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izohing · 5 months

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Best friend Ellie Williams who has been ignoring for days.

Warnings: Top reader kinda, squirting, homophobia, slurs, fingering

You and Ellie have been friends for years, starting back when you guys were teens. From what Ellie has gathered, you’ve always wanted it to stay this way. It’s insane that Ellie knows everything about you doesn’t know if you even like girls. It’s been driving her crazy, she’s been waiting for any signs, any confirmation, that she could ever have a change. Just one mention of a guy you like, or god forbid a girl.

Would dating even change anything? Ellie already sees almost all of you under the guise that you two are best friends. She can come over whenever she wants, she already sleeps in your bed almost every night, and you two change and shower together. She feels as though she is already blessed by being able to be this close to you, she thinks she’d rather stay right where she is than risk it all. Until you start to bring a guy around.

Ellie thinks that her life might be over. That soon he’ll be in your bed, he’ll have a key to your apartment, and that he’ll be able to share those intimate moments with you instead. A part of Ellie is mad at you. That she’s been with you through everything and now you guys can’t share a conversation without him being brought up.

Ellie kinda loses her shit when your new boyfriend calls her out on her little crush in front of you.

The three of you have been sitting in your and Ellie’s favorite bar when it happens. Ellie was tired of feeling like she had to stay dormant as you two giggled all night. For the most part, Ellie just stuck to her phone all night, until your boyfriend said something.

“Would you ever think about getting with a girl?”

You look down at your drink and start stirring the liquid with your straw. Your face is so flushed and anyone good tell you’re uncomfortable right now, but he kept going.

“What no? Not for me? Girl on girl action is so hot.”

Ellie couldn’t stay quiet anymore.

“What the fuck dude?”

Your boyfriend turns his attention to Ellie, visibly annoyed.

“Of course that was the only part of the conversation that you listened to.”

“What?” Ellie can feel her face heat up.

“You heard me, it’s always some dyke that seems to never be able to take a compliment. Don’t look at me think that, I see the way you look at y/n. You’re just mad that you can’t play boyfriend girlfriend with her anymore now that she’s got a real man.”

Ellie is shaking with a mix of pure anger and embarrassment. She wants to punch that smug look on his face so bad, but she knows that would make your friendship officially unsalvageable. Instead she just picks up her stuff and leaves.

She’s been stuck in limbo for what feels like so long now. She can’t talk to you after that. Ellie still feels so embarrassed she can’t breathe whenever she thinks of it.

After a week of not talking, you finally send her a late night text.

“Hey, bf/n said you need to pick up your clothes.”

Wow. You really must hate her. Begrudgingly Ellie drives to your apartment to go pick them up. She expects you to just hand her the bags of clothes when she gets there, but instead you ask her to come inside. Ellie is very reluctant at first.

“He’s not here if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Ellie walks inside and straight to your room silently. She opens up the bedside drawer and starts pulling the clothes out. You stand by the door frame.

“I love you”

Ellie pulls her hands out of the drawer and turns to look at you “I- what?”

“I was scared and embarrassed to tell you, and I don’t want to lose you forever over him. Whether or not what he said was true, I still think you should know.”

“Wait what?” Ellie walks closer to you. After all this time you really had no idea? Ellie continues,

“It is true, everything he said.”

You step forward as well. Both of your bodies are only inches apart, so close you can feel her breathing. Ellie keeps her hands hovering over your hips, not yet sure if it was really okay.

You place your hand in her short hair and pull her mouth into yours. Ellie tries to enjoy the kiss before pulling away to potentially ruin it with a question.

“But what about bf/n? Cheating is wrong”

Not that your answer would’ve mattered, it wouldn’t have made Ellie opposed to kissing you. Cheating doesn’t seem so bad when it’s with her and on that asshole.

Your face now moved towards her neck and chest. “I told him. It was over. After. You left.” Every few words punctuated by a kiss to Ellie’s collar bone and neck.

And with that, Ellie finally allows herself to bask in you. She moves her lips back to yours and wrapping her hands around your curves.

“Ive been feral over you since we met.” She admits.

You crack a smug smile, “Oh really? Why don’t you show me?”

While you might have only been teasing, Ellie took this much more seriously. She removes her hand from your hip, wraps it around your hand, and pulls it into her sweats. Even through her underwear you can feel that she is absolutely soaked.

“Don’t you see what you do to me?”

You move her underwear to the side and dip your fingers in and you can feel Ellie’s whole body shiver. She removes her hand from yours and let you continue with your movements. Your fingers slowly pump in and out of her and start walking her towards the bed.

You slowly pull Ellie on top of you in the bed, keeping your hand in her pants. She immediately starts grinding and riding your fingers, attempting to build up her orgasm. With your other hand you stick your hand up her shirt and tweak her nipple. She clenches and that and her hips start to move faster.

Ellie’s walls start spasming so quickly. Along with her cream, you start to feel liquid. Her breath starts to quicken before becoming silent as her hips start to slow to a grind. Realizing whats happening, you push the heel of your hand into her, giving her that extra needed pressure.

Once the liquid stops she climbs off of you. When she rolls off of you, you notice that her sweats are darkened with her climax.

When going to get her a new pair of pants you grab out of your drawer, not hers. When handing them to you her you say something in a boastful tone,

“You know, since your my girlfriend now and stuff”

#ellie williams fic #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #tlou x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x fem reader

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gatheringbones · 1 year

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[“Pop culture tells us that a real woman knows how to use her body to get what she wants, wielding the power of attraction, seducing with her animal magnetism. But I ask, how much power is there in being a carrot on a stick that is dangled in front of someone? And I can’t help but notice that when men try to flatter us, they often use words like “enchanting” and “mysterious.” But to me, those words seem like a subconscious attempt by them to place some distance between us.

So it bothers me when I hear women buy into a similar mysticism, as they try to empower us by proclaiming that we are magical, that we are mother earth with the ability to give birth, bearing life cycles that follow the moon like the tides of the ocean. But don’t they see the danger in buying into the idea that we are supernatural beings? For if we call ourselves “goddesses,” then there is no need for anyone to treat us like human beings.

I believe that this is where second-wave feminism came to a grinding halt: When we got caught up in the myth that women are special because of our biology. Because when we take pride in how fundamentally different we are from men, we unknowingly engage in a dangerous game of opposites. For if men are big, then women must be small. And if men are strong, then women must be soft. And it becomes impossible to write a loud and proud poem about what it means to be a woman without either ridiculing men or else pulling the rug out from under ourselves. And being a woman is contradiction enough without being both a transsexual and a dyke like myself.

I often feel like the monkey in the middle: On one side of me are older lesbians who insist that I am still a man, as if being born male was some awful disease that has infected my blood and my bones permanently. On the other side of me are younger dykes who are infatuated with trans men and tranny bois, yet secretly confess to friends that they are disturbed by trans women because we act so “effeminate.” I wonder how they can be so oblivious to their own arrogance, for anyone who admires trans men but dismisses trans women is simply practicing another form of sexism. I used to think it was a contradiction that some dykes abhorred me for my masculinity while others hated me for my femininity, until I realized that being a woman means that everyone has a stake in seeing what they want to see in me.”]

julia serano, from excluded: making feminist and queer movements more inclusive, 2013

#julia serano #bi literature #trans literature #gender stuff #currently reading

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femmedionysus · 11 months

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why cant transmascs use the t slur? we're all transgender whether we're nonbinary, trans men, agender, transfemme, trans women or whatever. why does the assigned birth gender matter? we've all experienced transphobia and the t slur is used the same against transmascs as it is transfemmes.

yes, we have all experienced transphobia, you’re right! can you guess what we haven’t all experienced though?

that’s right, transmisogyny! while all trans people do face transphobia, trans women & transfems face a unique intersection of transphobia & misogyny greater than the sum of its parts. I don’t say that to downplay transphobia - transphobia is dangerous & horrrible to experience, genuinely.

when you are in a community with many different people, sometimes you share one axis of oppression with some people, but they may experience a different type of oppression too, one that you don’t experience. that doesn’t mean that you stop experiencing the type of oppression that you share with them, it just means that they experience other forms of oppression, and sometimes those are connected to each other. sharing one form of oppression with someone doesn’t give you the experience of other forms of oppression that person has.

for example: all non-straight people experience homophobia. all women experience misogyny. as a lesbian, I get both homophobia and misogyny directed at me, & where those two things intersect, I experience lesbophobia. this doesn’t mean that every time I experience oppression, it’s automatically lesbophobia - sometimes it is “just” homophobia or “just” misogyny. I share the experience of misogyny with cis & trans women of all sexualities. I share the experience of homophobia with gay & bi people of all genders. the fact that I am a target of lesbophobia doesn’t make the homophobia that a gay man experiences any less dangerous or awful; it would still be inappropriate for him to reclaim the word dyke for himself, because that word was never meant as a slur against him. the fact that I experience lesbophobia doesn’t make the misogyny a straight woman faces any less dangerous or awful, but it would still be inappropriate for her to call herself a dyke.

the t slur originated as a hateful term used against trans women. when it is used towards tme people, it is not meant as an insult for being transmasc, it is meant to insult us by grouping us in with trans women. do you see why it’s different for someone affected by transmisogyny to reclaim a transmisogynistic slur than it is for someone who is not affected by transmisogyny to use it?

you sound young so I am genuinely trying to explain here. I’m not your dad, I can’t tell you what words you can or cannot say, you are a complete stranger to me. I’m just letting you know that when you use a slur that is not targeted at you, the people around you who are targeted by that slur will probably feel less safe around you, & a lot of people around you will probably think you sound like an asshole.

#anonymous #transmisogyny tw #before anyone starts discourse on this please know that 1) I block clowns freely & without remorse #& 2) bi women can reclaim dyke if they want to. if you disagree please go argue with the wall about it & not in my notes

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jaed1nzmogies · 1 year

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heyy long time no see! anyways rant post. its cool to skip this :)

cw for queer discourse. which i hate, and this will probably be the only time i ever discuss anything like this besides the occasional reblog

just a little rant about my thoughts recently. and please dont try to change my mind. im autistic and i have a large sense of justice so its almost impossible to change my mind about things im very stubborn

of course, my rant is about trans men trying to claim the lesbian label. i want to be specific when i say trans MEN, not trans masc people, not “masculine-aligned”, not gender fluid or anything else. trans men that identify as men. and THEN try to claim to be a lesbian. listen, i am in no way advocating for those types of lesbians. the really weird terfy ones are bad. so terfy lesbians or whatever youre calling yourself that hate trans women i do not like you.

Anyways, its infuriating. How are you not disgusted by using the term lesbian as a man? how are you, as a trans man, comfortable in any way shape or form. you work so hard to fit in as a man, right? if you are a man in your head, why do you think a lesbian would be attracted to you? surely you KNOW they are not thinking of you as a man. ever. And, how are you even comfortable using the term that women and other non men carved out for themselves? how do you feel like you have the right to trample over everything like that as a man?

I genuinely do not care if you identified as a lesbian before you transitioned. That does not give you the right to infringe on that label that is not for you. I don’t care if you “have such a deep connection to the label” you are creepy. Can you imagine a cis man doing that? why are you any different? and dont even get me started with “sexuality and gender are not rigid” then dont use the terms when you mean something else??? along with “contradicting terms is what being queer is about” what?? that is literally not even true 😭😭 identifying as things out of spite of your OWN community is crazy. these peoples logic is so crazy. i want to open their skull and examine their brain to see how it works.

Contradicting terms were more popular in the past, with things like boy dyke or other examples i cannot remember right now (im sorry if that wasnt even right but you know what im talking about right) The community has obviously changed. And it’s definitely for the better. As it stands, the community has plenty of fighting as it is. There is nothing you lose from just admitting something that everyone else knows; Youre just straight.

This is just another stupid issue that can so easily be solved. If you are a man, cis or trans, doesn’t matter. You cannot be a lesbian. You can have a connection to past experiences when you identified as a girl. You can recognize its part of your upbringing and effected you as a person. That does not give you the right to infringe on the label.

The community has demonized the label Straight so much that their own men have cowarded in fear of it.

You can use the word straight. you are not any less part of this community, i promise. theres more to life than existing out of spite of your own siblings.

Im going to be honest, if you identify as a lesbian, no one will see you as a man.

Honestly, why is it always lesbians getting the butt end of everything? wheres all the trans women claiming to be gay? yeah i wonder.

also, i want to make it clear im obviously a progressive. this is just where i draw the line morally. ok thanks

Anyways! i know this isnt the important issue right now but letting things off your chest is a good thing, right?

anyways love u guys hope ur doin well

#the term straight is okay to use guys #it wont bite #this isnt about he/him lesbians #this isnt about genderfluid lesbians #this isnt about nonbinary lesbians #lesbian discourse how original #discourse cw #discourse tw #discourse #banger post #based and redpilled

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stonebutchstories · 2 years

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I don’t know what it is about butches, man. I think it’s knowing that they get it all a little better than everybody else. Even other dykes. I want to come to them emptyhanded, expectations unmade. You don’t have to be anything for me. I want them to fill my empty hands with whatever feels right. I want their hands guiding mine where to touch. I want them to do the same for me.

I wanna hear them, and feel them wrap around me. I want to tune into every feeling, and shush and soothe the fear that boils beneath their surface. I want to tell them they’re being so good, and they’re okay. I want them to tell the truth, entirely, with their body. It’s hard to do it, under the weight of all those sometimes conflicting expectations and all that secondhand armor. But I always can tell. When they tell me the truth about what they want, it’s what I love them for.

I want them to cum, shaking, on my fingers while I say “that’s my girl”. They have to hate that word in front of others, because when people call them girl they mean ‘I don’t believe you when you tell me what you feel. You have to feel a way that I understand, and the way I tell your body it is.” They have to reject it entirely so that people who don’t understand aren’t confused, but sometimes, in private, it’s what they beg to hear. I love to get to be the one to say, “You can be a girl here. I can be Sir here. And it doesn’t have to mean what they told us it means. In my arms, you don’t have to prove you’re anything. You say you’re butch, and I believe you.” The words we choose to make ourselves in the world outside of each other are careful, fearful things. If we pick the wrong one, they want to revoke our right to being ourselves. In private they can say that yes, they’re butch, and ‘good girl’ feels warm in their chest, and touch here please Sir, and I love you. With all my heart, I know it’s all true. Knowing they aren’t scared to tell me the truth makes me feel warm. Maybe allowing that truth to live in my heart gives me the chance to believe it when I whisper it to myself- “You say you’re butch, and I believe you.”

#butch4butch #stone butch #the idea of being safe to explore gender and sexuality together w a butch while honoring each other’s limits and boundaries #pretty sexy! pretty sexy indeed #getting called girl by cis people is gross #getting called girl by a butch who loves you because you asked her to and she knows you’re not a woman but you like the word? hot

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autisticandroids · 3 years

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ok how would girls au work because i feel like to keep true with the theme of toxic gender roles them being cool and butch feels very at odds with that when like the girl version of that would be like christian girl with an instagram talking about country life and her future husband like it would be an interesting combo for them because john would be like ur an inherent failure for being a girl but also the expectations are lower already for them compared to john and sons

yeah it’s like weird! but i think about it a lot. i made a big fun post with it here.

basically my ideas are a combination of serious (dean) interesting (sam) and self-indulgent (cas).

like first of all i think sam is an out lesbian and i think she came out during the fight before stanford. like, i think she told dean when she was like fifteen, but she told john the night she left. she spat it in his face, actually.

i think dean is like. dean loves her unconditionally but is also lightly homophobic to her about it, you know? they were accustomed to sharing motel room beds as kids but dean won’t do it anymore now that she knows sam likes girls. dean is also like, weird to her about her interactions with other women, and also talks constantly about men, as though men-liking were a cool exclusive club only dean is invited to.

i think sam has like butt length straight hair and doesn’t wear any makeup ever but doesn’t like. wear mens clothes or anything, like she wears plain clothes that are cut for women. on hunts she puts her hair in a braid. maybe she braids a spiked strap into it like beka cooper.

dean is like........ dean is a lot like young, pre-john mary i think. think the song remains the same. dean is obsessed with performing masculinity, while at the same time terrified of seeming mannish or queer. she walks a weird line, and ends up overperforming both masculinity and femininity. she regularly challenges dudes twice her size to arm wrestling contests in bars, but she never goes out of the motel room without a full face of makeup. like she’s obsessed with doing both. masculinity for respect, and femininity for conformity. you know that thing dean does with his voice? the harshening? the intentionally adopted accent and tough guy tones? she does that too. and her voice is raspy, like rachel miner’s. she’s just as invested in her “heterosexuality” as canon dean.

she wears dean’s same green army jacket but underneath it she ties up a flannel shirt so it bares her midriff. she wears her hair like s13 mary, except that sometimes she puts it in little pigtails.

cas is the easiest because cas’ gender presentation doesn’t matter at all except in how OTHER PEOPLE relate to her, so it’s less a question of “how would cas do woman?” and more a question of “what would it be fun to see other people/dean specifically react to?”

so basically like. jimmy novak is a frumpy feminine christian mom. still wears the trench coat and probably a suit but when i say suit i mean blazer, pencil skirt, tights, blouse (or maaaybe a button down), low-ish heels. long hair in bouncy curls (think rowena’s hair but no bangs and black). actually jimmy novak probably pinned her hair up in a slight updo.

anyway i’ve decided that i refuse to try and remember what actually happened with cas falling in like, canon, like how close he got to human. this au’s cas gets close enough to human that she has to start like. showering. anyway she can’t take care of the hair so it gets tangled in a giant rat’s nest and dean gives her a bathroom chop. she has to borrow the winchester sisters’ clothes, because she has to start changing clothes but also because she can’t fucking walk in jimmy’s heels or in that confining skirt without the assistance of her grace.

all the winchesters’ clothes look baggy on her because she’s kind of spindly and narrow and flat as a board. like dean and sam have big shoulders, big hips, and big breasts, and cas has zero out of three, so anything she wears looks like a smock. she keeps wearing the coat over whatever they give her. she’s tallish (five feet eight or nine inches?) but dean is taller and sam is freakishly tall. cas could probably pass for a man alone but when she’s with dean or sam it’s obvious she’s a woman just because of the heights.

when she returns to angelhood at the end of season five, she’s wearing jimmy’s white office button down, but no bra underneath because the only reasons she would need one would be to either make her boobs look bigger or to hide her nipples and cas isn’t interested in either of those things and bras are uncomfortable, no blazer on top, a set of cargo pants that look feminine and form fitting on dean because dean is in possession of an ass and hips, but baggy and dykey on cas because she is not, combat boots (also dean’s), and the coat, and her hair is just like canon cas’ hair but way choppier because dean cut it for her.

anyway, dean treats cas in a WILD way, like. they do some intricate rituals in season four? they are dean winchester and castiel, after all. but after cas butches up in season five and then stays that way dean pushes it into overdrive. “i wish you were a boy so i could date you” shit. dean lets cas put a hand on the small of her back. she jokes that cas is her boyfriend. when cas sleeps, they sleep in the same bed, “since you can’t possibly share with sam, she’s a dyke.” also she called cas cassie a lot when cas looked more feminine but switches exclusively to cas when cas looks more masculine. like it’s this whole “”””straight”””” girl intricate ritual where one is attracted to a masculine woman so one coercively masculinizes her further.

sam tries to check in with cas to see if cas is cool with this forcible masculinization and weird gender relationship, because sam is gay and Understands or at least thinks she does. she also catches wind that cas is here to smash a lot sooner than in canon. but anyway cas rebuffs her because cas hates sam.

tangent, but one of my least favorite things that happens in mid spn, starting i think in s6, is that they start needing plausible deniability for cas, so they start pretending him and sam are like, friends. like 6.20 “i did it to protect the boys. or to protect myself. i don’t know anymore.” like there’s all this emotional stuff where cas is clearly talking about his emotional connection to dean, but sam gets included in order to make it seem SLIGHTLY less gay. and that’s annoying because of the no-homo-ness but it’s actually more annoying because 1) i liked s5 cas’ bitchiness towards sam i think that killed and 2) if sam and cas are gonna be friends after cas was a bitch and called sam an abomination and shit, develop it! develop it! don’t just Say that they are.

anyway it’s my au and i say what happens so the plausible deniability “both the brothers are important to me” shit does NOT happen and cas is a bitch to sam throughout s5&6. they do eventually bond later? like cas still takes sam’s hell trauma, and sam feels like she owes her for that (even though it was CAS’ FAULT IN THE FIRST PLACE but sam is batshit like that). so that’s what kind of gets them to eventually bond a little and become friends and comrades.

also sam clocks cas as gay. obviously. sam tries to inform cas about being gay. because sam too is gay. it only kind of sticks. cas doesn’t really understand how human societal roles work. cas has HUGE angel autism and i support her.

also as long as we’re talking about five and six, why don’t we deal with male lisa. so obviously the kid thing doesn’t work. the thing that lisa does that makes dean like :o is not “have a kid that might be dean’s” but “tell dean he was going to propose.” this implies that they were dating in the past longer than canon dean and lisa but oh well.

however, when dean gets pulled back into hunting, she’s six weeks pregnant by lisa and doesn’t know it. cas immediately tells her, and offers to give her an angelic abortion. she accepts without hesitating and cas does it. the fact that this - cas taking ownership of dean’s reproductive organs in a somewhat invasive way, even if it was wanted - contributes to their whole.... season six..... dynamic. dean never tells lisa about this.

that’s everything i can think of. i have work in four hours.

#spn #asks #pregnancy tw #Anonymous #girls au

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tabikuntz · 3 years

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I love when men mock me. Call me names. Tell I’m being dumb. Say they don’t think so, of that’s not right. When they correct me. When they condescend. When they laugh at me. When they are mean. Rough. Tough. Hard. When they take it out on me. I love when men abuse my bottom and hate fuck my ass and ravish my holes because I don’t deserve any better. When they slap my big dumb fake tits. When they beat my bimbo bottom black and blue. When they use their words to cut me down, to put me back in my place... or a little lower each time. When they force me down. When they dumb me down. I love feeling my IQ slip away until it was never there and it never comes back all the way but I can never figure out what I lost. I love when I only think I can think, but I’ve always been wrong. When I’ve always really been dumb. When I thought I was pretending but then I really do feel real dumb. When I learn how to get it wrong every time so He will always abuse me like I need Him to. Because I always will get it wrong. Because I’m really really dumb. Going blank as He tells me to just forget. Just to forget all those notions I had... or didn’t really have... all that thinky stuff that’s too hard.... fuck ! I love when He wipes me out by pressing my bimbo buttons. When he says I’m just a girl, and thinking’s not for girls. And I believe it. I feel myself believe it. Believe Him. Believe in Men. Because it’s true. Because Men are superior. And us girls are just dumb cunts who can’t read or write or do math too well, if we can at all—

so why even try to teach us ? Did I even go to any school ? I can’t remember and I don’t even want to. I love being in this kept-down born-lesser role. I love Male dominance and sexism and misogyny and being gaslit and having my mind confused and blurred... erased ? Put in a fog ? having my soft pink girly memory changed and corrected to reflect the truth of how of course He is right because Men are always right. Like they always have been. I love how it feels. Not to have gotten any smarter. Not to know how to the most simple easy things that Men can do so easily. I love how it means I need Men, in my life, to think for me and decide for me. I love needing Men so much I’ll accept however badly they treat me. Because I need them. And I’ve always needed them. I always will. I love being so helpless. To have always gotten dumber, each day. Every way. As a girl. As a silly little girl who always needs Daddy. I will always be Daddy’s girl.

I love being this way. I love being such a bimbo. I love being just some silly little inbred dropout retard nympho dyke bimbo— dyslexic and ditzy and just born slow and sexy. Just a sex object, just a thing that can’t resist or fight back or say no when some ripped muscle hunk is pushing me plastic porn tits over face down ass up into that beer-sloppy bar and tears into my girly cunt pantyhose or trashy bitch thong if I even like remembered to wear any but anyway He’s ripping into me and brutally shoving a pool cue up my asshole for as long and as many inches as it takes for me to beg. Beg for His naked Cock. Beg Him to nut in me. Beg Him for an orgasm. Just one tiny one. Face down ass up. As I stare dumb and numb into the mirror at my stupid face blushing to be butt-raped once again in a bimbo bar like some tweaking painted tranny boy buzzing on the fuck rush in a cock-cruising flaming-pink skintight fucktube of a minidress going blank in the matching seven-inch sex spikes staring at my matching nail polish like I dunno why as it happens to me again... as He cornholes me into being His glory hole... being drugged by what’s in those pink bimbo drinks or just that fucking suggestible... with no will always needing a Man...

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burningtrashhh · 3 years

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I hate ciset men 🤡

Tw// mentions of SA, rape, pedophilia, un-wanted nudes, homophobia/transphobia.

Time to rant. So just for some background, I am an AFB nonbinary sapphic. I define my gender as being non-existent and just me, and my sexuality being that I am attracted to more feminine individuals. I do date women and nonbinary people but when it comes to men I am more asexual towards. I do find attraction in men but it is so little and is only towards my really close male friends but even still I wouldn’t date them. I have also had some really bad experiences when it comes to dealing with men. I have been sexually assaulted multiple times by a couple boys when I was younger and have been sexually harassed online and in person by adult men and boys alike. I don’t feel comfortable around men and even my guy friends are held at arms length.

Now here comes the rant part. Why do men act so entitled and think that you owe them sex? I am a minor (16 turning 17 on July 23rd) which is illegal (in my country) for me to receive nudes and to send nudes of myself to people.

On my Instagram account I have recently just got 500 followers, a great milestone for an introverted geek such as myself. But when I hit that milestone, I had started to receive really gross texts from adult men and even an 39 year old woman who then proceeded to send a video of her f*ngering herself. Ofc, as a human literally just breathing, I found this quite disgusting. I even had this random man threaten to rape and kill me and my family if I didn’t send him any nudes. Even after me telling him it was illegal, I was a lesbian and I didn’t want to, he still kept threatening me. Mind you, my age is in my bio, and so is my sexuality and pronouns. If these creeps actually did check my bio, they would know that I am a minor and a lesbian. I don’t even post provocative stuff on there, it’s literally me trying out different outfits and makeup looks or pictures with my friends. I don’t even have bikini pics so I’m not even close to “asking for it”. I do understand that even if a minor posts “provocative content” that they don’t deserve sexual harassment. Bikini pics don’t make you a slut and neither does posting a bit of cleavage. I only mentioned that in the rant to diminish the argument of “you were wearing THAT so you were asking for it”. Clothings does not equal consent. Now the reason for the title is because the majority of these messages I get are from men which ends up with them threatening me. It’s the idea that these men and boys make sock puppet accounts to prey on young children who appear feminine and even go to sexualize them even further when they say they are lesbian. And in the end, shortly after I hit 500 followers, I make a story saying that I’m going on hiatus because of mental health and the sexual harassment I receive on Instagram. I shouldn’t be worrying about men coming to threaten and possibly rape and kill me, I should be worrying when the next sims 4 game pack is coming out and if it’s worth buying it. Children shouldn’t be worried about being traumatized.

Now is the next part of the rant, the “ciset” part of the title. To my knowledge, ciset means a straight cis person. This means that they identify as their gender assigned at birth and their sexuality is straight. All of the men that text me are ciset identifying and tend to make homophobic comments while talking to me. It isn’t uncommon for me to be called a dyke or a f*g and being threatened to be raped shortly afterwards because of it. I also receive transphobic comments because in my bio I have they/them set as my pronouns. Another homophobic action that they do is that they love to sexualize my sexual identity. I even had a man lie and pretend to be a trans woman to try to convince me to join a sexual group chat of lesbians who were minors. It was proven later that this man admitted to identifying as male. With the homophobic comments, I have also had answers where I had asked someone for their sexuality and they had replied mockingly “Christian” or “Hindu”. This isn’t okay and it’s a reoccurring thing on Instagram. This is also a thing on tumblr too, literally on the day that I “returned to tumblr” I was never on it in the first place, just had an account I see two women covered in a white substance in their oral area, the camera shot bust up, proceed to lick each other’s tongues in a sexualize way while the one on the right grabs the left’s breast. The only reason why I had seen this post was because I follow the hashtag “grunge aesthetic”. Lesbians aren’t your porn and fetish.

As of this I am done my rant. Idc if I get any hate comments or if someone happens to message me hate. You are only part of the problem and just prove it by making those comments. I also want to mention that I am not fishing for pity points. I am simply just addressing the issue at hand and using my platform although small to spread awareness to the subject.

Now it’s that, I hope you all have a good day and drink some water 🥰

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themangledsans0508 · 3 years

Text

This Will Last

Read on Ao3

Summary: Mal hates Molly's mother with a passion. Even under her intimidating gaze, she tries to stand up to her. Jen saves the day, and Mal tries to comfort Molly after the encounter.

Words: 1062, Oneshot

Warnings: Slurs (D), Canonical Child Abuse,

Characters: Mal Yoo, Molly, Jen, Molly's Mom, Molly's Dad

Ships: Mally

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe: Canon Divergence

NOTE: Was requested by tarle007 on Wattpad

Mal could feel eyes boring into her, the fiery stare from Molly’s mother enough to make her want to shrink into her flannel. Despite how she felt, she knew Molly felt ten times worse at least. Molly tightly gripped her hand, her face pale panicked. Mal turned to see Jen who looked just as nervous as she did. Mal looked at her with pleading eyes and all Jen could do was give an apologetic smile. Molly stopped and Mal stepped up beside her, looking up to fight the glare from Molly’s mother with one of her own.

“Molly,” she said cooly, “You gave us the wrong address. We’ve been driving around for seven hours. You have to focus better.” Molly stayed silent, her eyes fixed on the floor. Jen cleared her throat.

“Our address isn’t the easiest to remember. Even I forget it sometimes!” Jen nervously chuckled and the woman looked her up and down.

“I’m not surprised that you forget it,” she sneered and directed her attention to Molly again, “You, however, remember lots of things. Like those silly stories about monsters and such.”

“Actually, those stories are Greek myths. You know, history?” Mal said. She raised an eyebrow at her.

“And who are you?” she asked.

“Mal Yoo, ma’am. What should I call you?” She offered a hand to be polite. The woman eyed it with distaste.

“Evelyn. Now, Molly Powell, I wasted seven hours trying to find this place and I get here to find that you haven’t even learned to stand up straight-”

“It’s because her back hurts from working all day,” Mal blurted. Evelyn inhaled sharply.

“I’m not speaking to you right now,” she put force behind each syllable. “It is rude to interrupt.”

“I’m not exactly polite, ma’am,” Mal explained. “I’ m just telling you why she’s slouching.”

“I didn’t ask you,” Evelyn snarled. “I don’t need to be disrespected by a child and a woman like that. It’s obvious that this camp was falsely advertised. It didn’t do any of the things it was supposed to.”

“What did you think a summer camp in the middle of the woods was going to do besides give kids an outdoor experience?” Mal remarked.

“That’s it. I’m not going to be spoken to like this by a dyke and a-”

“Stop!” Molly shouted. Evelyn appeared taken aback briefly before she reached out and roughly grabbed Molly’s upper arm.

“We’re leaving,” she stated.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs Evelyn, but a camper cannot be withdrawn midsummer. It’s clearly stated in our brochure,” Jen interjected. Her eyes narrowed.

“I would like to speak with the director,” she demanded. Jen nodded.

“Of course, Rosie’s cabin is right this way. I’m afraid the girls will have to stay here, no campers allowed in the director’s cabin.” She led Evelyn off and the man knelt down, hugging Molly.

“I’m sorry your mom embarrassed you in front of your friend, I’ve got to go make sure your mother doesn’t give the director a hard time. Love you kiddo!” He ruffled her hair and waltzed off. Molly didn’t stay to watch them go, immediately heading for the cabin after she was released, bringing Mal along. She opened the door and went right to Mal’s bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Bubbles crawled onto her lap and chirped at her, making an odd noise when Molly started stroking his fur.

“I’m so sorry Mal,” Molly mumbled. Mal took a seat beside her and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her tight against her body.

“Molly, what are you apologising for? You don’t control your mom. Is it because she called me a dyke? Let’s be honest, I totally am,” Mal reassured. Molly shook her head.

“No, she’s just- she was so rude to you and Jen. Neither of you deserved that.” Molly wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry. It’s just seeing her after being away from her for so long is really upsetting. I’ve been able to look back and realize that how I was living wasn’t normal. I’m happy right now. Maybe not forever, but for a little bit. She could take that away from me. She just tried to.”

“Jen and Rosie won’t let her. I mean, Jen hates lying and she’s a stickler for the rules, and she made up a policy to protect you. Rosie will back her up because that’s just how she is. She won’t be able to take you away unless she wants to get the law involved, and if she does that she’d expose herself for being a horrible mother, which would get her in trouble. Not to mention she signed a form agreeing to all the camp’s policies. You’re safe here.” Molly sighed and rested her head on Mal’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to lose all this,” Molly murmured. “This place is amazing. The woods, the lake, the mountains, it’s magical. The only thing better is the people here. All of you. I’ve never really had friends before, I never imagined I’d have friends like you all. I’ve never been this close with anyone. I’ve never felt this way before, felt safe with another person.” She reached over and grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers. “What I have with you is so special. I know at the end of the summer I’ll have to let everything go, but I want to hold onto it while I can.”

“You won’t have to let go,” Mal reassured. “We can come back next summer. We can do group chats, face calls, we can do this long-distance. I really like you, Molly. More than I’ve ever liked anyone before. I’m willing to put my all in this if you are too. I don’t care if your mom hates me.”

“That’s funny because I don’t care either. We’ll make this work.” Molly seemed to say the last part to herself. Mal rubbed circles into the back of Molly’s hand.

“Do you want to go find the girls?”

“No, I don’t want to go outside right now. Just in case.”

“Okay, so what do you want to do?” Mal asked.

“Whatever you want to do,” Molly replied.

“I’m good just staying like this if you are.”

“I’m good like this. I like this.” Mal kissed her forehead.

“I like you.” Molly giggled.

“I like you too.”

#chara writes #mally #lumberjanes #mal yoo #lj molly #lj jen #lj molly's parents

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tlou-1 · 3 years

Text

Joel Miller x Reader (Home) - Chapter 19

Chapter 19 - It’s the night of the winter dance and bonds are beginning to heal

“Do we really need to go this evening?” Joel moaned from the sofa, he had his feet rested upon the coffee table as he lowered his reading glasses to give you a stare.

“I know, I know. I wish I hadn’t said we would now that you are on patrol tomorrow but we can make a brief appearance” you shift his feet from the coffee table and gesture for him to get up and get ready. He groans and rolls his eyes before making for upstairs to changes, “Thank you” you call to him

“But I ain’t dancing” he calls back. It had become a bit of a tradition to attend the winter dances but between Joel having patrol pretty early and having to put Patrick in the nursery centre for a couple hours, you would much prefer a quiet night.

You had been searching for Patricks favourite toy, dino the dinosaur that Ellie had gave to him on his birthday. He took it everywhere with him and would refuse to leave the house tonight without it. You had searched all the cupboards, between the sofa, under the sofa. You started pulling things out of your and Joel’s jacket pockets followed by your backpacks. You were in the front pocket of a bag when you felt something cold and metal but it wasn’t in the shape of a gun, curious you pulled it out. “What the fuck?” You exclaimed as you pulled out a grenade. You scream at Joel to get down that stairs, “What’s wrong?” He calls panicked but finds you standing wide eyed with the metal explosive in your hand.

“What the hell is this doing in our house?” You shout at him, he laughs slightly and scratches the back of his head which makes you even madder. He can see the fury growing in your eyes, “It’s a dud, darlin I found it back at the firefly hospital. It’s just a dud” he says calmly taking it out of your hand and placing it back in the bag. “How do you know it is? Have yous tested it?” You ask with your arms crossed. Joel quickly tries to change the subject and get you out of the house “Come on now we don’t want to be late”.

The church looked the same as it always did for these sorts of things, a few fairy lights and what ever Christmas decorations could be found lying around, tinsel, paper chains made by the children. Joel stayed true to his word, neither of you were up for dancing and were quite happy to stick to the back of the room, Joel nursing his one drink for the evening. You were still mad at him and had shouted at him to hand that thing into Maria tomorrow.

“Neither of you going to join in tonight?” Tommy asks pointing towards the floor. You and Joel both look over towards the floor, you both clock Ellie dancing with Dina. She hadn’t spoken to either of you since Patrick’s birthday. Looking at her and Dina you could defiantly sense there was something between them, you could see Ellie always looked at Dina in that way but it was beginning to look like Dina was looking at her in the same way.

“Not tonight Tommy, you know I have got patrol first thing tomorrow” Joel brushes off his brother.

“Yeah I know cause I am going with you but you don’t see me making excuses” Tommy continued. “I got a few years on you little brother, maybe in time you will appreciate a good nights sleep” Joel dismissed him once again, an involuntary laugh escapes you causing them both to look at you.

“I am so glad my wife finds my ageing state so amusing” Joel teases crossing his arms, you are about to apologise to him when Tommy begins to insist you dance since you wouldn’t be on patrol tomorrow.

“Tommy I’d really rather not” you begin to protest and look too Joel for back up but he lifts his arms up as if he wasn’t going to get involved. You roll your eyes, plant a kiss on his temple before allowing Tommy to pull you onto the dance floor. Thankfully the song is almost over as soon as it began, that’s when you start to hear the commission.

“Just what this town needs, another loud mouthed dyke” you hear a voice yell and Ellie shouting back. You are making your way towards the situation when Joel is already in Seth’s face pushing him out of Ellie’s way.

“Hey! Get the hell out of here” He says sternly putting himself between Ellie, Dina and Seth. It wasn’t often people in Jackson saw this side of Joel these days but god he could have this look on his face that would truly frighten anybody. You are standing at his side when Maria pulls them apart to defuse the situation.

“What about them?” Seth asks trying to push back towards Joel, “How about you just worry about yourself Seth” you hiss standing firmly.

Joel eases up as soon as he leaves and turns his attention to Ellie “You all right kiddo?” He asked but before he could barely finish Ellie turns right back to him

“What is wrong with you?” She snaps. Part of you wanted to intervene but your instincts told you it was better not too, you stood behind Joel watching the scene unfold.

“He had no right-“ Joel begins and again is interrupted.

“And you do?” She asks, everyone is watching at this point and then Ellie says cruelly “I don’t need you fucking help Joel”. The words were sharp, cruel and Joel’s expression made it hard for you to watch anymore of this. Your husband looks around and notices all the eyes on him.

“Right” says quietly and turns to leave the room. You’re arm tries to brush his as he leaves to comfort him but he just keeps walking. You go to follow him but before you do you turn to Ellie quietly so no one could hear “Jesus was that really needed Ellie? He only wanted to help”.

“Joel! Slow down” you shout to him, you had been running to try and catch up with him but the snow was slowing you down. He eventually stops to let you catch up but doesn’t turn around. “Hey” you say softly reaching for his hand when you finally reach him, he goes to keep walking but you hold him back and pull at him to try and get him to look down at you. “You going to talk to me cowboy, hmm?” you question in a hushed tone. When Joel turns to look at you, you can see his glazed eyes are sorrowful and the lines around his face look deeper than normal, it was painful to see him like this. You squeeze his hand tightly, “Let’s just pick up Patrick and get home” he sighs and you both beginning walking again.

Joel carries an already sleeping Patrick in his arms all the way home. His son seemed to have calmed him down slightly and being careful not to wake him gave him something to focus on but when you got home and had put Patrick down you both sat outside on the back porch.

“Joel I don’t know what to say” you sigh as he passes you a mug of hot coffee.

“What can you say darling? She is never going to forgive me and that’s just it” he shrugs and sips his coffee. He for once just looked defeated by it, he always seemed to just keep going with the flow but for once he seemed to really think this was it for them both.

“There was no need for her to be so -“ you struggled to finish the sentence, cruel? Harsh? Unfeeling? It felt difficult to say but the looking at Joel’s face in that moment those were the words that sprung to mind.

“Why don’t you play something?” You ask him and he happily obliges giving his mind and hands something to do.

There was a creak of wood half way through the song, Joel stopped playing and you both looked to see Ellie making her way across the porch sheepishly. “Hey” Joel says softly as he sets down the guitar.

“What are yous drinking?” She asks leaning against the railing.

“Coffee” Joel replies. Ellie asks where you could have got it, it’s true it wasn’t the easiest thing to find.

“Uh, those people that came through last week. A little embarrassed as to what I had to trade to get it but it’s not bad” he explains. You gesture for Joel to go stand with her and you quietly head into the kitchen, they deserved to talk alone but you couldn’t help but listen to the conversation. There was so much quiet in between each time one of them spoke and Joel’s voice so usually confident and assertive had grown quiet, skittish even. You couldn’t deny there were a few times you wanted to go out there and chime in, explain to Ellie her life was more important than her death but you sat in your seat and took another sip of your coffee.

“If somehow the lord gave me a second chance at that moment I would do it all over again” you heard Joel say his voice more intentional. A long pause followed again, “I don’t know how I could ever forgive you for that… but I would like to try” Ellie says. You hear Joel’s breathing in and out through his nose and he swallows back his emotion “I’d like that”. His voice breaks as says goodbye to her. A few moments later you hear the back door open and close and he is standing in the door way of the kitchen. You give him a soft smile and put your hands out to him, he sets his mug down and takes them. You press a soft kiss against his knuckles and pull yourself up. You wipe away the few tears on his damp cheek, “Come on, let’s get to bed. You have an early start tomorrow”. You both slept soundly for the first time in a while.

You awaken to the noice of Joel getting ready for Patrol a few hours later, it seemed wrong to be asking him to go out after only getting a short amount of sleep.

“Sorry Darin, I didn’t mean to wake you. I was trying to be quiet” he whispered clothing the wardrobe. It made to smile slightly, Joel always tried to be quiet but a man his build, winter boots and old wooden floors were not a good combination.

“It’s alright. I just wish you could get back into bed” you say snuggling into his side of the bed, it was still warm and smelt like him. He sighed, it was obvious he would rather be in bed too, “Ill be back later, probably 10”.

“I hate patrols in winter. You be safe out there Joel Miller, hear me?” You say sternly to him, you couldn’t help but remind him every time he went out on patrol without you.

Joel makes his way to you and sits on the bed “Yes mam, always”, kisses you softy and leaves. You heard the front door close and fall asleep for a couple hours.

#the last of us #tlou fanfic #tlou joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou part two #tlou part 2

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smellycinnamonthundahfudge · 3 years

Text

In My Dreams, We're Still Together

“Why is it so important to dream?” a faint voice of a woman asks.

“In my dreams, we're still together.”

-----------------------------------

Wanda opens her eyes.

She's... unsure, of where she is.

Like her synapses are splitting, her neurons are firing in all directions, and her mind is about to combust from tearing itself in half… It almost feels like… she’s glitching.

Just suddenly caught unawares, dropped into the middle of a simulation, or… a dream, with no idea whatsoever where she came from or how she got here.

She spots Geraldine, or Monica- her, that woman, that SWORD agent.

She's standing in front of her, pleading some case about how she understands, how she "knows" what Wanda was going through right now.

All Wanda could manage was a wry, sad, lonely, chuckle.

She feels tired. Like life has drained every fiber from her, and she’s just… a hollow, cracked, shell. No longer a live human teeming with breaths of air and purpose… if she was ever even such a thing to begin with, considering what Agatha revealed to her.

But “Understand?”

Understand???

Wanda may not completely comprehend where she is, or what was happening right now, but the losses she’s suffered through still feel as raw inside her as the days she lost every single one of her family.

And so, No.

No, Monica did not understand.

She just could not possibly, know, comprehend, understand, what Wanda was feeling right now.

Wanda felt so empty inside she sacrificed everything, her conscience, her soul, her family, everything.

For a vague copy, a shadow… of the living breathing feeling, loving, man she dreamed of sharing her life with.

She sacrificed everything.

For someone that didn’t even know who she was. Someone who didn’t trust her, believe her, and maybe even… feared her.

Someone who no longer saw her as she was… but as the villain.

Just like, everyone else.

And Wanda was fine with being the villain, people already feared her nevertheless, even when she fought for them. She made herself the villain to get her family back.

But, she still lost him anyways, all the same.

So Monica can stand there and go on and on about how she understands.

She understands nothing.

Wanda didn’t even understand her own pain, and anger, the vicious black hatred inside her that erupted after being ignored for so long. And, desperation.

The hatred for a universe that sought to take away everything and everyone Wanda dared to risk caring about.

The hatred and anger that would just immediately shield her fragile psyche everytime someone dared to pop her precious ideal dream bubble.

And the desperation. For a life of normalcy she had some semblance of in her childhood, but one she can never seem to have, no matter what she did.

Westview, her transformed version of it, was her dream.

It was her parents, her family TV nights, Pietro trying to change the show, Vis learning TV tropes and cheesy romance storyline gestures for the first time from her.

Them shyly, hesitantly (for good reason) wondering and secretly hoping for a future, but daring to still do so anyways despite of everything.

“I think Mom and Dad would’ve loved it.”

Those same nights of watching in awe of Mary Tyler Moore and her grace and beauty and charm. Wanda wishing she could be like her when she grew up, laughing at her and Dick’s shenanigans.

And looking back at Mama and Papa on the couch, from where she laid on the floor as near as they allowed her to be to the TV.

Wanda faintly remembers The Dick Van Dyke Show, Bewitched, The Brady Bunch, Malcolm in the Middle, and all the rest of them flashing through her mind, in the same vein as her and Vis’ dangerously hopeful conversations for a shared future.

Those fictional sitcoms of the past and foolish daydreams of the future, all brightly flashed, when her mind and her body finally broke, and everything she was, her sadness, her hopes, her past, and her future, came flooding out of her.

She thought of her parents when she made Westview.

“I think Mom and Dad would’ve loved it,” says the Pietro she wanted more than anything to be hers.

“Yeah, I think they would have,” Wanda replied like the man she was speaking to actually knew them.

Westview was, and still is, her dream.

It was her living the life she wanted with the man she wanted to live it with.

And her hate and anger for the universe depriving her of this dream, her desperation to do everything it took to keep it in her grasp; it all swirled inside her, dizzyingly blurring everything. Corrupting and permeating the inside of her mind, and thus, the world she created from her fingertips.

And Wanda couldn’t see past it anymore.

Her sight consisted of tunnel vision exclusively set on Westview, and Tommy and Billy, and Vis.

Anything else didn’t make sense.

Even if this world of Westview, this family she created on her own, even if they and it themselves were... broken.

It was all Wanda had left.

And so, Monica could never understand.

No one, could ever unders-

Not even-

"You?" Wanda bitterly spits out, “You… understand??” frustratingly in disbelief at this hero trying to talk her down.

Wanda can't help but laugh that sad lonely chuckle again.

"No one could possibly understand what I'm going through right now." Wanda states, affirming it as fact, irrefutable, undeniable, fact.

"The one person I thought-”

Suddenly flashes of Vis shouting at her begging her to put him out of his misery pop back up again in her mind.

“Not even the person I loved so much, I-”

“I sacrificed everything for.” As Wanda closes her eyes when she says the words, all the corrupted actions Wanda’s done to keep hold of this broken fantasy flash her mind, as well as that sight of Vision leaving her.

“Even he doesn't understand. He, doesn't believe me, trust me… If even Vis sees me as the villain, maybe I already am.” The shock in Wanda’s words as she says this only undercutting the tragedy of what she’s done; she genuinely hoped all the wrong she’s done would be worth the sacrifice.

Monica, almost steps back. She doesn’t know if it’s out of fear, pity… But the pain in Wanda as she’s seeing it now is just as tangible and permanent as the pain she felt when Wanda was actually inside her head.

Monica almost fears, Wanda’s too far gone to- … to come back.

Be who she was before she lost Vision.

How can you talk sense to someone who’s all but destroyed themselves from the inside out?

Someone who’s been drowned out by their pain, loss, and anger, they can’t see anything past it.

Monica felt like Wanda was in her most fragile, vulnerable state right now. And that one wrong move, one wrong word, and you could just set her off, exploding and disintegrating everything around her.

“So, don't you stand there, and claim you understand anything,” the crimson energy starts swirling on Wanda’s fingertips once more.

“Because you understand nothing.”

“Nothing,” Wanda doesn’t even hold back the tears that were now falling down her cheek as she voices her vitriol at the hero in front of her, “About what I am feeling right now.”

But even after all the rage she’s spewing, lashing out at Monica. Even after Wanda tries her damnedest to shut out the anguish, the guilt. Her sadness over what all that she’s done was even for, amounting to what. It all eventually comes pouring out.

“If he doesn’t want to be here, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

That’s what Wanda said to their children who saved their father… their father and the love of her life, that she couldn’t bring back.

All she, Tommy, and Billy, wanted was to spend time with him.

Vision’s only still alive because of them.

But she still couldn’t stop him from abandoning them altogether.

“Even after I brought him back…” Wanda’s previously volatile disposition suddenly, disappears.

The grief that was barely being held back, begging to come out, finally did.

“He still left.”

Vision wanted to get as far away from her as possible he was willing to die for it.

Wanda expanded the barrier, their kids ask her where he is… and yet-

“He's still- gone.”

“Wanda…”

Vis appears from their front door, and Monica was about to speak to him about SWORD and Hayward, but Vision looked her in the eyes, and pleaded, for a moment alone with his wife.

Maybe a part of her was feeling pity, or sympathy, for Wanda and Vision, but Monica left them alone. “I’ll stand watch outside. Just know that you don’t have much time.”

Vision nods and thanks the Captain for understanding.

Wanda scoffed at what she said. When did they ever have time?

Wanda currently had her back turned away from Vis, she was wiping away the tears she’d cried in her anger.

Vision stares, at Wanda’s sullen, defeated figure. He’s unsure of what he’s going to do.

He cannot explain, what he feels… for Wanda.

A part of him felt trapped, played with, like he was being controlled, and that he was given sentience yet still bound, forced to play a role he didn’t choose for himself. And every time he’d get the slightest bit of control back, he’d be rewound, dumbed back into sedation.

Vision felt unbelievably at the mercy of some unknown being, unable to take control of his own life, but with enough sentience to know that something was wrong.

He was petrified.

And yet, why does he still feel this torturously irrational emotion that can only be called love, for the one who has been causing him all this pain?

Why does he feel warmth, family, and joy, and home, from someone he doesn’t even remember how he met?

Why does he want to protect, shield, guard, defend, and reach towards to, this woman who violated his mind?

And why, does the sight of Wanda in tears, nearly bring tears out of him as well?

Maybe Wanda could answer the questions that plagued his mind, maybe not.

His entire existence on this world has him grappling, struggling to determine what is real, which of his actions are truly his alone, and which are under Wanda’s control.

But whether or not he’s doing this for the people of West View, for himself, or for Wanda, fact of the matter was that something inside him was telling him that he had to comfort his wife.

He had to bring her back to who she used to be.

He had to go to her.

He had to speak to her, confront her.

He had to love her.

Even if it meant hurting her. Making her say goodbye, having her lose him, again.

He loved her.

Vision stepped forwards and got closer to his wife.

“Wanda...” Vision raised his arm to place his hand on Wanda’s shoulder. Wanda looks at it from her periphery and her face contorts itself, as if she’s trying to hold back- everything.

“I still love you,” Vision admitted, wrapping his arms around Wanda, but exasperation and weariness felt evident in his voice.

Wanda was still turned away from him, Vis essentially hugging her from behind, but he can feel the tension and tiredness in her body, her muscles trembling, despite the exhaustion.

And he can’t help but feel, the guilt in the tears she shed. Tears spilled for him, for what she’d done to him.

“I don't know how. I don't know why.”

“But even after all you've done,”

“I still love you.”

He hears her cry louder, her pain and guilt and self-destruction, pouring out of her little by little. He can feel her, hear her, trying to say something.

“I.. I’m… I didn’t…” Wanda struggles to say, her breath hitching from her sob.

Wanda didn’t want to think about so much of her life, when so much of it just seemed to overflow with loss.

Vital parts of her being, her family that was her only safe haven, the thing she fought for the hardest, all just missing empty cavities now. Where there was hopes for the future and warmth from her past, was replaced with endless pain and grief over losing what she had and could have had.

She was drowning. She really was.

And no one could hear her cries for help. No one was there to catch her when she broke and collapsed.

She couldn’t think. Reason was a privilege known only to those whose emotions didn’t destroy them from the inside out.

She collapsed into herself, lost herself in her own created fake broken fantasy. And she just… she drowned.

“Wanda, I know why you created this world.”

Wanda stops her crying, catches her breath.

He knows.

She didn’t know what to make of that.

“I was told what happened with Thanos and the Mind Stone. But, Wanda, I still don’t know- don’t remember my life, our lives, before West View.”

“I don't remember how I met you. I don't remember how we came to be. I don't remember anything, that we shared. I don't remember why I fell for you, Wanda,” Vis looks at Wanda inquisitively but also devotedly, his unceasing need to figure out how he fell just as pervasive as his love for her.

“I don't know who we were.”

So this is where he’s heading.

“I love you, my darling, and that’s why you need to give me my life, my memories of us, back.”

“I can't-” Wanda grits through her hitched sobs, curling over in Vis’ grasp.

Vision lets her go, heartbroken frustrated to see the woman he loves this far gone. Wanda holds her breath to at least try and control herself, but breaks anyways once she feels the space and distance between her and Vis.

She faces him, “I can't let you know the truth.” Wanda states resolutely, but almost pleading with him, desperate for him not to know.

Before Vis argues otherwise, Wanda gets ahead of him, “If you go back, and find out who you really were, remember everything that we had…” she explains, her fears evident in her rushed petrified speech.

“You'd know why I did this.”

His deed flashes to her mind.

“And you’d know who I was,” placing her hand on her chest as she faces Vis head on“and tell me that this,” Wanda waves her arms around her, pointing to all of Westview, “isn’t me.”

“- Even though that me you knew is long gone by now,” Wanda says, tiredly laughing in self-depreciation at what she’s become.

Wanda looks at the floor, weary. Tears pooling over still, despite the thousands she’d already shed, falling onto that same floor she’s now acutely aware is really just sullen abandoned earth in reality.

Grieving the her that she lost. The them that they lost. And the them they’ve become now, because of her.

Wanda can remember it all. Their past, their struggle to find peace & moments together, the moments they did have, and their hopes for a future that felt so close.

And Vision doesn't.

And Wanda remembers killing off all of it when Vision asked her to kill him.

And Vision doesn't.

Wanda was ready to forsake it all, for a chance to live a new life with him and the home and family they made here.

But here was Vis now, begging for memories of that old lost life back.

Wanda is still staring at the floor, into nothing, vanished in the memories of old Vis, that him begging for brought her back to.

Her tears still flow as she recounts just how innocent, pure, good-hearted, and well-meaningly kind Vis was.

And how much he loved her.

Truly, loved her.

“And you’d tell me to do the “right” thing…”

And Wanda remembers who she used to be. The her that Vis fell for.

The daughter, the sister, the fighter and the rebel, and eventually, once upon a time, the hero. The Avenger, who fought for good even when the rest of the world feared her.

But that was before the world took everything she had from her.

“But then I'd just lose you,” Wanda grimaces, “all over again.” then dissolves once more, as she knows, has known all this time if she’s finally going to be honest, what the right thing was.

Acceptance.

Vis tries to walk over to her, finally wholly understanding, wanting nothing more but to shield and protect Wanda from the hurt she’s currently drowning in but-

“And I can't, I can't-” Wanda pushes him away then stops, still holding onto him. Tells her love the truth.

“I can't lose you,” Wanda finally looks at him directly, grasping onto him so tight, her fear of losing him an overwhelmingly powerful need felt even with just her touch, and sees Vis for who he is, all of who he is, her created copy of her lost beloved, but even still, “not again.”

Vision gently cups Wanda’s face in his right hand, grabs both of hers and plants a soft kiss on them with his other, and admits, “And I don't want to lose you.”

And Wanda breaks down in his arms. Like the first time she did when she truly met him, the tens of other times she had when they were friends, and the thousands of times she did when they were together.

#wandavision #wandavision wawandavision #wandaviz #wanda x vision #vision x wanda #wanda maximoff #vision #angst #tragedy #marvel #marvel fanfiction #long post

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themonkeycabal · 3 years

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WandaVision Ep 8 Spoilers

(THERE IS A MID-CREDITS SCENE, BTW)

Previously on WandaVision: It was Agatha all along.

This show has really come along well. I was worried after the first couple episodes, which were extremely slow, but it's tightened up and been entertaining as heck, in addition to being kind of a surprising meditation on grief and dealing or not dealing. You go along with wacky sitcom hijinks and then get whacked with the reminder so many things that have happened here are driven by terrible loss.

Anyway …. Acting Director Dick is Up To Something regarding Vision, and I fear we're all going to have to endure lots of his jackassery this episode. He's the not very fun part of this show, tbh. But we're getting down to it, so hopefully he gets his comeuppance sooner rather than later. And then on to deal with Agatha. Who is fabulously rotten. I love her, I have to say.

I guess this all leads into Doctor Strange 2, which I didn't know until Feige said it at the TCAs this week. So, that's something to look out for, too. Maybe everybody already knew that, but that was new to me, I think.

In happy news, nobody is power washing the sidewalks this morning. Hooray.

Creepy woods, a figure holding a flaming torch, Salem, Mass. 1693. Ah, Agatha's origin story. Burning at the stake. Or, maybe not. So far it's just being tied to one in the middle of a dark, creepy night.

"Agatha Harkness, are you a witch?" "Yes. I am a witch." "Yet, you have betrayed your coven." *gasp* Agatha!

She's been captured by her coven, because she stole knowledge, practiced dark magic, and other sundry evilities. But she says she's innocent, innocent, do you hear her! Oh, I guess not, "I did not break your rules, they simply bent to my power."

The lead witch is her mother, apparently. Since Agatha seems unrepentant, all the witches zap her with witchy magic or something. She screams a lot. But then her dark powers start drawing from the witches, sucking them dry. This is all very dramatic. Mom casts the final bolt, but Agatha is too powerful and she breaks free. All the other witches, except mom, have been grotesquely mummified.

Agatha swears she can be good, mom doubts. Mom zaps her again. Oh, whoops, Agatha drains mom next. She takes the broach from mom's desiccated corpse then zooms off into the sky in a burst of swirly purple magicy mist. The coven really didn't think that plan through all the way.

Present day, we're right where we left off, in Agatha's basement cavern of dark witches and nosy neighbors. Agatha is talking to her rabbit, Mr. Scratchy, and smirking at Wanda. "I know. She does look shocked to meet the real us, doesn't she?"

Wanda's eyes go glowy and Agatha laughs. "Oh, that's adorable. My thoughts are not available to you, toots."

Wanda wants to know where her children are, and Agatha mocks her about her reappearing/disappearing accent. Wanda tries to whammy her. "Huh, your magic's no good here." But Agatha's is. Agatha's no dummy, and now she's got Wanda magically trussed up in the center of the room.

"Didn't you notice? Basic protection spell? One on each wall? No? Nothing?" Hmm. Agatha, tbh, Wanda has like no idea what she's doing. So … "How do you not know the fundamentals?"

Wanda asks "Who are you?" and Agatha asks the same "Who are *you*? All those costumes and hairstyles. I was so patient, waiting for you to reveal your true self. I got close with fake Pietro — Fietro, if you will". Lol. I love her. She goes on about the magicy stuff she did to make Fietro "But you're so crippled by your own self doubt that you believed it. Oh Wanda."

"When I sensed this place, the afterglow of so many spells cast all at once, I couldn't make heads or tails of it." She shows off a mind control spell with some sort of big gross bug. Great. And has it fly at Wanda's face. Super awesome, Agatha. Oh, I see, she's going through the spells she thinks Wanda has cast, all the details, all the control of a whole town and all its storylines. Agatha's impressed and envious, "What's your secret, sister?"

Wanda says she didn't do anything and Agatha doesn't like that answer and tosses Wanda around. Now, see, Agatha, much as your coven underestimated you, I think your runic protection is only going to go so far before Wanda decides it doesn't.

"I tried to be gentle, to nudge you awake from this ridiculous fantasy. But, you'd rather fall apart than face your truth." Well, I mean. She's really been through a lot the last few weeks, Agatha. Like A LOT. Oh, and we're going to relive it. She's casting some sort of memory spell on Wanda, taking them back to the vast emptiness, endless nothing Wanda described to Fietro a couple weeks ago. You're not being very nice, Agatha.

"It's time to look at some real reruns." Wanda doesn't want to play along, but Agatha reminds her that she's got her children.

So, through the magic memory door they step, and into a tiny Sokovian apartment, with Wanda's parents. Her father apparently smuggled DVDs of "I Love Lucy" and "Bewitched". Didn't the people of Sokovia suffer enough? Well, he's got "The Addams Family", too. That's okay, I guess.

Little Pietro runs in reminding Mama and Papa that the only rule of TV night is you have to speak English. They call for Wanda and Agatha nudges her to step into the role of little Wanda. Papa says Wanda can pick what they're going to watch, but outside, there's gunfire. Except, I guess it's no big deal, Mama turns away from the window and the street battle below their apartment, while little Wanda says she wants to watch "The Dick Van Dyke Show", season 2, episode 21. Poor kid. Pietro agrees and moans, "Always sitcom, sitcom, sitcom!"

I'm waiting for the Stark Bomb to fall.

Little Wanda is far too enamored of "The Dick Van Dyke Show". Oh! There's the bomb. Pietro grabs her and they hide under the bed and they stare at the Stark Bomb. She and Pietro discuss what to do, while in the background, behind the bomb, the tv continues to play.

Little Wanda reaches out with her magic hand and then big Wanda is yanked out of the memory by Agatha, who demands to know if she stopped the bomb going off. "You used a probability hex?" Wanda says she didn't do anything, the bomb just never went off.

"So, what I see here is a baby witch, obsessed with sitcoms, and years of therapy ahead of her." lol, but harsh. "Where'd you get the big guns, Wanda?" A good question, Agatha. We never did get that answer before, really, did we? Just a sort of vague suggestion of "hydra did stuff to her and pietro maybe?".

"I don't want to go back there." "I know you don't. But it's good medicine, angel. The only way forward, is back."

Through another magic door we go.

Ha, I just paused and saw the title of the ep is "Previously On".

And into the Hydra lab. "Don't be scared, you already lived it once."

Oh, it's Loki's scepter. And the … whichever stone that is. I can't remember, totally lost track of them. Mind stone?

Wanda is in the containment unit with the scepter. The Hydra scientist wants her to do something with the scepter, and jr scientist says that no subject has survived this and lead scientist is like shut up and 'go ahead Wanda, it'll be totally fine'.

Wanda approaches the scepter and it starts to shake and the stone breaks free and flies at her, but then pauses and they stare at each other. She reaches out for it. Then the blue outer bit of the stone explodes off and underneath is the the yellow stone. Ok, yeah it is the Mind stone.

Lots of dramatic power stuff with Wanda and the stone. She sees a flying silhouetted figure in the light of the stone and then passes out. She survives! I mean, obviously. The Hydra scientists have her sent to isolation where they torture her by making her watch "The Brady Bunch". Well, no, I guess she likes it. Keep this under your hat, but if you ever want to break me, making me watch "The Brady Bunch" could probably do it.

The Hydra scientists meanwhile are trying to figure out what happened, watching the recordings over and over — they don't see the whole stone flying towards Wanda and the subsequent mind meld. She's just standing there, and then falls down.

Agatha sums this up for us "So, little Orphan Wanda got up close and personal with an Infinity Stone that amplified what otherwise would have died on vine. The broken pieces of you are adding up, buttercup. I have a theory, but I need more."

Door number three reveals her digs at the Avengers compound. She is, of course, watching TV. "Malcolm in the Middle." Well, it's better than "The Brady Bunch." The only thing I hate more than "The Brady Bunch" is "The Partridge Family."

"Where are we now?" "The Avengers compound. It was the first home Vision and I ever shared. Pietro was dead, and I was in a new country. I was all alone."

Vision enters through the wall, back when he didn't remember doors existed, and Wanda invites him to sit next to her and watch TV. "It's funny because of the grievous injury the man just suffered?" Vision doesn't get sitcoms either.

Vision sweetly tells her that if she wants to talk about what she's feeling, he'd like to know. "Should you wish to tell me. Should that be of some comfort to you." "What makes you think talking about it would bring me comfort?" "Well, I read a thing—" that's the Tony Stark part of Vision. "The only thing that would bring me comfort is seeing him again." Poor Wanda.

Vision has a little "I don't know how to respond to that" face journey that is subtle but made me laugh.

She apologizes to him. "It's just like this wave washing over me again and again." She says the wave will drown her, but Vision says it won't.

"It can't all be sorrow, can it?" IS2G if you two make me tear up this morning, I will … not do anything but be kind of annoyed. I have had the worst allergies the last couple of days, don't make me more snotty!

"I've always been alone, so I don't feel the lack. It's all I've ever known. I've never experienced loss, because I've never had a loved one to lose. What is grief, if not love persevering?" Damn you, Vision. At least I have a new box of tissues.

He sees something funny on the telly and laughs then apologizes. She laughs with him, though. "No, it was funny." They smile at each other, cutely awkward.

Even Agatha wipes at the corner of one eye. Though it could be annoyance. Hard to tell.

"So to recap: parents dead, brother dead, Vision dead." You're still a very mean person, Agatha. "What happened when he wasn't there to pull you back from the darkness, Wanda?"

Wanda doesn't want to play this game anymore. Agatha insists. "Tell me how you did it? Vision was gone, but you wanted him back."

Wanda sort of wakes up, "I wanted him back." Door number four takes us to SWORD's ridiculous and massive lobby. Really, what is with the stupidly enormous monitors hovering over the whole absurd place? So stupid. Nobody wants to watch the news that badly or bigly.

Wanda is walking through the lobby — SWORD's security sucks — but contrary to Acting Director Dick's version of the story, Wanda is politely asking the security guy where Vision is. And not throwing red woo-woos or anything. "Please, please. When I came back, he was gone. His body. And I know he's here. He deserves a funeral, at least. I deserve it."

Speaking of AD Dick. He seems to be watching this on the security feed, he calls the security desk and talks to the guard. Wanda spots the camera. But, security guy waves her through, gives her directions to wherever.

Security guy gets up to buzz Wanda in, but she says she's got it, and she opens the door herself. The footage AD Dick used to make her look like a terrorist. I mean, we knew he was a dick, so this is no surprise, but still. Jimmy! Arrest that asshole for aggravated assholery and general shadiness!

Anyway, Wanda's striding down hallways and as she comes even to the Director's door, the security light goes green and beeps so she goes into his office.

There’s polite introductions and whatever.

"I understand you're here to see the Vision. To recover his body." "Well, I'm his next of kin." "I understand." You're a lying sleazy snake who's been doing shady things with Vision's body. "I'd like to show you something?" "And then you'll give him to me?" No, because he's a scumbag.

He shows her a lab, she's confused, he says it's what she asked to see. And down in the lab are technicians taking Vision's body apart. Obviously, this is horrifying to her. What did Hayward expect to get from showing Wanda that? Like she'd be all "oh, hmm, how fascinating. Look, he's made of wires and such. By all means, cut my boyfriend's robot head off. For science"?

"What are you doing to him?" "We're dismantling the most sophisticated sentient weapon ever made." I think you're a liar pants, Dick. "It's our legal and ethical obligation."

"I just want to bury him. It's all I want." "Are you sure?" "Excuse me?" "Not everyone has the kind of power that could bring their soulmate back online — forgive me — back to life." You are such a sleaze, Dick. They can't get Vision to work again, so why not emotionally manipulate the grieving woman to do it for you. Gross. DIAF Dick.

"No, I can't do that. That's not why I'm here." "Okay, I can't allow you to take three billion dollars worth of vibranium just to put it in the ground." He's the worst. "The best I can do is let you say goodbye to him here."

"He's all I have." "Well, that's just it, Wanda; he isn't yours." Somebody needs to squash this guy like a bug. I don't care who. Wanda, obviously, deserves the honor most, but let her get on with her life, I say. Monica's probably the next best for sure. SOMEBODY THOUGH! Hand Darcy a wrench, she'll take care of it.

Where were we … Oh, Wanda's doing the head tilt of impending magical ass-kickery. She busts through the glass, drops down to the floor of the lab, and a security team runs out to point their guns at her. AD Dick tells them to fall back. Why, his plan's working just perfectly, no need to interfere with the woman he’s making suffer extra.

Wanda walks around Vision's body to his head. And she puts her hand over the giant hole where Thanos ripped out the mind stone. "I can't feel you." Every bit of this, for me, takes AD Dick from a generic loathsome character, to somebody actually disgusting. Do not like.

Wanda can't feel Vision at all, and she walks away, out of the room, out of the SWORD building, leaving the body behind. THIS IS VERY SAD, MARVEL.

She gets into her car, and in the passenger seat is an open envelope, like for a greeting card or something. And off she goes to Westview, New Jersey. A down-on-its-luck small town, full of sad looking people and dirty streets.

She pulls into the driveway of a property that's overgrown, with just a foundation, no house.

Damn you show. It wasn't an envelope, it was a real estate deed with a plan of the property with a red heart drawn on it, and the words "to grow old in. v." inside. What did Wanda do to deserve this? I mean, fine, she was in Hydra for like a minute, but she wasn't a true believer or anything, and she redeemed herself. Come on. Stupid Marvel, making all the things hurt.

She's crying, you're crying, I'm crying, everybody's crying, as she walks into the foundation of the home that never was. And then it all just comes pouring out of her in a great burst of red light and grief and power. Creating the sitcom world around her and swallowing Westview. Poor Wanda.

There. There's your answer, Agatha. Are you happy, you big meanie? Go turn AD Dick into a toad, or something, would you?

Hm, from her power, the yellow light of the mind stone starts to separate out, from back when she and it sort of had their moment in the Hydra lab, and out of that Vision is recreated or reborn or reconstituted or … whatever. Then they're in the black and white world of the first ep, and everything is perfect. Damn you, Marvel.

Real world Wanda looks up from where she's standing behind B&W Wanda and Vision and sees it's all just a TV show set. Agatha is in the audience, clapping. She vanishes and Wanda can hear Billy and Tommy screaming for her. She runs off set and into her front yard.

Out on the street, Agatha has the boys on magic leashes.

Agatha says she knows what Wanda is and that "You have no idea how dangerous you are." Well, keep holding her boys with magic ropes around their necks and we'll all find out. Agatha's gone full witchy here, she looks great.

"You're supposed to be a myth. A being capable of spontaneous creation. Here you are, using it to make breakfast for dinner." lol. Hey! I was actually thinking last night that I hadn't made waffles in a while. Breakfast for dinner is its own kind of magic, Agatha. (note to self: check we have syrup)

Wanda is pretty done with Agatha. She wants the boys released.

"Oh yes, your children. Vision. This whole little life you've made; this is chaos magic, Wanda. And that makes you … The Scarlet Witch!" DUN DUN DUN! CREDITS! !!!!

Well that was all very dramatic and sad. A really good episode, really good. Damn you, Marvel. Kathryn Hahn is great, absolutely love her.

Yes, there's a mid-credits scene, btw. F'in AD Dick, for what it's worth, finally putting his Genius Master Plan into action. What a dick. The biggest sack of tiny dicks you ever saw. No really, I hate this guy. I hope Wanda tears him a hundred new ones. Then sets what's left on fire. With her mind.

Also, he’s dumb. He can’t possibly think he can contain Wanda when she gets a look at his Genius Master Plan, can he? Is he that dumb? Probably, but couldn’t one of his little minions go “um, sir, she did almost defeat Thanos. I suspect this may end catastrophically for us.”

Do you suppose Darcy’s still stuck in traffic?

OH NO! There’s only one more episode left. I’m sad about that. This has turned out really quite good. Well done, show. Well done.

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #wandavision liveblog

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thedramaclubs · 3 years

Text

Changing lives (reprise)

Summery: Roman and Remus get the rest of the reviews and it was horrible that it closed their show. They soon meet one of their old friends and Remus’s husband meets them and soon they find something on Twitter to change their lives

Ships: Logicality, Prinxiety, demus/dukeceit

When their singing

Remus-green

Roman-red

Janus-orange

C!thomas-pink

All-purple

“The rest of the reviews are in! New York post, associated press, New York times” exclaimed Joan with ther phone in the air everyone started to get excited and looked on their phones as Roman and Remus are about to listen to how great their musical is........or so they thought.

Everyone’s faces changed to a sad and disappointed look and started leaving

“What? What’s happening?” said Roman as he watch everyone look at him and his brother in sadness.

“This is not a review anyone wants when you have shitty advance sales. This is gonna close us” said Joan

Roman gasp and Remus was shocked “What didn’t they like was it the hip hop?”

“Yeah but not that”

“For gods sake sakes Joan read it.” The twins sat down as Joan read the horrible reviews.

“Ok here’s the highlights, “Remus Allen’s FDR might just be the most insulting misguided, offensive, and laughable performance that this reviewer has ever had the squirming misfortune to endure. Emphasis on the insulting because he try to make him self look like that he was trying to give me intrusive thoughts about FDR.”

“That’s how I normally look what the hell?!?!”

“I mean it’s not so bad” said Roman as he played with his dress

“DO HIM ALREADY!!” “What I’m just saying.”

“Watching Romans Eleanor Roosevelt, corking out a heavy-handed message of activism, is like paying an aging drag queen to shove a syurp-soaked American flag down my throat. And also Eleanor should have been played by a women”

Roman was on the verge of tears “Thats not criticism that’s a personal attack.” His voice cracked and Remus hugged him as he shed a tear

“If your considering buying a ticket to the show do yourself a favor. By a few feet of good heavy rope instead and then go hang yourself”

“Holy fuck, oh god, poopy. Was the show that bad?”

“It’s not the show it’s you two. Your just not likeable.”

“What?” They said simultaneously

“Nobody likes a narcissist.” They sat in silence over what they just heard. “Leave it to me I’ll go and try to change the narrative once again” Joan then left the twins alone in the bullding

“I hate this world” “this just hurts my heart, Where did everybody go?”

They talked over each other as the walk to the bar to find a man in a pink suit. “What can I get ya?” said the man “Yola mezcal blackberry smash” said the twins at the same time. “My condolences Roman. But remember you do have friends” said the man making their drinks.”

“Thank you. Who are you?”

“Thomas Sanders.......we’ve done five shows together.”

“Ugh Thomas went to Juilliard and won’t shut up about.” Whispered Remus as he told Roman “Oh right Thomas. Thomas haha....... why are you dressed like waiter?” I’m in between gigs at the moment. Honestly Roman I feel adrift as i did in my days before Juilliard” Remus proceed to chug a drink that was on the table as Thomas continued to talk about Juilliard and the two were just over it.

“Still I have played hamlet and I’m still known as that guy from the beloved early aughts sitcom “Talk to the hand” I question everything about my existence” As he continues to rant about the past what they didn’t notice as a man in a golden sequiny dress with a black hat and a yellow ribbon tied on it with long golden brown hair walking their way

“Hey guys!”

Roman and Remus turned around to see Janus Allen, Remus’s husband

“Jannie!!!” Remus picked up Janus and spun him around and soon dipped him into a kiss which turn into a make out session. “Ahem I know you two lovebirds haven’t seen each other all day but can it wait we’re still here ya know.” They both looked at Roman and giggle a little from embarrassment “Sorry your show closed on opening night again. Welcome to the world of the unemployed,hit me up next.”

“I thought you were in Chicago?” asked Remus “I totally didn’t quit just now 20 years in the chorus and still wouldn’t let me play Roxie Hart and now their letting Tina Louise play her” “That bitch is still alive” said Remus as he chugs another drink

“We’re wasting our lives.” Said Roman as they are all slightly drunk “Ok I refuse to give up we’re still celebrities we still have power.” “Yeah well The Times casted you out” said Thomas as he poured another drink “Yep they wrote you off as aging narcissist and I’m only allowed to call Remus that.” “I still don’t understand what’s wrong with that.” Said Roman as he drinks even more. “You know what we will become celebrity arsonist.” “Babe it’s call celebrity activist we are not burning down another building like last time.” “Ok everyone think of causes.”

“Poverty”

“World hunger”

“Too big we need something we can handle”

“Let’s see whats trending” said Janus “Trump, trump, trump, ooo how about this boy he’s all over Twitter. His names Patton Heart. He’s from edgewater, Indiana. He’s gay. He wanted to take his boyfriend to the highschool prom and the pta went apeshit and canceled it.”

We are now in Edgewater, Indiana and Patton Heart is watching the head of the pta, Mrs Green being interviewed. “We have very strict rules for prom. Young ladies must wear non-revealing dresses. Young men must wear suits or tuxes. And if a student chooses to bring a date it must be of the opposite sex” “Can’t you just ban this student?” “Well we’ve been advised that there may be some legal repercussions if we prevent this boy from attending so although it breaks my heart we have no choice to cancel prom.” We move to Mr Virgil Hawkins the principal “The first thing I’m going to do is contact the state attourney this is not about school rules this is a civil right case.” “Wait seriously?” Said Patton. “Yes and if word gets out people will get mad and next thing you know some modern day Eleanor Roosevelt is gonna come and hell’s gonna break loose.”

We move back to New York “We got to go down their and raise holy hell” exclaimed Roman “We’ll be the biggest thing to happen to Indiana since........whatever’s happen in Indiana are you with me!?!” Said Remus as he and Roman start stand on top of a table they all cheered “We’ll get Joan to tag along to find us a venue” “I just book us a non-union tour of Godspell and I goes through Indiana we can ride on the bus.” Said Thomas “Can we do this guys” Said Janus “You bet your sweet MILF ass we can jannie”

🎶 We are gonna prove that in this day and age being gay isn’t a crime. This is out moment to change the world one homo 🎶

🎶Homo🎶

🎶Homo 🎶

🎶Homo🎶

🎶At a time🎶

🎶 we’re gonna help that little homo, whether he likes it or not, when your a legendary thespian 🎶

🎶First you help the distressed 🎶

🎶Then you help the distraught🎶

🎶We’re gonna go to where the necks are red and lack of dentistry thrives, Why sing and dance when you can take a stance🎶

🎶And know your truly changing lives. We’re gonna March until that town looks like the end of act one in les mis. You don’t gotta have a Ph.D in psych to know that people kowtow to the folks in the biz🎶

🎶We’re gonna teach’em to be more PC the minute or group arrives🎶

🎶That’s right🎶

🎶Those fist-pumping🎶

🎶Bible-thumping🎶

🎶Spam-eating🎶

🎶Cousin-humping🎶

🎶Cow-tipping🎶

🎶Shoulder-slumping🎶

🎶Tea-bagging🎶

🎶Jesus-jumping🎶

🎶Losers and their inbred wives. They’ll learn compassion🎶

🎶And better fashion🎶

🎶Once we at last start changing lives!!!!🎶

🎶Now let’s go help that dyke🎶

People to tag/ @artissijules

This took a long time to write

#sanders sides #logicality #thomas sanders #livy writes #janus sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #c!thomas #demus #dukeceit #sanders sides the prom au #ts joan #prinxiety

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houroftheantichristwolf · 3 years

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Lesbian Politicization

This was published 1990 in a book called Dykes-Loving-Dykes: Dyke Separatist Politics for Lesbians Only and illustrates exactly the long-standing issue with women appropriating lesbianism, using their political beliefs to try to define female homosexual existence in relation to opposing men. The agenda, of course, is to say fuck males and to fight the ever elusive and ever changing culture of patriarchy.

That’s 100% relevant and helpful for actual homosexual females....not.

I’ll make this short though, this is just to show how feminists been appropriating lesbians and applying their values to lesbian existence.

In the 1980’s, a decade of reactionary politics, femininity became an accepted value among many Lesbians. Even many politically radical Lesbians, who I would most expect to support Lesbian self-love and self-respect, who usually call male bullshit for what it is, began to openly admire feminine ways of dressing and acting. Femininity! A patriarchal hype if there ever was one.

Lesbians who didn’t look the way you personally think is more useful for your cause probably didn’t care to make a political statement out of their existence. The point of lesbians seeking lesbian communities is to find other lesbians - with the exception of those who WANTED to seek out political radical lesbian communities. That is not an inherent aspect of our existence, and to be honest, it’s not even a large part of it as women appropriating lesbians usually populated those communities. Here is a recap of the origins of radical “lesbian” separatism: *** [ In the late 70s a group of lesbians in Leeds, known as revolutionary feminists (RFs), made a controversial move that resonated loudly for me and many other women. They began calling for all feminists to embrace lesbianism. Appealing to their heterosexual sisters to get rid of men “from your beds and your heads”, they started a debate, which reached its height in 1981 with the publication of an infamous booklet, Love Your Enemy? The Debate Between Heterosexual Feminism and Political Lesbianism (LYE). In this, the RFs wrote that, “all feminists can and should be lesbians. Our definition of a political lesbian is a woman-identified woman who does not fuck men. It does not mean compulsory sexual activity with women. It’s no surprise that the booklet was so controversial. “We think serious feminists have no choice but to abandon heterosexuality,” it reads. “Only in the system of oppression that is male supremacy does the oppressor actually invade and colonise the interior of the body of the oppressed.” https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2009/jan/30/women-gayrights “Political lesbianism originated in the late 1960s among second wave radical feminists as a way to fight sexism and compulsory heterosexuality. Sheila Jeffreys helped to develop the concept when she co-wrote “Love Your Enemy? The Debate Between Heterosexual Feminism and Political Lesbianism”[3] with the Leeds Revolutionary Feminist Group. They argued that women should abandon support of heterosexuality and stop sleeping with men, while encouraging women to rid men “from your beds and your heads.”[4] Heterosexual behavior is seen as the basic unit of the patriarchy’s political structure, lesbians who reject heterosexual behavior therefore disrupt the established political system.[5]Ti-Grace Atkinson, a radical feminist who helped to found the group The Feminists, is attributed with the phrase that embodies the movement: ‘Feminism is the theory; lesbianism is the practice.’[6]” ] ***

Lesbians’ acceptance of anything “feminine” is part of the weakening of Lesbian politics—a Lesbian parallel to the right-wing trend of het politics.

LOL good. Being a lesbian does not mean representing anything political. Also what the fuck? This is where queer activists got their penchant for calling lesbians Nazis lol. Where’s that meme that’s like, anyone I don’t like is a Nazi? lol great homophobia, Queen/dumbass.

Those Lesbians who act out the feminine model and claim it’s a contribution to Lesbian culture, a flowering forth of their “real selves,” are of course Fems

So feminine lesbians’ real selves aren’t acceptable within your framework because they trigger your contempt of gender presentation that you yourself do not have to take part of? But your “real self” - a non-lesbian pretending to be a lesbian - is commendable because you want other lesbians to act and look exactly how you do which supposedly is off-putting to patriarchy AKA you use our sexual orientation to say fuck you to men? I think not.

The het media is full of stories about the het feminist who “realizes that she doesn’t have to give up being a woman to be a success in life,” who “regrets having tried to be like a man,” and is now “rediscovering the excitement of feminine seductiveness, the fun of dressing up in high heels, make-up and skirts, and her deep need for the joys of motherhood.”

“Realizes she doesn’t have to give up being a woman to be a success in life”; “and her deep need for the joys of motherhood.” So you understand femininity = heterosexuality. This is the 80s/90s, I wonder what her opinion is now that ‘femininity’ has changed: heterosexual women wear gym clothes, lift weights, have short hair, wear no make up or minimal make up etc., and men love it. And yet I see feminists also say that heterosexual women who are like this are still trying to please men and so are still feminine even though what they’re doing and how they’re looking is not “feminine” according to the original perception. So what’s the truth about ‘femininity?’ It’s equating it to anything that heterosexual men find appealing, which changes constantly. You really want lesbians to spend time to think about how to be as unappealing to males as possible when they’re not even relevant and so don’t dominate our every thought and action (unlike you maybe because you’re not homosexual and so have to try harder?)? Please, get real.

She’s a threat to the Big Lie of “feminine woman,” and so men and their women collaborators make up all kinds of ridiculous, hateful fictions to explain away her existence. The pressure is meant to humiliate and bully her into accepting femininity, and it must put her through soul-shaking self-doubt, even if she knows other Butches.

While I do know this happens, the reason behind that is homophobia 100%, being “masculine” appearing is a red marker of homosexuality. The threat is the big lie of heterosexuality. “Feminine” lesbians were assaulted when with their partners or if found out that they are indeed homosexual, they were just less of an obvious target than “masculine” women. It’s not Oppression Olympics, this should be used to understand hate crimes against homosexual women.

Meanwhile, girls who accept femininity—the vast majority, unfortunately—are accepted as “real girls” and encouraged to take pride in their feminine ways. There are degrees of femininity, of course. Some Fem girls accept the complete emaciated drag queen sex-object ideal while others take on just enough feminine identity to still be accepted as real girls.

“Real girls.” I was definitely acknowledged as a “real girl” when I was still more “unfeminine” in my appearance and not out than I am right now being out. What degree of ‘femininity’ am I considered to exhibit now according to feminist praxis, who knows. Either way, my relatives disagree that any amount of femininity would make me a ‘normal’ female. My mother was sad toward the end of her life because she felt conflicted that I wasn’t a ‘real’ female. You know what would’ve changed her perception? Being with a man and having kids.

It means spending time, energy and money on nail polish, perfume, hair-do’s, dresses, diets, body-shaping exercises, poses and games; fantasizing yourself as the center of sexual attention, making everything into a sexual game, getting yourself further and further away from female reality, from real female Lesbian power. It means identifying more and more with het values and choosing to see yourself through men’s eyes.

I thought femininity was clothes, makeup and seeking to attract men. Then it’s wanting a family and diet and exercise, which aren’t exclusive to heterosexual men and women. But because heterosexual males find that appealing in their lives it’s considered feminine? So, again, “femininity” is anything heterosexual males find appealing in females. Got it. And that answers my question about what her thoughts probably are on contemporary “femininity.”

Most importantly, choosing to be an obvious Lesbian is about living with integrity. A Butch’s choice to resist femininity is the choice of a female who’s being true to herself, choosing to be as alive to her female self as possible, regardless of the punishments inflicted on her as a result. I find in that resistance a key to Dyke power, Dyke beauty and Dyke love.

A lesbian being an actual lesbian - not pretending to be one or basing her existence on her capability to spite heterosexual males and females - and living her damn life is living in integrity period. Associating a lesbian’s life with political intent and political values has no integrity, is manipulative and is suspect as hell.

#Catch me NOT getting pigeonholed into any fakebian separatist activism #I'll keep doing me...you do you...but when you try that political B.S. I will say something #Do not project onto us and use political ethics to do it stop using lesbians as your coping mechanisms

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bangtanloverboys · 4 years

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i’ve had no love like your love // knj

summary - Namjoon loves you for you; and he will help you no matter what

pairing - best friend!namjoon x transmale!reader

genre - fluff, angst; friends to lovers au

word count - 5.3k

warnings - gender dysphoria, unaccepting parents, homophobia, transphobia, use of the words dyke and faggot, transitioning, references to sex, referenced surgery, minor description of post op chest

author’s note - this is based off of personal knowledge of transitioning, what happens in this story may differ from someone else’s experience

You don’t know what you’d do without Kim Namjoon. He’s been your rock all throughout high school and is still there for you through college. You were the new kid at school and being the new kid came with all the attention of all the other students; being the shiny new toy for them, dropping in the middle of your sophmore year. After the first few weeks of school, the excitement of being the new kid died down, Namjoon was the only one that didn’t drop you and continued to be there for you.

Namjoon was there for you when you went through your first date, your first kiss, and your first time. That last one hitting you a bit differently than you might think. Hoseok was a nice guy and you really did enjoy going out with him, but soon as you started going further you couldn’t help but feel wrong. The while the way he touched you and the things he said did feel good in the moment, afterwards you felt. . .gross. After that night out, you immediately went to Namjoon’s house and cried into his arms for hours. At first, Namjoon wanted to kill Hoseok for causing you to cry but when you explained to him it was just the fact you felt personally gross afterwards and it was less him and more you he calmed down. You ended up just chalking it up to the stigma of guilting women who are free in their sexuality.

After Hoseok though, no one really seemed interested in dating you. Your family said it was because you started dressing like a man. Which wasn’t entirely wrong; the way you seemed to present didn’t stop guys completely avoiding you, but it wasn’t as many as before. You stopped dressing in feminine clothing and opted for more masculine things. Namjoon’s parents joked often that your new style mimicked a lot of what Namjoon wore: which consisted a lot of large sweaters (ironically enough were his, more often than not) and baggy pants.

While Namjoon’s parents were okay with your style change, your own parents seemed to be concerned. They made comments about you hiding your quote-un-quote beautiful body behind ugly clothes. Despite the comments being said out of love, you couldn’t help but feel more hurt by the words. You didn’t like the way your body was shaping and the way the clothes you originally had framed your figure. You felt immensely more comfortable looking like a baggy box.

Everything seemed to be doing okay until ‘Senior Ditch Day’. Namjoon and you along with everyone else in your class decided to hit the beach. All of your fellow classmates played in the water and goofed off, while you and Namjoon were at the shoreline digging around for crabs. You were minding your own business when all of a sudden a glob of wet sand hit you in the head, knocking you over.

Namjoon called out to you and helped you back on to your feet. You watched his face as he glared behind you, you turned around just in time for another clump of wet sand to hit you directly in your chest. Looking up you saw it was about 3 other guys, all of whom were in your class.

Confused, you looked to Namjoon whose jaw was clenched, like he knew something you didn’t. It wasn’t until you heard the three guys yell “FAGGOT!” at you, while throwing more wet sand in your direction.

You froze in place. Namjoon on the other hand, quickly took your hand and guided you over to the lifeguard to report them.

Not once has anyone ever said anything like that to you, or at least you thought. While the lifeguard was talking to your classmates, Namjoon helped you get the sand from your hair and off of you (Thankfully the hit to the chest was easy to get off due to your decision to wear a shirt). As he helped, he confessed that there were rumors going around of you being gay. Apparently you dressing in baggy and masculine clothing and not showing off your body meant you weren’t interested in the opposite sex; and what set them off today was you wearing a swim trunks and a shirt instead of a bikini was the last straw and lead those boys to throw sand at you and call you slurs.

The accusation of you being gay confused you though, you’ve never once thought of or tried to be romantic with a girl. Only guys. But to put it even more specifically Namjoon.

You slowly realized to yourself that you had feelings for Namjoon. Like an idiot, you kept your feelings to yourself and pretended you weren’t affected when girls would openly flirt with him right in front of you. Thankfully, Namjoon was clueless and didn’t always understand when those girls would suddenly walk away a bit frustrated.

The following school day Namjoon pressured you to report them to the office because despite you not even being gay, it still put you at risk and was an attempted hate crime. But it was nearly the end of the year and you didn’t want any more drama than what was needed. So Namjoon shut his mouth but whenever the two of you passed by those guys again, you could feel the hatred radiate from his body as he glared at them.

The day of your graduation, you were verging on a panic attack. Your parents wanted you to wear something feminine under your gown so they surprised you with a floral patterned dress that admittedly was pretty, but soon as you put it on you wanted to scream and cry. You had to ditch your normal sports bra for a pushup, the underwire digging into your skin and the presence of your chest just made you want to scream and cry. The dress hugged your torso, showing off every curve of your body and you just wanted to throw up. Makeup was caked on your face and your hair felt heavy on your head.

This. This was the reason why you hated dressing feminine. You hated your body. It wasn’t the fact that you thought you looked ugly, you just hated looking- hated feeling feminine. More often than not, you’d just look at Namjoon along with any other guy and just have this craving of wanting to look like that. Broad shoulders, masculine features. It wasn’t purely fashion, it was looking like them.

A knock was on your door, with tears in your eyes you said “Come in” and the look on Namjoon’s face will haunt you for the rest of your life. He saw the look in your eyes, how uncomfortable you felt looking all dolled up. Immediately he pulled you into a hug and you just cried into his arms, completely disregarding the fact you’re probably ruining his nice shirt.

“What’s going on?” He asked, rubbing soothing circles onto your back.

“J-just, I hate looking like this! I feel wrong!” You clung onto his shirt tighter as you sobbed. “I’m not happy!”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” He pulled away from you, one of his large palms went to your face to wipe away your tears. “Do you want me to sneak you a change of clothes?”

You nodded and just like that, Namjoon was raiding your closet for your nice button up and trousers. He neatly folded them and put them in a spare backpack, alongside your pair of dark sneakers to replace the baby heels you were wearing.. You watched as he put the bag over his shoulder and took your hand and led you to the bathroom. He wiped away the remaining makeup off your face. Deeming you done, he took you downstairs where your parents were a bit upset that you took off the makeup before photos but they were happy nonetheless of you wearing the dress. When Namjoon was questioned about the backpack, he just said it was some stuff that he wanted to give to his teachers before the ceremony.

Soon as you arrived at the school to get ready for the ceremony, Namjoon tugged you in the direction of the bathrooms and gave you the backpack. You gave him a weak smile and slid into the bathroom and into a stall. You hung up the gown on the stall door before you peeled the dress off your body, quickly stuffing it into the backpack and pulled out the pants. You instantly sighed, feeling relieved to no longer be feeling trapped. With your belt fastened, you reached in and grabbed the sports bra. Squeezing your eyes shut, you took off the pushup bra and let it fall to the ground. Without making any fast movements, you pulled down the sports bra. You quickly grabbed the white dress shirt and buttoned it fast as you could.

All traces of the dress that you wore were now in the backpack, save for the heels. Leaning against the wall, you removed the shoes and slid on the sneakers. You opened the stall door and took a good look at yourself in the mirror. This was you. Minus the hair though, you wanted your hair cut short for a while now but that was something your parents would never agree to while you lived in their house. Which made going away to college all the more reason to look forward to. You quickly undid the fancy braids your mother spent an hour on doing and tied it back into a ponytail.

The graduation ceremony went on as planned until the very end when your mom and dad say you were no longer wearing the dress they gave you. When you got home, you certainly got an earful from your mother about how upset they were at looking forward for their daughter to be dressed so nice. But each word just hits you with a ton of bricks, hurting you more and more. When they were done, you stood up and ran out the door to the Kim family household.

There Namjoon just held you for a few hours while you cried. Soon enough the tears stopped flowing, and it was just the two of you in his room while his computer played ambient music. It was there that in your post breakdown state that you stare at Namjoon. Watching him as he watches you. Like a man with nothing left to lose, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He freezes.

You immediately want to curl up and die. You shouldn’t have done that.

“Why did you do that?”

“It was nothing. . .ignore that. . .sorry.” You quickly shut your mouth and hide your face in his chest.

“Look at me.” You followed his instruction and the look in his eyes was pleading. “Please don’t mess with my feelings. I don’t know if I can take another heartbreak.”

“Feelings?” You asked him.

“Yes, feelings. . . I know this probably isn’t the right time but I like you. I have for a while now. I just never said anything because you never seemed interested in me.” In the dim lighting of his room, you can tell his cheeks are red and you slap him on the chest. “Ow! What was that for?!”

“You idiot, I like you too!” You watched as the look on his face transformed from confusion to one of love, pure and absolute love.

He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “Then, you wouldn’t mind going on a date then?”

“I’d love that!”

So the two of you date, thank goodness the both of you got into the same university so when school started it made the transition easier.

One of the first things you told Namjoon you wanted to do as soon as you moved out and into the dorms, was cut your hair short. With your loyal boyfriend in tow, you made your way to a hair salon where you showed her a picture of a short hair style you like and while the stylist is hesitant to cut off your “long beautiful hair”, she eventually got around her hesitation with a large tip from Namjoon’s pocket.

With your new look, you felt happier than ever. But didn’t mean you didn’t elicit some stares from other people as you held hands and shared small kisses; because before certain people would stare at you for dressing like a guy. But now admittedly, you look like a guy and you’re sharing public displays of affection with another guy. But it was whatever, you and Namjoon loved each other and that’s what mattered.

However when you came back for winter break, you were met with scrutiny by your family. They said you were a disappointment and that “No daughter of theirs will be a dyke.” The insult had your head reeling. At home, you were seen as a lesbian even though you were in fact dating a man. But at college, you were seen as a gay man, but you weren’t. . . were you?

You were glad that you decided to stay with Namjoon and his family over the break because you knew you wouldn't have lasted at your parents’ home, especially after the greeting they gave you.

You sat on the bed as you watched Namjoon sit at his computer and type away, working on an assignment for the winter semester no doubt. You watched him and the more you watched him, the more features you realized you wanted to have. His jawline, his large hands, his height. Everything you wanted, he had. You loved him for each and every one of those things, yet you couldn’t help but also want those parts on your body.

You remember looking up what was wrong with you a few times in high school and each time you searched it you got the same answer: transgender. But you denied it, you pushed yourself away from that answer. That couldn’t be it. It couldn’t. You were just having some insecurity issues, that’s all. But as the more time passed, the more you realized. Maybe you weren’t a girl. Maybe you were-

“I’m a guy.” You blurted out.

Namjoon stopped typing and turned to look at you. “What did you say, baby?”

“I-I’m a guy.” You felt tears prick at your eyes again. “Everyone keeps calling me a girl and I’m not.” Your voice starts to waver as you pull your legs in close and hug them.

Namjoon just sits there and stares at you, taking in the information. He had his suspicions but with you actually saying it, really made it real. With the initial shock gone, he’s by your side in a moment. His arms wrap around you and pull you onto his lap. “Shh, it’s okay.” he tells you as he traces mindless patterns along your arms.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Just, I can’t take it any longer! I tried to deny it but it just hurt me even more! I’m sorry!” You cried loudly into his shoulder, once the tears started they couldn’t stop.

“Shh, you have nothing to be sorry about.” Namjoon pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It’s alright baby, I’m here for you.”

You cried, and cried, until you eventually passed out from exhaustion from crying so much. You woke up with eyes crusted shut and an empty bed. Rubbing away the sleep from your eyes, you saw that Namjoon was back on his computer, busy at work.

“Are you finishing your homework?” You ask, voice groggy from the combination of the sobbing and sleep.

“Hmm? Oh, no. This is research.” He answered.

“Research for. . . ?”

“Research for you,” he turned in his chair to face you. “I’m gonna help you find resources for you to use when we get back to the university.”

You blink at him. While you knew in your heart your Joonie would accept you, you never knew it would be to this degree. But on top of that, the news that your girlfriend is actually your boyfriend usually is pretty startling.

“So. . .” You start.

“So. . . ?” Namjoon echoed, confused by your state.

“You’re not going to break up with me?” The question has Namjoon’s eyebrows shooting into his hairline.

“Why would I break up with you?!” He’s absolutely shocked that you’d even say such a thing.

“I don’t know. . . you’ve never shown an interest in guys so the fact your girlfriend is actually-”

“Baby, don’t. I love you for you. Your body doesn’t matter to me, you do.” He reaches out and cups your cheek. “I will be the best boyfriend for you. No matter what.”

And thus your transition began. The entire rest of winter break, the two of you did research on healthcare, legal processes, and looked up quite a fair share of stories that other transgender folk shared online that really helped solidify a plan.

Firstly, Namjoon ordered you a binder. In his words they were the safest ways of binding your chest to look flat. Which was something you desperately wanted, despite the fact you wore sports bras all day everyday, they still showed bits of support that you did not want or need.

Then he helped you find a transgender group to join and talk to, as well as a therapist that’ll help with your trasnition and your own mental health (“I don’t know the best ways to help you, I can learn, but I’m not going to be able to fully understand. So I found these people for you to help in areas I know I can’t help”).

All that mattered now was a name. Your birth name wasn’t going to cut it anymore. You needed a new name. You looked through shows and books, hell, even baby name sites. Namjoon gave you the idea to test out new names at coffee shops to try and get the hang of it but no name suited you until.

“Y/N.” You said to Namjoon the day before classes were due to start.

“Y/N . . .” he mused for a second, trying the name out on his tongue. “I like it, it suits you.”

You gave him a big smile and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Of course, baby. Anytime. Remember to email the school and your therapist about it!” He instructed, looking at your sternly.

“Okay, dad!” You rolled your eyes sarcastically at him.

“Oooh, don’t use that tone of voice with me young man!” Namjoon playfully scolded as you walked away from him.

After a few months of this, your therapist asked you about starting testosterone. Immediately you said yes and your therapist gave you a few instructions on what to do and who to call. The next day you were getting your blood drawn, and a few days later getting your first injection. When you walked back out into the waiting room where Namjoon sat patiently, when he saw the look on your face he stood up and picked you up, hugging you tightly.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered in your ear.

Not soon after, the two of you file some paperwork to get a court date for your legal name and gender change. Took a few months of your savings to get it done but soon enough, you had a court date and a few weeks later, the court order.

With summer vacation coming along soon, and you not wanting to go back with your parents. You and Namjoon start looking around for an apartment to share. It takes a couple tries but soon enough, the two of you find a perfect place and sign the lease as soon as you possibly can.

At first, your apartment is just some free roadside furniture (all of it being thoroughly cleaned before entering the apartment), your desks, and a bed on the floor of your shared bedroom. Slowly as the summer continues, Namjoon’s parents help with setting you up with kitchenware and a bedroom set, alongside a TV for the two of you. You were very grateful for Namjoon’s parents to be so accepting of you both.

One day on your way home from work, you ran into your-

“Mom?” You called out to her, what was she doing outside your apartment building?

She turned around and instantly her face fell into confusion. She called out your deadname and you visibly flinched. “Darling, what are you doing? Why are you still dressing up like a boy?”

Biting your tongue, you ignore her question and ask what she’s doing here.

“Well, I came looking for you! I wanted to see how well my daughter is doing, see if she’s looking like a girl again, but I guess not.” She sighed, “I only want what’s best for you darling. And dressing like a boy and liking girls isn’t what’s best for you.”

“Mom. I don’t like girls, I like boys.” You try your best to hold back from yelling at her in public. “I’ve never once said that I liked girls or looked at girls that way. Stop assuming things about me by the way I dress, because you are far from correct.”

She simply narrowed her eyes at you. “Are you still with Namjoon or should I tell him you’re cheating on him?”

“Excuse me, what?!” You’re completely baffled by her statement. “Mom, what are you talking about? I’m not seeing anyone else besides Namjoon. I love Namjoon?”

“Are you sure you didn’t get married on the side? Because whenever I look up your name all that pops up is a Y/N court date with our last name attached to it.” She raised her eyebrow accusingly.

“Y/N isn’t a new man. Y/N is me. Congratulations, mom. You have a son! And he’s gay. Now leave me alone!” You roll your eyes and start for the inside, to get away from your mother once and for all.

“WHAT!?” You hear your mother yell as she storms after you. “Young lady you listen to me! You are no such thing! I won’t have it! Not in my family!”

You could feel the oncoming stares from around you. Great, she was causing a scene. “Then I guess, I’m not in your family.” You state before walking into your building, you quickly make your way over to the elevator and hold yourself in the corner as you wait for the doors to close. While you’ve distanced yourself from your family long enough, it still hurt when you now declared yourself to the entire world that you were no longer a part of their family.

You were surprised at the fact you weren’t bursting into tears yet, maybe it was because all the past few months of therapy made it worth it or maybe it was just the testosterone. Either way, you must’ve looked mentally drained from the event as you opened the door to Namjoon asking if you were alright. After a brief recollection of the event, he gave you a quick hug. Pressing a quick kiss to your head, promising that no matter what you’re his family now.

You were getting to that point in your transition when you hit the three Hs. Hot, hungry, and horny. The amount of cold showers you’ve taken just to soothe your aching body from the internal heat from within is astronomical. No matter how many layers you take off, you’re still boiling. It’s when Namjoon sees you on your back, completely naked spare a towel over your chest and boxers, is when he gets concerned. He buys ice packs, ice cream, and a couple fans to help cool you down when you suddenly feel like tearing off all your clothes.

Hungry, you’ll feel as if your stomach is a blackhole and you’ll eat almost all the food in the kitchen. Namjoon’s learned to deal with it by keeping most of the snacks on high shelves, he’ll let you have free reign over whatever is in the fridge that you have to make but for regular snacks? Never let you near those unsupervised. He’s not gonna ever let go of the fact you ate all his hot cheetos in one sitting while he was out at work.

Horny was nothing new for you, you and Namjoon kept a fairly active sex life but now you were nearly unsatiably horny. You could jack off and fall asleep, only to have a sex dream and wake up even more hornier the following day. One time on your day off, you swear you spent the entire day jacking off and even when Namjoon got home, you knew you could go another few rounds. He never judged you though; even when your voice cracked when you moaned, your bottom growth, or even just getting hairier, he was there for you. No matter what the change your body went through, he was still the same man during sex.

Speaking of being there for you, this was a time when you really needed him because you apparently missed a call from your therapist about your top surgery letter. Around the time of your legal name change, your therapist asked you if you were ready for top surgery because by now you definitely qualified with your diagnosis of gender dysphoria.

You wished Namjoon could be here, but he was out getting groceries so that just left you alone to call your therapist back. You held your breath as you heard the dial tone, after what felt like forever, your therapist picked up. What you heard, blew your mind.

Namjoon came home that night to you bouncing up and down on the couch, squealing like a happy camper. When he asked you what was up, all you had to say was: “September.”

“No!”

“Yes! I’m getting top surgery in a matter of months!” You yelled, to which Namjoon dropped the groceries and picked you up and spun you around.

“Baby boy, I’m so happy for you!” He cheered as the two of you spun around the apartment and fell over onto the couch. “Is this cause for celebration?” You could feel his arms trace alongside your body, he had that look in his eye. The look that had your knees buckling and your heart racing.

“Yes I believe it is.” You muttered as you placed your hand on his jaw, pulling him in for a kiss. His hands went straight for your thighs, a safe place for him to put them. Slowly the kiss got more and more heated, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he grabbed your ass. You chuckled as he pulled your body on to his lap, he pulled away from the kiss to press more kisses down your neck and jawline. “Bedroom, now.” With that, he picked you up and took you to the bedroom, spending a lot of time making noise complaints for your neighbors.

Soon enough, you met with your surgeon and selected a date in September as well as a type of procedure to settle on. Luckily enough, you won’t be needing drains so the issue of dealing with them has been eliminated.

When school started up again, you made all your professors well aware of what would be going on in a few weeks so they made some quick accommodations for you and soon enough, the date arrived.

Thankfully, you were able to have Namjoon wait with you in the waiting room and in the pre-op room. The nurses were very nice about your I.V.s and made sure you were the most comfortable you could be. When your surgeon came over and had to draw the procedure lines, Namjoon held your hand as the doctor drew over your chest. But it was all worth it because only hours later, you were in the operation room.

Being under anesthetic is weird because one second you’re awake then you blink and you’re done. You woke up with Namjoon right beside you holding your hand, with tears in his eyes.

“Done?”

“It’s done, baby. It’s done. We can go home soon. Just go back to sleep.” He whispered and again you were out like a light. Only to be woken up a bit later to be discharged from the hospital. With a post-surgery binder wrapped tightly around you, dressed in sweats and a flannel, you were in Namjoon’s car ready to go. You listened faintly to Namjoon’s conversation with the nurse about your pain medication and about seeing the surgeon again a week later.

You don’t quite remember much of the drive back from the hospital, probably because you were on and off asleep the whole time but the next thing you know, Namjoon is waking you up in the parking garage.

It takes quite a bit of effort for Namjoon to even get you out of the car, a lot of promises of ice cream and cuddles is what fully convinces you to become somewhat conscious as he helps you get from the car to your apartment. It takes a good while, but soon as you’re in, you both let out a sigh of relief.

“Home sweet home.” Namjoon said as he led you over to the couch, “Do you want anything, Y/N? Juice? Water? Snack?”

“Hmmm, wan’ you, Joonie.” You raised your arms at your elbows and made grabby hands, which got a good chuckle out of him.

“Baby boy, you wanna go back to sleep?” He asked you, ruffling your hair. You give a nod and he just sighs. He helps you back up to your feet and leads you to the bedroom where he lays you carefully on your back.

“Cuddle me, Joonie,” you muttered and Namjoon just sighs, giving into your half asleep antics to cuddle. He lays down on the other side of you, putting a hand over your stomach and kissing the side of your face. You fall asleep soon after that and Namjoon quickly follows.

By the time he wakes up however, you are nowhere to be seen and that sends a world of concern around him. You can’t reach very high, what if you tried grabbing the good snacks from the top shelf and pulled a stitch? What if you were still loopy and walked right out the front door? What if-

Namjoon’s concerns are quickly thrown out the door when he hears sniffling coming from the bathroom door. Jumping to his feet, he opens the door to see you with teary eyes for the first time since you’ve started testosterone. He looks down and sees you removed the post-surgery binder and pulled back the wrappings to see the fresh thin scars that go across your chest. He looks back up to you and you’re full on crying now, “I-I don’t even know what to say. I-I’m just so happy.”

The look in your eyes says it all. He sees a look in your eyes that he barely recognizes in the past 5 years he’s known you. It’s the look of pure and unadulterated happiness. Sure he’s seen you happy, but never something like this. Namjoon starts to feel the tears prickle in his eyes and he hears you laugh at him.

“Shut up, I’m happy for you alright.” He quickly tries to wipe the evidence of tears from his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You laughed at him and just continued to look at yourself in the mirror, your hand barely ghosting over your chest. Right now it looks battered and bruised, your nipples also don’t look too great at the moment. But that will all heal and go away soon. You finally felt like yourself more than ever.

Namjoon just watched you from the door frame. He watched as you laughed still in disbelief that you can finally be comfortable in your own body. The ring he bought a few months ago is currently burning a hole in his jeans, but now is not that moment. Right now, it’s your moment. A moment for you to finally love yourself.

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