry i drank a like 20oz frozen mocha w/ brownie bits earlier and i think all the sugar broke my brain and is unlocking Extra Emotions #so tonite is Gender Night

[neverendingford]

.

#tag talk #fuck. okay I guess I'm trans and straight. feels weird to say I'm not gay but like. I'm not attracted to people of a same or similar gender #turns out I really do just like men and I'm not a man and I feel so much better in this relationship. #I tried dating a girl because I wanted to know if I might be bi or not and yeah the answer is no I'm not #but I wanted to know for data you know? wanted to have the experience #and sure. different girls different women would give a different experience but I didn't feel like I was on the right track #I didn't feel like it was partially right and I just needed to adjust the wrong parts. it was just a bad fit. #I think even emotionally I do feel like I fit into the emotional role that culturally women often do. #which. means I've internalized gender roles so oops about that but if it fits I'm free to live my life #like. not for everyone but I think yes for me. I do feel best when I'm cooking for someone and providing and caring #but being emotionally supported in return is really nice. last relationship I got zero support just trite empathy #I don't need soft comfort I want strong reassurance. emotional stability I guess. #also he doesn't have like.. any emotional baggage. great relationship with his parents. it's wild. and nice. I like it

[selvepnea]

Still thinking about that thing my therapist said

#Sel talks #About how he hopes that hormones are more controlled than getting your marijuana card #Like it doesn't directly translate to being transphobic but it kinda unveils some biases?? #Why do should we be keeping hrt behind so many hurdles?? Because people don't know what they really want?? #Because it'll cause “irreversible damage”?? (What does that even mean??) Because other people are disgusted by the idea of trans people?? #That's a social problem that putting hurdles in front of health care does not fix #This on top of him insisting I need a “transition goal” is really making me want to look for another therapist #It feels like he's trying to make me follow the trans naritive in his mind and that's not what I want?? #It's just starting to feel gross :( #Though there's not really many queer therapist in my area and I really really don't want to do online again #But also? #At what point do I drop him? Should I try to resolve this? He's v much a cis man with quite a few other trans patients; a part of me feels #Like it'd be irresponsible not to at least mention it

[katrafiy]

I think about this image a lot. This is an image from the Aurat March (Women's March) in Karachi, Pakistan, on International Women's Day 2018. The women in the picture are Pakistani trans women, aka khwaja siras or hijras; one is a friend of a close friend of mine.

In the eyes of the Pakistani government and anthropologists, they're a "third gender." They're denied access to many resources that are available to cis women. Trans women in Pakistan didn't decide to be third-gendered; cis people force it on them whether they like it or not.

Western anthropologists are keen on seeing non-Western trans women as culturally constructed third genders, "neither male nor female," and often contrast them (a "legitimate" third gender accepted in its culture) with Western trans women (horrific parodies of female stereotypes).

There's a lot of smoke and mirrors and jargon used to obscure the fact that while each culture's trans women are treated as a single culturally constructed identity separate from all other trans women, cis women are treated as a universal category that can just be called "women."

Even though Pakistani aurat and German Frauen and Guatemalan mujer will generally lead extraordinarily different lives due to the differences in culture, they are universally recognized as women.

The transmisogynist will say, "Yes, but we can't ignore the way gender is culturally constructed, and hijras aren't trans women, they're a third gender. Now let's worry less about trans people and more about the rights of women in Burkina Faso."

In other words, to the transmisogynist, all cis women are women, and all trans women are something else.

"But Kat, you're not Indian or Pakistani. You're not a hijra or khwaja sira, why is this so important to you?"

Have you ever heard of the Neapolitan third gender "femminiello"? It's the term my moniker "The Femme in Yellow" is derived from, and yes, I'm Neapolitan. Shut up.

I'm going to tell you a little bit about the femminielli, and I want you to see if any of this sounds familiar. Femminielli are a third gender in Neapolitan culture of people assigned male at birth who have a feminine gender expression.

They are lauded and respected in the local culture, considered to be good omens and bringers of good luck. At festivals you'd bring a femminiello with you to go gambling, and often they would be brought in to give blessings to newborns. Noticing anything familiar yet?

Oh and also they were largely relegated to begging and sex work and were not allowed to be educated and many were homeless and lived in the back alleys of Naples, but you know we don't really like to mention that part because it sounds a lot less romantic and mystical.

And if you're sitting there, asking yourself why a an accurate description of femminiello sounds almost note for note like the same way hijras get described and talked about, then you can start to understand why that picture at the start of this post has so much meaning for me.

And you can also start to understand why I get so frustrated when I see other queer people buy into this fool notion that for some reason the transes from different cultures must never mix.

That friend I mentioned earlier is a white American trans woman. She spent years living in India, and as I recal the story the family she was staying with saw her as a white, foreign hijra and she was asked to use her magic hijra powers to bless the house she was staying in.

So when it comes to various cultural trans identities there are two ways we can look at this. We can look at things from a standpoint of expressed identity, in which case we have to preferentially choose to translate one word for the local word, or to leave it untranslated.

If we translate it, people will say we're artificially imposing an outside category (so long as it's not cis people, that's fine). If we don't, what we're implying, is that this concept doesn't exist in the target language, which suggests that it's fundamentally a different thing

A concrete example is that Serena Nanda in her 1990 and 2000 books, bent over backwards to say that Hijras are categorically NOT trans women. Lots of them are!

And Don Kulick bent over backwards in his 1998 book to say that travesti are categorically NOT trans women, even though some of the ones he cited were then and are now trans women.

The other option, is to look at practice, and talk about a community of practice of people who are AMAB, who wear women's clothing, take women's names, fulfill women's social roles, use women's language and mannerisms, etc WITHIN THEIR OWN CULTURAL CONTEXT.

This community of practice, whatever we want to call it - trans woman, hijra, transfeminine, femminiello, fairy, queen, to name just a few - can then be seen to CLEARLY be trans-national and trans-cultural in a way that is not clearly evident in the other way of looking at things.

And this is important, in my mind, because it is this axis of similarity that is serving as the basis for a growing transnational transgender rights movement, particularly in South Asia. It's why you see pictures like this one taken at the 2018 Aurat March in Karachi, Pakistan.

And it also groups rather than splits, pointing out not only points of continuity in the practices of western trans women and fa'afafines, but also between trans women in South Asia outside the hijra community, and members of the hijra community both trans women and not.

To be blunt, I'm not all that interested in the word trans woman, or the word hijra. I'm not interested in the word femminiello or the word fa'afafine.

I'm interested in the fact that when I visit India, and I meet hijras (or trans women, self-expressed) and I say I'm a trans woman, we suddenly sit together, talk about life, they ask to see American hormones and compare them to Indian hormones.

There is a shared community of practice that creates a bond between us that cis people don't have. That's not to say that we all have the exact same internal sense of self, but for the most part, we belong to the same community of practice based on life histories and behavior.

I think that's something cis people have absolutely missed - largely in an effort to artificially isolate trans women. This practice of arguing about whether a particular "third gender" label = trans women or not, also tends to artificially homogenize trans women as a group.

You see this in Kulick and Nanda, where if you read them, you could be forgiven for thinking all American trans women are white, middle class, middle-aged, and college-educated, who all follow rigid codes of behavior and surgical schedules prescribed by male physicians.

There are trans women who think of themselves as separate from cis women, as literally another kind of thing, there are trans women who think of themselves as coterminous with cis women, there are trans women who think of themselves as anything under the sun you want to imagine.

The problem is that historically, cis people have gone to tremendous lengths to destroy points of continuity in the transgender community (see everything I've cited and more), and particularly this has been an exercise in transmisogyny of grotesque levels.

The question is do you want to talk about culturally different ways of being trans, or do you want to try to create as many neatly-boxed third genders as you can to prop up transphobic theoretical frameworks? To date, people have done the latter. I'm interested in the former.

I guess what I'm really trying to say with all of this is that we're all family y'all.

#transgender #third gender #hijras #femminielli #trans women are women #trans solidarity #trans rights #transmisogyny #transunity #transunitism #this is what trans unity looks like

[embers-of-the-oldest-lore]

@photomatt So I've noticed that you and the tumblr moderation team at large seem to view trans women as inherently sexual and in violation of the sites community guidelines by virtue of existing and before you start crawling through my side blogs and find That I do in fact have some content that is not tagged as well as it should be to remain in line with the strictest interpretation of the community guidelines on my sideblog, please know that I understand this and have come to terms with the fact that making this post will result in you taking advantage of this and removing my side blog and likely my primary blog as well.

However before you do this, I want to make sure that you have a full understanding of what you will be removing and in a grander sense what you have destroyed either through negligence or intentional malice by unfairly moderating Trans women on this website and allowing their harassers to thrive.

The girl in this picture was young and scared and trying so hard to be the man that she was supposed to be even though It meant pushing down a part of herself that was more real than anything she had ever actually lived before.

But then she found tumblr and was exposed to experiences like hers and people like her and was able to slowly become herself for the first time in her life. She had a joy and peace on this website that she would never be able to find in her real life.

It took time but eventually that joy and peace and freedom and exposure to so many other scared girls like her gave her the ability to finally admit she didn't have to or want to be the man that her family expected her to be. This is the last picture of her before she finally stopped giving up.

And it didn't happen all at once

There were problems, and stumbling blocks

But she had this site to come back to and find community and joy and she finally had herself

And now she's free and happy and full of so much joy.

She is so full of Love, and happiness, joy, and compassion for herself and the people around her

She lived and thrived and still finds so much joy in this community that saved her life.

I have found love, and kindness, and partners and friends on this hellsite. Most importantly I found a community. One that you would see destroyed. I know you don't actually care about any of this. You don't care about the unfair moderation on this site. You don't care about the trans women that are desperate for community. I don't think this is going to change your mind either. If I exist to you at all, it's only as a nuisance. You're just going to find some excuse to wipe my entire existence on this site that I have called home for twelve years away.

But i'm not really doing this for you.

I'm doing this because I hope that before you have the chance to wipe every trace of my exsistence from this website that some other girl that is just as scared as I was when I joined this community is able to see that there is hope, that things do in fact get better and that we can thrive and find family and a community. Part of me hopes desperately that Tumblr can continue to be a place for scared girls like I was and an even smaller part of me believes that this might find some place in your heart and take hold. But even if it doesn't, we will always find community. We will always find a place where we can become ourselves and find love and happiness and safety with people like us.

And to that scared girl

It gets better

I promise

: Your sister

[posthumus]

coworker: gene did you get top surgery??

me: um no

coworker: are you binding

me: um no

coworker: wow that's amazing!!!!

#this is from a couple weeks ago actually but bro today she asked me if i got a binder yet in front of a whole group of people 😭😭 #i just have small boobs...... it's not that special... #it's just a normal part of my body so it's fucking weird to comment on it.. #idk it reminds me of a trans guy friend i had #who passed as cis and would constantly get comments like 'are you SURE you don't have a penis?? 😏' #like just because we're both gnc doesn't give you the right to comment on my body wtf #'wow gene you have really small tits!!' what the fuck am i supposed to say to that?? #thank you???? #it's literally just a neutral fact #idk this is something that frustrates me about transness or maybe gender performativity #'you have small boobs' 'this is great im going to get a good grade in gender #something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve' #ugh sorry just. what the fuck. laugh and point at this person please #my posts #personal

[lemon-penguinn]

I'm nonbinary. People, in general, do not tend to see me as a trans person, even though I identify as one.

Everyone usually thinks of me as a girl. A cis girl who has decided to pass herself off as a nonbinary person, or a trans boy, simply because she thinks it's "trendy". A cis girl who wants to be part of a community because she feels lonely. And that's because, by many people's standards, I just "don't look trans", whatever that means. I guess it's simply because my gender expression is not rigid. It changes.

Deep down, I feel like a stereotype: a teenager with a female body who claims to be a boy but occasionally wears dresses and skirts comfortably. In the eyes of others, perhaps, I am nothing more than a cis girl infiltrating trans spaces. I'll be honest: I've cried over this very situation many times, because, what am I to do about it?

Do I have to change and stick to the gender role that is expected of someone like me? Do I really have to change the way I show myself just because I'm not a girl, but I also don't perceive myself fully as a boy?

I think that's ridiculous.

In the end, saying that "if you are nonbinary you have to be androgynous" is something that perpetuates stereotypes and gender roles. It's like telling a trans girl that, to be a real girl, she has to wear a skirt - it makes no sense. Do all girls only ever wear skirts and dresses? Do all boys only ever wear black, loose tank tops?

Of course they don't.

My expression, my tastes, my clothes, my voice, and the way I act do NOT determine my gender identity at all, just like my private parts. Because I believe that gender is a part of us. Not a part of our body, our clothes or our personality. It's true, though, that our gender identity can influence those other things. I think that's why certain actions or concepts make us dysphoric or euphoric: because our gender influences whether we perceive positively or negatively those things that affect us.

But, until the day most of society can understand that gender isn't a rigid set of rules, nonbinary people will remain generally perceived as no more than "girls who want attention" (if we live in a female body) and "weird boys" (if we live in a male body). We do not exist. Breaking out of binarism is seen as a phase that will end once we grow up. Because, apparently, many people think that being nonbinary is something that doesn't exist in the adult world.

#lgbtq community #queer community #queer #lgbtqia #nonbinary #queer discourse #trans rights #transgender #trans nonbinary #gender nonconforming #genderqueer #genderfluid #enby #neopronouns are valid #genderflux

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.66)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

Tags: Blood, Guns, violence, near death experiences, everyone lives nobody dies...but someone does die this chapter, horror, non-lethal injury, talks of death and dying, a bit of body horror, Trans! tae, Tae is briefly dead named in this, implied/referenced intimate partner violence, flashbacks, brief suicidality.

W/c: 8.3k

A/N: ahhhhhh <3 we're finally ready for this part of the story <3 i wonder what your guys reactions will be, i'm really glad i decided to split this chapter into two peices! it's much cleaner this way. don't be 🥲 too mad at me.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

(Four years prior, Hoseok)

Today is the day that Hoseok will meet his future pack, he just doesn’t know it yet.

It always feels like a bit of betrayal but the worst and best days of your life often come close together. Maybe just for contrast. A bit of good in the bad. A slice of cake in a feast of raw meat.

This starts as just another bad day in a long stretch of shitty days. The kind of days were anxiety bubbles up and how afraid you are is all you can think about. Taking one breath and then another like just staying alive means you're guaranteed to get better.

The only place to go from rock bottom is up, and hoseok's sneakers are firmly on the concrete, standing outside of the record store in the rain with no place to go.

Hoseok has been afraid for a long time. He can't really remember even if he thinks hard, the last morning he woke up not afraid.

What hoseok really needs is a day off, but he really can't fucking afford it. He can't afford anything- certainly not a one-bedroom apartment on his own. If he's really really lucky maybe he'll be able to find a closet room somewhere that will cost almost his whole paycheck. Because after today-

After today, Jung Hoseok will be homeless, packless, and alone. His pack dropped the news on him last night…or well ex-pack.

He doesn’t expect that he’ll be moving into the pack's house on this rainy day, he doesn't expect that by the end of the week, he won't be worrying about where his next meal will come from because Jin will be there with it ready. Jimin sometimes too.

He won't be worrying about where he'll sleep because the bed in their spare room that smells like tae tae tae will be his. He'll roll around in it when the door is closed, shy about it because Hoseok has never liked other alpha's scents so much before. And when he comes home and Jungkook has made a nest in it, it will feel like a bit of an impossible silver lining, a bit too much- to have an omega making him a nest, making something special just for him

It takes three weeks for Namjoon to make him a house key for himself. After he gets left outside in a very similar storm to this. The doctor will touch his cheek, thumbing at the dimples that they share. how special is it that each smile gets cradled like a crescent moon? the heavens have left imprints on both of their skin. Freckles for stars and dimples for moon's.

"I don't want you to get sick pup."

"People don't get sick from wet heads anymore hyung."

"They don't. But I want to keep you dry and comfortable in my den. i know you still want to look for apartments but...what if you didn't?"

But neither the weather nor Hoseok knows to prepare for good news. Right now the heavens open up and release its deluge, thick rain the way that only happens at the start of summer. Worms and other wriggly things crawl their way out of their holes to find a good spot to die next to Hoseok's shoes. Worn fancy sneakers that his pack-omega had gotten him a few months ago for their anniversary. They're the nicest thing he's ever owned.

His ex-pack omega.

It's hard to rewire your brain, especially for alpha's. Hoseok is a lone wolf. He hasn't been without a pack in so long, it feels weird to not have someone to call, someone he needs to trail after and cling to. He checks his phone but he doesn't have a single notification from them.

He doesn't have a single notification from anyone.

Hoseok is glad he doesn't feel his instincts as keenly as other alphas do. Otherwise, he might be inclined to gnash his teeth at the people who pass by him on their way to work, umbrellas almost bumping him, perceiving even closeness as a threat. So vulnerable without a pack (lone alphas are always the first to starve in winter).

Hoseok shivers even though its summer, he's soaked to the bone after a few minutes.

He has a key to the record store. He could go inside. Granted- he should be inside already. Opening up shop, making coffee, and letting the place warm up. But standing out in the rain feels too much like penance.

Hoseok likes the rain. The smell of it. The way it makes the whole world ache and go still. He feels every drop on his dark hair, soaking through his thin hoodie. It's cleansing almost, letting the rain soak him through.

(The end of relationships is always hard, let alone the end of abusive relationships, they’re downright terrible).

Hoseok keeps replaying their words in his head, with every slosh of a nearby car, every honk of a taxi. The stoplight red and green bleeding onto the wet concrete. Yellow flashing in contrast with hoseok's dark memories.

“You’re welcome to stay here until the lease runs out, but the four of us need to move back home. You understand Hobi don’t you? We’re just omega’s- we’re just girls- and we think this could be a clean break for all of us. We just don't want to lead you on any longer.”

The worst part is that Hobi had sort of known, had sort of already realized what was happening. he’d seen it in their looks; distant and despondent. Their touches that did not linger longer than necessary, cheeks turned as he comes in for a kiss. The phone calls hushed in the other room that cut off abruptly when he entered.

The lease on their apartment ends today. The place has already been professionally deep cleaned and Hoseok's things are packed in his car in plastic bins. He has 6 of them to his name.

He doesn’t have a place to go yet, he might just sneak into the back room at the record store and sleep there until he figures something out. Hoseok drove to work early because he didn't have another place to go.

This version of Hoseok is not the one you know, this version of Hobi is 23 and hopeless, can’t think about moving back in with his parents a city away, with nothing but a rusted-out Corolla that barely gets him to work let alone through the 200-mile trip. It will die on him in about 6 months and Namjoon will be thankful that Hoseok no longer is driving around in a deathtrap.

He hadn’t even gotten this job by himself, his pack omega- his ex-girlfriend had gotten him this job almost 4 months ago after his last one didn’t pan out. Temporary work for temporary people.

Nothing feels like his. Not his body and certainly not this job.

Hoseok hasn’t smoked in months, but something that feels an awful lot like self-disgust worms under his skin and he can’t resist. Not today of all days. Smoking is something that he doesn’t indulge in often, and hasn’t indulged in since… becoming an alpha to someone. But he guesses it doesn’t matter now without anyone to complain that they don’t like the smell.

The cigarette mixes with the smell of petrichor and Hoseok’s own acidic scent. The smell of a terrified alpha draws him more than a few looks but he pays them no mind. He's thankful for his soaking face, at least the rain keeps out the tears. Cool and soothing against his face.

Hoseok just wants- Hoseok just wants to call them. To talk to someone.

Ending relationships is always like this. You want to keep being good, keep being what they want, but that’s impossible. You can’t act or behave right and dupe someone into loving you. Sometimes the love just isn’t there. (A smaller shyer voice says it was never love at all, you can't possess love, only be given it and Hoseok feels like a cast aside possession. Love and abuse cannot coexist).

Hoseok should have known. He keeps replaying the moments in his head. He’d seen them exchanging knowing looks when they thought he wasn’t looking.He thought he was just being paranoid, until yesterday morning when they’d taken him aside.

“You knew this had to end one day Hoseok" "You knew one day we'd move on." "As much as we appreciate what you’ve done for us, we think it’s time for us to move on.”

“What do you mean? I thought we were leaving next week, you really left me with only a day to find a place to go?”

“We’re sorry Hoseok, your last rut was just too much to deal with. We think it's best if we just stay on our own. It's a clean break this way.”

"Wait, please- I love you."

"We know. We're sorry."

Hoseok is too much for anyone to deal with. He doesn’t call his friends (he hasn’t met up with any of them or returned their texts in months thanks to several pointed words from his pack omega). He doesn’t go inside yet because he deserves the rain. He sits out front of the record store, smoking a cigarette that will probably end up killing him down the line, and thinks Good.

He tells himself the irritation in his eyes is just because of the cigarette smoke blowing in his face, even though he knows it's not. He's not even inhaling right because his breaths come all hitched and pathetic. Anyone would be sad if their relationship of several years had ended. Anyone would be devastated.

Hoseok checks his phone again. Nothing.

Most people on the crowded street ignore him. Though the thick throng of people going about their business, probably going to work at their 9 to 5 jobs that pay enough to afford apartments and packmates. Hoseok is the one soul that stands stationary.

Until one, someone a few feet back stops, tipping their face through their hood to look at him. The only other person without an umbrella.

Hoseok knows his face and his name. It’s just Min Yoongi- his coworker and sort of friend who's coming in for his shift. Hoseok doesn't love Yoongi yet but they're sort of friends already. They might be better friends if Hoseok could get over his admiration and jealousy.

Yoongi has this way of quietly taking care of the people around him. He picks up Hoseok's jacket when it slides off the hook at work, asks him if he wants coffee and even pays for it when he goes to the coffee shop next door. He compliments Hoseok's music tastes when it's his turn to play something, he gives Hoseok the aux frequently in a way that feels a little bit like flirting.

The only two good things about Hoseok's job are the music and Min Yoongi.

He even laughs at Hoseok's shitty jokes when they're stacking new inventory saying cryptic things like "they can't be worse than my omega's jokes."

That's why Hoseok's jealous. Yoongi gets packmates, five of them who make him lunch even when he's only got a four-hour shift. that often linger outside to walk him home or pick him up in their shiney not new not old cars.

(Yoongi's packmates certainly have better things to do than send Yoongi to work with a second packed lunch. "Jin-hyung caught a glimpse of you through the doorway, the only thing that he hates more than Namjoon's snoring is skinny Alpha's.")

Min Yoongi has that look that people do when they're well-loved by packmates. Hair ruffled and neck dotted with bruises that might as well be mating bites for a beta. Beta's don't mate, but these ones certainly keep him close. He wears their scents like a shield. Sometimes so thick that Hoseok can't even smell any of his chocolate scent.

Right now, staring at Yoongi a few paces into the street, all Hoseok can smell is the rain.

When Hoseok had been introduced to him it had felt strange just by virtue of Yoongi's sub gender. A beta? Working somewhere so normal? Weren’t beta's supposed to be like- financial advisors or assistants to the president or something? Betas are supposed to have more important jobs than pushing vinyl and bumping Hoseok's shoulder playfully.

(Hoseok hasn’t seen it yet, the way that the owner hands over little white baggies to people who come in looking hungry for a high that cigarettes or alcohol can’t fix. Hoseok hasn’t yet realized that the record store isn't just a record store. This is just one front business of many that the family has organized across this city and the country for distribution of some of his most precious inventory). Yoongi has worked her for the last year, takes calls in the back for the family. The owner only bows to him when Hoseok's not around.

They only hired hoseok for tax purposes. Having three employees looks less suspicious than just two.

The beta looks concerned, and Hoseok knows he can’t hide the fact that he’s been crying as the beta steps up and pushes Hoseok back under the awning. Out of the rain and into the warmth of the doorway. This kind of movement would make any alpha snap, but not Hoseok. Hoseok just tucks his chin down and starts to cry.

“Oh Hoseok.” Hobi sniffles, and wipes his runny nose on his sleeve. Yoongi's hand curls against his throat, chocolate scent spiking to soothe. “You’re soaking wet."

Yoongi grabs his wrist and Hoseok almost keens at the gentle touch. Whole body shaking, shoulders curling in Yoongi's direction. Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line and then tugs him inside.

~-~

(Now, You)

You hold your breath. Still peering around the corner, watching and waiting for the man to spot you.

But he doesn't, after a breath where his soft footsteps echo, you wait, but nothing happens. You peak back around the corner.

You absorb and catalog the details as fast as you can; the black ski mask, covered by one of those traditional Korean masks, wooden with red lacquer. This one is a little different than the one that Jimin had; not twisted with thick eyebrows in a snarl. This one is white with red splotches on the cheeks, like a ghost sent down from above to rob you of your humanity.

The bulletproof vest stops at the collarbones. The gun itself is a black generic model. The long end is extra bulbous with something that might be an attached silencer. His hands covered in black nitrile gloves, leathery at first glance. There is a knife at his waist along with a barrage of other small things; rope and a knife, duct tape and handcuffs. His heavy boots look steel toed and reinforced.

The man (because it is a man you realize; tall, maybe taller than Namjoon) trains his gun at the landing on the top of the stairs. Pointing it in the direction of Hobi, Tae, and Jin’s hushed voices.

Hobi giggles and it sounds so bright. Echoing off the walls and filling the house with his musical laughter.

There is a phone cord tangled in your hands, long and white. You grip it tight.

This man might be silent but you’re quieter as you slide your bare feet across the smooth floors. Your strides are so quiet. You take one step and then another until you're behind the man, mirroring him.

You remember when Yoongi redid the floors, it was one of the few things that he did right away; before the pack came to live here (to love here). It took him weeks and weeks of sanding before he got them to his liking. Days more of brown dark stain that colored his hands ruddy until the soft matte finish stuck. Every pass with the belt sander and dirty rag a movement of love, a meditation for it.

Yoongi made every inch of this house with the same loving intent; to make it a home for all of you. a place to be safe and nurse your wounds and hearts. You won’t let it become a grave. You won’t let this person stay here and ruin it.

Most people get it wrong; In order to kill it is not a matter of elegance or effort. There is no such thing as a perfect kill either. Emotionless and analytic isn't enough and being justified only gets you halfway. There is no way to do it cleanly. People die just as they live, messy and hopeful and dirty.

Murder isn't a matter or wanting or wishing, It’s a matter of rage.

It’s always been this way. Rage has been chewing a hole through you from the moment that you pulled the trigger with Geumjae. From the moment you said ‘I do’. Rage that these violent things have been done to you, that they continue to happen, that you can’t just get away from all the hurt and trauma.

Rage has eaten you clean through to the bone. Rage has made you skinny and starving, rage has made you timid and fragile. But now you're the hungry one. Right now, only three words run through your head;

How dare she.

How dare she send this man into your house. How dare she point a gun at the upstairs, in the general direction of your nest and your packmates. The altar at which you so desperately cling to, for sweet dreams and sweeter worship (There is no deity above the god of love, not even death. Death cannot take the love from your chest, someone dying does not make you stop loving them).

How dare she even think about hurting the people you love.

There is no courage, no bravery, no thought in your head about how stupid it might be as you step closer behind the man. You are not a trained assassin. You’re just an omega.

The adrenaline rush is an old friend, a thrall both intoxicating and unnerving. Your heart beats loud in your ears. You grip the phone cord in your hands and take a quiet steadying breath. He doesn't see you, he doesn't hear you, he doesn't know that you're behind him.

Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

The assassin’s foot ascends the bottom step. You don’t let him get to the second before you’re moving, hurtling forward. Footsteps no longer light. Your hands go over the man’s shoulders. The cord no more than a white flash across his vision before you draw it tight across his neck.

The pain and panic are instant as you’re suddenly tethered to a six-foot-four assassin and struggling to stay on your feet as he stumbles back. You’re pulled off your feet and down the stairs, but you keep it as tight as you can and you don’t let go. Fighting to keep your makeshift garrote tight as he scrambles to get his fingers around where it digs into his skin. Spluttering loud.

The hard wire digs, cutting easily through plastic and then your skin as he tries to pull you off. You don’t let go until he backs you into the entryway wall and slams you against it with a dizzying clang of bone and body hitting something solid. Your head narrowly avoids one of the hooks that the pack hangs their coats on. An inch to the left and he'd have impaled your skull on it. An inch to the left and you'd be dead.

A single inch.

His head slams into your face, and you feel something in your nose pop, flooding your mouth with blood so thick you choke.

He slams you against the wall once, twice, and then a third time until your grip goes slack and slippery with blood. It knocks the breath out of you, and he finally throws you off. You both fall to the ground like stones. Both of you gasp and struggle for breath. At least one of your ribs it broken, but because of the adrenaline you can't even feel it.

When the man lifts his black gloves to his throat, they come away glossy with blood.

(It’s crazy how you never notice the change from the day to day, one day you are begging for a reason to hold on, a reason to live, and the next you’re fighting tooth and nail to keep going. Just about gnawing your own arm off to get out. To survive and live to see another day. Another sunrise.)

By that time the air has returned to your lungs it’s enough for you to scream. “Jin! Jin! There’s someone in the house there’s-”

You try and inhale through your nose and blood makes you choke. You push at the floor with your hands, struggling to stand, fingers slippery and tacky with your blood.

The man tries to scramble up the stairs but you latch onto his legs and make him drop. Doing everything in your power to keep him from going up to them, to your packmates. Hugging his ankle to your chest to slow him down (the same way you’ve hugged Namjoon’s arm and Yoongi’s, the way you held Hobi in the nest on the couch just a few shattered days ago).

The man turns the gun on you, pointing it to your head, you flinch, waiting for the shot-

and open them as He heaves a frustrated roar before he wheels away and turns, aiming at the top of the stairs instead of right in your face.

You could have died right then. could have and should have, but you didn’t. Your brain is too messy with adrenaline right now to make sense of it.

Why didn't he shoot?

The gun goes off, a bullet whizzing by Jin’s head. His face, scared, on the stairs flashes ever briefly. Ducking for cover just in time. The doorframe explodes in a cacophony of dark wood splitters. The doorknob sparks and bursts into a million pieces with another shot. metal clanking against the ceiling, the walls, down the stairs.

One second, you’re holding onto his heavy leather boot, and the next it’s colliding with your face and you’re out like a light.

Getting hit in your face is always such a disorientating experience. You’d never gotten used to it, even with Geumjae. Granted it’s hard to get used to the stomach-churning low vision feeling of weightlessness, like vertigo only worse.

"Hobi! don't- jesus fucking christ-"

You’re not quite sure what happens next only that you can’t see for a moment after the boot hits your face, and you take big breaths through your mouth. Blood, you taste blood. And then your vision comes back. Black spots and all and there’s Hobi’s face in front of you. No assassin, just him, helping you up from the floor. You're not on the steps anymore but at the bottom of them.

“The kitchen, the kitchen," Blood rushes over your bottom lip. Hoseok wipes it away, inhaling a jagged breath. "He’s-”

He pushes at your shoulders. “The car- get to the car.” It feels impossible. This can be happening in your house. Are you about to have a shoot-out in the street? On your quiet cul-de-sac? But then, in the corner of your vision dark movement.

You tug Hobi’s head down the second that the gun goes off- probably saving his life, definitely saving it as the bullet tears through the banister and ends in a hollow thump in the wall. he may not have shot you but he has no quams shooting at Jin and Hobi. The bullets hit the wall- Maybe 6 inches above your bent heads. Too close, close enough that Hobi trembles in your hold. And he rips something- a piece of the doorway, out of his arm with a wince before he covers your body with his own.

The volley of gunshots are so loud, so vicious as they blow things apart, tearing holes through Yoongi’s coat, the doorway, the banister, and the narrow stairway rungs. Pieces of wood hit your curled forms. Hobi shoves your head down when you try to look.

There is wetness, hot, something hot on your hands, your neck, you know it’s blood before you look. You think it’s from you until the Gunsmoke clears and you realize- fingers skimming across hoseok's forehead, a gash above his eyebrow.

A bullet graze by his hairline thats bleeding profusely. head wounds always bleed a ridiculous amount.

There are more bullets behind you but it’s just Jin returning fire.

Jin’s got Tae behind him. Her face ashy and pink from the shower and panic, her mid-length dark hair such a tangle, cowering behind his back. Jin's gun is so much louder without the silencer. Did he bring one upstairs? Or did he get it from Jimin’s stash?

Jin nearly drags Tae to the three of you, and she clings to you. Your hand finds her face. Fingers are red and bloody smudging against her cheek, blink and you're back there a million moments in the past; dotting red blush across her cheeks with a brush- your fingers- kissing it into place with your lips- painting a line of maroon across her eyelids to bring out the lighter flecks in her eyes- Watching her twirl in a red dress. Pressing your red lips against hers in a quiet dark moment in the library room. With her in Hobi's red car- Everything red.

If it starts with red, maybe it's fitting that it ends in red too.

Jin doesn’t give you time to reminisce. Pushing her shoulder down hard. His bare chest splattered with splinters from the door. Covered in wood fragments that stick to his black sweatpants and damp feet. Shouting, “All of you get down!”

You follow your pack omega’s words. Hobi and Tae With their damn alpha instincts blanket you as Jin fires again. The shots are so much louder in the small space. Another shot, another thunder strike. tae grips your wrist tight, your hands.

When you look down, they look mutilated. you can see bone in one place, deep gashes across the centre of your palms.

Your ears ring and you can't make sense of anything over the noise. Jin returns every bang with a boom of his own, bright flashes lighting up the dark staircase. Casing after casing tinkling down to the floor, rolling across the floorboards

But then, for a second- the gunfire goes quiet.

The house creeks and the three of you hold your breath. Jin's still half-concealed. The air heavy and clouded with gunsmoke and the smell of blood.

Hobi tentatively gets onto his knees and then stands when he doesn't immediately get shot at. You make a small noise in your throat, the loudest that you dare, but he’s looking after Jin, standing in the darkness, hackles raising his angry scent of burning sugar acrid in your nose. His hand slides out of yours, your blood on his palms.

And then you hear the rush of boots, echoing in the living room, near your nest- you’d never unmade it after you and Hobi fucked there. You'd been too busy taking care of Jimin. Hoseok bears his teeth.

Hobi turns, sliding out of your hands quicker than you can grab him. Quicker than you can tell him that he’s being dumb, that he’s being suicidal.

“Not my girlfriend! You asshole!”

The world is a dizzying cacophony of gunpowder, pain, bullets, and shouting. Jin yells Hoseok’s name. But the alpha heads after the assassin regardless of your cries. Jin narrowly keeps him from running headlong into no mans land. the open area by the door that would leave Hoseok a sitting duck.

Tae’s standing up on unsteady legs as you all spill out of the stairs into the narrow hall. Out from her hiding place cowering behind the banister. Your attention isn’t on her it’s on Hobi. Neither you nor Jin are looking at her. You’re running after him on shaky legs. Jin holds you both back, trying to corrall you. The air is cloudy with Gunsmoke, hazy and heavy. Her eyes are wide and pretty like dark marbles as she watches Hobi.

They’re just as pretty when the gun presses to the back of her head.

Everyone turns and goes still. The man has Tae in his arms, hand in her hair making her neck arch. The gun pressed to her jaw. Finger on the trigger.

Her body trembles and she doesn’t turn, frozen still in fear a shallow whine building in her throat.Jin has the gun trained on the man faster than you can make to step in Tae’s direction. But it’s no use.

He must have gone around, run through the livingroom through your pantry. A similar path that you took to surprise him. He must know the floor plan of the house, must have studied it to prevent situations like this. You have no upper hand here with tae in his arms.

Tae’s mouth is buttony and parted, but it settles into a resigned line.

Jin’s never been a good enough shot- not for one like this, even barely 10 feet away. He might hit Tae. Shaky, Jin takes his finger off the trigger and stoops down to put the gun on the floor. His other hand is up, already surrendering when the man jerks Tae's head back by her hair. Rougher than he needs to be.

“Don’t shoot her, please don’t shoot- please.”

The man juts his chin at the gun on the floor. “Kick it away now, be a good omega.” Jin grits his teeth but does as he says.

The man’s voice is rough as gravel. Dignified, but with no obvious accent. Not the quiet cadence that you’ve come to expect from the family. Neither posh nor lowbrow. Something in between. Flat and monotone. You're sure that you've never heard his voice before.

“I have to admit, your file said you’d be resistant, but it said nothing about you being dumb as fuck and a poor shot to boot.”

Jin licks his lips and bares his teeth, “Put that gun back in my hand and then say it again.” The masked man cocks his head to the side and then shrugs as if Jin's fury doesn't mean anything to him.

But He’s bleeding, it trails down to the floor so the words can't be genuine. It's a small wound, a graze on his right thigh. Red bright and hot that drips in onto the floor from his pant leg.

His hand tightens in Tae’s hair. “Line up against the wall. Now. Or I’ll blow her brains out in front of you."

You move first, eyes trained on Tae. But he snaps, eyes unreadable behind that mask, “No- not you. I’m not here to kill you.”

He tosses something to Jin and he catches it. Handcuffs that jingle and clink. Your foot hits an errant bullet with a similar tinkle. “Handcuff Jin to the stairs Hoseok.”

Your names, he knows your names. Your mind races over every detail, every moment trying to piece together a way to get out of this. a way to save them.

“Why are you doing this?” Hobi’s trembling, shaking. “Did Jimin-”

“Jiminie did nothing.” The man croons dragging the barrel of the gun down Tae’s cheek leaving a dark smudge in its wake. It's red on her face, the barrel must still be hot, your blood crusty around her lips.

“Honestly though, you should know he was a shit assassin. Truly piss poor even by industry standards. They always threw him the easiest kills."

The three of you are quiet, if he was hoping to elicit a reaction or more of a fight You don’t give him the satisfaction. Although jin grits his teeth, gnashing anger and an omega's feral instinct to protect their pups.

You step forward hands open, barely two steps from Tae. If you can just get to her maybe you can-

“Please- please don’t kill them."

He cocks his head at you, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Oh no, you misunderstand me I’m not going to do any of it.”

He taps Tae’s head once again with the gun and Tae starts to truly struggle. You tremble in fury and horror as you realize what he means with a sickening lurch in your stomach.

“This is how it’s going to work Y/n” You still at the sound of your name. “Taehyung here is going to shoot Jin and Hoseok. And then once we’re sure they’re good and dead, I’ll kill her.” He tosses you another pair of handcuffs, these ones are meant for you.

You take one step closer; Jin's gun is between your feet now. But you couldn't pick it up or else he'd shoot Tae. Time, you just need a minute to figure out what to do. How to get them out of this.

Yourself now, that's a different story. If you where in Tae's position you'd turn your face to the side and bite the mans hand.

“And what about me then? If they're all dead what’s to stop me from fighting?” he seems to consider it only briefly, the gun in his hand tilting so that you can see the dark oval where the bullet will come out, where it will rocket through Tae's skull and take all the little worlds she dreams of, all her poems and words and make them nothing.

“You think you're so precious? I’ll just kill you.” he says it like it's nothing. like you're nothing. He nods to the others, appealing to them and not you. “What do you want? All four of you to die? Or just three? What will hurt Namjoon the least? Do you think Yoongi will survive loosing his mate? What do you think Jinnie?”

You think of Yoongi's mating mark, the spot on his hip where your small curved semi-circles sit. You think of them turning black- a brand of a dead mate. You think of Hobi's eyes opening and never closing again. You think of Jungkook nesting without Jin and you. Of Namjoon holding out his hand and having no one to take it without Jin there.

You won't let any of this happen.

The others shoot each other unsure glances but you shake your head. you shake your head because earlier on the step, the man didn't take the easy shot, the easy kill.

If he really had orders to kill you, he would have done it then.

you step forward and shake your head. “I don’t believe you. I know your orders are to take me. That’s what all of this is about isn’t it?” The man doesn’t drop his weapon. Just presses it tighter to Tae’s jaw.

“Handcuff Jin now Hobi. Or else I’ll-”

You see the darkness settle in Jin’s eyes and before you know it he's turning to you, eyes flat. Endless in their darkness, the way they might if-

You don't let yourself consider it. You won't let it get to that point.

“Pup-”

You guess it does make sense, having you kill each other as opposed to the assassin doing the dirty work and implicating Moonbyul. If you really are on that ‘no kill list’ like Yoongi said at the hospital, having you take out each other is the only logical course of action. Once Tae kills Jin and Hobi, she'll be free game. This is the only way retribution won’t fall back on her. This is so similar to what she tried and failed to do with Jimin and Jin. This is a second attempt.

Only-

Only this time, you have a bargaining chip.

You step forward, in front of Hobi and Jin, blocking them from his line of sight. Barely a pace in front of Tae, but from the way he tightens his grip on her you know that you can go no further.

“You can take me; I’ll go with you. Willingly.”

Jin makes a noise in his throat and tries to move, but dares not when the man tightens his grip on Tae’s hair hard enough to rip a bit of it out.

“That’s what she wants, isn’t it? If you just let them live I’ll go with you.”

The man is silent for a second. Hobi trembles and so does Jin. For a second, you truly think that he’s going to take the bait.

But the mask is directed towards the floor, then back up at you. “Those aren’t my orders.” His finger is on the trigger so close to Tae’s head. “Now cuff him, I don’t want Jinnie getting any ideas.”

Hobi’s hands are shaking as he unwillingly shackles Jin to the steps as slowly as he can. He's buying time too. Every second and every heartbeat is precious. Both ends loop around a single rung and click closed. The rung itself is a little loose from a bullet that blew it apart near the bottom, it’s got to be the loosest one. Hobi turns, and you see the pre-meditation in his eyes; he chose that one so that Jin could still get free if he tried hard enough.

Everyone is trying. Everyone is defiant. The quirk of Jin's eyes as he settles, staring with rage at the man, his voice a quiet croon when he says what might very well be the last words he ever speaks.

“Tae you can close your eyes honey, it’s okay.”

"No I can't" She struggles harder against his hold, but it only gets her part of her hair pulled out with how rough the man jerks her, tears clouding her vision. "I can't- don't- please-"

Tae's soul has always been butterfly soft and flower tender. She's not made for this. She's not made for murder or pain or anything that lacks softness. She's never been a killer; Jimin was always that side of their coin. Saint and sinner.

Your body goes cold and for a second, you think you just might pass out, especially when Hoseok grips your wrist. One final squeeze in what can only be goodbye before he steps away and in front of jin. Hair puffed up. Jin is lowering his eyes and no no no.

No.

Tae is staring at you, eyes wide and scared, but you watch in total powerlessness as her eyebrows lower. You see the moment Tae thinks it. Eyes meeting yours, lips mouthing something that you can’t read. Maybe I’m sorry no.

I love you. Sorry.

The truth is that Jimin drilled this with her years ago before she left for college and he couldn’t follow. When Jimin first realized that for the first time in their lives she’d be without him as a constant protector. Delicate delicate Tae with her delicate pink soul. So vulnerable to the world and all its wickedness.

Tae didn't confront him about it until the nightmares were waking him up regularly. They were simple nightmares back then; images of Tae hurt and mugged. Tae beaten and left in an alleyway. Tae stalked through the night. Simple, but enough to keep him awake. Enough to torture him in his wakon hours as well as the nighttime.

If Jimin saw her now he'd pull the heavens down and demand something truly awful in exchange. He'd take one of the knives from the kitchen and gut him from belly button to addams apple. He'd eviscerate him- and Namjoon might help.

Hut there is no one here to do any of that, there is only Tae in the man's hold.

“What are you so scared of?” She’d asked one morning, trailing endless patterns on his chest in an effort to soothe him back to sleep.

“Something happening to you while I’m not there, mostly.”

“Would it make you feel better? If you taught me the basics?”

Jimin's pause is telling, more telling are his eyes, hopeful when he looks up at Tae. “Yes, it would.”

It’s been years and years since Jimin Tae have bothered to drill any self-defense sequences it at all. Since he stopped asking her to refresh the basics with him once a year just to make sure. Jimin never thought that Tae would have to use those skills. Like with most things, you just sort of hope you don't have to fight.

But Tae knows you did fight. It's written all over your bloody face and your bloody hands, tightened to fists by your side. If you fought tooth and nail to save them she should fight too.

Tae has written fight scenes like this before. If she survives the press of the gun to the back of her head, she’s gonna have one hell of a personal experience to pull from for her book. The content will be endless.

She seems to swell in the space, alpha shoulders settling back. Her mouth is moving, mouthing words her eyes on you. Just in case this is the last thing she ever does.

I’m sorry, I love you.

“Be a good boy and pick up the gun Tae.” Tae bends down, syrupy slow. Intentional with her every movement. One heartbeat. Another. Tae's fingers are maybe an inch from the gun when everything goes haywire.

When she's about halfway bent she uses her momentum to hurl her body back, slamming her head into the gun and then into the man’s face. Cracking the mask and from the sound of it, the man’s nose. Tae's almost knocks herself out with the force of her own head colliding with the man’s face.

She turns, she’s not finished, not even close. She might be a woman but she’s an alpha too. Alphas always always fight to protect their pack. She turns and swings.

And drives her elbow as hard as she can between the alpha’s legs.

Hobi can’t stop his flinch. That has to hurt.

The assassin’s gun goes flying, skittering across the dark floor and under the bookcase and Hobi ends up lunging for it. You go after it too but you end up holding Tae instead, crumpling to the floor without anything to hold her up. She’s holding the back of her head, eyes watering.

The traditional mask lyes in pieces around you, shatered by the force of tae's headbut. The man clutches his nose, features still covered by the ski mast. Growling out- "Bitch- fucking bitch! I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill all of you-"

Jin struggles yanking his cuffed hands down as hard as he can- in another minute he might get loose, but not quick enough as Hobi finds the gun and raises it. The bullet hits the molding beside your pantry, missing the man by inches as he dives away to safety. A lucky shot by any standard, let alone for a beginner. Hobi shoots off after him. knocking into the wall before he's up and chasing it.

“Are you okay, Tae, Tae- look up at me.” Tae is clutching the back of her head. Blinking rabidly. That fucking hurt even if it was worth it.

“I’m fine just-” She leans over your legs and vomits, retching loud and horrible. Concussion- she must have given herself a concussion. Namjoon told you months ago how to read the signs of them shortly after the first time Jungkook ever had a seizure in front of you.

You hold her shoulders, watching Jin try and break himself free, yanking his wrists hard enough that it has to hurt. Moving to try and help him.

And then Hobi makes a noise in the other room, a pained ghasp, A thump and then-

Tae is already up and running, stumbling into the wall. You glance at Jin. "Go- just go" Jin grinds out. But Tae has longer legs than you do even concussed.

By the kitchen, Hobi slips on a fallen tangerine. (You remember then, Yoongi clearing the table with a brush of his hands for Jimin, tossing a whole bowl of them onto the floor. Where they've stayed since then) they're fighting, the man must have managed to disarm Hobi somehow because the gun sits under one of the chairs. Both of them are fighting just beside the dining room table. Part of it splintered and broken where someone broke it.

They're grappling on the floor now. Pushing against each other trying to gain the upper hand. you've watched the alpha's wrestle before- small disputes to settle and reaffirm the hierarchy, but you've never seen hobi move like this. You watch the man grasp at his waist reaching for the knife. His hands so slick with his own blood that it clatters to the floor. Hobi may not be trained but he's a fighter too. Gnashing his teeth and growling. Reaching up into the shallow gash at the mans throat and digging in his fingers.

And then he’s got Hobi on the ground and his hands around your alpha's throat. Tae tries to get him off but he backhands her, sending her sprawling to the ground and clutching her cheek. Too dizzy to stand. Big hands that squeeze and squeeze and squeeze Hobi's narrow throat. Spit at the corner of his lips turning frothy as hoseok tries to breathe and can't.

“I didn’t come this far to get killed by a bunch of family rejects; 11 years and 1458 kills later and I will not die. Just give up already- I didn’t come this far to-”

Hobi’s face is turning purple, hands scrabbling, pushing against his face trying to get him off unsuccessfully. Dying there on the floor. Hobi is going to die right there if you don't do anything.

Jin is shouting from the other room and there is a frying pan in the kitchen. On the countertop that you snatch on your way past, winding up for it before you swing it with all your might at the man's head and-

At the end of the day, it’s hard to say exactly what kills him. Whether it's you or Tae who wields the killing blow. It’s more of a group effort between you and her.

Tae has read countless books that described love as some gentle force, but this love has not made her gentle. Tae cannot sit there on the floor and watch Hobi die. She'd do anything to protect him and the pack. She’d kill people like Minnie did, would lie just as Jin had, would have sacrificed anything- even herself just like Yoongi.

Love had always been giving in Tae's mind, and she would give countless sins and untold violence, to have this not be the last day with you and the pack.

The gun is just sitting there under the chair. tae hardly has to lean over to get it. (If she makes it out of this alive, she swears to himself that she'll finally start taking those kickboxing classes that Jungkook teaches.) Tae lifts the gun at the same moment that your hand descends with the frying pan.

Tae turns, points, aims, and fires. She doesn’t even think twice about it. The trigger goes down as easily as breathing.

Getting shot in the throat definitely distracts him enough, definitely makes him let go of Hobi, clutching at his own throat instead of his. blood rushing over his hand and down onto hobi's face. So much that it almost splashes.

And then the frying pan hits his head with a hollow final thud.

There is a placid terror in things like this, a quiet as things go and come. The thumping, the sobbing breaths you let out, the descent of your hand, beating out your terror on the body below, a vessel for all of your fear.

The handle of the frying pan is thick and heavy in your hands. You bring it down on the man’s head, the curved edge of the cast iron connects with the plate of his skull with a hollow thud. One second, he's clutching at his blown-apart throat, and the next he goes limp, blood and brain matter splatters loud and heavy along the floor. Falling on top of Hobi like a lead weight.

Hobi's brown eyes are bloodshot and red in his mouth, heaving one big breath that sends the room spinning. Sends vertigo into his veins and panic-running adrenaline. You lift your arms up again and hit him, descending again and again.

His body is still, so still. His chest gives one open shudder and then goes truly quiet. Frozen in time. You are covered in blood, in your mouth, on your hair, on the ceiling. More and more splatters as your hand goes up and then down in an endless loop.

Dark cotton soaks, matted with blood and brain matter, blurry from your tears. A bit of it hits your face, wet and stinky. People never tell you how horrible it smells when people die.

You don’t stop hitting the man, even when it's clear he's dead. Even when you glare down at him through the tears in your eyes and see half a face staring up at you. An eyeball rolls across the floor.

There are arms around you pulling you off of him eventually. Dry warm arms, big and heavenly. One wrist dangles with a pair of handcuffs as Jin yanks you back from the man. The body.

“Pup- It’s done, pup- he's gone- Stop.”

There is blood all over you. On your face, on your hands, around the frying pan. Tae too, sitting just beside you. Half of her body splattered. Hobi's soaked with it and still struggling to breathe. But both of them, the three of them are alive.

“It’s over pup.” Jin sounds like he might be crying. Tae definitely is.

Hobi puts his head between his knees, gasping for every breath but still breathing. Tae's got him in his lap. Holding on to him as he splutters. face so soaked with blood he can't open his eyes without blinking rapidly.

It’s anything but over you think as you let go of the handle of the frying pan.

It clatters to the ground with a bloody and final thunk.

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog! Every bit of encouragement helps me write the next chapter!

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

~-~

Notes:

if the beginning of the chapter feels weird/different in terms of narration that is because it was mostly written 3+ years ago and my writing style has changed alot! kinda crazy! hopefully people will just attribute it to hoseok's internal monologue. it might be meandering but i kept reminding myself that this is hoseok at his lowest you know?

One thing i want you guys to realize is that the m/c may not be smart, but holy fuck can she take a beating and still get up.

Gun shoot outs are uniquely hard to write because like, just bang and it's done right? idk why part of this writing just felt so tedious usually i love writing stuff like this :(

hobi calls the m/c his girlfriend 🥺 did you guys notice???? he's such a cute pup charecter.

i have more notes for this chapter BUT i can't share them until the next one is out because it involves hobi's secret.

i hope you guys see like- how good the m/c actually is at the crime and thinking on her feet shit- i think that this chapter above all others shows her street smarts. she knows to keep the guy talking and distracted- i think it compliments her similarities to jimin and jin like. the trio of them are very capable people you know? vs hobi who just headlong rushes the assassin and fucks shit up. i'm not saying it's his fault- he does the best that he can in this chapter.

I'm trying to pull from my actual knowledge of how guns work but fun fact, silencers are still fucking loud, like still so loud that you need ear protection. and even blank bullets can still cause serious injury at close range.

I'm again at the stage where i can't tell if the gun shooting scene is clunky and too predictable or if it's actually as creepy as i've made it out to be.

This is one of those situations- the bargaining for each others lives, that i've actually never had to handle. it's actually pretty unusual for me to write about things that i haven't experienced in some way shape or form.

i've only written a few scenes in my life that have made me wonder like "huh- i wonder if people might actually think that i've seen a dead body, been around a dead body, or killed someone before?" and ngl, the scene with the assassin dying is one that makes me wonder that... i promise i just have a scarily vivid imagination.

#bts fanfic #bts mafia au #bts omegaverse au #bts polyamory au #bts x reader #bts poly au #bts werewolf fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts hurt/comfort #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #omega! reader #bts a/b/o au #bts a/b/o #bts gang au #bts au #bts werewolf au #bts angst bts omegaverse fic #bts hybrid fic #kim namjoon fic #kim seokjin fic #kim taehyung fic #park jimin fic #jeon jungkook fic #jjk #pjm #myg

[caassette]

been on tumblr less than a week and already Trans Discourse is on my timeline front page dash...

idk i kind of just feel like...there are actual real threats right now in the world to all trans people, and like. trying to create in-groups and out-groups within the community is the most braindead thing you can do

they are killing us. they want us dead. any time you try to segregate one fraction of the queer community from another, their job gets a little easier. let me give you an example that happened recently in Texas while I was living there:

June 2022: Log Cabin Republican Praises Trump, "Don't Say Gay", Trans Hate

Also June 2022: Texas GOP's New Platform calls gay people "abnormal"

Log Cabin Republicans are essentially gay conservatives. And as part of trying to be accepted, under Trump, they decided trans people were the out-group and that gay people (specifically, white cisgender gay men) were the in-group.

If I had to guess, they probably figured so long as they also pointed the finger at us and called us groomers and said we were fetishists, they would be more accepted in the republican party.

Guess what happened? Not that! Instead, the Texas GOP, in 2022 (Two Thousand And Twenty Two) decided that being gay was once again Not Okay!

This is what I'm getting at: in queer spaces, always, always, there must be solidarity. There is no such thing as someone who is "not gay enough", or "not really trans", or "just looking for attention."

I, myself, am a binary trans woman. My current partner is a genderfluid transmasculine nonbinary person. Do I spend hours talking with them about how they do or don't face certain forms of oppression, or about how their identity is less valid than mine?

Of course not! We kiss and hold hands and fuck and have empathy for each other.

As a queer person it is YOUR RESPONSIBILITY to be one hundred percent accepting, validating, and encouraging of ALL QUEERNESS, because the second you decide to draw the line, the oppressor wins.

Maybe you're not a Log Cabin Republican. Maybe you're not advocating for trans genocide while being in a same-sex relationship. Maybe you just, idk, use the word "theyfab." Or you think pansexuals should "just call themselves bi."

It doesn't matter that the line you've drawn is farther left, or smaller, or excludes less of the community.

What matters is that you've drawn it at all.

#discourse #transmisandry #lgbtqia #inclusivity

[befemininenow]

This is who you really are and you're ready to move forward with your true interests. (P.S. If you're a trans girl and are struggling to accept your shifting interest in men, this may be for you. However, this is not meant to be a "sissy caption". I don't like doing that kind of shit.)

Late Flashback Friday post... posted on a Sunday. Anyways, I had this caption finished just today and I wanted to post it for a reason: straight trans women exist. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be much acknowledgement to them either because they are outnumbered by trans girls of other sexualities or because straight trans girls assimilate with the rest of society. The latter reason isn't without problems either as they also face sexism and transphobia from cisgender men who view them as "crossdressers", "traps", or "sissies"*. Then, there's the chasers who only go out with them to fulfill their "dirty little secret".

As of me writing this, I'm so glad there's a subreddit of straight trans girls who support one another and talk about their problems and solutions as embracing your shifting sexuality and interests can be challenging for anyone transitioning. The caption here isn't meant to persuade you into a straight girl who lusts for men. It's meant to support those trans girls who are realizing they're only attracted to men, but are afraid to accept their change. If your sexuality suddenly shifts, don't be afraid to accept it. Try it out and find out if it feels so right for you. It's part of your journey of transitioning into a woman. At the end of the day, straight trans women are also women and should be respected as such.

*P.S. To the sissies viewing this caption and reading this post, you are welcome to like this post and reblog it if your like. However, I ask you to please refrain from using hashtags like "feminine sissy", "faggot sissy". "cocksucker sissy" or whatever explicit tags you guys use to share with other blogs. Straight trans girls are not gay or lesbians, much less a sissy. They do not automatically turn into girls after having action with men. They have always been women inside.

[stinkysam]

Vinsmoke Sanji - Oh boy.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "Sanji falling for an ftm „he / they“ reader and feeling conflicted not only because that’s the first time he ever realized he liked a guy but also because he never even FLIRTED with a guy (...) And all in all just being awkward and waaaaay overthinking this just because he’s very much a confused newly discovered bisexual as well as „first time trans ally“ and is trying his best. Extra points: Reader immediatly knows what’s up and is just like „lol. : )“ because he thinks Sanjis awkward fumbling is adorable, before he puts Sanji out of his misery and goes „I like you. Wanna go out on a date sometimes?“" - anon

Reader : male (he/they/you)

A/N : Part TWO

Sanji likes women.

That's a fact everyone knows.

Or thought they knew.

So you can guess his surprises when he realizes his feelings for you ; a man. Not believing he could think such things with you !

Why is he caring who you're looking at ? Or why does he suddenly care about the way your eyes shine ? Or how you smile and how cute it is ? Why does his heart beat faster each time you compliment his cooking, your hand gently resting on his chest ? You could probably feel the way it was pounding under your palm.

He goes through a small stage of denial. And thinks he's being an asshole because he still sees you as a woman. Which he doesn't but his feelings make him think he's being transphobic and he absolutely hates it.

Because you're a man and he sees you as such. So when he finally realizes he's not transphobic but just bi he relaxes a bit.

And now he's scared. Because what if you don't feel the same ? Right ?

Or worse ? What if you think what he thought ? That he's being a transphobe and still seeing you as a woman ? What if he starts flirting and you see it disrespectful ?

Wait, how does he even flirt with a man ?

He doesn't know how to do it with any man, or with you, for that matter. You don't flirt with a man the same way you flirt with a lady. Right ?

Would you like to be called handsome ? Or perhaps pretty ? Or is pretty too feminine and you'd prefer handsome ? Or maybe you don't mind and like both ? Would you like flowers ? He wouldn't mind receiving them so maybe you wouldn't mind either ?

God, why is it so hard flirting with a man ?

He's really uncertain so he prefers to start with compliments. Your clothing, your hairstyle, your fighting…

He wants to start small in hope you see it as him being serious with you.

When he eventually starts flirting he's still really shy and unsure, fumbling on his words and stuttering.

The sentence he had prepared for you leaves his brain the second he opens his mouth.

But then !? You flirted back ?! You winked at him and invited him for dinner at a restaurant on the island you stopped at ?!

W h a t ! ?

He feels his heart burst in his chest. Just simply exploding. BOOM.

He's at a loss for words as he tries to smile. How does one smile by the way ? He's so happy he forgot. He's so sheepish he almost doesn't answer, giggling a little before finally accepting your offer.

Suddenly he's hoping he didn't read it wrong and you really flirted back.

"No, because, they could've invited me to be nice. Or maybe he also invited the others as well ? What if it's just not us two and I come with flowers like a fool ? I have to ask them. But will I look stupid if I do so ? …" He thought to himself.

"Um, just to make sure we're on the same page, [Name], it's a uh… d-"

"Date, yeah. Tomorrow night." You say with a small smile, slightly proud of yourself as you look into his eyes.

You swear you could see the way the air got stuck in his throat as he stopped breathing.

"Okay." He started, still sheepish. "Good." And with that he turns around and leaves. He doesn't know where he's going but he's definitely going somewhere. He needs a walk to calm down anyway.

Not that the food was bad the other times but you ate extra good this evening. You had plenty of choice and even Luffy didn't know where to start.

#male reader #m!reader #ftm!reader #trans reader #one piece imagine #one piece #one piece x male reader #one piece live action #opla imagine #opla x male reader #opla sanji #opla #sanji x reader #sanji x male reader #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x male reader #vinsmoke sanji imagine

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my (36F she/her) girlfriend (32F she/they) to be out at work if she wants to become myanager ?

It's messy and complicated. I love my girlfriend very much and ultimately I think we are in a shitty situation with no real win and we have a different opinions on how to lose.

I am a polyamorous lesbian. I have a wife but I also sometimes have other secondary partners, and my wife does too.

I am happy to work in a place safe enough that I am out at work (about the lesbian part, not the polyamory part). My wife often comes at afterwork events and because she is a sweetheart, is loved by most of my colleagues.

I have been at this job for 4 years, that's how I met this colleague, Angel. This person looked familiar but I couldn't put my finger on it. We talked, grew a bit closer then I met them again outside of work, at a queer event of my city. This time I recognized them. Angel is trans, non binary and fem presenting, at work she is not out and present herself as a cis heterosexual man. We talked, I obviously swore to keep it a secret but knowing this part of her helped us growing even closer together. We have now been dating for 3 years.

Angel has a longtime girlfriend (childhood sweethearts even) as her primary relationship. Let's call her Valentine. Valentine is working in the same industry but not in the same company. Because it's a niche field, everyone knows everyone and we often meet at work events. I also like her very much and we are good friends. Val is terrified to be out as polyamori at work because she is afraid of what the gossip will do to her work reputation. Valentine has a more public facing role than Angel and I and I absolutely respect her desire to protect what she has.

Even if it doesn't look like it, I do like too to keep private and professional life separated… Angel and I mostly connected outside of the workplace at queer events and are also both deeply involved in the drag scene and the queer political scene of our city. We never flirted at work and have even never stole a kiss on workground. We just happened to fall in love anyway even if we recognized the situation was less than ideal.

Our company has been through a lot of changes recently. My teamleader is leaving and Angel(that previously worked in another department) has been asked if she wants the role.

She does.

I have more experience than her even if she has more seniority with the company. I have been pretty open about wanting a senior expert position rather than managerial one and that's why I have not been offered the role. I am really happy for her and think she will be a great manager and recognize it's a great opportunity.

But I don't want her to be My manager. It's a really dangerous position to have over a romantic partner and she recognizes that. Moreover even if we managed to keep our relationship a secret until now, we know it's a precarious position. If our secret would be revealed while she IS my manager it could be terrible for us. She could be accused of taking advantage of me, or me to want to sleep my way through the top. Keep also in mind that she is male presenting at work and I am publicly a lesbian so yeah… We are also in very committed relationship which is another mess… It would not look good for us should we be forcibly out…

That's why I want to go to HR while her candidacy is being studied and explains the whole thing or at least some of them. I don't want to leave my team because my mentor is there and not a lot of people are doing what we do but maybe we could sort something out together? I would agree for Angel to be the team leader if I have a separate manager… Or maybe Angel could be the leader of another team ? Or I could become a more independent team member ? Angel and I are publicly work best friends so it would made sense anyway for me to have a different manager to keep things more fair.

Angel doesn't want to, and Valentine is absolutely against it. Angel thinks it will ruin her chance at the position. Maybe want to sort things out After she has been offered the job, maybe try to work out how we would work at manager/managee for some time before calling HR. I would not be against waiting for a real offer but listening her talk, I am afraid she intends to push things forever. Angel is afraid HR will reveal our secret to everyone. I recognize our HR team is not the best and even gossipy but it's about really private and protected things (in my country) : our sexual orientation and sexual identities. We also have a very good Union (with queer delegates) and even if I am unsure about HR, I am sure the union will remember them the law protecting us here and will ultimately behave appropriately. But I recognized it's a risk.

I want to break things of with Angel if she doesn't want to go to HR. My wife says it's mean and manipulative to use this kind of ultimatum. The way I see it I am just protecting myself. Angel is putting her job before our relationship and I am OK with that, she is also priorizing Valentine's needs (as she should) but in this case, I should be allowed to do the same and protect myself and my job. From my point of view, Angel could : refuse the position, go to HR, or accept the breakup.

AITA for this ultimatum ? Valentine thinks I am. Angel is confused. My wife disapproves but loves me to much to call me an asshole.

#aita #am i the asshole

[rorschachisgay]

i wish there was some nuance between "everyone has to love the word queer" and "if you don't like it you are a terf automatically". because the reality is i don't identify with the word queer and i never have. as a kid i was aware of it as a slur and as a teenager i started to understand it in an academic concept first (as in Queer Theory) but i didn't identify with it because in my mind it was like, a clinical, academic word. and then later as i got older it became an increasingly prevalent point of conflict around me.

im not arguing that terfs dont dislike queer as a group term, though speaking from a british perspective the majority of them here are very focused on removing the T from LGBT over arguing about queer as a term at all, so it doesnt really feel like a particularly important form of conflict over what is a very targeted erasure of trans identity Specifically.

and thats kind of partially why i struggle to identify with the term Queer. it is not specific. it does not describe or capture my identity. lately i have found much more identity in words like fag, faggot, transexual, which do relate directly to my specific identities and have a very long history in the community. and additionally, won't get fuckin sold back to me by coke.

like that's really all Queer feels like to me now, something that has now been packaged up as an easily marketable buzzword to be printed on t-shirts at Primark or used meaninglessly by Disney to pretend they care. it does not refer to the aspects of my identity that matter to me, it's not something that i ever claimed for myself, and now i am continually getting told that if i don't identify with it im bigoted against myself and my siblings.

"queer was reclaimed by everyone, it was reclaimed in the 80s". i actually don't feel like someone else gets to decide this for me? im not going to lie and pretend it was never used as part of the campaign for equality for decades and decades, it obviously has a crucial place in history, but now in popular culture it has become like. ubiquitous.

like ive said before i think words like fag and dyke can be used in a way that reflects our communal family and is a sign of camaraderie and that's also true of queer, but with those words it's extremely understandable when someone isn't comfortable with them and when someone doesn't want to identify with queer it's treated as a sign they're in the wrong.

idk this is so far from being a crucial issue it's barely worth talking about but i just really struggle with being told that i am in the wrong because i have my own complicated feelings about a word with a complicated history. in the grand scheme of things it's NOT that important but it does grate on my nerves to be told that theres zero room for any kind of debate or alternate opinion in this. like i just wish we didn't have to be so black and white as if the issue has no grey area or room for personal expression at all.

[bumblequinn]

on a more personal note: death grips were and are a pretty major source of inspiration for my own music. not in the sense of "i like this sound so i'm going to ape it," but in the sense of "oh i can get this weird with it if i really want to."

a decent chunk of the music in SLARPG would have been a lot more restrained and self-conscious if it weren't all the death gripses out there. sophie, knower, joanna wang, wednesday campanella, KKB, lemon demon... these artists and countless others helped to show me that it's okay and even extremely cool to get weird with it.

i'm reminded of this comment on one of my tracks in particular:

and look, part of me thinks this is more or less harmless, right? i even pinned it, because it made me chuckle. it's all in good fun! (seriously, don't go causing any trouble over a comment like this. i do not condone that kind of harassment.)

and yet - if i stop to think about it a second longer, i start to ask: what is this kind of joke really saying? "this sucks." "turn that shit off." and... i dunno, that feels bad, you know? i was bouncing in my seat grooving to that track when i was making it. i like what i made. that's why i made it.

every time i make music, i'm making something i want to hear but that doesn't exist yet. i'm incredibly, stupidly lucky that i get to do that, and that other people connect with it. but when the end result of that effort is a "joke" like "this is so weird omg, put something normal on," well...

even as a joke that's enough to make me second guess myself the next time i make music. it's enough to make me change the preview track for the album to something a bit tamer so i don't "scare off" first-time listeners. that feels like capitulating, and capitulating is the opposite of authentic self expression.

i have much, much weirder, more difficult and challenging ideas that i have yet to explore and put out there because i already feel like enough of a pariah just as a trans woman in the world.

i'd like to find the inner courage and esteem to create that art without softening its edges, trying to appease, or apologizing for myself. i think i'll get there. i'm already closer than i used to be. but seeing more people respect weird art, rather than quip about about its strangeness, would be a start. a girl can dream.

#ok that's all #bird words