#but with 'The men who want to invade your safe spaces will never see this but the he/him butch and other queer people who are otherwise

[jemandrr]

accidentally browsing a (very niche) female-dominated gaming space and seeing people TEAR into people who want an option to change the player character's pronouns to he/him or they/them without changing anything else because it'd invite men to invade a safe space. For a game purely about dating men. Like, I've been through plenty of female-dominated spaces where queer people and similar-interest straight men are welcome (in this case it'd be bi men but yknow), so it's just this one community, but jeez. The amount of fear that anyone who isn't explicitly a femme female would come in and A. hit on the faceless women there or B. taint the game by making the devs add designs of men who they don't want to date?

I got such a strong terf-y rhetoric from that community, like we can't have anything in common with people who aren't like us going on. All about taking 'our' things. And a lot of people contradicting one other but not trying to find out what the truth is because they have the same conclusion. Like two people saying A>B or B>A and no argument arises and no one shows interest in which is true because both people conclude C.

A lot of people even saying that, likewise, things that appeal to female or queer audiences should NOT be added to mainstream media just like queer content should not be added to female-oriented media. These hard walls around what belongs to who is like...they were raised by toy companies or something.

Like what is (paraphrasing so it isnt searchble) "I would never come into a male dominated community because I feel like I would be invading their safe space, so I don't get why men would want to come here and talk about liking men." At least the people who are scared of sexual abuse are warranted, I've seen tons of abusive language towards people they think are women in male dominated online spaces, but what is this fear of even...sharing interests with men? I know we've been in a new era of gender role enforcement with the tradfem movement, but jeez. And as for these last two points, they both are ones that were contradicted. People also said they do believe in diversity BUT just *this* shouldn't count.

Some people even said it's not fair that they get pushed to be more inclusive when mainstream media never does. Which makes me wonder if they're so deep in their niche 'I only experience content made by and for exclusively straight women' content that they haven't noticed any of the movements in media going on over the last 1.5 decades. Like it's true that we haven't made that much progress, but how do they think that no media gets pressed to increase diversity? The more rigid/right-leaning male audiences of tons of media have been complaining about forced diversity for years in exactly the same way (and sometimes, when it really WAS forced diversity, everyone complains because it's not representing anyone really but yknow). But I guess they wouldn't know that if all of them avoid mainstream media?

Also...what is the fear that gay men like men in a 'wrong' way...(and again, the unargued contradiction being plenty of people saying that they also like media about gay characters, but just they shouldn't make these characters gay)

And like I do get it, in the sense that being marginalized makes you skeptical and fearful of things you don't understand in its own separate way from how being in a privileged class makes you skeptical and fearful of things you don't understand. There's a lot more fear of exploring things different and new because the possible retribution feels/has been higher.

Honestly, this post isn't actually about a couple hundred to low-thousand women in a small community for niche games. Not like, I think it's important, I want to actively make them change. It's not that big a deal, not that surprising in the grand scheme. It's similar rhetoric to things i've seen before (Tradfem/terf). I've seen screenshots of, like, facebook mom groups before. And I've seen way bigger communities be way more open and welcoming, it's just a little outlier.

I'm just writing this because I'm a bit shellshocked because I forget how much that those kinds of people are not just the older, tech-illiterate generations, and not just shallow influencers who will say anything for the clicks (or because someone behind the scenes is funding it), their views behind the camera up in the air. Like I think I cultivate the people I interact with a bit too well. Too many of the people I actually interact with or witness the thoughts of regularly are queer and have flitting relationships with gender and then I remember the other side of the coin has people who think they're being progressive by suggesting that everyone who is different be segregated and therefore safe from each other with no room for intersectionality.

#for the record in other communities talking about the same game i saw several people sharing tips for making androgynous or slightly butch #characters which is the wholesomeness on the other side #ranting into the void #is this one of those situations of like #'the celebrity you call ugly will never see this but the person you know who shares those features will?' #but with 'The men who want to invade your safe spaces will never see this but the he/him butch and other queer people who are otherwise #generally your advocates in political and social spaces will' #also ngl being gay admittedly does make this so much easier #but i cannot imagine having the idea that #categorically #'you and your partner cannot have any interests in common' but so many do #And honestly I would have trouble believing that any women who says they're scared ofplaying or discussing a videogame #with a gnc or gay person- would say that irl they're not a terf and they would let gnc and trans people into the same public bathroom #like i can believe it because people hold lots of contradictory ideas but #if more than 20% of them said it i would think that was legitimately virtue signalling #because while i think trans panic is waaaaay less common than the media thinks #inside a community with those beliefs when they can talk anonymo usly #itd be a tough sell for me. I have to imagine most of those women are the kind who would find out their partner was bi #and start feeling uncomfortable about the state of their relationship- with the way they talk about how men can't enjoy female things like #dating men and such #ALSO there are more women than men #wtf do you mean mainstream media is only for straight men #straight adult men is #like 30-odd percent of the us tops #they got more purchasing power cus of sexism and homophobia and so on but #its so self defeating to think of mainstream media as exclusively the purview of straight men

[myosotisa]

Hiding Lately - s.h. & e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader x Steve Harrington

‖  summary: You've been hurting and hiding. Steve and Eddie come over to check on you and offer to help.

‖  tags: hurt/comfort. depictions of depression, a depressive episode, and anxiety. suicidal ideations. she/her pronouns, no y/n, nicknames are sweetheart, baby, angel, and doll. could be read as platonic or romantic.

‖  word count: 2.1k

The knock on your apartment door had never felt more damning than it did in that moment.

A knock on the front door was always a nightmare for someone who struggled with their mental health but that was on good days. Today, a knock on the door was definitely not something you were prepared to handle.

So you ignored it. Pulled your covers even further up over your head and hoped that whoever it was would just go away.

No such luck.

You hear the muffled sound of the deadbolt turning and then the seal of the door breaking as it inches open. “Hellooooo?” Is the familiar echo out into the empty space of your place. “Anybody home?”

“She’s gotta be here, her car is out front.”

Fuck it’s both of them. Every hope you had of just hiding and Eddie leaving got thrown out the window the moment you heard Steve was with him. On their own, either might be disheartened by no response – decide they were invading your privacy and leave before venturing too far inside.

Together, encouraging each other, it’s only a matter of minutes before they knock at your bedroom door.

Your pigsty of a bedroom that is covered in dirty clothes and dishes and probably smells weird and they can’t see–

“Don’t come in,” you rasp from your bed, voice tired from disuse as you break your silence for the first time in who knows how long.

“Sweetheart, where have you been?” Steve’s voice comes through the door, obviously right outside it. “We've been calling and calling for days.”

“I… I’ve been sick.”

“Sick? Why didn’t you say something, angel? Could’ve brought you some soup or something,” Eddie adds, sounding concerned. You can clearly picture the wrinkle between his eyebrows.

Eyes closing from their stare at the ceiling, you take a deep breath to force down the sickness that is threatening to rise with every lie that leaves your mouth. “I’m contagious. Don’t want to get you sick.”

“Oh, come on. We’re big strong men, right Harrington? We can fend off a little stomach bug, no problem.”

“Super human immune system, baby,” Steve confirms, and you can hear the smile on his face. It nearly breaks your heart. “No chance you’ll give us anything. So can we come in?”

“No!”

Neither of them say a word after your quick and forceful denial, leaving it to feel like it’s echoing out around the room and grating back into your own eardrums. Just to get it to stop, you softly add, “Please don’t.”

While you’re worried it might’ve been too soft for them to hear, you’re proven wrong by Steve saying, “Then will you come out here?” It’s a soft plea, warm and velvety in its concern and compassion, and it feels like a knife in the chest. “Tell us what’s really going on?”

There’s no way to get out of this. You haven’t showered in days, you probably smell rough and look even worse. You’ve been wearing the same sweatpants and hoodie for a week. And you’re going to have to open your door and face your two closest friends like this.

If you don’t go out there, they will come in here. And that’s too much, it’s safe in here, they can’t come in here–

“Okay, okay. I’m… Just gimme a minute.”

“Take your time, we’ll go hang out on the couch,” you hear one set of footsteps away from your door after Steve’s confirmation.

“Not too long though,” Eddie teases, “I’m gonna raid your fridge and eat all of it if you don’t stop me.”

The threat means nothing as he walks away too. There’s nothing in your fridge left that’s edible.

Anxiety from them being here and wanting them to be gone is enough to get you out of bed for the first time today, picking through the remaining pile of clean clothes to find a different pair of sweatpants and a top that isn’t as marinated in body as your current set, slapping on some deodorant and changing your underwear at the same time. You do the bare minimum to make your hair look less like a greasy, horrible mess and gargle some mouthwash because it’s easier than trying to brush your teeth. This already feels like so, so much effort and you haven’t even faced them yet.

This shouldn’t be this hard. Why the fuck is being a normal human being so hard for you? What is wrong with you–

As soon as you’ve even cracked the door open, their murmuring to each other stops and they turn toward you, looking small and unsure in your doorway. Two pairs of brown eyes staring holes into you, seeing right through you, and it feels so fucking painful that you want to just slam the door shut again. They’re looking at you so softly, with so much warmth and openness. 

Because they pity you.

“What do you want?” Your voice is colder and softer than you meant it to be, not moving from your spot that blocks the view of your room from them. You could step out into the living room and close the door behind you to hide your shame, but leaving the safety of your bedroom isn’t something you’re willing to do yet.

“Your fridge is empty.” Eddie’s voice is as soft as yours but the corners of his mouth are turned down in a small frown. “The dishes in your sink have started to smell. Your trashcan and your mailbox are both overflowing.”

Shame and embarrassment presses hot behind your eyes, looking down at your feet. “If you’re just here to point out everything that’s wrong, you can get the fuck out of–”

“Sweetheart.” Steve cuts you off, not cruelly but enough to make you stop anyway. “When’s the last time you ate anything?”

Your heart drops into your stomach when he slowly stands, starting to slowly walk toward you like you’re a skittish animal. “I dunno… I’m not hungry.”

“Shit,” Eddie mutters from the couch, head falling to look at his clasped hands as he leans forward on his elbows.

“When’s the last time you showered? Left your apartment?” Steve continues, looking like his heart is breaking.

“Steve…” You whisper, a croak in your voice again while you shake your head at him. “Please, don’t… Don’t make me answer that.”

Eddie’s head raises again, drawing your attention. He looks just as heart broken as Steve. “Why didn’t you say anything, doll?”

A humorless laugh leaves you, sounding more like a choked gasp. “What the fuck was I supposed to say, huh? ‘Hey, sorry guys, I can’t even get myself to go to the fucking grocery store like a normal human being, can you help?’”

“Yeah,” he answers, sounding almost angry, shaggy hair falling off his shoulders when he nods, “for a start.”

“Eddie.” Steve looks back at him sharply, giving him a warning look that makes him soften again. When he looks back to you, still a safe few feet away, he asks, “What happened, sweetheart? What’s got you…?”

“Hurting?” Eddie offers when the other falters, pushing off his knees to stand as well.

“It’s just…” Your voice cracks, tears you haven’t been able to find in days suddenly pushing at your eyes without warning. You squeeze them closed as your breath catches to try and stop them.

What are you gonna tell them? ‘Oh everything’s so hard.’ Just tell them you’re a fucking child who can’t handle being alive? Might as well push them out the door now–

“Hey,” Steve’s soft voice interrupts your mental berating, taking another few steps closer. “It’s okay. You can tell us anything.”

“No judgement,” Eddie adds, an echo of one of the first things you said to him when the two of you met. It’s been a constant in the relationship you have with both of them. Anything any of you say – no matter how stupid, or fucked up, or wrong – no judgement. Maybe some teasing, depending on how stupid. But they’ve never judged you for anything and there is no reason for them to start now.

But this? Trusting someone, opening up to someone, letting someone in about this? The idea is terrifying.

“Everything’s just…” You trail off again, looking off and down the hallway away from them as you bring your arms up in a sort of hug for yourself. “It’s all just a lot, right now.”

“Will you…” Eddie shoves his hands into his pockets as he kicks out his boot like he’s kicking a rock. “Will you let us help you?”

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish the sentence. “I– I can’t ask you to do that.”

Steve’s fingertips brush your elbow, the first human touch you’ve had in longer than you can remember, and it has your head whipping toward him. “You’re not asking. We're offering.”

Hot tears increase the pressure in your head, now starting to pool at the bottoms of your eyes as you struggle to make eye contact with either of them.  “I don’t even know how you could help. It’s just… I can’t…”

I want to curl into a ball on the floor and wait to die–

“How about this,” Eddie walks up, moving to rest his shoulder on the wall beside the door frame you still occupy. “I’m gonna run to the store and stock up, plus grab us all something to eat on the way back.”

You open your mouth to protest but he holds up his hand, “Ah, ah, ah.” It’s enough scolding to close your lips again in a tight line before he points at Steve. “Mr. Mom here can get started on cleaning up the kitchen so it’s nice and easy to cook in. And you tell us what you want to do.”

Your teary eyes finally look back and forth between them, begging for an answer – for them to put you out of your misery for even just a moment. “I can give you a couple of options to choose from, if that would help?” Steve offers, fingertips still lightly resting on your elbow.

Door 3, door 3, door 3, every bone in my body wants to get back in bed and never get up–

Squeezing your eyes shut, both to let some of the tears fall and to push back the shame that wants to explode out of your mouth, you give him a stuttered nod of your head. “Okay. Door #1: While we do that, you go and try to take a shower.” The immediate pain must show on your face, because he quickly moves on.

“Door #2: You come out here and lay on the couch while I start to clean up. You can take a nap, or we can talk, or we can listen to music – whatever you want. And Door #3, you go back and curl up in bed and we come back to get you when Eddie has some food for us.”

A shaky breath in and out, you open your eyes to look at them. Eddie’s face is forced casual while Steve offers a small and supportive smile. You know they wouldn’t judge you if you picked Door #3 and got back into bed. If you went back to the indent you’ve most likely made from all the hours and hours spent in the same spot. But you want to try. Even if it’s just a little bit. Even if you end up back in bed right after anyway.

“If… If I pick Door #2,” Eddie’s mouth tilts up slightly and Steve’s eyebrows raise in interest, “then can I have a hug?”

“Oh angel,” Eddie presses a hand to his chest, right over his heart. “If you thought you were going to get away without a hug in any of those options, you’re sorely mistaken.”

You exhale a small laugh out of your nose, a teary smile on your face as they both step up to sandwich you between them in a tight hug. Eddie’s face presses to your ear, curly hair tickling your nose as he rests his mouth on your shoulder. Steve settles higher, resting his cheek on the side of your head as he tucks you closer to his chest. Both boys are warm, solid, and alive on either side of you – almost crushing you with the force of the embrace. But it’s the best crush you’ve ever felt, one that tells you that you’re alive and that someone cares. It makes the tears come through faster, falling down your cheeks with more force as you shudder in a breath.

Steve presses a kiss to your temple, squeezing you just a little bit tighter. “We’re here for you, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s hand fists in the back of your shirt, forcing you an inch closer. “As long as you need us. Not going anywhere.”

-

now I live in a place that feels smaller by the day four walls closing in from months spent inside them there is too much grief packed into this small place packed into this bed with unchanged sheets packed between these ribs that somehow are still unbroken and no one has ever been here not in this space, not in this bed, not between these ribs they are too full of my own grief for there to be any space

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thanks for reading. please reblog and leave a reaction if you liked it, they make my day.

#steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington fluff #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #steddie x you #steddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myos ideas #myo4munson #myo4harrington

[atiny-desire]

Shining Armor

Pairing: Knight! Jongho x fem! reader

Summary: Your village gets attacked in the middle of the night. Unlucky for you, Jongho decides to take you with him.

Word count: 2.2k

Disclaimer: I'm in no way condoning, justifying, encouraging nor promoting this kind of behavior. This is not supposed to represent Jongho in any way.

Warning: kidnapping, blood, murder, pillaging, a little bit of physical violence against the reader

◇◇◇

It was the middle of the night when you were woken up by the sound of snorting horses and their hooves that stomped over the gravel path of your village. The voices of men mixed together with the noises of the horses. You sat up in your bed, your heart was hammering against your ribcage. A group of men showing up in the middle of the night was never a good sign, especially in times of war.

As quiet as possible, you sneaked into the living area of the house. Your parents were already standing there together and peaked out of a small gap of the shutters. Your father turned his head when he heard you approach and then looked back at your mother. "You two, go hide, I'll deal with anyone who comes in." He tried to guide you both to a somewhat safe spit, but it was already too late.

The door of your small home swung open, and three men invaded your family's living space. One of the three stood out especially. His armor was pitch black, while the metallic armor of the other two were silver. The only thing they had in common was the blazon of the neighboring kindom on the right side of their chest. "One more move, and your heads are going to roll." The man in the black armored spoke before ordering the two men by his side to search the house for valuables and money. Your parents stood in front of you, trying to hide you away from the strangers eyes.

"Get out of my home!" Your father barked at the intruders, but the three of them were unimpressed by his order, they didn't even bother to turn their heads and just continued looting. It took just one stern glance from the black armored warrior to make anyone freeze up, including your Dad.

Their metallic armor was rustling while they moved around. You kept your eyes on the man who was still standing in the doorway. His hand was resting on the hilt of his sword while he made sure that his men didn't miss a single nook or cranny. From outside, you started to hear screams of women and men alike. From the gap between the shutters, you could see the neighboring house. The thatched roof was currently going up into bright red flames. The dry material was easy feeding material for the fire to grow.

You turned your attention back to the men in your home. The tension was unbearable. The three of you hoped that they would just take what they wanted and leave again. At first, it looked like you were one of the lucky few who would get away, as the men finished plundering your home and moved to leave. The two men left first, and the man in black armor was about to follow before he turned around again. His gaze traveled over your small family before his eyes caught you through a small gap between your parents' bodies. His eyes narrowed at your parents before piercing right through you. "I'm taking the girl with me." It wasn't a question. It wasn't a request. It was a fact, an order.

Your mother's gaze turned fearful, she quickly searched for eye contact with your father, but he wasn't even looking at her. Your father had puffed his chest out and protectively stood before you and your mother. He might have let this man silence him, but he wouldn't give up his family without a fight. Anger burned in his gaze, with which he fixated the intruder. "You already took everything we have. Leave my home, now!"

The warrior grimaced his face, his eyes were cold, and his stance unwavering he was looking at your father like he did when he looked at bugs he was about to squish between his fingers A few unlucky ladybugs had already shared this fate. Deserved, as he would say, because how dare them stain his flawless armor with their red color? The only color he allowed was the red blood he drew from his enemies.

You had never seen brown eyes that managed to look so cold, to the point your whole body began to shiver. "Took what exactly?" He spat out with as much disdained as he could muster. It was his mission to show everyone in his way how little he thought of them. His hand that was previously just resting on the hilt of his sword now gripped it instead, ready to draw if he had to. "There's barely anything in this shithole. Do you think that's going to satisfy anyone?"

The warrior puffed out his chest just like your father did, but his heavy armor made him look more imposing, even causing your father to take a step back. "Hand me your daughter. Now! Unless you want me to paint the steel of my sword with your blood." A lazy smug smile spread on his face as he leaned forward, getting into your father's face. "And then I'll take her anyway."

Your father wanted to fight back. You could see it in his eyes, but what could he realistically do? He was huge, armored, and armed, and on top of that, he was not alone. His men were plundering the village in other houses, men and women were screaming alike, but you couldn’t worry about it right now, you had to worry about yourself.

The warriors eyes were on you again. His steely gaze caused you to flinch back and hide behind your mother like a scared child. He chuckled. "A little shy, are we?" His voice was a low murmur. He was seemingly satisfied by your reaction. Your body tensed, your throat tightened, you wanted to cry from being under so much stress. "Lucky. That's how I like 'em." He threw another cocky glance in your father's direction. He obviously wanted to provoke him, and he succeeded.

With an angry scream, your father attacked the armored warrior. His fist was closed tight to the point his knuckles turned white, but his resistance against the strangers' orders was short-lived. The warrior drew his sword, with such ease that one could think it weighted nothing more than a feather. The sight made you want to puke as your father got impaled on the sharp weapon. Time went by slowly, the event just barely registered in your brain as you had to watch your father stumble back, clutching his hand over the wound, choking up blood and eventually going down to the floor with a dull thud.

The world went silent for a second before your mother let out a gut-wrenching scream. She dropped to her knees and crawled over to her husband. She cradled his face, begging him not to die and to stand back up, but it was pointless. His heart had stopped beating shortly after being pierced by the sword. You were left standing on weak legs, wide-eyed and unprotected. Just what the warrior wanted.

He put his sword back into its scabbard before walking up to you to pull you against him. His arm was wrapped around your waste, the metal of his armor poked into your soft sides. He apparently didn't think you would struggle because his grip wasn't particularly tight. You began to squirm. "No, no, no! Let me go!" You yelled at him, put your hands on his shoulder, and tried to push him away.

The only thing your actions did was earn yourself an eye roll from him and a more firm grip on your waste. "Yes, yes, yes!" It was clear that he was mocking you. "Don't make it harder than it needs to be." He muttered as he roughly pulled you with him out of your home.

You screamed and wriggled in his hold, hitting him and trying everything to get out of his grip. You even yelled for your mother, but she didn't react. She was staring at your dead father. She was completely apathetic, to the point she didn't even notice the abduction of her own mother.

"Jongho! Did no one teach you that you don't drag the ladies screaming and kicking out of their house?" A male voice called out, followed by a hyena like laugh. You looked into the direction the voice came from. It was a man with blonde hair, a boyish grin decorating his lips, and blood was sprinkled all over his face and armor.

The man earned himself an angry glare from the one who dragged you out along with him. "Shut it, Wooyoung! How about you get your ass back on your horse? We're done here."

Jongho kept dragging you with him. Your resistance was useless. He managed to pull you with him with the same kind of ease he could draw his sword. He led you to a pitch-black horse. It looked just as mean as its rider. Tears of terror rolled down your face as your mind slowly began to process this quick follow-up of events. "Let go!" You whimpered, your voice was high-pitched and cracked occasionally.

The warrior stopped. His head turned toward you, but his eyes were still as cold and steely as before. "Why are you crying?" With his free hand, he gripped your face. The metal of his armor was now also poking into the skin of your face. He held you still and moved his face closer to yours. Unexpectedly, his tongue darted out and licked away the tears that had escaped your eyes. You flinched back as much as you could with his hold on you, your nose scrunched up, and your body shivered with disgust at the wet feeling of his tongue on your cheek. "Don't worry. Your life will be good as my wife." He murmured with a soft tone, but instead of soothing you, it only made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"Oh come on Jongho, did you never learn -" The voice of the man from before was heard again, you remembered Jongho calling him Wooyoung. He never got to finish what he wanted to say because Jongho's head shot up and locked his burning gaze on the blonde. "One more word, and you'll join the peasants under the ground!" That was enough to make Wooyoung shut up, he just raised his hands to show that he had given up and walked to his horse to avoid Jongho's path.

Now that Wooyoung was dealt with, you were back in Jongho's fixation. You were still struggling, although your attempts seemed almost pathetic. That was what he was probably thinking too, because a mocking grin tugged at his lips while he watched you squirm like a worm in a bird's beak. "That's enough, settle down."

His patience with you was running out, and when you still resisted, despite his stern order to settle down, he backhanded you across the face. A few of his men turned their head to see what was happening before quickly turning away again to stow away their looted goods, deciding that it wouldn't be worth it to mingle with Jongho's business. Your cheek was left red and warm, pulsating with pain. His slap would have already been powerful in itself, but the metallic gloves of his armor intensified the impact even more.

You held your warm cheek and looked up to the warrior in shock. The stinging pain forced tears to well up in your eyes again. "You'll need to learn some manners before you can mother my future children." He saw the look of horror on your face when he mentioned having children and chuckled lowly. The only thing you would remember from this moment was how emotionless his eyes looked. His brown eyes seemed black, the light of the burning houses behind you reflected in his dark eyes. He took the opportunity of you freezing up again and hoisted you up on his horse.

He joined you behind you so he could wrap his arms around your waist while he held the reigns. With a whistle, he signaled his men to mount up and get ready to leave. As you were forcefully taken with them, you turned your head to see the destruction they had caused in your hometown. Several buildings were burning down, black smoke disappeared into the black night sky, and a few corpses were lying around, some of them you even knew.

"Why me?" You asked when you turned around and stared forward. You could imagine how your mother must be feeling right now. Just like you, she lost everything in just one night.

You heard his chuckle from behind you, but there wasn't any humor in it. "Why not?"

Outraged you snapped your head around, your eyes were blazing with fury. "What do you mean, 'why not'?

"I mean exactly what I said. Why not. Do I need a reason to take you with me?" He asked. The men that were riding behind him were as quiet as the night, trying to hear what their General was saying. "Good, you want a reason? I think you'd look pretty in my bed. Does that satisfy you?" You saw the dirty smirk on his lips and quickly turned away again. You pressed your lips into a thin line. You wanted to scream but held it in the back of your throat. Still, a small frustrated sound left your mouth that only earned yourself another chuckle from Jongho.

#ateez imagines #yandere ateez #ateez yandere #ateez x reader #yandere ateez x reader #jongho x reader #yandere jongho #ateez scenarios #ateez oneshot #yandere jongho x reader #jongho imagines #jongho oneshot

[mockerycrow]

4k! Congrats! 🎉 I humbly request some Rudy x gn!reader with the angst "Call me the second you get this. I wont be mad, I just want to know you're safe."

SAFE (Rodolfo Parra x GN!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

a/n; i apologize for how late this is—i hope you enjoy!! i need to write for rudy more tbh.

IMPORTANT TO NOTE: bolded italics in conversation are spanish.

[WARNINGS; stalker themes, out of character probably, angst, descriptions of anxiety, open/unhappy ending.]

YOU HAD MENTIONED to Rodolfo about a suspicious person that has appeared in your everyday life. You mentioned it was a big burly man, someone who looked quite intimidating and they certainly used it to their advantage. At first, you didn’t notice him, even as he followed you from shop to shop.

When you first began to notice the familiar figure, standing in an aisle across from you, maybe checking out a few boxes that he didn’t seem to actually show much interest in, you had sent Rodolfo a text. It was first a “men are creepy” text with some quick context, sending assurances to him that you’re fine. It still put on edge; he made sure you were carrying a pocket knife and at least a backup self defense weapon, which you always were.

That first text was not the only text you ended up sending to your dear boyfriend, who could not come home right away to come help due to a different threat in the country requiring his presence. You began to keep track—due to Alejandro’s advice once he was informed of the situation—all three of you knew that the police were likely not going to take this seriously as they nearly never do.. Until something happens. So, a separate chat between you and Rodolfo is made. It’s filled with photos of the recurring man or if you can’t capture a picture, you quickly send a text of where you are and what the man is doing. It went from seeing him once in a few days, to every other day, to literally every single day.

“I just.. I’m afraid to leave home, Rudy—but I have work, and I..” You whimper into the phone, your heart pounding out of your chest as you close your front door after putting a couple of paper bags down on the ground. You had just gotten home from the store where you had seen the man; where the man had the audacity to inch ever so closer to you, as if you hadn’t ever noticed him. “I know, sweetheart, I know. It’s not something you can afford, hm?” Rodolfo soothes you through the speaker, his voice causing a comforting chill to go down your spine and spreading down your skin. “Are any of your friends able to accompany you in public?”

You let out a breath as you try to calm down your hammering heart inside of your rib cage. “No, not all of the time, I asked.” You reply quietly, taking a seat down on the couch for a moment. Your eyes glance over to the open curtains of your home, allowing anyone to peer inside of your house and see some of the layout. You walk over and quietly shuffle the curtains closed. “I see.” Rodolfo utters softly into the phone, a bit muffled on your end. You sniffle, closing your eyes as you sit back down. “Please do not cry, honey. I will figure out a solution as quickly as I can.” Rodolfo murmurs, his voice ever so slightly strained. 

He knows how scared you are—every conversation lately always ends up leading to something about the strange and disturbing man. It hurts Rodolfo that he can’t be there; he’s asked for leave, but he can’t leave his post. Alejandro has tried to approve his request time after time again, but of course.. Someone above him vetoes his decision. Something about the situation at hand is too important—a situation you have no clue about, of course. Rodolfo can’t even tell you about it, even if he wanted to. All he wants to do is protect you from any threat possible and it’s killing him that he isn’t home to do that. 

Rodolfo doesn’t know how much his superior’s superiors decision will maybe cost him. It’s about two weeks later after that incident, of the strange man borderline invading your space. You went out and bought cameras—not ones connected to WiFi, no. Rodolfo taught you better than that to buy cameras that could be easily hacked into. No Ring Doorbell type cameras, of course. You bought cameras, accompanied by a friend; the man missing on this trip. You bought new locks, made sure to not leave any spares outside like with your previous locks. Even when you were forced to venture outside of your home by yourself, the creepy man seemed to be lacking in any of his usual areas. For a week, you were paranoid. Maybe he just found a way to watch you without being noticed; maybe he grew some brains, but you couldn’t find him at all.

After two weeks, one day.. You haven’t texted Rodolfo once. Not a good morning text you usually send his way, no updates about your day, nothing about if you maybe have to work—not even a mention about how the birds on the bird feeder outside are behaving and it’s eating at him. His bones are aching every time he checks for a notification from you; nothing. Absolutely nothing. The anxiety in his gut is brutal, carving it’s way up his throat and threatening to spill out in angry spurts; or maybe actual bile instead.

There’s anger and cold panic settling in his guts, in his muscles—his skin, his bones, his cartilage. There is nothing else but just.. Rage, and worry. His texts were being left on delivered and now they’re not being sent at all, meaning something is going on with your phone. Alejandro shoots him a worried look when he watches Rodolfo furiously typing at his phone, walking away for some privacy. He’s already called you several times; both him and Alejandro, but he has to keep trying. He needs to know you’re okay. Rodolfo is so close to grabbing a truck and going AWOL for you. He clicks the phone symbol to shoot you another call.

Rodolfo curses and his heart drops to his stomach when it goes voicemail automatically. Cold sweat rolls down and seeps down his face down to his jaw when he hears the voicemail he helped to set up for you.. Hearing your wonderful voice; he doesn’t want your voicemail to be one of the last times he’s heard your voice. He inhales shakily—his chest feels tight. “Hey, sweetheart. Call me when you get this. I.. I won’t be mad, I just want to know you’re safe.” He pauses for a moment, and then his lips part; his voice wavers. “Please.”

Rodolfo tries to keep himself focused despite your lack of response. He tries to focus on Alejandro’s words, the paperwork that needs to be done, the ride out to the city that needs to happen to scope out an area for a future endeavor. He knows his heart and mind need to be at work, but all he can think about is you; and that man. Rodolfo only lasts about an hour before he brings his case to Alejandro. He opens his office door on base, Alejandro’s brows already tense and furrowed from Rodolfo’s previous behavior. “What’s wrong, brother?” Alejandro utters, keeping their eyes locked.

“It’s them,” Rodolfo answers easily, making the other man tense. “I think something happened, I.. I do not know what to do, Alejandro. I need to go home.” The air is tense and thick—the intensity radiating off of his usual calm second in command nearly choking Alejandro. He lets out a deep sigh, contemplating. “Go.” Alejandro utters. Rodolfo eyebrows raise for a moment and Alejandro tips his head towards his office door. “I can deal with the bullshit later. Go.”

Rodolfo sends him an appreciative glance before he’s right out the door.

#crow’s 4k celebration #call of duty #cod #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #modern warfare ii #mw2022 #mw2 2022 #rodolfo parra #rodolfo parra x reader #rudy x reader #rudy parra #rudy parra x reader #rodolfo parra x gn!reader #rudy cod #rudy x you #rodolfo x reader #rodolfo cod #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #rodolfo rudy parra #rodolfo rudy parra x gn!reader #cod mw #mw2 x reader #call of duty mw2 #cod mwii #mwii #rudy angst #rodolfo parra angst

[after-witch]

Of Mice and Men [Yandere L x Reader]

Title: Of Mice and Men [Yandere L x Reader]

Synopsis: It’s not your first escape plan. But it is the first one that involves attempting to seduce your captor in a bid for freedom. 

Word Count: 2777

notes: yandere, NSFW, dubcon, mentions of stalking/stalker behavior

It’s not the first time you’ve plotted an escape. You’ve tried a few dozen times, though you--obviously, considering where you still are, and who you’re still stuck with--have yet to succeed.

But this time… this time you’re going to play L at his own mind games. Mind-fuck-games, more like it, and the sarcastic phrase has so much more meaning now that you’ve decided on what you’re going to do.

You’re going to seduce L.

It sounds crazy, you know. But if you can get him to lower his guard enough, then there will be a beautiful, sordid window of opportunity opened up. And you will take that window of opportunity and jab him with the tranquilizer lifted from his stash months ago, kept safely tucked away until you could make use of it. And once he’s knocked out, you’ll grab the card key from his pocket, and get the hell out of here.

You just have to seduce him first. Oh, it wasn’t your first choice. Or your second. Or your third. But it hit you all at once on a summer evening, when you were sitting together on the sofa, watching some news program. He shifted, and his thigh accidentally brushed against yours--the noise he made was some sudden, strangled little choke that got the wheels turning in your head quick as anything.

And it hit you. L was pent up. Somewhere underneath there, deep, deep… maybe really deep. Sure, L has never tried to kiss you or touch you on his own; it was something you feared during your early days of captivity, but the most he did was invade your personal space. That didn’t mean he didn’t want you, did it? He did obsess over you enough to stalk you and kidnap you and keep you like some kind of fucked up pet, after all.

The theory is worth a shot. It’s not like you have a lot of options, after all.

You start small. You know that if you jump right into it, he’ll notice right away and the entire thing will fall apart like wet paper. So little things come first. You brush against his shoulder on the couch, and apologize for it. You glance at him a bit longer than you normally do, and look down when he sees you.

You dig out the perfume he’d pilfered from your apartment and graciously packed along with some of your other personal items, and spritz yourself in the morning. He notices, and compliments it, and you sheepishly thank him. You start baking chocolate treats and insisting on making him coffee--you remember, vaguely, reading that they were aphrodisiacs. Every little bit helps, right?

And then you move up to bigger, badder things. Things that make your stomach squirm to ask about, but they’re necessary if you’re going to enact this plan of escape.

You ask him to bring you some… items. Special item. Toys--sex toys.  You used to have some. He brought them along with the other things from your apartment, packed up neat as anything. Soon after, on a morning when he casually explained that there were cameras in the bedroom, in any place that you might bring said toys and enjoy them yourself, you threw them out in disgust.

And now, you have new ones, courtesy of a bewildered yet graciously providing L.

Not because you plan on using them--you never did ask if there were cameras in the bathroom, the only possibly sanctuary from L’s prying eyes where you might actually break them out, but you don’t really want the answer.

But because you want him to notice the shift in your behavior. The way you bite your lip, now and then, at a steamy scene on the television. The way you scoot closer to him, of your own free will, letting your thighs touch and waiting to hear his almost undetectable intakes of breath. The way you idly touch the toys he’s giving you, as if thinking… wanting.

But wanting what--or whom? You hope it’s a question he’s asking himself, because if he is, it will make it all the easier to make him malleable in your hands.

The night you first kiss him gives you something far sweeter than any dessert, something you haven’t tasted in so long: hope.  Because when you lean towards him and press your lips against his, he lets out a soft, startled noise. His lips are warm and dry and a little bit chapped. You watch through lidded eyes as his own widen, as he stiffens against you, muscles tense. And then bit by bit, his body relaxes, and his mouth moves against your own.

It’s a start.

--

Weeks. You’ve been working on your plan for weeks. You’ve kissed. You’ve made out, clumsily--you don’t suspect that L has much experience in this area--and softened yourself to him, bit by bit, letting him think that the whole “kidnapped by an internationally renowned genius and kept in isolation for months and months and months” thing has finally become normal to you.

And now… now you’re going in for the kill (literally, you wonder? You have no idea how much tranquilizer someone can take and still survive) and it’s making you nervous and excited and absolutely sick to your stomach.

The bed is wide enough for the both of you, and lately, you spend the evening  closely side by side. You’re stretched out in your short silk nightgown, pretending to read a novel, while he’s flipping through some papers on a case he’s been working on.

After a while, you set the book down on your nightstand, and lay quietly beside him.

“L?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up from his work, and you don’t expect him to.

Your hand feels for the thin string of your nightgown, tugging it down, just a little. Just enough to expose the top half of one of your breasts, should he look--when he looks.

And then your deft fingers move on, tracing up his arm, tickling through his white shirt. Slowly, itsy-bitsy-spider, with a far different aim.

He pauses, and glances down at you. If he feels any particular way about the way you’re pushing your breasts towards him, he doesn’t show it. Not yet.

“What are you doing?” It’s asked casually enough. Like you are, perhaps, wandering into the kitchen in the middle of the day rather than laying there in your thin nightgown, eyes lidded, lips pouting.

“Do you remember,” you begin, looking coyly up at him, “How I used to… use my toys? Back at my apartment?” You don’t bring up that he knew about your bedroom habits because he was a stalker who installed cameras inside your place.

His gaze darkens. His eyes flick down at your chest, then back up at your eyes.

“Yes, I recall.” And is it your imagination, or is his voice thicker now?

Your fingers dance back down his arm, tracing circles--shy, perhaps, or teasing.

“It’s been so long since I did that. You bought me my new ones but…” You pout, just a little. “I don’t think I want to do it alone.”

His movement is swift and sudden and unexpected. In moments, he’s straddling you, hovering over you, face directly in front of yours. He reminds you of a cat. No personal space and certainly no qualms.

“What are you doing?” He asks, voice a little more pointed. He’s not pinning you down physically but you feel like you can’t move at all. “You’ve been acting strange for some time. Touching me. Kissing me. And now bringing up your previous proclivity for…”

There’s no time like the present to make a move, is there? So you lean forward and brush your lips against his, interrupting and silencing him.

“What?” You murmur, petulant but not angry. “You don’t want to help me?”

His muscles are stiff and tense until they’re not, until his body is practically melting against you. His mouth opens to make some noise and you slip your tongue inside; the sound he makes, the connection of your determined tongue with his hesitant own, makes something twist in your stomach. It’s not disgust, and that scares you, but you press on.

As your kiss deepens, his fingers grip your nightie, pulling it down boldly and exposing your bare breasts. You don’t think about it until you feel his fingers groping, awkward and exploratory and eager. His fingers pinch your nipples and you squeak into his mouth. The sensation of his lips turning up into a smile should piss you off, but instead you feel something tight shooting down  your stomach straight between your legs.

Christ almighty.

When was the last time you kissed someone like this? When was the last time someone touched you, held you, without then pinning you down so they could jab a sedative into your unruly shoulder?

That sensation of delightful tugging down your stomach only increases as his fingers go from awkward pinches to rubbing, circling your nipples as they begin to get stiff and achey with a sensation that you haven’t felt in ages.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

When you pull away from his mouth, you expect what you see: his eyes, lidded and hazy with your kiss but determined nonetheless. He’s thinking, analyzing, wondering what you’re doing and why and he’s probably already calculating the probability that this is all some ruse to try to incapacitate him, isn’t he?

But you can’t bring yourself to worry about being found out. No.  You can’t bring yourself to think about anything right now but a persistent, growing need between your legs.

It’s… been a while. Since you’ve been touched. Since you touched yourself, even.  You haven’t had an orgasm in months, actually, or has it been more than a year? And right now, it’s like your body is waking up, slowly, groggily, as something begins to say: hey, remember this? Remember the feelings of pleasure that come with someone touching you in all the right ways? Even if it was more often just you alone in bed, toys buzzing, hands searching, toes curling at the end of it?

You swallow, throat thick.

“L, have you ever…” you let the question dangle. “Before?”

He averts his gaze, but the answer that comes out of his slightly swollen lips surprises you.

“Yes.” And then he adds, thoughtfully. “Only as an experiment.” He regards you with an expression that you can’t decipher in  your current state. “Have you?”

And he knows the answer. And he knows that you know he knows the answer, because he was your fucking stalker. He saw every date you came home with, probably had footage of the times you hooked up, too.

You shuffle away the feeling that comes with remembering his violations. You’re supposed to be seducing him, aren’t you? You have to get back on track.

“Why don’t we do a little more, then.” You say, wetting your lips with your tongue, letting yourself fall back into the groove.

The moment your hand palms his semi-erect cock through his pants is the first time you’ve seen him look truly stunned. Not just surprised. But genuinely, absolutely stunned. He shudders, closing his eyes, letting his mouth drop open just a little. And seeing that, seeing the effect you’re having on him, sends something through you, too. Something squirmy and pleasant and forbidden.

There’s a voice in the back of your heat that shouts: Hey! Dummy! Did you forget? This is the perfect opportunity to grab that fucking needle and jab it right into him!

But you tell that voice to hush, you remember, you didn’t forget.. just hush, all right?

Because the thought of touching him, of him touching you, is becoming less of a chore and more appealing by the minute. And he’s probably still wary, isn’t he? You need to keep going before you can pull that syringe out. Of course you do.

“Let me make you feel good,” you murmur, half to him, and half to yourself, as you continue to work his increasingly hard cock through his pants.

You move in for another kiss, and he groans into your lips when your hands work their way around, cupping his balls with a needy firmness. Now it’s your turn to smile against his mouth.

“Feel good?” You ask.

His breath stutters against your skin.

“It’s… pleasurable,” he says, and the breathiness in his voice goes straight through you.

When you move to grope him firmly again, he catches your wrist. There’s a split second of terror, the sure thought that he’s now going to calmly tell you that he knows what you planned and he knows about the needle. But instead he lets go and pushes down on your shoulders,  until you’re leaning back against the pillows.

“I’m going to touch you now,” he says. And only L could make this sound clinical and remote, despite the fact that his erection is straining against the fabric of his pants, bits of wetness from his pre-cum seeping through.

You squirm as his hands reach for the end of your nightgown, but not because you’re afraid. You squirm because you realize that you’re wet. There’s something pleasantly humiliating about the way he slowly pushes the nightgown up your stomach and gazes, studious, at the lacey panties underneath. It’s a pair you haven’t worn since he took you, all red lace.

“Minx,” he murmurs, approval in his tone.

You bring your knees up a little, perhaps egging him on, and he responds by tugging down your panties. You can feel some of your slick wetness cling to the fabric as he pulls them down, and it’s embarrassing and arousing all at the same time.

Soon… right? Soon it will be the perfect opportunity to take him out. That’s what the little voice in you says, and you only barely hear it.

His thumb finds your clit and you don’t know if it’s his technique or the fact that you haven’t touched yourself in so long, but it’s heaven. It’s hot and coiled bliss all directed towards your aching clit. His thumb is calloused each circular rub of your clit comes with harsh, jerking spasms of pleasure that make your legs feel like jelly. Tears trickle from your eyes before you know it, and you groan.

And then he lowers his head in between your legs and gives a few tentative licks to your pussy, exploring the lips and ending, with the lightest of licks, at your clit.

Now--now would be the perfect time, wouldn’t it? When he’s distracted, his head down and occupied? Your hand could so easily reach underneath the mattress and grab it and stick it in him but oh fuck, he gives a soft suckle to your clit and you practically wail, throwing your head back and bucking against him. He pulls away, and you look down to see the smallest of smiles on his lips, wet with your own juices.

“More--fuck--more!” Your thighs tremble and he pulls away, perhaps admiring the view, perhaps admiring his handiwork.

But he doesn’t lower his head back down, and you find yourself whining--keening--as he crawls up the bed and leans over you. His hair tickles your cheek. His eyes are wide and dark and hungry.

“What shall I do with you?” There’s something glinting in his voice and your stomach squirms--does he know? Does he know?--but the ache between your legs is so strong that it drowns out anything else. You want to be touched. You want to feel good. You want, period.

Your fingers grip his shirt tight, desperate.

“Fuck me, please. Please--fuck.”

He licks a line up your cheek, catching salty tears of pleasure.

“Since you’re so polite…”

He shifts back down on the bed, and you lean up on your elbows, breath catching as he tugs down his trousers, followed by his boxers.

You don’t think about the sedative tucked neatly underneath the mattress below you, the get-out-of-jail card lying beneath the two of you, like some sort of fucked up version of a princess and the pea fairytale. You don’t think about escaping and running far away.

You only think about the way your pussy clenches at the sight of his erect cock. You only think about how good it will feel to be filled. You only think about how many orgasms you might have tonight.

You can wait a few more days to try your plan again, can’t you? It’s not like you’re going anywhere, after all.

And neither, you think, watching as he palms his erection and prepares himself to enter you, is L.

#yandere death note #yandere l lawliet #l lawliet x reader #yandere #afterwitch writes

[a-faggot-with-opinions]

finding out the trans guy who made the mlm flag got (falsely) accused of being a rapist just because the flag looks kind like the lesbian flag (i mean the 7 and 5 stripe ones not the 6 stripe ones he also made) just makes me so depressed. I know if a cis guy made it that it wouldn't get half of the shit that it does.

seeing people repeatedly make jabs at trans men who like boys, calling us shit like "microseparatist gayboys" and tearing down anything that gets made by us or associated with us.... I love my other trans friends but sometimes i do wish there was a space where i could just be around other transmascs where I won't have to see us being falsely accused of rape for making some stripes in a row right next to people who say we don't face things like predator accusations...

I don't feel safe in my "community" anymore and it's breaking my heart. I was so excited to be out when I was 13 and now in my mid 20s I find myself wishing I was anything but what I am. Sometimes I want to look at these people and go "tell me where this alleged 'separatist' group is and I'll go there and stop 'tainting' your community with my transition". Even my love for other trans men is warped and demonized (because it couldn't be pure, it has to be somehow evil) or mocked as "pussy4pussy" (i'm meta4phallo)

Sorry for essentially venting in your inbox but reading those anons who are scared of being out in their own community and especially the anon who socially detransitioned because of "community" abuse/mistreatment. I'm so scared of that becoming my future and I really can't find any solution to it. I just want us all to be ok

Never apologize for venting in my inbox, or sending me a long ask about bad things. The more that transandrophobia can be documented, the less it can be ignored, and the worse its deniers will look. Thank you so much for sending me this, kind anon! (Under the cut there will be a short summary of a personal experience I had regarding sexual harassment, so if you don't want to see that, scroll past this post.)

Transandrophobia is rampant in gay communities, and homophobia + transandrophobia combined is horrible in the queer community at large. I've had multiple people lie about me, and while I've never been falsely accused of sexual harassment or assault, I have been accused of stalking and harassed over it, I've had people publicly speculate about my fetishes in front of me where I could see, with people defending the people doing that because the fetishes I "admitted" (fake screenshots) to "having" were "problematic."

Apparently that is okay to do now, because we're men and because we "chose" to be men that means we must be okay with being sexually harassed... (sarcasm)

Here's the thing. I've never heard the term "gayboy" used for a cis man, while it's used for trans men of all different ages, and while it's not inherently the most offensive term ever, its usage is infantilizing trans men and painting us as "gay man lite." We are not gay men lite, we are gay men. Them calling us separatists is really fucking weird because there are literally homosexual male separatists. They are called biphobic transphobic gay men and you can look them up here on Tumblr and find their blogs with hundreds of followers.

I wish I could crawl through the screen and punch those people who claim that false predator accusations are a transfem-only issue, because I've had it happen to me and so many other trans guys have had it happen to them too. Painting trans men as being predatory like a marginalized man stereotype and also a female invader into maleness at the same time is a very central piece of TEHM rhetoric and anyone who ignores that should be ashamed of themselves, because ignoring and erasing that such oppression exists is also a core piece of TEHM and also TERF rhetoric.

Every day I'm getting closer and closer to actually becoming a gay trans man separatist. Jesus fucking Christ. The rest of the world hates us and the rest of the queer community hates us too, and while I think that getting the queer community to unlearn their transphobia against us is important, I also think it is vital for us to have our own spaces to talk about our experiences without someone interrupting every 5 seconds saying "what about trans women?"

#asks #examples of transandrophobia #long post #transandrophobia #homophobia

[dragon0va]

So people always question why mspec lesbians aren't valid in the lesbian community. in a male dominated society lesbianism being made up of just NON MEN is so important. it's a safe space for so many people. to be surrounded by non men who love non men. yes as a queer person i think labels are stupid. but being a lesbian and lesbianism as a whole is a culture or like a mindset. it's not just liking non men but being non men as well. that's why a cishet guy being like "oh well im basically a lesbian" just isn't true at all. being a non man and loving non men is such a different experience. men are always invading spaces made for non men.

i understand trans men who were once cis lesbians wanting to keep the label because they feel like their attraction is still queer. but then Just Use The Label Queer. I think it's also the fear of being a straight guy. That doesn't make you any less queer because you're "straight" now. you don't have to prove your queerness.

i also never see discourse on women trying to identify the same way a gay man does. maybe that's because im not in that community, but also even before i realized i was a lesbian i saw CONSTANT discourse over mspec lesbians.

i have absolutely no issue with anyone who isn't a man or something like demi-boy identifying as a lesbian. be a non-binary he/him pronoun user who's AMAB. as long as you aren't a fucking man you are so welcome in the community

#idk just my thoughts #lesbian #lesbianism #queer #wlw #nmlnm

[kimberly40]

Little People of the Cherokee, Native American Lore: Among the many legends of the proud Cherokee people is the curious tale of a race of little people who were said to inhabit the wilds of North Carolina, Tennessee and Georgia, and who the Natives called the Nunne’hi, meaning “people who live anywhere,” as well as the Yûñwï Tsunsdi’, or “Little People.”

The Little People of the Cherokee are a race of Spirits who live in rock caves on the mountain side. They are little fellows and ladies reaching almost to your knees. They are well shaped and handsome, and their hair so long it almost touches the ground. They are very helpful, kind-hearted, and great wonder workers. They love music and spend most of their time drumming, singing, and dancing. They have a very gentle nature, but do not like to be disturbed.

Sometimes their drums are heard in lonely places in the mountains, but it is not safe to follow it, for they do not like to be disturbed at home, and they will throw a spell over the stranger so that he is bewildered and loses his way, and even if he does at last get back to the settlement he is like one dazed ever after. Sometimes, also, they come near a house at night and the people inside hear them talking, but they must not go out, and in the morning they find the corn gathered or the field cleared as if a whole force of men had been at work. If anyone should go out to watch, he would die.

When a hunter finds anything in the woods, such as a knife or a trinket, he must say, 'Little People, I would like to take this' because it may belong to them, and if he does not ask their permission they will throw stones at him as he goes home.

Some Little People are black, some are white and some are golden like the Cherokee. Sometimes they speak in Cherokee, but at other times they speak their own 'Indian' language. Some call them "Brownies".

Little people are here to teach lessons about living in harmony with nature and with others. There are three kinds of Little People. The Laurel People, the Rock People, and the Dogwood People.

The Rock People are the mean ones who practice "getting even" who steal children and the like. But they are like this because their space has been invaded.

The Laurel People play tricks and are generally mischievous. When you find children laughing in their sleep - the Laurel People are humorous and enjoy sharing joy with others.

Then there are the Dogwood People who are good and take care of people.

The lessons taught by the Little People are clear. The Rock People teach us that if you do things to other people out of meanness or intentionally, it will come back on you. We must always respect other people's limits and boundaries. The Laurel People teach us that we shouldn't take the world too seriously, and we must always have joy and share that joy with others. The lessons of the Dogwood People are simple - if you do something for someone, do it out of goodness of your heart. Don't do it to have people obligated to you or for personal gain.

In Cherokee beliefs, many stories contain references to beings called the Little People. These people are supposed to be small mythical characters, and in different beliefs they serve different purposes.

"There are a lot of stories and legends about the Little People. You can see the people out in the forest. They can talk and they look a lot like Indian people except they're only about two feet high, sometimes they're smaller. Now the Little People can be very helpful, and they can also play tricks on us, too. And at one time there was a boy. This boy never wanted to grow up. In fact, he told everyone that so much that they called him "Forever Boy" because he never wanted to be grown. When his friends would sit around and talk about: 'Oh when I get to be a man, and when I get to be grown I'm gonna be this and I'm gonna go here and be this,' he'd just go off and play by himself.

He didn't even want to hear it, because he never wanted to grow up. Finally his father got real tired of this, and he said, ‘Forever Boy, I will never call you that again. From now on you're going to learn to be a man, you're going to take responsibilty for yourself, and you're going to stop playing all day long. You have to learn these things. Starting tomorrow you're going to go to your uncle's, and he's going to teach you everything that you are going to need to know.' Forever Boy was broken hearted at what his father told him, but he could not stand the thought of growing up. He went out to the river and he cried. He cried so hard that he didn't see his animal friends gather around him. And they were trying to tell him something, and they were trying to make him feel better, and finally he thought he understood them say, 'Come here tomorrow, come here early.' Well, he thought they just wanted to say goodbye to him. And he drug his feet going home. He couldn't even sleep he was so upset. The next morning he went out early, as he had promised, to meet his friends. And he was so sad, he could not bear the thought of telling them goodbye forever. Finally he began to get the sense that they were trying to tell him something else, and that is to look behind him.

As he looked behind him, there they were, all the Little People. And they were smiling at him and laughing and running to hug him. And they said, 'Forever Boy you do not have to grow up. You can stay with us forever. You can come and be one of us and you will never have to grow up...we will ask the Creator to send a vision to your parents and let them know that you are safe and you are doing what you need to do.' Forever Boy thought about it for a long time. But that is what he decided he needed to do, and he went with the Little People.

And even today when you are out in the woods and you see something, and you look and it is not what you really thought it was, or if you are fishing and you feel something on the end of your line, and you think it is the biggest trout ever, and you pull it in, and all it is is a stick that got tangled on your hook, that is what the Little People are doing. They are playing tricks on you so you will laugh and keep young in your heart. Because that is the spirit of Little People, and Forever Boy, to keep us young in our hearts."

(http://www.ilhawaii.net/~stony/lore132.html)

#cherokee #lore #legend #appalachian folklore #folklore #appalachian #appalachian mountains #north carolina #appalachian culture #appalachia #western north carolina #the south #nc mountains #indian #little people

[bilesproblems]

Questioning Bi lesbian problem is feeling terrible using lesbian because you used to be attracted to men, but feeling terrible using bi because now you’re not at all, and you can’t figure out why. Can sexuality really just change like that, or was it really bad comphet, or do I have some weird internalized biphobia that just made my attraction to men vanish?

Hey anon. Sexuality can be fluid! It can change rapidly, over the course of a long time, or never change, and it's normal. You may want to look into abrosexuality and see if you think it fits you. Also, if you used to be attracted to men and women but are now only attracted to women, you're allowed to call yourself bi because of the fact you have been capable of being attracted to multiple genders in the past, and you are allowed to call yourself an exclusive lesbian if you are no longer feeling that attraction (and you can call yourself a lesbian regardless.)

Not everyone's orientation changes, but some people's does and there's nothing wrong with it. You aren't invading bi or lesbian spaces because of it. You're also not perpetuating stereotypes of bi people picking a side, I promise, and you will probably be accused of that by people who can't accept fluidity in sexuality. Best of luck to you in figuring your identity out, and whatever you decide, you're supported and will always be given a safe space here. I'll always be open to chatting too, if you need to talk.

[imacowboy3]

I've been doing some thinking lately, this might be a bit desorganized but hear me out (and please take notice that english is not my first language so if I mess some words up that's why)

I think the reason I feel this disconnect with the idea of being a woman has a direct correlation with the fact I'm asexual (sex averse/repulsed)

Women are so sexualized in our society, afab people are raised with this figurative sword over our heads where we have to learn very early to protect and cover ourselves from the eyes of amab people, because we're made to believe it's easier to teach us to cover than to teach then to not objectify

On the note of us being objectified is the idea that sex is the most we have to offer in a relationship, in misogynistic spaces there's constantly the narrative that men bring in the money and women bring in their bodies, and even tho I was raised in a household that didn't hold those beliefs, by people who taught me early on that once I became an adult my expenses should never be dependent on a partner, those beliefs society has ingrained in itself still managed to invade my mind sometimes, they always sounded ridiculous to me but that doesn't change the fact that they were there and I guess some of it made it's way into my "subconscious"

And I think this is were that disconnect I mentioned earlier comes into play, cause how could I see myself as a woman if I won't offer the only thing society views as women's most important contribution in relationships?

Anyway that's basically my conclusion on the topic, I still have some other thoughts on how my relationship with femininity works today and how it changed through the years, specially the years of rejection of it aka my "not like other girls" phase and how it can relate not only to the desire of being taken seriously by my peers in a time where *those* YA novels and movies were at their peak but also to me simply not being fully a girl (in the recent months I've come to realize I'm a demigirl), so if you guys relate to and would like to read more about it let me know

So what's the final verdict my fellow afab aces? Does this make sense? Does it resonate with your own experiences? Or am I just overthinking it all? Please let me know, I would love to have some more input into this topic

Ps: I didn't speak about the experiences of amab people because I'm not familiar with it,but I do know that your also have a Oversexualized VS. Asexual type of dinamic (just not in the same sense), feel free to also comment about it and share your experiences if you want, I always want my posts to be a safe space for us ace folks (cause we know we don't have many of those)

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖🖤🤍💜💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

#asexual #asexuality #acespec #ace visibility #ace positivity #ace stuff #femininity #demigirl #tw: sexualization #lgbtqia #lgbtqia pride

[eulangelo]

genuine question, what do you think is the root of transmisogyny? or rather, do you think fearmomgering about the inherent predatory nature of men ISN'T part of transmisogyny? or do you think this only targets trans women??? because men of color are also very much affected by this rhetoric

i dont even know where to start but is extremely obvious to me that you take your info on what terfs are from tumblr only and never looked into anything beyond what's passed around in tme circles. the core aspect of terfs' ideology it's literally there, in the acronym. it's a movement for trans exclusionary radical feminists. it's a movement centered around excluding trans women from feminism. terfs hate trans women because they want to be recognized as WOMEN, they want to be included in feminism, and terfs do not want that. that's it. that's what it means to be a terf.

terfs are absolutely obsessed with the idea that trans women want to invade their spaces, they will do anything in their power to avoid that, which is why they may happen to hurt other people: lots of terfs hated self identifying queer people because it was often a label used as a safe tactic by trans people to avoid outing themselves as trans to a possible hostile stranger, so some terfs started going by "lesbian not queer". it would still be wrong to say that queer people are the main target of terfs, as they are targeted literally only because of their hatred of trans women in the first place. some terfs may also target bi women because they think they are impure or traitors to political lesbians, but then again there's plenty of bi terfs. like there's plenty of cishet terfs. or transmasc terfs. because the only thing that unites all terfs is their shared hatred of trans women and their will to exclude them from feminism.

now, knowing how these people think and operate, you'd be safe to assume that a bigot is very seldom only bigoted in one way, which is why it is not at all surprising that terfs are most of the time racist, ableist, fatphobic, and whatnot. because they centered their whole movement and manifesto about excluding trans women they had to come up with ways to differentiate cis women from them, by giving obsolete, misogynistic and racists definitions, that are shared by whom? you guessed it, mostly fascists and white supremacist men who share their exact beliefs. terfs have always partnered with men, right-wing, fascist, white supremacist men. their husbands, their boyfriends, brothers, coworkers. they loved them because they shared their hatred for trans women (because cishet men also live in constant fear of being "deceived" by trans women, so of course they got along very well with terfs), and helped them kill them, and still do nowadays. terfs still love men when they help them in their transmisogynistic crusade, whether they're cis or trans, because we also can't ignore the hoardes of transmasc terfs. it is written literally nowhere that terfs have to target men, because technically they have no reason to. men dont want to get into womens sports teams or to be included in feminism, it's trans women who are asking for that kinda recognition, which terfs want to deny at all costs.

now since we've cleared up that terfs are violent bigots in general it is no surprise that they will harm other people. women of colour or jewish women first of all after trans women (trans woc / trans jewish women in particular) because they dont conform to their cissexist whitecentric standards, and they target them too with misdirected transmisogyny. men of colour too, because they will see them as predators. and trans men, because they see us as traitors who betrayed our sisters by joining the side of trans women, who brainwashed us with their trans ideology and whatnot. still, their transmisogyny is at the root. and that doesn't mean they aren't capable of harming us, it means we aren't their main target.

Edit. just clarifying that i'm a tme person so this is just me explaining what i know about terfs in the most objective way i can, based on their history and the testimony of multiple trans women. if any trans woman or transfem person wants to add on this feel absolutely free to do so, as it is never in my intention to act as an autority on something that i know doesn't affect me.

#sks #transmisogyny tw #i know this is long as fuck but i wanted to give u a detailed enough response so that maybe u learn something and give me a break #long post

[agentaace]

Stranger Things S4 spoilers

I just wanted Dr. Brenner to get in the fucking pizza van. The comedic potential of putting that stuffy horrid man in the same space as Argyle. The concept compelled me. And then I wrote 2.3k words about it oops

Alternate scene for s4e8, Papa:

Dr. Brenner emerges from the ground carrying Eleven in his arms, from the bunker onto a desert plain strewn with dead bodies wearing white lab coats. He takes in the scene, noting the unoccupied army vehicles and the blast marks surrounding the door.

Eleven shifts in his arms. “Mike,” she whispers, groggily. Dr. Brenner furrows his eyebrows, but ultimately it doesn’t matter what she is talking about. He readjusts his grip and makes for the nearest cover, a particularly tall desert shrub, knowing that it’s likely they’ve already been spotted. “Mike,” Eleven says, louder, pained, and she struggles against the doctor’s grip.

A plume of dust announces the arrival of a van headed towards them. Dr. Brenner takes note of the helicopter circling the area, but it doesn’t seem to be antagonizing them just yet. Likely due to the presence of these civilians.

Only civilians would be in a bright yellow van labeled with “Surfer Bay Pizza,” complete with a surfboard sticking out of the top. The van skids to a stop in front of them.

Jonathan slams the brakes and parks the car, the doors already opening before it stopped moving as everyone pours out of the car. First Mike yells, “Eleven!” in a desperate scream, tripping over his feet towards the man none of them recognize. None of them except for Mike.

Eleven wrestles herself out of Dr. Brenner’s arms, and onto her feet, though she sways. Dr. Brenner lays a heavy hand on her shoulder, both to stabilize her and to warn her not to move. She’s still wearing the clunky metal collar, and Dr. Brenner is still holding the controller.

“You fucking bastard,” Mike spits, stopping just feet away from El, who stares at him wordlessly, in disbelief. He sees her missing hair, the collar, her face disoriented and in pain. His hands clench into fists, and he demands, “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing. We can all relax,” Dr. Brenner says calmly. “But I suggest we leave very quickly.”

Will appears at Mike’s shoulder, and Jonathan positions himself in front of Mike, between him and Brenner. “Why should we trust you?” Jonathan asks.

He sighs. “I’ve never wished harm upon Eleven, no matter what you think.” Mike scoffs and rolls his eyes at that. “But the men currently invading my lab want to kill her. We both want to protect her, so I suggest you hand over the keys to your vehicle. I’ll drive from here.”

Everyone protests at once, even Argyle, saying, “Woah, dude, you don’t have authorization to drive the pizza-mobile.”

It’s Jonathan who makes a decision, and compromises. “Fine! You can come with us, but you’re not driving. You can sit shotgun. Deal?” He looks Dr. Brenner in the eyes, and walks back around the van to get back in the driver’s seat.

Dr. Brenner gives everyone a look of disdain and pulls one of Eleven’s arms over his shoulders. She’s still wobbling on her feet, still under the effects of the sedative he had injected into her. He helps her into the back of the van, but obeys Jonathan’s wishes and puts himself into the front passenger seat. Mike and Will take Eleven, putting her head in Mike’s lap. Argyle sits in the back, too, across from the three of them, and the car screeches around in a U-turn and speeds off.

“El? El?” Mike asks, cradling her face in one hand, snapping his fingers with the other. “Please wake up, please be okay.”

She’s blinking, expending all of her efforts to stay awake. “Mike,” she mutters. “Are you safe, Mike? Is everyone safe?”

“Yeah, El. You’re safe, everyone’s safe,” Mike reassures her, even though he has no idea if their friends in Hawkins are alright. He leans down and presses his forehead to hers, smiling.

“Are you okay?” Will asks. Eleven slowly shifts her gaze to him, and reaches a hand towards him. He takes her hand, holding it tightly. Slowly she nods, though her eyes still look as though they might cry.

“I’m okay,” she says. Her eyes wander until they see Dr. Brenner. “Papa,” she says, shrinking into Mike. Both of her hands fly up to pull at the collar around her neck.

“Alright, seriously dude, what’s with the collar?” Jonathan says, side-eying Dr. Brenner while he drives.

“Just a precaution,” Brenner says diplomatically. “You’re Jonathan Byers, correct? Would you stop at the next pay phone we pass? I’ve got some rather urgent calls to make.”

Eleven finds the strength to sit up, and says, voice firm, “I want it off. Now.”

Brenner sighs. “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Eleven. Not while everyone here distrusts me.”

Mike scoffs again. “And why would we ever trust you? You’re the one who faked Will’s death and opened the gate to the Upside Down in the first place. You’re the one who treated El like a lab rat her entire life, and you’ve done nothing but make her miserable and afraid!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, boy,” Dr. Brenner says in a low voice. “I suggest you stop.”

“Don’t threaten him!” Jonathan says. “Not in this car!”

“Not in the pizza-mobile!” Argyle chimes in, barely understanding anything being said.

El takes Mike’s hand, flashing a little smile at him before her expression turns deadly serious again towards Brenner. “Take. It. Off.”

He stands his ground. “I won’t be bullied by a bunch of teenagers. I see a phone, Jonathan, pull over,” Dr. Brenner says. Jonathan glares but pulls the car over, keeping the engine running while Brenner hops out and encloses himself in the phone booth. There are a couple of shabby trees giving the phone booth some shade, but otherwise it was still open desert roads. They aren’t very hidden.

“My dudes, I do not like that dude. Bad vibes all around,” Argyle comments, all five of them staring at Brenner through the car windows. They all mutter agreement. Mike shifts his attention back to Eleven, sitting leaning heavily against his side.

“Does it hurt?” Mike asks, tapping the collar with a finger.

She shakes her head. “Only when Papa��� wants it to. Electricity,” she says, wiggling her fingers to demonstrate.

“Jesus Christ,” Argyle swears, eyes wide.

“Hey, guys?” Will says suddenly. They turn to him, who is staring out the back window. “We’re being followed.” Along the road behind them, high above the trees, was the helicopter, steadily getting closer.

“Shit. We’ve gotta go,” Jonathan says, honking the car horn. “Hey!” he shouts, waving an arm at Brenner in the phone booth. The man holds up a finger, telling him to wait. “You’ve got to be joking.”

A bullet strikes the ground between the van and the booth. “Shit!” Jonathan repeats.

“Warning shot,” Mike says.

“Leave the old man, just drive, Jonathan!” Argyle suggests. “Go, go!” chant Will and Mike. Jonathan steps on the gas and starts picking up speed, putting some distance in between them and Brenner. In the rearview mirror, he sees Brenner run out to stand in the middle of the road, looking after them. Then he sees more bullets hit the ground around him, and one strikes him in the arm.

“He’s hit!” Will exclaims, also watching through the back window.

Then Eleven suddenly convulses, and lets out a choked sound, and then starts screaming. The collar around her neck crackles to life, glowing blue as it electrocutes the girl. “Papa!” she screams, “Please, stop!”

“Jonathan! Stop the car!” Mike desperately shouts over her. Jonathan, panicking, slams the brakes and sends them all lurching forward in their seats. Mike bends over Eleven, trying to hold her but unable to get a grip on her while she thrashes on the van floor. Argyle has both of his hands on his head, his cheeks puffed out as he watches her claw at her throat with her fingers, trying to no avail to get it off.

“We have to go back,” Will calls to Jonathan. “He’s doing it on purpose!” Jonathan nods, sweat dripping down his forehead, and he sends the car into reverse.

Dr. Brenner has taken cover behind the trees. The glass of the phone booth shatters, and he has caught another bullet in his leg, lodged inside. He gasps in pain, and keeps one hand tightly gripped around the controller, holding down the activation button. He sees the van speeding in reverse towards him, and waits until it is close to finally let go of the trigger.

Eleven gasps, and could breathe again, finally, as tears pour from her eyes. She sits upright and finds Dr. Brenner immediately, staring at him with unbridled rage. “I’m getting out,” she says, pushing her way over Mike’s knees to open the van’s sliding door.

She emerges from the van, her gaze still locked on Papa. Bullets still hit the ground around them, and as the men in the helicopter recognize who she was, their aim targets Eleven as well. She glares at the bullets that nearly hit her, and they simply drop from the air, harmlessly falling to the ground.

Mike and Will move to follow her, but Jonathan snaps, “Stay in the car!”

Dr. Brenner begins to look nervous. He holds up the controller, as if to demonstrate he’s not currently using it. Eleven curls her lips. “I said, if you try to stop me, I will kill you.”

“Eleven, be reasonable,” Dr. Brenner says, as she begins walking towards him. “Look, I’ll take off the collar.” He presses a button and the collar unclasps from her neck. She tears it off and throws it to the ground. “I’m sorry I had to resort to such measures, Eleven, but-”

Another round of bullets strike the ground around them. Eleven stops the ones nearest to her, but lets the others go, one landing in Brenner’s stomach. He doubles over in pain, dropping the controller, and is hit again, and falls to the ground, panting heavily.

She stops a few feet away from him, and redirects her attention to the helicopter above them. Some of the bullets hit the van, and she has to destroy the helicopter. Her nose is already bleeding. She reaches her arm out towards the helicopter, concentrating all of her mental strength on manipulating the machinery. She makes it sway back and forth, then spin around in circles, until finally it drops from the sky.

The explosion is a blast of warmth that washes over them, intense heat and a layer of dust emanating from the crash. Eleven walks until she can kneel down next to Dr. Brenner. The man smiles, faintly.

“I’m proud of you, Eleven,” he says, voice rasping. “You’ll always be my child.” He reaches his arm out towards her, and she leans away from his touch. He looks mournful. “I only regret that I couldn’t do a better job of protecting you. I want you to understand, everything I did, I did for you.”

“Friends don’t lie,” Eleven says, and then she squeezes her fist like she’s squeezing his heart. And Dr. Brenner dies, and she feels him die.

Unable to hold herself up anymore, red running from her nose down her chin and to her neck, she collapses into the dirt next to Dr. Brenner’s body. Mike appears at her side, and Eleven buries her head into Mike’s chest and cries.

Will crouches next to them, rubbing circles into her back while Mike whispers reassurances to her. Argyle stands next to Jonathan, both at a loss.

“That was hella stressful, I’m gonna need to take a walk,” Argyle announces. “Jonathan, you in?”

Jonathan shakes his head, staring at the group of kids huddled on the ground. “I have to drive. Five minutes,” he says, getting back into the van. “Then we should get going again.”

Argyle wanders away, pulling out his joints and his lighter. “Responsible Jonathan,” he says to no one, shaking his head and shrugging. “I think I like him. …This is insane. This is all fucking insane.” When he gets back into the van, seven minutes later, he’s much more at ease, relaxing into the shotgun seat, turning the music back on.

“Was that your dad or something?” Argyle asks, breaking the silence. Everyone gives him horrified looks, but Eleven only nods. “Shit dude, that can be rough. But it’s not so bad being an orphan, I’ve been in foster homes my entire life and I turned out fine. I think, like, not having family gives you a unique perspective on life and stuff.”

“Argyle, stop talking,” Jonathan hisses.

“What is an- orphan?” Eleven asks.

“It’s when your parents are both dead,” Argyle explains.

“Mama is alive.”

“Oh, sick, man! High five!”

Argyle turns around in his seat and holds up his hand. Bemused, Eleven tentatively touches her palm to his.

Mike turns to her, his arms already permanently wrapped around her. “Do you remember what I said to you three years ago? About how you were going to live with me at my house?”

“Yes. You said you were my family.”

Mike nods. “And I am.”

“And so am I,” Will adds. “You’re my sister, El. You’ll always be my sister.”

“You’re our sister,” Jonathan amends, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. “And you have our mom, too, once she gets back from her… trip. You are a part of this family.”

Eleven nods, smiling with watery eyes. “Thank, you. All of you.” Then her face turns serious. “We need to get to Hawkins. They’re in danger.”

“Who’s in danger?” Will asks.

“Everyone.”

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eleven #mike wheeler #will byers #jonathan byers #argyle #dr brenner #fix it #fanfic #fanfiction #i REALLY LIKED season 4 #but like..... i can make it better #my writing #expect more of this? maybe? #i have ideas about robin coming out to nancy #and fixing the fucking tragic byler scene

[bihet-dragonize]

I posted 18,870 times in 2022

693 posts created (4%)

18,177 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@nbblacksheep

@sawasawako

@venus-macabre

@lovedlovingly

I tagged 4,242 of my posts in 2022

#my answers - 439 posts

#kia's answers - 439 posts

#kia's post - 271 posts

#kia's og posts - 266 posts

#art reference - 79 posts

#johnny depp tw - 47 posts

#signal boost - 43 posts

#direct action - 42 posts

#prev tags - 40 posts

#mutual aid - 40 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

The way bi women have been talking about this for fucking years. Been yelling and screaming that we don't magically escape homophobia or misogyny just because we're dating, married to or fucking men and it was met with the vilest shit on this very fucking site. The way we provided study after fucking study. They way we said we deserve and need lgbt resources in case our cishet partners are abusive and it was treated as us being liars and invaders. The way we've spoken about how common biphobic beliefs (which inform why people refuse to even associate with the term "bisexual") has led to our high rates of ipv.

And we were ignored. People called us bihets (peep the url). People made it seem like were were just sluts that performed lesbianism for men (so much to unpack there). We were continually called liars and selfish and self centered and told that we were just trying to center our cishet relationships in lgbt spaces. People genuinely harassed bi bloggers for simply stating that bi m/f relationships were not cishet.

And now a bisexual woman who was abused for years because of her ex-husband's biphobic, misogynistic, jealousy, and she's just been told "Yes you were abused. No, you're not allowed to talk about it."

The fact that the biphobia is merely a footnote in most of the conversations surrounding the abuse (as if it can be neatly separated from JD's motivations behind his violence) is not lost on me either.

1,101 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

#4

Staff working FAST to remove those images meanwhile bloggers of color get slurs in our inboxes and calls for genocide against us, lgbt bloggers get literal harassment and graphic descriptions of violence, trans women getting just the vilest shit you could think of and its crickets. I think it's safe to say that that staff member and the rest of staff are just white supremacists. I never trusted them, but I hope for anyone that did this shows you just how ain't shit they've truly been.

1,445 notes - Posted May 28, 2022

#3

Anyways Imma complain about that author that just gets her ideas from her fucking agent like some 9th grade student.

I genuinely get so fucking annoyed with most of the booktok shit with the boring stock minimalist covers and the fucking fanfic-to-published pipeline but the idea that an author is 1. Getting their ideas from their agent in the form of like....suggested writing prompts and 2. Is being given tropes as the prompt with nothing else to consider, is mind boggling. Why do these people write? Why do these people do this if they don't want to create something as organically as possible? It's definitely a lack of respect for the craft cuz like if you respected writing and storytelling for the art that it is you wouldn't be reducing it down to tropes so you can start playing Situation Simulator 9000 with the most recent white cishet abled characters shown on your feed. It's just insane to me.

1,556 notes - Posted August 31, 2022

#2

I think you have to be particularly ignorant to see the treatment of lgbt people (regardless of whether we're sexually explicit or not) and of sex workers, and women who are confident in their sexual interests, and poc who are simultaneously hypersexualized and desexualized by racism, and disabled/fat people who are desexualized and fetishized by virtue of ableist/fatphobic dehumanization and think that the world has a net positive view of sex.

4,065 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The fact that I reported a puppet account for saying Black people deserved slavery and was given a bullshit "that's their opinion" response yet staff has deleted 3 of my Black mutuals on the same fucking day tells my that @staff is racist and that Black Excellence banner is only for fucking show. Y'all will let Black bloggers be harassed, but God forbid one of them says fucking white women. With fucking full blown pedos and white supremacists on your fucking site too. Hope your building blows up

15,741 notes - Posted February 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[ahopkins1965]

Mocospace Chat rooms and Conversation Chain Feeds!

[I want to inform everyone that whenever anyone receive an instant message on this website, it is comes from an unknown internet chat room or a chained conversation feed. Computer hackers use unknown internet chat rooms to communicate with anyone who is online at any time on any website. When an original conversation with your friend has expired on any website, and your online friend has logged off, then you are talking to a computer hacker, scammer, and a data thief. If you see too many misspelled words while you are online with your friends, then you are talking to a computer hacker. Computer hackers are very deceptive.

They tell a whole lot of lies all the time. Scammers and Data Thieves steal a lot of vital information from innocent people online. Computer hackers, scammers, and data thieves use women's profiles to lure innocent men into submitting their phone numbers, and all of their demographic information to very attractive women. Most of the men are single men and they are only looking for a relationship. Women are looking for a relationship, do not fool yourself. There are chat rooms for everyone for all ages. The chat rooms are very interesting! The chat rooms themselves are for adults.

This is because only adults are supposed to join each other and act like they have some common sense! Computer hackers invade the privacy of innocent people online as well as their personal life. Please be careful online, and never agree with anyone else to do anything online and offline. This is very serious! Please be careful online, and never give your personal information to anyone. Never reply to people that you do not know. Always ignore instant messages and ecards from strangers. If there is a spike or a series of instant messages when you are logged on to Mocospace, it means it is coming from an unknown chat room or a conversation feed. There are times when your friends might ask you to join in the conversation. It is best to check and see if your friends are officially online first.

If your friend is not online and you know for yourself, then someone else is illegally using your account. This means someone has cut and pasted your profile and picture onto another account as well as your picture. This means you are a victim of identity theft and fraud. Most hackers tend to use profiles of women between 18 to 40. They use profiles of women wearing their underwear or short shorts. They also prefer light skinned to brown skinned women. Mocospace is diverse! The website has men and women of all ages. I love all of you! I do not want any of you to get scammed like I did 3 years ago by people that I did not know simply because the hackers, scammers, and data thieves were using women's profiles on Black planet, Face book, and Yahoo.com websites. The email addresses that: the hackers, scammers, and data thieves used to communicate with me did not belong to them.

The telephone numbers that they used to communicate with me came from Accra Ghana, which is in Africa. All of the money that I sent them was in Western Union Funds totaling 16,977 USA dollars. The phone numbers were cloned and duplicated by the scammers and hackers themselves. These people have my social security number as well as all of my family members and friends’ information. This is wire fraud and identity fraud. This crime happens on a daily basis. Please be very careful because Romance Scams are on the rise because of innocent men and women who agree to marry each other and this is based on a promise by a woman who lives in a foreign country.

The victims of this scam are a man. The victim spends his money on a visa and transportation cost! Be very careful online and never send money to scammers, hackers, and data thieves. Most of the profiles on Moco-space are hacked and safe cracked. This is because the information from each profile is illegally downloaded into another profile, and in some cases is duplicated. The men and women profiles that have the most friends are usually randomly selected. I know all too well about the romance scam crime because I am a victim of this type of crime. I have made a promise to marry someone from another country and it turned out to be a scam because the young lady had taken all of my money $8,865 dollars and moved to another country.

She had moved to the country of Malaysia. I know because I had sent her pictures to her home to Accra, Ghana and the pictures were returned to me. It turned out that this young lady was a dissident. She had defected to the country because she was wanted on charges of wire fraud, aggravated robbery, grand theft, as well as identity theft and fraud. This young lady was in company of another man. I used to call this person on a regular basis because I felt in love with her. Like they say, don’t go chasing waterfalls!!!!

[purplerocker-thesims]

The Crime Empire - 2 - 2 - The Attackers

(Flash warning - One gif contains flashing)

A younger Meredith, fine in her looks, and still as chatty as ever, walked along the street with her boyfriend of a year. Heading from work to his home, laughing and smiling more than she could ever have in her entire life, shining through the winter darkness that coated the city.

It wasn't odd for her to walk him home, after all, she knew downtown like it was on back of her hand. She knew exactly where everything was, knew who was who, and knew practically everything one could know about a place, and she was very prideful of that, and that she felt untouchable.  

"I believe this is reverse?" He laughed, bringing a smile to Meredith's face. She was in love with her heart throbbing at his laugh, at the way he looked at her, the way she felt so perfectly happy, despite all of her father's warnings, she wanted this. This love, this happiness. It felt better than what she had. Better than being feared, being on top of the law, on top of everything.

"You won't last long if you walk me home, you know my father would flip if he knew I was with some laky."

"laky? I am more than that, aren't I? toots."

"Of course you are. Once I'm boss, You'll be my right hand man, I couldn't ask anyone else to do that job, but someone I trust."

"As if you have the heart to be the boss. You're too soft." He softly laughed at the dream. It wasn't a dream, but it must be. It wasn't a choice she had, but yet he took her words as a joke. Like her, being boss one day was never in her future. She wasn't like her father that treated everything the same, she knew the difference between work and her personal life, unlike he, and maybe that's will probably one day be her downfall but work was work to her, It go her where she was now.

You're too soft - Those words echoed into her mind.

"Well, I should go."  She backed away from him.

Meredith's boyfriend brought her into his embrace, holding her close.

"Alright, stay safe and promise to ring me when you get home, just in case." He smiled boyishly, pressing his face into her shoulder with, gentle kiss brushing the skin of her heck.

"You forget, who my father is sometimes." She parted from him, looking at him softly, still slowly, sliding her hand down his arm to his hand.

"You forget, you can't hid behind your father's name forever, at some point you got to make it your own."

"I'm not hiding, I'm-" The two stepped back from each other, noticing the cold bitter air stilled as the snow flakes started to fall. Footsteps approached with pride and steady with some grumbling off in the distance. It was odd to have people around that part of town, considering it wasn't close to the centre of the city. That oddness, shoot suspicion thought Meredith's nerves. She quick turned to see-

-ln the distance, where two men, strolling towards them without skipping the pace in line with each other. Causal unsuspecting clothing wrapped there figures perfectly the space around them with rotten vibes, with their hunger filled eyes piercing towards the two of them, eyes of famine effected animals, on the hunt for something, anything.

The glares, sent fear up her spine, as her body froze. Fuck flight or fight, her body didn't react the feeling of danger, not even after many years of her fight to keep alive. In this moment, She succumbed to the paralysing fear that wrapped around her, and fingers. Her mind scrambled on what to do. They were heading their way, quickly. She was afraid. "Hey!" Meredith swallowed her fear and called out, remembering the figures from earlier that day at work, snooping around the warehouse that she had be giving duty of keep watch that day. Again early on in her date with her boyfriend, walking the same directions, as them, at a normal distance to behind someone, at night. She didn't chop it off as anything more, but seeing them there. It rubbed her the wrong way, with rush of fear and what the fuck was she meant to do, rampaged though all reasoning in her body. Normally she'd love the rush of Fight or flight response, but today was different.

Something wasn't right about them, this time of seeing the two men, they seemed more more animalistic, no sense of humanity in there glares. She tried to act trough, knowing nothing bad was to happen to her. No she was too strong and besides, who'd try and do anything with her, when everyone in MoonBridge and it's downtown knew who her father was. He practically owned half the place, with the level of fear he brought with him, in every meeting, every encounter with him and every run in. Even at home, it was like walking on eggshells. She was confident, too confident for her own good, that she could sort the situation out.

Suddenly within a blink of of an eye, one of the men, had grappled Meredith's boyfriend, as he fought though his life to escape the man's grasp. Back against the attacker's chest, his nails digging into the young guy's face, causing blood to drawn. The attacker's face buried his face into his neck, biting down on it carelessly. Her boyfriend yelped and yelled helplessly, struggling for his life, while Meredith watched without doing anything.

It happened so fast, that Meredith had no time to react, nothing could of explained what happened, and how helpless she felt in that moment didn't help. She just froze in complete fear, her heart pounding in her ears as everything felt so slow. She saw, her own lover screaming out in pain, begging for her to help.

"Mer, please!" His haunting screams burned themselves into her mind, as she just stood, trembling, no amount of years could prepare her of the sight she saw, to a person she loved so dearly. So helpless. It wasn't the first time she saw, blood, gore, violence, but sight of her lover's throat being torn out by the attackers teeth, was enough to leave her tearing up and completely consumed by terror. How was any of this fair?

Thud. His body fell to the cold frosty ground, lifeless. While she couldn't do anything but stand there, watching. Her life racing before her eyes with all of the things that made her not worth anything. For the first time, she felt completely helpless, completely unable to do anything and too her own actions. No amount to flaunting her father's statues could save her now. Act or Die.

The two men approached her. Cornering her.

"aw, little girl is scared, no rocks to throw and no one around" Mocked on of the to the side, smirking with pride. Blood dripping from his mouth, coating his face and teeth. Her body moved though forward, without her or directing it to do anything. Tears brimming to corners of her eyes, her body trembling, overcome with terror and yet there she stood before the two mean, trying to be brave. She was her Father's daughter, She had to prover herself at some point, but a fight at night wasn't how she planned for it to be.

"Excuse me? scared? Don't be stupid." Meredith's voice let out unnatural with a confidence that she didn't have, but fear was a wild thing when the threat of death loomed around her. choking out any hope of talking her way out of this. "What do you think you both are doing, messing with me. checking out the somewhere you aren't allowed to be. Following us."

The unspoken one, chuckled, finally letting out a word. "Brother, I think we found a new member."

"Excuse me! I was talking to you!,"

She swung a punch but the man dodged and-

-her, pulling her closer to him. his hand gripped her face, forcing her into his eyes. No matter how much she fought against him, her body loosened and all ability fight or think, became a fight in its self. A fight to not lose herself in his hypnotic gaze. Her body boiled by the gaze of him, as if a spell encased her body and mind in a dreadful limbo, slipping her into a deeper limp state, empty mind and a blanket of numbness ensuring she couldn't escape. Like a snake, wrapping it's pray before making the consuming. Despite all attempts to fight, she only pushed herself more into a state of paralyse. Enforcing her into his cold and dreadful embrace, which was oddly warm and careful. She became a empty shell of herself, relaxed in the attacker's arms as if in a form of sleep but she was wake. Her legs gave in as his face snuggled into the her neck, feeling the heat of his breath against her neck, before she clasped to the ground.

The for a moment, single thought appeared as the man loomed over Meredith, leaning in to try to continue what he was to doing. Her gun. it wasn't something that she enjoyed using, but it was no better time to use it. she used all her strength to point into let it trigger, regardless of how it will hit him.

BANG!

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#ts2 simblr #simblr #ts2 legacy #ts2CrimeEmpire #thesims2 #ts2Story

[lucky-berry]

For all my life I was taught to respect others, to respect their religion, races, etc.

I always thought, "Of course, if I want to be treated with respect, then I should do the same to others too. It's basic decency."

And all my life, I got it. My parents respected my opinion, my love of art. My peers respected that I have differences. I respected their time, they gave me more knowledge on how to respect their religion and stuff, and I followed the best I can.

It was only recently that I got that hit.

Others don't treat other people with respect. Their time and choices and religion, not respected.

I was confused.

What is the benefit to this? Why do you do this?

Even now I don't fully grasp it. And I hope I never will, so I can continue to respect others spaces. But right now, I am baffled.

When I am at another's home, even if it is a family member's, I do my best to not step out of line. Stay where guests are meant to be, do not go anywhere private unless the host invites you in. Of course, I have failed in my never ending curiosity when I was a child. But it's have never in my life thought about deliberately invading another's space to take it.

I am fussy, I can be very specific, it can annoy people. But they've never pushed to far, they'll make me try another choice, but let me go once I've made it clear that my no is firm.

What I'm saying is, I don't understand what the pleasure is from hurting others. From taking from others. From deliberately wanting, fully in one's heart, to disrespect someone's basic right.

As I see the atrocities in Gaza, I think, "Why?"

"Why is this happening?" Then I learn the history.

Then I ask again, "Why is this the choice that was made? Surely there are better choices." And I thought what I would do. And indeed there are better choices. Better choices by the powers of the world that could've been taken that they didn't take. Choices that would've made them stay on the higher ground, had they cared to think. If they cared about their appearance, as selfish as a reason that may be, they would've taken had they thought and realized that this was the morale choice that kept them in the good graces of the ignorant like I was before.

So here I ask, as an outsider, someone who just wants to know. "Why do this? What reason, deeper within you, that you choose this?"

Perhaps the answer is that they are just a cruel person given power and the ego of a false god. Someone who doesn't even think twice about commiting to something before doing it.

Why take from another's home?

Why do you invade another's space?

Why can you not accept that you are a guest that overstayed your welcome now?

Couldn't you have done better than this?

Did they not teach you to be good, for God or yourself?

The people demand peace, a safe living space, their basic human rights be met.

They have the power to do so, so why don't they do it? I see only benefits, even selfish reasons that can quell a massive ego.

So, yeah, I'm confused on their thought process. Maybe in the end, they're just sad old men who are taking others with them as they descend into hell. Even their own.

I thought history existed to be studied so we don't repeat the same stupid mistakes of the past, not make a pattern study out of it.

Sorry, this is rambling.

It's just that, when I learned about the whole hospital bombing fiasco and how they think Hamas and stuff were there, I thought, "Wouldn't a raid be more effective?" And lo and behold, they weren't there. So yeah, I was right, if they raided, they would've saved the embarrassment and absolute shame of bombing a whole damn hospital for no good reason in the public eye. That was actually what really got me invested. Usually, I try not to get involved, to cynical and pessimistic to even try. After that, I got mad, good Lord they are an incompetent bunch.

#free palestine #palestine #end the genocide #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #gaza