#marriage advocate number

[courtmarriagegov]

Court Marriage in Jaipur | Rajasthan @5500

Couples seeking court marriage must both be of sound mind. The entire procedure relies on their free consent.

Both parties must present proof of age. Furthermore, neither has been married before in any capacity.

Couples must give notice of their intention to marry according to the second schedule of the special marriage act to the marriage officer in whose jurisdiction they live.

Court Marriage Procedure in Rajasthan

Court marriage is an uncomplicated, legal way of getting married without going through religious rituals. You can apply by submitting documents such as birth certificates, address proof and photographs - once these have been verified you can apply for your marriage certificate which should arrive about 30 days later; there is also an objection period during which any disputes can be raised with authorities.

To complete the process, both parties will need to submit a signed application form with documents of both parties. You can download or obtain this form online from your district court; once filled out it will request details such as these:

Registering your marriage differs significantly from court marriage in terms of timing and paperwork requirements; marriage registration requires prior notice to the registrar whereas court weddings don't. Furthermore, registrations need to take place within an established timeframe.

India recognizes two types of marriages: registered and court. Registered marriages fall under either the Hindu Marriage Act or Special Marriage Act and allow couples from any faith to marry legally.

However, before applying for marriage registration, both bride and groom should meet age criteria; males must be 21 and females 18 years old. Furthermore, neither should be in any prohibited relationship; otherwise you will need to provide proof such as divorce decree or death certificate as proof. Furthermore, active relationships should not exist at the time of filing; any such application will be rejected immediately.

Call Court Marriage Lawyer Advocate Kaushal [phone]

Court Marriage Fees

If you are planning to marry, it is essential that you follow the proper procedures and pay all required fees. This will ensure your marriage is valid, which may help when applying for legal processes like home loans together. Furthermore, having a marriage certificate available should any issues arise between yourself and your partner in the future.

Cost of court marriage varies by state and depends on various factors, including type and length of time since wedding. Therefore, before beginning this process it would be wise to consult a lawyer so you are familiar with all state specific rules and regulations.

Before performing your marriage ceremony, both parties should make sure they are not involved in an active relationship; some relationships are prohibited by various Indian laws and religions. Furthermore, if either partner has died since your initial proposal date, an appropriate death certificate must be submitted as evidence.

Muslim marriage requires both male and female partners to perform their Nikah with assistance from a Kazi. Once this ceremony has taken place, registration of their marriage in court takes place, with certificates arriving shortly afterwards.

First step of registering a court marriage involves notifying the marriage officer of your intent to marry, which you can do by submitting an application form at the registrar's office. Next, collect all required documents such as Mangal Sutras, Dakshinas and sweets before signing a Declaration Form in front of three witnesses present at your ceremony.

Arya Samaj Marriage

Arya Samaj marriages are Hindu ceremonies performed according to Vedic traditions. This type of wedding ceremony emphasizes equality between partners while upholding ethics and spirituality - making it an excellent option for those looking for an uncomplicated ceremony without extravagances; its rituals emphasize simplicity while still upholding essential values.

Marriage ceremonies traditionally take place under a mandap, which is an elaborately decorated canopy set up around a sacred fire that serves as witness. Groom and bride exchange garlands as a sign of mutual appreciation before groom puts vermillion on bride's forehead and she wears mangalsutra around neck before feeding each other sweets before concluding the ceremony with Surya Darshan or sun greeting ceremony.

Two witnesses must also attend the ceremony, with at least one certified copy of their divorce decree for those that are divorced, or death certificates of deceased spouses for widowers.

Once an Arya Samaj marriage has taken place, it must be registered in a district court in order for it to become legally binding in India. Government agencies across India recognize Arya Samaj marriage certificates for official purposes such as applying for passports and visas as well as property registration and inheritance matters.

The Arya Samaj is an organization established by Swami Dayananda Saraswati to encourage inter-caste and inter-religious marriages between Hindus, Christians, Jains, and Sikhs. It does not restrict itself solely to Hindu marriages however.

Benefits

Court marriage provides couples of different religions, castes and nationalities an alternative means of solemnizing their union legally and inexpensively. It requires approval by both parents, marriage registrar and witnesses before proceeding with legal proceedings - it also gives couples access to government benefits such as pension, maternity pay and financial relief schemes that they would otherwise miss out on with traditional weddings.

Court marriages can often be completed quickly and smoothly in just hours, providing an alternative for couples having trouble with getting parental approval for their relationship. Furthermore, this method eliminates the need for guests and elaborate rituals and can create an intimate, private process suited for couples looking for peace and privacy during their ceremony.

Court weddings provide greater flexibility in terms of scheduling and location than regular weddings, which often require months-in-advance reservations. This makes court marriages ideal for couples with hectic work schedules as well as couples wanting a convenient location and time, like those avoiding traveling long distances for their big day.

Court marriage is legal in India and provides couples with numerous advantages over traditional weddings. Social security benefits, including maternity and widowhood allowances as well as medical insurance coverage may be available; tax exemptions under Section 80C of the Income Tax Act may also apply (with some restrictions applying). To make the most out of a court marriage, be sure to understand its rules and regulations, consult with an experienced lawyer prior to filing, as well as being aware of its objection period, which usually lasts 30 days after an application for marriage has been filed.

FAQS

Marriage is an important milestone in life, so it's essential that couples follow all necessary steps to ensure it's legal. Doing this will help avoid future issues as well as making passport or visa applications easier in the future if necessary.

Step one of registering a marriage involves giving notice to the Marriage Officer at your district court at least 30 days before your wedding. Following this, the ceremony itself is solemnized and issued a marriage certificate - although this process can be time-consuming, its benefits far outweigh its drawbacks.

Registering a marriage in Rajasthan requires meeting various requirements, including adult bride and groom who have valid reasons for marrying each other as well as not currently married or previously having had an ex-spouse who is either dead or divorced. Furthermore, both parties must provide proof of age and address.

Both partners must sign the Marriage Application form with their full names, addresses, and signatures and submit this packet of documents to the Marriage Registrar of their district court.

The Marriage Registrar will then review all information and documents submitted and assign a date and time for registration of your marriage. Both partners must attend as witnesses during registration; then he or she will present each couple with a marriage certificate from his or her office.

#tatkal court marriage in jaipur #court marriage in rajasthan #court marriage fees in jaipur #court marriage procedure in jaipur rajasthan #court marriage #court marriage lawyer #court marriage advocate #court #marriage advocate number

[worstqueerbaittournament]

Submission message: howdy, would like to submit keith and lance from voltron (lmao)

Submission message: BBC Sherlock and Moriarty / BBC Sherlock and John Watson

Additional propaganda: Now Keith and Lance on the other hand was a whole fucking mess that they then shoehorned in an hetero romance to try and "fix it" but by lord it was bad, everything about voltron is so fucking bad

Anyway this is my Klance propaganda : They were actually bait

Klance's queer baiting by the team was the worst!! We had to deal with NETFLIX ALSO GETTING IN ON THE QUEER BAITING!! If you searched up Kkance during the times for season 6-8, the SHOW WOULD POP UP. The directors would make jokes about it being canon, even Lance's VA got in the joke!

Their queer baiting was the worst for anyone who was even looking for an ounce of queer rep in that show. The only queer rep we got was a man who died after not even 5 minutes on screen, and shoehorned in the credit scene of a gay wedding of a character that was neither Keith nor Lance.

I do not know Agatha and Sophie, so I can't argue that klance was bigger bait or not, I just know voltron was mean lmao. the creators said stuff like "lance will be someone's first choice!" (meaning NOT ending up in a relationship with allura bc she very much chose another guy over him) and heavily implying he would be Keith's 1st choice (or a guy in general bc of point number 2). point number 2: they also released official art showing how super cool and diverse the main cast was! race! gender! LGBT - they had shiro (who was......canon gay but that's a whole other can of worms) and lance hold the sign with LGBT on it and then did absolutely nothing with that w lance at all (he hit on allura, so obvi he's not gay, but at least bi or smt) (UNLESS you count the scenes where he's flirty with keith). I just remember going into the last few seasons being like "klance probably won't be happen be honest with yourself there's like no queer kids shows!! but damn like it so could tho!!! because of how much it's been teased both in the show and by showrunners like I can't have no hope with the way the producers talk about it!" lmao I should have had no hope, but i genuinkey believed there was a possibility it could happen. and actually I discovered after the fact that i think one of the writers for the show who was the main advocate for klance (they had a lot of diff writers for eps, which led to lots of character butchering but ANYWAY) left not terribly long into the show I believe bc he didn't like the direction it was moving in and didn't want to be tied to the show anymore. so it's not like fans just made klance up either - it was written into earlier episodes with the hope and plan to continue developing later, and then just nothing ever happened with it besides INTENSE teasing it to keep queer fans around. esp after shiro's relationship was literally only a flashback and then his fiance thing or whatever got blown up before we even got to watch him interact w shiro as we knew him in present time in s7, so I think they kept being like hmmm klance and the stuff about lance being a first choice before s8 to keep ppl around. also esp bc klancers made up such a big portion of the fan base. then they made a horrible szn and ended it w a flashforward to shiro marrying some random background character who maybe had 1 line? I just remember hitting the flashforward and being like uhhhh who is this dude??? but they did that to hit those diversity points wow first gay marriage in a cartoon or smt idk it doesn't count to me really. so anyway voltron in general is queerbait lol but klance is because it started out as a legit possibility and then they said sike! but only maybe sike bc u guys are mad at us burying our guys in s7 so maybe klance could still happen haha okay now we're serious no it's not happening. anyway I think klance is p bad queerbait and a vote for them is a valid vote, not just u liking the ship.

#im sorry but johnlock is a household name in ther queerbait trenches

I don't know much about blaze runner, but this website made me endure Johnlock FOR YEARS, that ship makes me so fucking angry, and it's so much bait, the whole fucking show is just 4 kinds of bait in a trenchcoat trying to pass as something good, and Tumblr(and the rest of the goddamn world) ate it up like a five course meal. So anyway that's why I'm voting Johnlock

#klance #keith x lance #voltron #voltron legendary defender #sherlock x john #johnlock #bbc sherlock #tournament

[genderkoolaid]

In the last two decades, there has been a growing body of literature on trans health in India. However, most research is limited to HIV/AIDS and primarily focuses on trans women. Studies on trans men or transmasculine identities and their healthcare needs and experiences in India have received little scholarly attention. Even globally, the literature on trans men’s health is relatively scant, with existing studies conducted mainly in Western countries. There exists a dearth of government data and statistics on trans men in India. The only attempt to enumerate the transgender population was made by the national census, which categorised them as ‘other.’ The census estimated 4,87,803 transgender people in India. However, several transgender activists have argued that this number is a considerable miscalculation and an inaccurate representation of the entire transgender community in India. Moreover, the lack of official data on trans men also risks under-allocating funds for much-needed welfare programmes. Moreover, trans men experience direct and indirect discrimination in healthcare settings. Such experiences include being asked invasive or inappropriate questions about their bodies, invalidating their gender identity via misgendering, deadnaming, and being denied healthcare or receiving low-quality care. Sometimes, it also includes physical mishandling and verbal harassment by the hospital staff and co-patients or not being allowed to enter certain hospital wards or spaces. [...] For many trans men, the family becomes the first space for mental and physical violence and outright rejection of their identity, with instances of forced heterosexual marriages or corrective rape. Vinay (name changed), a 30-year-old trans man from Punjab, says, “Family says ‘you’re ruining our reputation, get married, have one-two kids and then everything will be fine.’ They even use rape as a measure saying ‘you don’t know who you are, and when it happens, then you’ll know [your true sexual orientation].’”  Many have to deal with uninformed healthcare providers unwilling to treat them because of their gender identity. Lack of knowledge amongst medical professionals and poor social understanding of trans men means that trans men often have to self-advocate and explain their health-related issues and gender identity to medical practitioners who constantly challenge or dismiss their identity. This self-advocacy and mental effort to explain or justify one’s gender identity and expression often leads to emotional exhaustion. Soham (name changed), a 24-year- old trans man from New Delhi, recounts his experience of going to a hospital,  “The doctor came and shouted my dead name. There were a lot of people in the emergency room and I remember feeling numb for a second…He shouted, ‘Is this you? Yehi naam hai aapka?’ (‘Is this you? Is this your name?’)…Then he literally pointed at my chest and said your chest is so flat, do you have your periods? I was numb and I didn’t say anything. I didn’t get my medicine, I didn’t tell him my problem, I just went home and I locked myself in my room for a week.” 

— I Didn’t Get My Medicine, And I Locked Myself In My Room For A Week (Trans Men Are Invisible in India's Healthcare) by Arushi Raj and Fatima Juned

#m. #rape tw #examples of transandrophobia #transandrophobia #transmisandry #anti transmasculinity #transunity

[chiriwritesstuff]

The New Girl in Tinseltown - Chapter 2 - Devil's Advocate

A Dieter Bravo x Actress! Reader PR Marriage AU

Previous Chapter │ Series Masterlist │ Next Chapter

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: A look into Dieter's point of view at the night of our fated trip to Vegas. How does America's favorite Bad Boy™ end up married to America's New Sweetheart™?

Chapter Warnings and Tags: (Not So) meet cute, PR Relationships, what happens in Vegas ends up in the headlines, Dieter just does not give a FUCK, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, a look at the inner workings of Tinseltown and the sleaziness it comes with, Dry Humping, A hell of a lot of dirty banter, is that yearning?, mentions of devious deeds by sleazy people in show business, our loverboy makes a 'Pride and Prejudice reference, SLOW BURN WE DONT KNOW IT, this is unhinged, no use of y/n, No beta we die like men!

Word Count: 8K (whoops!)

A/N: I know, I know, I KNOW. I promised the release of this chapter weeks ago, but I got struck by the not-covid-but-felt-like-covid virus and managed to get myself into the biggest writing slump. I really do apologize for that, and I want to give a big thank you to everyone who stuck around and showed and shared love and support for the first chapter and this series! I can confidently say that the writing slump has finally passed, and we can finally get this crazy show on the road...

An (almost) year before that night in Vegas.

“Dieter, I'm expecting you to be on your best behavior tonight."

Dieter scowls at his publicist while his groomer diligently applies yet another round of pomade in an attempt to tame his unruly curls. "Define best behavior."

"They're about to launch a new girl into the circuit, some unknown that the studio thinks will become the next girl next door," his publicist responds, tapping away at his MacBook. "She's a genuinely sweet thing, all doe-eyed and untouched by the suits. Apparently, she's so sweet that Feldman-"

“Let me guess,” Dieter deadpans, "Feldman wants to fuck her," he rolls his eyes at that, slightly curious at the prospect of fresh blood. "Why am I not surprised?"

"That's not the best part," his publicist quips, his eyes locking with Dieter's over the rim of his laptop. "The studio wants to protect their asset, so much so that they hired-"

"No fucking way, they hired the Shark for this broad? What? Does she have beer-flavored nipples or something?" Dieter exclaims, his curiosity piqued. "Is she really that sweet?"

His publicist's mouth quirks into a small smirk. "The sweetest, most fucking forbidden fruit, my friend. So sweet that the Shark doesn't want you within ten feet of his client."

"Oh yeah?" Dieter replies, his eyes raised.

"Hell yeah. He tried to corner me earlier, warning me to keep my client's - and I quote - Dirty fucking paws off of his Doll-"

"Doll, huh? I bet I could tap that," Dieter challenges, his chest puffed out.

Dieter's publicist chuckles to himself, shaking his head. "Dieter, I know you believe you're God's gift to the masses, but trust me, this Doll? She's a bit out of your league."

Dieter leans back in his chair, a sly grin forming on his face. "Out of my league, huh? That just makes it more interesting. The thrill of the chase, my friend."

His publicist raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "Dieter, I've seen you chase plenty, but this Doll is different. She's not like the others. There's an innocence about her that even your charm might struggle to crack."

Dieter smirks, undeterred. "Well, we'll see about that. The forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest, doesn't it?"

The publicist lets out a resigned sigh. "Just remember, Dieter, not every fruit is meant to be plucked."

"What is this event even for?" Dieter counters, appraising himself as his stylist smooths the fabric of his suit, a deep emerald green number with a crisp obsidian button-down. He pouts at the mirror, glancing at his publicist and his agent behind him. "It's not the Nickelodeon Kids Choice Awards again, is it?"

"Why? So you could be caught doing blow off a toilet bowl seat like last year? I'm still doing damage control for that, you know," his agent deadpans. "You're in luck; it's the MTV Movie Awards-"

"... and this is Doll's debut, huh? Is she up for an award or something?"

"Several, actually. Surprisingly, her last film gained quite the following-"

"... let me guess, it's some rom-com," Dieter interjects, a hint of disinterest in his tone. "What are the categories?"

"Three, to be exact." His agent smirks into his cognac. "Best Female Lead, Female Breakout Star, and Best Kiss-"

"Best Kiss? Seriously?" Dieter retorts incredulously, his eyes widening. "What's the name of her movie? I might need to see it for myself-"

"Dieter, level with me. Are you gonna keep your dirty fucking paws off of the Shark's asset?" his publicist sighs, giving him a stern look. "As much as I want to shove my foot up his fucking ass, I don't have the energy to have him breathing down my back the entire fucking night-" he looks off into Dieter's direction, who is currently on your Wikipedia page. He frowns. "Dieter, do you hear me?"

"What?" Dieter snaps, slamming his phone onto his seat.

"Can you manage to be on your best behavior tonight? Stay clear of-"

"No. I mean, sure, fine, whatever-" Dieter interrupts, his tone dismissive.

"Dieter-"

"I heard you! I promise to stay away from her, but the real question is, are you able to keep her away from me?" He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

The (not-so meet cute) at the MTV Movie Awards.

"Dieter!" you shout, hastily making your way toward him, clearly a few drinks in. "Surprised to see you here!" you shout excitedly, a little wobble in your step as you approach him. 

You adorn a sleek silver gown, your hair elegantly swept to one side, and your radiant face contrasting vividly with the venue's intense lights. Dieter finds himself momentarily breathless as he gazes at you, captivated by your ethereal presence, akin to an angel descending into the depths of hell. "Fuck me," he murmurs under his breath as you draw near, the collar around his neck suddenly feeling constrictive as he nervously swallows. "What the hell? I never get nervous around women," he mutters to himself, his eyes tracing the entirety of your figure. His pants grow notably tighter, his attention fixated on the hypnotic sway of your hips.

He greets you with a nervous smile as you come face to face, tenderly planting a kiss on your cheek. His eyes close momentarily as he savors your delicate scent, a sensation that electrifies his chest and courses through his veins, prompting his hands to instinctively caress the back of your head as he subtly tries to capture another whiff. A subtle sense of pride swells within him as he notices the blush unexpectedly blooming across your skin, its warmth cascading down your cleavage.

Forbidden fucking fruit indeed. 

"Doll," he attempts to say smoothly, a hint of nervousness lacing his voice. "I've heard so much about you. Congrats on your wins tonight; they're truly well-deserved!"

"Really?" you suddenly squeal, and Dieter feels like he could get lost in your energy. It's pure, sweet, and so inherently innocent—the childlike wonder of being thrust into the limelight, untarnished by the sleazy underbelly of Hollywood. He can't help but internally frown, foreseeing the inevitable vultures in suits trying to get a piece of you. Their insatiable hunger for new, sweet flesh is something he knows all too well.

"Well, yeah, Doll, you killed it, as expected. Winning tonight and sweeping all your nominations was a given," he muses, casually leaning against his chair. As he leans towards you, a subconscious desire prompts him to take another whiff of your perfume, desperately trying to commit its essence to memory amid the haze of his coke-induced high. He can't resist burying his nose in your hair, eyes closing as he takes you in once more. 

"Dieter-" you question his sudden boldness, a nervous chuckle escaping you. 

"I'm sorry, baby-" he moans into your neck, his hands traveling down the length of your back. "You must tell me what the name of your perfume is, its divine-"

"Oh," you laugh as Dieter pulls you into him tighter, groaning as his hands travel dangerously close down your hips. "It's 'Missing Person' by-"

"Doll," a voice emerges from behind the two of you, accompanied by a stern clearing of someone's throat. Dieter's expression darkens as he recognizes the owner of the voice, but not before planting one final teasing kiss against your throat. With a smirk playing on his lips, he straightens up and turns to confront the perpetually annoyed yet annoyingly handsome face of the man Hollywood dubs 'The Shark'- also known as the most ruthless of publicists in all of Tinseltown, protecting his clients with an iron fist so strong no one ever thinks of crossing him.

Unless they wanted a cease and desist letter shoved so far up their assholes... without any fucking lube.   

Dieter gets it, though. If he were in his shoes and he had a client like you? All sweet and pure with the face of an angel but a body curated by the Devil himself?

Well, he would fuck your brains out and make you forget your name first, but that's beside the point. The point is, he gets it, he really fucking does.  

"Well well well," Dieter croons as he holds his hand up towards your publicist. "It's been a long time, Shark. Tell me, did you have to call ahead to make sure that some poor bloke's mangled testicles made it onto your plate for tonight, or did you rip someone's balls off fresh on-site?" he snarks with the raise of his eyebrow, shaking his head as your publicist stares at his outstretched hand in greeting. Dieter scoffs as he retreats his hand, placing it on his hip.  

"Bravo," Your publicist grits through clenched teeth as he tries to appear as unbothered as possible. "Aren't you a little old to be here tonight? The rumors aren't true, you know. Fucking girls close to half your age doesn't keep you young, but I suppose it makes sense, considering a woman your age would know better-"

"Shark, I won't tolerate you talking like that in the presence of an actual earth-bound angel. Just because she's young doesn't mean she doesn't know right from wrong-" Dieter retorts, flashing you a smoldering smile. "... you know how to handle yourself, don't you, Doll? You don't need some uptight prick telling you what you can and cannot do, right?" he winks, a slight puff to his chest.

You visibly shiver at his cheeky insinuation, nodding. "Right," you breathe, taking a hasty gulp of your champagne. "I'm 29 years old, I don't need you defending my 'honor' like I'm some virginal maiden-"

"Well, when my client has far too many drinks in her and doesn't understand the kind of man she's in the presence of-"

"The Devil, right?" Dieter exclaims, pointing to himself. "A no-good washed-up actor who fucks anything with two legs while high off my rocker, who just so happens to be good at what I do with the Oscar in my shitter to prove it? Don't you think she knows all of this? My bare ass isn't on the front page of TMZ weekly because I'm a nobody, baby."

"Oh my god, Dieter," you gush, clapping your hands together. "I loved you in-"

"Doll," your publicist interrupts, a firm hand on your shoulder. "You have that meeting with Favreau at the Beverley Hills in 30 minutes. As much as we would love to stay and chat... we have our jobs to get to, right Doll?" your publicist says to you sweetly, his hand grazing your arm. He clears his throat, nodding at Dieter. "Bravo, it was stimulating, as always," he deadpans with a hint of finality, pulling on your elbow like a lost puppy on a leash. Dieter swallows as he witnesses your light dimming from your face, a small frown on your face as you try to remain cordial, a fake smile etched on your face.  

"It was nice meeting you, Dieter," you almost whisper, pulling him into one last hug. "... maybe we'll just run into each other again soon?" You quickly whisper in his ear, and the thought of the two of you meeting up in secret thrills him to no end. His dick certainly twitches at the prospect. 

Dieter takes one last whiff of your scent, his eyes closing as he wills the time to stand still, not wanting to lose the warmth radiating from your aura. He presses one last kiss on your cheek, his fingers caressing the spot as he gives you a genuine smile.  

"... it wouldn't be soon enough, baby."

He gives The Shark one last salute, flipping him off once his back is toward him. “Fucking asshole cockblock,” he mutters to himself, patting his suit pocket for his little baggie of E. He pinches the baggie between his fingers, looking at its contents in silent contemplation.  I guess if I can't get the girl, at least I can get the high, right?

The morning after.

Dieter is face down on his sofa in his boxers and his robe, groaning from the after-effects of his debauchery just a few hours before. As if his skull is splitting into two, he winces as he turns himself onto his back, staring aimlessly into his ceiling as his iPhone suddenly starts to go off from under him.

Sighing, he blindly reaches for his phone, one eye open as he squints into the tiny, shattered screen.

TMZ NEWS FLASH! Up-and-coming Actress who swept MTV awards show last night being groped by Resident Playboy Dieter Bravo? Her publicist sweeps in to save our New "It" Girl in Tinseltown from the grasp of the Devil himself-

Dieter scoffs as he swipes the notification away, his eyes scanning the next headline.

AP NEWS ALERT: Dieter Bravo seen kissing Rising Actress at MTV Movie Awards last night, is a new romance brewing between the Fresh-Faced Actress and Playboy Lothario Dieter Bravo?

"Dieter," his publicist groans as he walks into the room, picking up a crumpled pair of boxer briefs off the sofa, and throws himself on it, pinching the space between his eyebrows as he shakes his head. "What the hell did I tell you? Stay away from The Shark's client, don't grope her in front of him! Can't you just listen to me for once?"

"It was innocent! I kept my hands at a respectable distance from her ass," Dieter retorts, throwing his phone across the room. "I didn't even make a move—"

"That's not the point, Dieter!" his publicist spits back, pulling out his phone. "Do you realize how much this guy despises you? I'm good at my job, but The Shark? I can't go against a god—"

"You're making him out to be some untouchable—"

"...because he is untouchable, Dieter! Do you even know he's buddies with Feldman? After learning about your stunt last night, he's considering pulling you from the project."

"Please," Dieter scoffs, rolling his eyes. "They need me more than I need them! I'm practically doing them a favor, signing on to this fucking movie. They're not going to pull Dieter Bravo from a sinking ship! It's just scare tactics!"

"Yeah, well, you know what they say. The pussy is stronger than god, right?" his publicist replies, scrolling through his phone. "Feldman didn't appreciate your hands on his girl, and now he's out for blood. I warned you about this, D. Is some girl worth losing a multi-million dollar contract? Do you want to go back to doing 'surprise guest star' roles on cable TV? I heard they're thinking of rebooting 'Suits', it might be a good fit for you-"

"So what do I need to do then?" Dieter fires back, a joint between his lips. "I assume I'll be needing to make a public statement or some shit? Keep the old bastard happy?"

"It's funny you mention that D. I have an email from The Shark himself, with a list of what he wants you to say in your statement, promising he'll back the fuck off if you promise to not go within ten feet of his asset-"

"Have you ever heard of 'Missing People' perfume?" Dieter suddenly asks, taking a hit off his joint, his eyes following the thick plume of smoke as he leans back into the sofa. "Missing... Woman?" he mumbles to himself absentmindedly, licking his lips. "Fuck, what did she say it was? I need to stop going to these things blitzed out of my fucking mind-"

"Dieter, focus. Are we releasing the statement or not?"

"MARCUS!" Dieter calls out for his PA suddenly, ignoring his publicist as he grabs the phone out of his hands. "MARCUS! I NEED YOU!"

"Yes D?" Marcus responds as he rushes into the living room, pulling a fresh pack of Kitkat out of his back pocket. "Did you need a snack?"

"Have you ever heard of 'Missing Someone' perfume?" he asks once more as he pulls up the Safari app on his publicist's phone.  

"You mean 'Missing Person' by Phlur?" Marcus quips, picking up the stray pieces of discarded clothing strewn randomly around the room. “One of my favorite actresses just became the spokesperson for that perfume, swears by it-“ 

“Missing PERSON, that’s what it was!” Dieter shouts, tossing his publicist's phone back at him. “Marcus, you’re a fucking godsend! I knew there was a reason why I kept you around! Could you do me a small favor?”

"What do you need, D?" Marcus asks eagerly, his hand perched on his hip. 

"I need you to buy me 'Missing People'. A couple of bottles, at least."

"How many is a couple?" Marcus asks with a nervous chuckle. "Five? Are you giving these out as gifts or something?"

"Maybe I could call Chriselle, and tell her you're interested in the company, there are more scents suitable for men, D," his publicist says casually, pulling out his laptop from his messenger bag. "I ran into her at Erewhon the other day, she's a big fan of your work, and couldn't stop talking about Cliff Beasts... Now, about that statement-"

"Fuck asking, just go to Neimans or Sephora or something and buy out their entire stock. Lotions and body wash and candles if it comes in that scent, too, Marcus. Go to all of the fucking Sephoras if you need to."

"... the entire stock? D, what is this for?"

"Do I pay you to ask all of these fucking questions? Don't worry about what I'm going to do with it. Just get it in my hands by the end of the day, do you think you could swing that?"

"... yes?"

Dieter takes another drag out of his joint, nodding aimlessly. "Great. Also, stop by Blicks on your way back. I need an entire arsenal and the biggest canvas they have. New brushes, too! Set up my studio and put the 'Missing People' in my bathroom, and I'll want my usual In n Out order, too."

Flustered, Marcus pulls out his phone and starts typing Dieter's requests on his notes app. Running a nervous hand through his hair, he looks at his boss once more. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Get the fuck out of my face and get to work, Marcus. Chop Chop!"

His assistant nods and scrambles out of the living room, tripping on the corner of the area rug on his way out. Dieter's publicist raises his eyebrow at the display, shaking his head as he types away on his laptop. "You know, you could be nicer to him, D. He tries hard to cater to your every fucking whim and fancy... now, are we gonna release that fucking statement or not?"

"What statement?" Dieter asks absentmindedly as he pulls out a small baggie from his robe pocket.  

"The one where you say that you had a little too much to drink and that you didn't mean anything by groping Doll at the Movie Awards, and that you're really sorry and will be donating a couple thousand to a women's shelter-"

"... and this will make The Shark happy? and Feldman off my ass?" he replies, rubbing his gums as he smiles to himself. "I'll be able to stay on the project?"

"You can start packing your bags, yes. Filming starts in a week for the next few months in Europe. It'll give this whole Movie Awards nonsense some time to blow over."

Dieter considers this for a moment. He sticks his tongue out in contemplation, coming to the unsettling realization that he hasn't been in a major studio project in the last few years. He needs this job more than they need him, and deep down, he knows this. He takes one last drag out of his joint, flicking the roach away as he turns towards his publicist.

"Release the fucking statement."

His publicist nods, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Good," he murmurs, genuine relief softening his features. "I can't handle you out of work for another month, not after the fucking pandemic... What's the deal with all that perfume, anyway?"

"What?" Dieter replies absentmindedly, scratching his beard.

"The stuff you made Marcus buy in bulk," his publicist clarifies.

"Forget the perfume. Do you still have those photos I sent you?"

"I've got them, but I haven't checked them out yet. Why?"

Dieter gestures toward the laptop. "Why don't you take a look?"

His publicist eyes him warily, opening the email. His expression shifts to shock as he glimpses the contents. "Is this—"

Dieter nods, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Yep."

"This is huge, Dieter. How did you even get these? They're screwed if this ever goes public—"

"That's why it's payback time. A little warning shot," Dieter interrupts, leaning forward eagerly. "We leak the photos. Anonymously, of course."

"Dieter," his publicist warns, "If they trace it back to you—"

"I'll take the risk. They messed with the wrong guy," Dieter scoffs, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "These amateurs think they can get away with it?" he mutters to himself, then clears his throat. "Remember our motto?"

"Nobody fucks with Dieter Bravo."

Dieter leans back on the sofa, nodding. "That's right. Nobody fucks with Dieter Bravo."

Six Months later.

"Hi, I'm Carol Cobb!"

"... and I'm Dieter Bravo!"

"And we are doing a Wired Autocomplete Interview!"

"Alright! Is Dieter Bravo..." Carol energetically rips the first sheet of paper off her card, a playful smile spreading across her face as Dieter looks attentively at the camera. "Is Dieter Bravo dead?!" She bursts into laughter, smacking Dieter with the card, who simply shrugs. "Wow! Why would they hit us with that right out of the gate?"

"Not dead yet!" Dieter exclaims, pushing his signature glasses off his face while gazing into the camera. "Got close... several times," he adds with a pointed smirk.

"...and we are very much thankful for that!" Carol shouts. "Shall we move on to the next one?" She tears the next slip of paper, her eyes widening as she reads, “Is Dieter Bravo secretly married?!”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a secret if I spilled the beans now, would it?” Dieter smiles conspiratorially, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

“I can't imagine you ever settling down,” Carol muses with a smirk. "It seems unnatural, like going against the natural order of things, like sea animals on land. Dieter Bravo, settled down with one girl? Hell would have to freeze over before that ever happens," she teases.

"I think it could happen," Dieter says matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest as he settles back into his seat.

"What could happen?" Carol asks, her curiosity piqued.

"Settling down. Getting married, perhaps... even starting a family," Dieter replies thoughtfully.

"It would take quite the woman to make 'The Great Lothario' change his ways. Seems like an impossible feat," Carol interrupts, chuckling. "A woman who can stop the great Dieter Bravo from his manwhoring ways? Maybe someone who lives under a rock and doesn't know about your reputation."

"Actually," Dieter interjects, a hint of excitement in his voice. "I think I've met someone recently who's made quite an impression on me."

Carol's eyes widen in surprise. "What do you mean, you think you've met someone? Who is this mysterious girl that's captured your attention, D?"

"Well, she's an actress-"

"Of course," Carol quips with a knowing smirk.

"... she's new. I had the pleasure of meeting her at the MTV Movie-"

"You're not talking about Doll, are you? The woman you groped after meeting her for the first time? Someone even said that they caught you sniffing her! Who does that, Dieter?!"

"I am a connoisseur of all things exquisite and beautiful, ma chérie. She smelled absolutely divine, and I swear her scent lingered on me for days after, I swear, just let me nuzzle my face in between the valley of those luscious tits-"

"God, D. I think they're gonna have to edit this shit out!" Carol mutters, looking embarrassed by Dieter's boldness. She leans towards Dieter. "I thought you signed some embargo with The Shark promising you wouldn't mention her," she whispers in his ears. "Even I wouldn't think to fuck with him-"

"Well, Feldman was my main concern, and now he's facing jail time for all of those underage claims and those leaked photos, so fuck it!" Dieter counters, knowing damn well he worked behind the scenes for it to happen, leaking a few photos he had stored away on his iCloud, kissing himself on the mouth knowing it would come in handy sooner or later.  

AP NEWS ALERT: Hollywood bigshot arrested for leaked inappropriate images from an anonymous source of various actresses, denies all allegations of misconduct.

One asshole down, one Shark to bury next, he thinks to himself, chuckling at the thought. "Besides, I can't get her out of my fucking mind! I've never felt this way about a woman before, Carol, I mean it this time!"

"I mean, she's undeniably beautiful," Carol agrees, "but she's still new to the industry. They've been typecasting her in those romcoms with whatshisname, but I've heard she's pushing for more challenging roles—"

"Cut!" The director's voice slices through the air, his eyes narrowed at them both. "This interview is about promoting Cliff Beasts, not discussing Dieter's love life with some woman."

"Hey, that 'woman'? She's my future wife, so watch your damn mouth," Dieter snaps back, his tone defensive.

"Whoa, D, hold on. Future wife? You barely know her!" Carol interjects, her hand pressed against her chest in disbelief. "Take it easy, baby. Get to know her first, at least."

"It's gonna happen, Carol. I can feel it in my damn bones. I was drawn to her the moment I laid eyes on her," Dieter insists, his confidence unwavering.

"Listen, Casanova, I don't care who you think you're gonna marry, but we're on a tight schedule here!" the director interrupts, frustration evident in his voice. "Stick to the damn questions, and no more talk about your little 'girlfriend.'"

"Fine," Dieter mutters, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of water. "But do me a favor—don't cut out the part about her assets. It'll bring in views like crazy. I did you a favor there."

The director waves him off as he storms away. "Remind me why I took this job knowing this idiot would be here," he mutters to himself, heading back behind the camera.

The day of the (not so thought out) wedding.

Dieter is anxiously bouncing his leg, biting his pinky nail as his groomer meticulously applies another layer of concealer under his darkened eyes. "Jeez D, have you been sleeping at all lately?"

"What?" Dieter asks absentmindedly, running a shaky hand through his curls. "Yeah- I've been sleeping, why?"

“Your under-eyes, D. They’re darker than my fucking soul, man. Didn’t I tell you to lay off on the sauce? I’m on my fourth layer of concealer-“

“It’s nothing,” Dieter says dismissively. “Just… have you ever been in love?” 

"Sure I have," his groomer replies, a small smile on their face. "That's why I'm married, silly. Why?"

"Say you like a girl, and you think that this girl might be interested but then TMZ posts leaked photos of said girl and some beefed up Hollywood hunk "canoodling" with each other while filming their movie together in Canada-"

"This is Doll that we're talking about, correct? The one you groped at the MTV Movie-"

"I DIDN'T GROPE HER!" Dieter exclaims, groaning as he sinks further into his seat. "Why does everyone keep saying that? I was simply giving her a friendly, yet casual hug when she APPROACHED ME-"  He huffs like a petulant child, his arms crossed around his chest in defiance. "Anyway, I thought, after I desperately tried to shoot my shot, let my intentions known in that 'Wired' Interview with Carol, that she would contact me, you know? Maybe slide into my DMs-" 

“Slide into your DMs?” His groomer scoffs, plucking a stray eyebrow hair with their tweezers from his face as he dramatically flinches, narrowing his eyes at them. “You flat out said you wanted to smother your face in the ‘valley of her luscious tits’, I would be surprised if she hasn't filed a restraining order against you yet... Let me give you a bit of advice: Girls want to be romanced, not objectified! ... have you ever had a 'real' girlfriend before, D?"

"Hey! I've had girlfriends, alright?" Dieter groans, frustration evident in his voice as he clenches his fists. "Just because they didn't stick around afterward doesn't mean it was all my fault, okay?"

"The girls you hook up with during your benders and then discard once the high wears off don't exactly qualify as 'real' girlfriends, D! Let's be serious here!"

"That's what I'm trying to be," he whines, "I'm trying SO HARD to be serious for once! I can't get this girl out of my head, and it's been what? Almost a year since I've met her? I can't get my dick hard when I'm with anyone else anymore, I don't want to take drugs, it's like I'm fucking broken or something! ... and now she's off fucking Joe Hollywood over here like I'm not bleeding my fucking heart out for her-"

"Wait, you mean to tell me that you're actually sober right now?"

"Well, yeah. The last time I took something was before filming Cliff Beasts, I thought you knew that. Anyway, it doesn't fucking matter. All of that and she doesn't even notice me."

"Well, I would tell you that if you had bothered to read TMZ this morning instead of sulking, you would know that there are split rumors between this girl and Hollywood neanderthal," His groomer retorts, a shit-eating grin on their face. "It was over before it even began. I mean, I've heard for such a massive man, he has quite the tiny di-"

Dieter perks up at that. "Say that again."

"They've broken up. She's back on the market, silly goose."

"So that means-"

"That means that I'm going to groom the shit out of you and help you out by making her realize just what she's missing out on, D." His groomer replies, massaging his scalp as they make eye contact through the mirror in front of them. "You're lucky that I consider myself a hopeless romantic. If you promise not to break her heart, I'll help you get the girl, ok?"

"Shit, do you think she'll like me?" Dieter says nervously, fidgeting in his seat.  

"Obviously," his groomer replies cryptically, a smirk forming on the corner of their mouth. "I may or may not have some intel from another groomer friend of mine about their supposed breakup."

"Oh?" Dieter perks up, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. "... and what would that intel be?"

"Oh, you know. Someone might have asked their stylist if they think you'll be attending tonight, how she kept trying to be sly about it."

"Doll asked about me?! Are you serious?" Dieter's excitement is palpable.

"Well, according to my friend, the reason why they broke up was that someone might have moaned your name while being eaten out by 'Joe Hollywood' the other day-"

"No fucking way!"

"She's into you, D! I would say that your little ploy during the 'Wired' interview worked more than you think, bud."

Dieter nods, taking the biggest sigh of relief as he settles in his chair. "One last thing, do you groom just the top half of me, or are you open to grooming other places?"

"What do you mean?" his groomer cocks their head to the side.  

"Shit, well... are you open to grooming my nether regions? It's been a while since I've been with a woman, I'm almost full caveman down there-"

His groomer tsks, pulling out their phone. "Dieter, as much as I love you, I don't love you that much. Let me call someone for that, ok?"

A few hours later, on the red carpet.

"Dieter," his publicist says under his breath as they walk down the red carpet. "The cameras are this way, why are you so distracted?"

"I'm looking for someone," Dieter replies as he winks at the sea of paparazzi, flashing them a peace sign as he walks toward the venue's entrance.

"Well, who are you looking for?" His publicist replies impatiently, looking down the red carpet.

"Doll, obviously. Do you know if she's arrived yet?"

His publicist rolls his eyes, sighing. "She arrived about five minutes ago, don't you see her?"

Dieter inhales deeply, his gaze scanning past the vibrant red carpet until it locks onto yours. His breath catches in his chest, surprised by the unexpected connection. You appear taken aback at first, but swiftly compose yourself, subtly angling your body towards him with a seductive smile playing on your lips.

"Holy Shit..." Dieter's mind races with excitement. "She really does want me."

Filled with newfound confidence, he playfully purses his lips in your direction, sending a cheeky kiss your way as his eyebrows wiggle in amusement. A flush of color blooms across your cheeks in response, catching his eye. But as he revels in the moment, he notices The Shark's gaze narrowing in his direction, a whisper passing between him and you.

That's fucking right Shark.  I'm coming for my girl, and there is nothing you can fucking do about it.  

Later, Dieter observes you from across the room as you sit at your table, alone, nursing another glass of champagne. He notices how you try to avoid meeting his gaze, despite catching you stealing glances at him throughout the night when you think he isn't looking. It surprises him to see you being so reserved, so quiet, especially without The Shark hovering around you like a protective dragon guarding its treasure.

What's gotten you so down, babydoll?  he muses, leaning back into his chair. As if you could read his thoughts, your eyes meet from across the room once more, and you quickly look away, smiling to yourself at getting caught looking.

Dieter senses the moment's significance, his heart racing with anticipation. He knows he must seize this opportunity, the perfect moment to step forward and break the barrier between the two of you. With a determined smile, he decides it's time to make his move.

As he rises from his chair, Dieter's confidence swells, fueled by the intensity of the moment. With purposeful strides, he crosses the room, his gaze fixed on you, the anticipation building with each step. This is his chance to bridge the gap, to finally reveal the feelings he's kept hidden for so long.

He draws in another deep breath as he approaches you from behind, mustering his most seductive gaze as he leans in towards your exposed ear, his warm breath grazing your skin.

"I can't help but notice that you've been eye-fucking me the entire night."

He groans softly as he takes a seat in the chair beside yours, hoping to conceal any nerves as he attempts to exude charm. "I guess my little ploy of trying to get your attention with that 'Wired' interview worked out in my favor-"

You respond with a subtle smile, your fingers gracefully tracing the edge of your champagne glass. How does something as simple as that manage to rile me up? he wonders inwardly, returning your smile.

"You know," you say softly, a chuckle escaping you as you shake your head in disbelief, "There are more normal ways to get a girl's attention-"

The longer Dieter spends in your presence, the more he feels himself on edge, the tension mounting with every passing moment. His pulse quickens, and he can't ignore the growing semi in his suit pants. It's astonishing how much you affect him, like a siren calling out for him while lost at sea, lying in wait, ready to bring him to absolute ruin. 

Fuck. Keep it cool, Bravo.

"Ah, but you're America's Sweetheart, and your pitbull of a publicist won't let me near you, I had to let my-" he gulps at the sight of your ample bust, licking his lips in anticipation, "... intentions very clearly known."

"Well," you breathe, chest heaving. "I don't know if it's 'clearly' known," your voice drops to a whisper, like a secret that is shared only between the both of you, two lonely souls amongst a sea of chaos. "I think you're just going to have to spell it out for me."

Dieter, sensing victory, leans back triumphantly, spreading his legs as he subtly encloses you within his space. His dark, smoldering gaze meets your thinly veiled attempt at your best innocent doe eyes... but Dieter sees right through it. He grins widely, reveling in the knowledge that he's the cat about to get all of the cream—your cream.  That's right, babydoll, I've finally caught you, and I'm never going to let you go.

He laughs at the sight of you, his chin motioning to your breasts.  "Do you want to have sex with me, Dollface?"

Your eyes widen, and a small gasp escapes your lips, as you search his gaze, trying to decipher if he's just bullshitting or if he's actually fucking serious.  I'm serious, alright, he chuckles to himself. "If I miscalculated this fucking thing that's going on between us, tell me and I'll fuck off, leave you alone-"

"What if I don't want you to fuck off, and want to tell you that I'm this close to being plastered and that all I kept thinking about tonight is you railing me with that huge cock we both know is aching for me in some deserted hallway-" you challenge, picking your champagne glass for good measure, downing its contents in one swig.  For courage, he thinks. "I would beg to ask you... what's taking you so damn long, Bravo?"

WhatsApp chat between Dieter & Marcus: Dieter: Hey Marcus, are you still in the venue? Marcus: Yes! With your publicist. Did you need something? Dieter: This party blows. Can I borrow your car? Marcus: Oh, did you want me to drive you home? The party just started, Dieter. Dieter: I can drive myself back, stay for the party! Catch a ride with the suits afterward! Get shitfaced, you're officially off the clock! Marcus: Seriously? Do you know how to drive a stick? It's my baby, I don't know if I feel comfortable with you driving it, are you high right now? 🤦‍♂️ Dieter: No, for the last time, I'm fucking clean, man. Just do me a solid and let me borrow your car, I swear I'll give you a fucking raise! What do you want for one night with your baby? Tell me, I'll give you anything! Marcus: Fine. Just tell me what you did with all of that fucking perfume, there"s a bet going on and I would like to shove it in your publicist's face that I know! Dieter: Seriously man? That's all you want? Marcus: Do you want my keys or not, D? Dieter: Fine. I took the fucking perfume, doused my entire bedroom in it, and fucked myself smelling it thinking about Doll. Dieter: Is that enough of an explanation for you? Come the fuck on, man, I need your car! Please! 🙏 Marcus: 🙌 Meet me at the lobby in five. 

"So tell me," Dieter shouts as he peels out of the parking lot, laughing at the delighted squeal that escapes your lips as you throw your head back, your arms raised upward as he turns quickly into the streets of Los Angeles. "How often did you think about me, babydoll?"

You boldly reach over to cup his erection, your small hand wrapping around the tip of it. "As much as I reckon you thought of me, Bravo. Tell me, how often did you come, alone in that massive bed of yours, to the thought of your cock thrusting into my tight pussy?"

"Fuck baby, do you want me to crash this car? It's not mine, you know?"

"Answer the fucking question, Bravo."

"Baby, if you only knew how much I fucking came just thinking about your tits... I don't think you know just what exactly you got yourself into, little girl... but I'll show you just how I thought of you coming on my fat cock, giving me absolutely everything-"

I've been hungry for you, baby, and I'm going to feast on every inch of your body, just you fucking wait-

He cackles like a madman as he peels into the dwindling streets of LA. "Are you hungry, Dollface?" he yells, almost running a red light, his eyes fixed on the glowing In n Out sign in the distance.

"I shouldn't, I have that screen test next week-"

"Fuck the screen test!" he shouts. "The night is young, and you are gorgeous. Let Dieter take care of you, baby... while I still have you in my grasp. I ain't gonna waste a moment I have you in my orbit!"

He pulls into the In n Out parking lot, cutting the engine, and pulls you into his lap, his face immediately diving into the valley between your breasts. "You can suffocate me with these tits and I would die a happy man," he mumbles against your skin, his growl reverberating throughout your entire body like wildfire. "What do you say, Doll? Would you do me the honors?"

"Fuck Dieter," you moan, tipping your head back in pleasure as his tongue teases the edge of your dress covering your breasts. "Grab my tits," you beg, grabbing his hands for good measure. Dieter wastes no time as he grabs the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss, his tongue licking along the seam of your mouth, begging for entrance.  

"Open up for me, baby girl. Let Dieter taste you-" he pleads, and you pull away with him, your hair wrecked and lipstick smeared. Dieter imagines he looks as wrecked as you do, his pupils blown and chest heaving. You pull him into another kiss, sighing into it, your mouth opening slightly. Dieter takes this as a sign to devour you completely, your tongues fighting for dominance as you begin to rock your hot pussy against his thick cock.

"I want to ride you into the sunset, D," you whisper, pulling at his curls harshly. "Are you gonna give me what I want? Or am I going to have to find someone else to do it?"

"Fuck-" Dieter pants, his gaze reaching yours, his mouth agape in awe. "How in the fuck did I get so fucking lucky-"

"Grab my tits, D," you ask once more, moaning and throwing your head back, biting your lower lip as you grind on his throbbing erection. Dieter quickly obliges, his large hands engulfing both of your breasts. His fingertips graze the edge of your dress, the hardness of your nipple pressing into the middle of his palm, and he swears that if he were to be struck down dead right at this moment, he would die a happy man.  

"Shit, I knew that your tits would feel amazing, but you are so fucking soft-"

"Oh yeah?" you tease, your teeth grazing the shell of his ear. "I'm soft in other places, too." You whisper in his ear, and he swears he feels the ghost of your smile as he moves his hands back on your hips, his fingertips squeezing the softness of your ass as he angles his dick where he imagines your clit to be, thrusting into your hot, wet heat. "Fuck, so goddamn soft-" he groans, his tongue licking a wet stripe along the tops of your breasts. "You're fucking everything I never knew I always wanted, baby girl," he praises you honestly, cupping your cheek as he pulls you into another kiss, groaning as your tongue dances with his, leaving him breathless.  

"Am I?" you pant as you wrap your arms around his neck, your pussy dragging along the thick outline of his cock. "You talk like you want to marry me or something-"

"... oh, but I do want to marry you, breed you, keep you locked up in my mansion... you have no idea just how much I've thought about you, these last few months-"

"Dieter! My Man!" someone shouts in the distance. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he yells back, "I'm about to fuck this beautiful woman in an In n Out parking lot, what are you doing here?"

"Fuck, can I take a pic, man?" the fan shouts as he approaches the convertible.  

"Don't you see we're a little preoccupied?" you shout at the fan, flicking him off. "Get the fuck out of here!" you shout.

The fan quickly takes a shot of the both of you with his iPhone, a half-hearted apology mumbled out of his mouth as he quickly runs back inside of the restaurant, probably to the group of men who are completely unaware of the two celebrities dry-humping the fuck out of each other in their wake, eating their double-doubles and sneaking sips out of a cup filled with some cheap ass vodka, fist-bumping the night away.

"Are you gonna come in those Gucci pants of yours, D?" you tease, your pace quickening as you ride his dick relentlessly. "How does it feel having America's Sweetheart getting you to come in your pants, baby?"

"Fuck," Dieter pants, his hand wrapping around your neck as he pushes you against the steering wheel, angling the tip of his cock against your clit. "How does it feel to get fucked by The Devil, sweetheart? Your pussy is begging me to just rip those fucking panties off and just claim you, right in front of all of these fucking people-"

You shiver at that, a choked curse and his name out of your mouth as he sees the entirety of your body begin to quiver and shake.  

"Don't fight it, baby, I know you fucking like the attention, I know you want everyone to see how much of a bad fucking girl you are inside... but don't worry, Dieter knows, and I'll help you show them," he pulls you against him harshly, your chest pushed up against his, as his teeth sink at the hollow of your neck. "I'll get the world to see just who you really are, baby. Let me show you the way-"

You scream as he thrusts into you once more as he rips your orgasm out of you violently, crying out into his neck as Dieter explodes into his Gucci trousers, the mixture of your slick and his thick cum making an absolute mess of his loaned suit.  

I guess I'll have to pay for these, Dieter thinks to himself as he cradles your shaking form into his arms, licking away the salty tears running down your face. "You did so good, Doll, don't cry-" he whispers, stroking the back of your head as he tries to get you to calm down. "What do you need, baby?"

You lie quietly against his chest, your breaths falling into rhythm with his, as he assumes you're simply gathering your thoughts. "Baby," he pleads softly, his hands tracing soothing paths along your exposed back. "Please, say something—"

"Marry me," you whisper against his chest, the words barely audible but filled with undeniable certainty.

Dieter freezes, his heart skipping a beat at your unexpected words. For a moment, he's speechless, his mind racing to catch up with the sudden turn of events. Slowly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

"What did you say?" he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid that speaking any louder might shatter the fragile moment.

You lift your head, meeting Dieter's stunned gaze with unwavering determination. "I said, marry me," you repeat, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. "Let's take this car and drive it to Vegas, get married by some overweight Elvis impersonator, and book the honeymoon suite at the Cosmo... I don't care how we do it, but let's get fucking married, D!"

Dieter's mind whirls with a mix of emotions—astonishment, disbelief, and a profound sense of joy. He blinks several times, as if trying to confirm that he's not dreaming, before a wide grin spreads across his face.

"Oh, my God," he breathes, his voice trembling with emotion. "Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes."

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[waitmyturtles]

FACT-CHECK! Status of Thai Marriage Equality Bill (TL;DR Will not be ratified and signed into law in time for Pride, but still gives us something to celebrate anyway!)

Thanks to our WONDERFUL FRIENDS in Thailand, @happypotato48 and @recentadultburnout, I've fact-checked and edited my post earlier today about the Thai marriage equality bill passing its first round of Senate deliberations. From @happypotato48!

yeah i think it's unlikely for the law to be signed by june and from what i've read if there shenanigans, things might get delay (i really hope not.) but if everyting go smoothly the law will be signed in 2-3 months and will take effect 120 days after it's signed. so likely october or november when we'll get marriage equality here. but the laws did only dictated that the amendment must finish in 60 days so maybe (finger crossed) we actually get this sooner.

From @recentadultburnout!

My knowledge is pretty lacking, but here is our current law-making process.

Some folks last week asked about what exactly the "legalization" of the bill meant after its passage in the Lower House/House of Representatives last week. I loved @happypotato48's use of the word "shenanigans" because throughout this entire process, I'm either reading into and/or expecting some shenanigans to go down because, government. But anyway:

The bill was approved in principle by the Upper House/Senate yesterday in Thailand. On July 8th, it'll go through an amendment process, and then a full approval of the bill in whole (scroll down for the reblog and additional tweet).

The most likely and/or hoped for scenario is that the Senate will take on the amendment/editing and approval process without hiccups in July, and that THEN, the bill will move to the Royal stage, which means that it'll get published in the Royal Gazette, and after 60 or 120 days (I think that was depending on what Parliament was saying), will become official law.

What are the prospects of shenanigans? I was reading on Twitter that some protests and arguments during yesterday's (or today's, depending on your timezone) deliberations in the Senate had to do with some senators stating that families are "naturally" occurring between men and women, and that quite a bit of reframing has to happen -- particularly reverberating by way of what other laws will be impacted (such as adoption laws, or benefits-by-family laws) when marriage equality is implemented. From the Thai Enquirer on Twitter:

(Source)

This response tweet below made me giggle, because it reminded me that a lot of the shows we love deliberately criticize the kind of inane arguments and politics that were made in the Senate yesterday:

(I can't find the post, I think @respectthepetty may have made it, about how last year's Midnight Series shows on GMMTV referred to politicians multiple times as dinosaurs. If someone has it, can you link me, and I'll edit this post? It was so apropos!)

In any case: the Senate has NOT fully approved the bill yet, and there's more yet to come in July. Shenanigans could happen, anything could happen!

If the Senate does NOT approve the bill in July, it will kick BACK to the Lower House/House of Representatives for ultimate approval before the Royal approval stage. Considering the overwhelming number of votes the bill got in the Lower House last week, it is almost (ALMOST!) guaranteed that it'll pass THAT stage. BUT! There's always the opportunity for shenanigans.

So advocates are still waiting, hopeful, but still waiting. The baddies who took up arguments in favor of the bill during yesterday's hearings are to be celebrated nonetheless.

IN ANY CASE. That this is even being deliberated for as close as we've ever gotten to legalizing marriage equality in a Southeast Asian country is worthy of celebration during Pride.

#marriage equality #marriage equality in thailand #lgbtq+ #pride month #thank you happypotato and recentadultburnout for your clarifications!

[negrowhat]

top 5 for bl surprises (anything!, plot twists, acting, casting, inside a show, outside a show) if you want two, good surprises and bad surprises

happy holidays 💕

HEY FRIENDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

More Top 5 Surprises from my 2023 BLs

The amount of cameos Kiseki: Dear to Me squeezed into their series. We had guest appearances from damn near every prominent Taiwanese BL ever. We had pretty much all our faves pop up except the boys from Trapped...because Tang Yi is still in jail. I just wasn't expecting THAT many cameos in one series and the only other Taiwanese BL with a notable amount of cameos was Plus & Minus.

Kiyoi getting kidnapped in Utsukushii Kare: Eternal. BECAUSE WHAT THE EFF????? I JUST WASN'T READY TO SEE KIYOI TIED UP BY SOME LUNATIC. The question I have about that is why that man would use ribbons to restrain Kiyoi??? Anyways I loved how harshly and darkly Hira would speak to that crazy dude and how he was speaking so sweetly to Kiyoi the next second.

AlanWen's MESSY Fight in front of Jim from Moonlight Chicken. Talked about ruined Christmas spirit. Alan really strolled up to the chicken joint, crashed JimWen's decorating party, and asked Wen, "IS THIS THE DUDE YOU FUCKING NOW???" Uncle Jim didn't want or need that mess but he felt compelled to protect Wen. I SCREAMED When Alan accidently shoved Wen into the tree. That fight was insane lmao.

The number of weddings/engagements we got this year. The more series discuss the issue of marriage equality the more we are given queer weddings because a wedding is a wedding no matter who gets married and the weddings showcased in our BLs are placed there deliberately and every wedding we're given advocates for the real rights of the real people in these countries. Let's see who got married slash engaged this year?

PrapaiSky got married

PayuRain got engaged

LomNuea got married

YiwaMarine got married

TinnCharn got engaged and married

RoseMaya got engaged

PhuTian got engaged

Fan Ze Rui and Bai Zong Yi got engaged

Palm getting Nueng's name tattooed on him in Never Let Me Go. Yea it was supposed to be romantic, I get it, but why?? Why??? No I really get it, Palm doesn't have much money and he believes they will be together until the end (which they probably will), they're proven soulmates, but WHY? I just found it surprising lmao.

ASK ME MY TOP 5 BL ANYTHING OF 2023

#kiseki: dear to me #utsukushii kare #utsukushii kare: eternal #moonlight chickenn #never let me go #wedding plan #love in the air #laws of attraction #1000 stars #atots #our skyy 2

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Wilbur Turner has witnessed his fair share of hate since he came out as a queer man 27 years ago in Alberta. He’s seen it from pockets of the Christian right and from the then-Progressive Conservative government in his home province when it opposed same-sex marriage in the mid-2000s. In the years since, documented attacks against the LGBTQ community have ebbed and flowed and moved from mostly behind closed doors to public spaces like schools and libraries. Turner, the founder of LGBTQ rights group Advocacy Canada, said recent events in Canada have been largely influenced by what’s been happening south of the border. “It is pretty well organized. There’s quite a number of different groups that have popped up across Canada that are fuelling this,” he said from his home in Kelowna, B.C. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada, @vague-humanoid

#cdnpoli #alt right #Foreign Policy #united states #reactionary politics #queerphobia #transphobia #homophobia

[geeks-universe]

Kiss of Death pt. 4

Anthony Bridgerton x Assassin!Reader

Society has certain expectations of you. If only they knew of your nighttime activities…

That, as it were, was not possible.

Viscount Bridgerton was only afforded a couple of extra hours of sleep following your late night encounter. He still rose relatively early, only to find out from his mother that you had left nearly half an hour ago with an apology and a promise to meet them at the ball that evening.

You were in a rush for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, sleep rarely found itself in the silent hours of the night, and when it did, it was fitful. You couldn’t rest, not until you completed your mission. So, you were run ragged by the time the evening approached.

Business was not as usual, and you didn’t know when the London brotherhood had descended into such chaos, but you imagined the famous Edward Kenway might’ve had something to do with it.

His house had been a makeshift headquarters for the time being, and you’d been hard at work establishing both targets and allies.

Being a prominent member of society, however, came with certain expectations. Even a princess couldn’t publicly denounce societal norms, at least not so boldly, but especially not while trying to maintain anonymity.

The Templars had been amassing power in London for some time, and with the brotherhood as desecrated there as it was, you needed to remain unknown.

Which is exactly why you found yourself cursing God above as you tried to re-stitch the gash in your side. The injury was from the night before, but Graham, the resident medic, had stitched it together. In your hurry to return to the Bridgerton home for the ball, you’d ripped them back open.

Now, you were certainly no medical expert, but you’d had to resort to crude stitches a number of times before to prevent yourself from bleeding out. A part of you was thankful for the modest rhetoric of present society, if only because it shielded the many scars a lifetime of fighting had earned you.

Silvery lines mapped your skin, different shapes and sizes, coalescing to a single story of the life you lead. It was a hard life, almost always dangerous, and mentally demanding, but in a world that tried to tie your life value to your marriage prospects, you were damn proud of it.

A knock interrupted your musings, and you cursed loudly as you whipped around to face the intruder, a knife in your hand before you could logically reason that an attacker would decidedly not knock.

Benedict Bridgerton, the middle son, held both hands up in surrender, his eyes blown wide as he took in the scene before him. At first, common etiquette took over, and he apologized for interrupting, and turned away to protect your decency.

Then, he seemed to process what he actually saw.

“I’ll get the doctor,” he proclaimed, already a step out the door.

You didn’t let him get any further.

Mindful of your wound, and the single stitch that still needed to be fully patched up, you vaulted over the bed.

“No doctor,” you stopped him, pulling him back into the room with a force he didn’t know you were capable of, and then leaning against the door.

He opened his mouth, eyes blown wide in surprise, then closed it once more.

“Pardon my indecency,” you spoke eloquently, gesturing to the bloody mess on your torso. You weren’t fully bare, but you were certainly missing a few layers.

“I really think you need a doctor,” Benedict argued, no longer shielding his eyes. “How did-“

“I will explain,” you promised, forcing his gaze to yours. “Everything. But I need to get to the ball.”

“Maybe that’s not-“

“Benedict,” you interrupted sternly, presenting the needle and thread you were using in one hand. “I promise that I’m fine, but if I don’t make it to the ball soon, I will have bigger worries.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, that he needed to advocate for your health. Instead, he sighed, then nodded.

“What do you need?”

“An escort, for one,” you grinned, pointing to the intricate dress you’d laid out earlier. “And discretion. I’ll tell you everything, but you have to promise you won’t breathe a word to another soul.”

Benedict mulled over the proposition, as he leaned against the bedpost and watched with a morbid fascination as you threaded the last stitch in.

“As long as there’s no danger to my family, I can keep a secret.”

You flashed him a smile, then fixed your slip to the proper position.

“First order of business, I need help with this corset.”

He raised a brow, sure you were joking. When it became evident that you were absolutely serious, his smile faded.

“What would the lords and ladies of the ton think of this?” Benedict teased, helping you dress in the lavish gown you had chosen for the ball.

“I’m sure,” you grunted as the pressure of the corset pushed against the wound, “They’d disapprove of a great many of my hobbies.”

“Having men dress you is a hobby, then?”

There was an easy air between the two of you, like you were fast friends. It reminded you of the stark difference between him and his older brother. Where you could joke along with Benedict easily, every interaction with Anthony was charged, electric even.

“Quite the opposite,” you hummed, and Benedict laughed loudly.

Fast friends, indeed.

You were sure if it were any other Bridgerton, there would be more questions and demands. You were also sure they’d be a little more sober.

But, as it were, Benedict was exactly who you needed at the present. He offered help with no judgment and little questions.

There would be a time and a place where you owed him both, but for now your objective was set, and Benedict certainly didn’t get in your way.

The carriage ride to the ball was tense, at best, and suspicious, at worst. Your fingers flexed against the deep red fabric of your gown, and even through the many, many layers of finery, you felt the pressure upon your leg.

Still, Benedict remained silent, his mouth pulled in a tight line. It was difficult for him to do so, but he held his tongue. For an inexplicable reason, he believed you would tell him the truth, and that was enough to earn his silence.

“Will you be my first dance, Benedict?”

Your voice was gentle against the harsh squeaking of the old carriage. One corner of his lips pulled up in a crooked smile, the street lamps twinkling in his eyes.

“I would be delighted.”

You breathed a laugh, enjoying the last few moments of peace before braving the storm. Despite what your refined birth might suggest, you would never be accustomed to the duties you had as Princess. In a ballroom, you played the part you had to perfectly, but it would only ever be an act. You never felt more like yourself as you did when you had your gear on, hurdling towards the earth in a leap of faith, trusting your judgment and quick wit to grant you a safe landing.

The beating of your heart, the widening of your eyes, the perfect control over your muscles; it made you feel alive.

All too soon, the great pillars of the Craven estate towered outside, signaling your arrival at the ball. The carriage slowed to a stop, the halting of the jostling a minute reprieve from the ache on your abdomen.

Just smile.

Your lips tugged up- not with unbridled joy, but rather polite disinterest- as you took a steadying breath. Benedict got out first, scanning over your features quickly before he extended a hand, helping you out.

You didn’t wince, didn’t even move a muscle, as the new stitches pulled uncomfortably, a dull ache settling against your ribs.

“That’s incredible,” Benedict commented under his breath, leading you past the stragglers outside.

You were late to the ball, but fashionably so. Some of the more aggressive mamas were fixing their daughter’s hair or gowns before they entered. They all dropped to a curtsy as you walked by, murmuring about your dress.

“What is?” You inquired, not even sparing him a glance.

Your shoulders were straight, your head held high. Years of instincts made sure you took particular note of your surroundings, and escape routes if need be, but to everyone else you looked calm- content even- as you glided towards the doors, the intricate train of your dress nearly dragging on the ground. The bodice of the dress looked to be made of red rose petals, their overlapping covering from your wrist to your waist, then cascading down over the layers of red silk. The gown left your shoulders exposed, and just enough cleavage to be deemed tasteful. The placement was careful enough to avoid any noticeable scars, while still being tantalizing to the eligible men.

If only they knew.

“It is truly impossible to tell the position you were in just moments ago.”

The curve of your lips pulled up a little more.

“Everyone has their secrets, Benedict,” you replied quietly, muttering a thanks as the door was opened for you and him. “Some are just better at hiding it.”

As you and the middle Bridgerton boy descended the stairs into the sparkling marble ballroom, the music paused, and they all turned to stare at you.

The queen wasn’t present, luckily. Your father had sent a letter in advance to her, so that it wouldn’t be seen as disrespectful when you didn’t visit her first. You would have to make a royal visit sooner rather than later, but, ironically enough, you tried to avoid royalty. In your experience, too many had been direct supporters of the Templar cause.

You identified as many people as you could- and those you couldn’t, you assessed what sort of threat they might pose. Even as the music resumed and the hushed whisper that’d fallen over the ball had all but dissipated, you found the noise faded to the background.

Somewhere in the chaos of your thoughts and the murkiness of your fear Benedict slipped a dance card around your wrist.

The eyes of paintings seemed to watch you and the expansive ceilings closed in, suffocating you in a way you’d been before.

28.

28 possible escape routes.

The thought was enough to calm the fear swelling in your heart. Once, you would’ve been just as comfortable in the crowd. Once, you were fearless.

Then, your mother…

The dark eyes of Viscount Bridgerton dragged you out of your mind before you could be swept up in the current of memories as he approached you. He bowed deeply, but his gaze didn’t stray.

Hot desire burned there, his eyes slow to draw your figure. He tried to conceal it, like he, too, was startled by the air that crackled with intensity between you.

“I was starting to think you’d decided to forgo tonight’s ball as well.”

There was such a simple curiosity in his words that you couldn’t contain the gentle laughter that bubbled to your lips.

“I suppose I have been rather absent.” You admitted, casting a glance to your escort. “Alas, your brother promised me a dance, so I simply had to attend.”

The frown on Anthony’s mouth could be categorized as suspicious, but Benedict shot him a wink and swept you away, mindful of your hidden injuries.

“I dare say,” Benedict leaned in conspiratorially, one hand placed in yours while the other rested on the small of your back. “You’ve caught Anthony’s interest.”

“His interest?” You echoed, a brow arched. “Or his ire?”

Where Benedict’s moves were graceful and practiced, yours were fluid- the dance of someone who was familiar with precise movements. You were sure you made quite the spectacle, even more so to the eyes of men who wished to marry the rich and beautiful.

“Perhaps,” Benedict laughed, spinning you with ease, “they are not so different.”

Even with the series of spins you performed, you managed to catch Anthony’s stare with each turn of your body. It would’ve been impossible not to, considering his attention had yet to leave you.

“I do believe we’ve managed to anger your brother without a word,” you slyly mentioned, bowing to Benedict as the crescendo drew to an end.

He returned the gesture, flicking a quick look to where you’d stitched your wound together earlier.

“The poets might call that jealousy,” he said, nodding in his brother’s direction, as if to dismiss the conversation.

You hesitated briefly, swallowing against the guilt and anxiety in your throat, before offering a friendly squeeze of your hand.

Tomorrow.

You would tell Benedict the entirety of the truth tomorrow.

Tonight, however, you had a role to play.

You squared your shoulders, raising your head high as you began walking confidently, steadily, in the direction of Anthony Bridgerton. The steel of the twin daggers you concealed against your thighs burned, a gentle reminder of the life you lead.

Anthony was dangerous.

His eyes made you weak in the knees, a bit too much like the lady you were expected to be. He was an attractive man, sinfully so, and you found yourself inexplicably drawn to him.

Perhaps it was the way he challenged you. Or, perhaps, your mind was simply clouded by a haze of lust.

Whatever the case may be, you would not fall so easily to his charms.

“Princess,” Anthony greeted, very obviously shooting his brother a look first.

“Viscount Bridgerton,” you answered, a teasing smile on your lips.

His eyes narrowed a fraction, tension in his brow as he tried to decipher what you could possibly be feeling at the moment. He wouldn’t be able to tell, though. Years and years of training, of learning to wear the mask that most suited you, made you impossible to read.

“You owe me a dance.”

You blinked.

You hadn’t expected him to be so bold. Then again, Anthony, it seemed, had a habit of catching you off guard.

“I don’t recall ever owing you anything,” you shot back evenly, unable to stop yourself from playing into his game.

“You stay in my family home,” he reminded you, mirth shining in those soulful eyes of his.

“Are you suggesting I find other arrangements?” You couldn’t keep a straight face, cursing yourself as a sultry smile spread on your lips.

“No,” he noted the flock of men waiting for your conversation to end so that they might engage with you. “But I am keeping your suitors at bay. Surely, that warrants a dance.”

Your eyes didn’t need to leave his to notice the men congregating a polite distance away, patiently awaiting a chance to speak with you, or perhaps dance. Either way, you didn’t want to. In this case, you didn’t have much of a choice, appearances and all that.

“My knight in shining armor,” you deadpanned, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“A dance then?”

There was a hopefulness there, and a part of yourself you thought you’d long since abandoned twinged desperately.

“Patience, my dear Anthony, is a virtue,” you ran your tongue along your teeth, watching his gaze flick down, tracing the movement with his eyes.

“Perhaps we should tell that to them.”

His smile widened mischievously, and before you could question why, he waved over the nearest suitor. The tall blonde-haired gentleman looked startled, before he rushed over to introduce himself and place his name on your dance card.

You glared at Anthony over the man’s shoulder, physically restraining yourself from doing something childish like sticking your tongue out at him when he had the audacity to shrug.

The rest of the ball continued in a similar manner. Anthony watched on as suitor after suitor approached, all far too eager for your attention. He ignored the twinge of jealousy, telling himself over and over that he didn’t want you in any manner, and therefore he had no reason to feel envious of all the men holding you throughout the night.

It didn’t help, of course, but he’d gotten decent at burying his feelings deep beneath his own stubborn ideas.

“You didn’t ask her to dance,” Daphne noted beside him, leaving her own entourage of suitors.

He knew that look she was giving him. It was the same look his mother gave him before she meddled in his business. It seemed Daphne had inherited a carbon copy of that expression.

“I would think, dear sister, you have your own dances to worry about.”

Daphne smiled thoughtfully.

“It’s okay to like her,” she replied kindly.

The soft tone, and unexpected observation, caused Anthony to stare at his sister for a moment. A moment too long, considering she left him in his confusion, offering no further explanation.

The rest of the night he was left in silence, a lonely shadow watching over the bright ambience. He felt starkly out of place, and was reminded once again that he felt constrained, rather than freed, by the responsibilities on his shoulders.

He released a quiet breath, lingering near his mother as the night drew to a conclusion. You were lost somewhere in the fray, and, much to his displeasure, he couldn’t seem to find you.

When he began to usher his family home, he noted with some amount of curiosity that you had already left, disappeared with only a quick explanation to Daphne.

He felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

Surely, you hadn’t snuck away with a suitor, right? The thought was unpleasant, so much so that the sour look on his face kept his family from engaging with him on the carriage ride home.

He had hoped that perhaps you would stop by late into the night, as you had previously, but Anthony slept through the night with no interruptions.

Tag List: @mysticwitchcraftco @ajanauia @khaleesihavilliard @kariiiel @owenniasstars

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine

[aro-aceing-it]

@fixing-bad-posts

A post that is blacked out in rainbow to read:

not supporting gay marriage is the same as opposing gay marriage

be reasonable about it

gays want to get married by the Government

A straight guy should be advocating gay marriages

gay marriage advocacy has only benefits

giving legal privileges exclusively to heterosexual married couples is unfair

why not make marriages so that any number of people can get married together

#fixing bad posts #pride #pride month #gay marriage

[feministsforkatemiddleton]

more sussex pr b.s.

Via Michelle Ruiz at Vogue.

As royal gossip swirls and Kate-related conspiracy theories bubble to fever pitch, as an inept Palace comms team scrambles to explain away a Photoshop fail and my text chains spiral into concerned chaos over Kate’s health and that of her marriage, a thought is crystallizing amid the noise: they should have never let Harry and Meghan go.

Harry and Meghan were never "let go." They choose to leave, because they didn't get their way of being "half in/out"--which you fundamentally cannot do as a taxpayer funder royal. You cannot take taxpayer money (and perks that come with it, like security) and use your royal status to also gain lucrative commercial deals. It's political corruption.

And referring to the Waleses' marriage is nasty gossip. I bet Michelle doesn't do that to the Sussexes.

The current imbroglio is exposing that the royal family isn’t half as savvy or strategic as people are led to believe, nor as singularly focused on preserving the Crown. If they were, they would have tried to keep Prince Harry and Meghan within the Firm at all costs—not only because they were stars, and she, in particular, could appeal to Commonwealth countries in a way the rest of the family never will—but also because the Firm has left itself weak and short-staffed. 

"at all costs"?? You mean to let the Sussex continue to violate their personal boundaries and abuse them. For the rest of the family to laydown and take it...because?? Meghan press abuse was bad, so she can take it out on others? That's abuse. And they were never the stars or had the appeal supporters try to claim they were. And no, Meghan, as an American, doesn't really have any appeal to commonwealth countries. STOP TRYING TO MAKE IT HAPPEN.

King Charles has long advocated for a “slimmed-down” monarchy, according to reports. For the first time, I’m struck by the absurdity of this proposal: to push for the elevation of an even more elite cluster within arguably the most elite group of WASPs alive! Pretty savage, too: In the King’s case, it ostensibly meant symbolically demoting his own son, Prince Harry, to the back corner of the Buckingham Palace balcony during the Firm’s annual Trooping the Colour moment, as Prince William’s children moved him even further down the line of succession. 

Oh no, poor Harry, his brother had kids, the horror!

During rosier times, though, the King’s vision was one of efficiency, an effort to scale back the number of distant relatives living for life in taxpayer-funded “apartments.” Image-wise, a streamlined monarchy also trains subjects’ focus on King Charles, and his direct heir Prince William, and his next-in-line George—a reminder, however unsubtle, that these people don’t intend to go anywhere, no matter how anachronistic they’re starting to feel in modern society. 

This should still be the plan bc it is efficient and money-saving. And if Meghan and Harry had held their horses for a few years, then they would be a part of it--as was Charles's plans. It was supposed to be him and his sons and their wives over his three siblings and cousins. But...the Sussexes did not have any foresight, so here we are.

Be careful what you wish for: in light of recent events, the King’s slimmed-down monarchy is wasting away to nothing. If the royals are silent film stars, as British playwright Bonnie Greer once noted, their cast has been dramatically diminished after the deaths of Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip, the defection of Prince Harry and Meghan to Montecito, plus the disgracing of Prince Andrew. With King Charles battling an unnamed cancer, Queen Camilla taking a break after holding it down in her husband’s stead, and Princess Kate (at least officially) recovering from unnamed abdominal surgery, only Prince William is wading back to work after an initial hiatus around Kate’s operation. The monarchy is so slender, it’s two illnesses away from being a one-man show. 

KATE IS RECOVERING FROM SURGERY. This is a fact. Stop nastily insinuating otherwise; your misogyny is showing.

Oh, and if you actually want to get you facts straight and call out something that is actually not good optics: Camilla was on a beach vacation, not with Charles. That's not a great look.

Whoever might have been helpful in this situation? Which two people—and their two cute children—could be shearing sheep and christening ships as we speak, providing a picturesque, PDA-filled distraction from the disaster-upon-disaster spilling forth from the Palace? The void left by Prince Harry and Meghan has never been more glaring. Neither has the Firm’s lack of foresight. Standing up for Meghan against a torrent of racist and sexist abuse—making it tenable for the Sussexes to stay part of this operation—was not only the decent thing to do, but the most prudent for the monarchy. Even if they didn’t care for Meghan (or Prince Harry), they should have been strategic enough to recognize that the Sussexes were an overall positive and diversifying force for the institution. They should have known that they couldn’t afford to lose two of their youngest, supplest stars, a couple with a global fanbase and tons of runway for the future.

The Sussexes didn't want to do bread-and-butter engagements like Anne and the Edinburghs. They wanted celebrity, and they brought the disaster. That's why we're here now. The Sussexes did not have the foresight, again--not the firm. And much of Meghan's "abuse" was fair criticism based on her actions and choices of abusing her position and power and not taking responsibility for it. And after this week, sorry--I never want to hear she had it "worse" again.

And the Sussexes are negative whiners; Harry's a prick and Meghan is an utter brat. Not dynamic. And Meghan is the older of the former , short-lived "fab four." Their ratings are in the trash too, so no, they hardly have a global fanbase.

-------

So sick of people like Michelle Ruiz--who otherwise had a solid career with good work--doing shit like this under the premise of good faith. It's not. This is mostly unfactual editorializing, with a good drop of misogyny thrown in.

Do better.

#princess catherine #british royal family #princess of wales #team wales #prince william #brf #sexism

[innerunderrain]

Paladin [Yan! Knight.Childe x Princess! Fem.Reader]

Paladin: a determined advocate or defender of a noble cause

Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, infantilizing behavior, mentions of slight gore and minor characters deaths, war and battles, implied physical and mental abuse, implied neglectful family, beliefs on God, non-consensual touching, apathy, implied non-con towards the end, forced marriage, mass genocide, slightly longer story than usual.

Word count: 2k+

Minors DNI

Part 2 [NSFW]

-

Childe was far from a hero.

How could he be hailed as a hero when he was a key contributor in destroying the prosperity of an insignificant nation that had never disrespected the Tsaritsa nor any of their pledges to Snezhnaya? It wasn't his place to dispute commands given by greater authority; he simply did what he was ordered, seeing no issue with the notion considering that it would help him further enhance his combat experience and learn of new worthy opponents. In fact, he was rather overjoyed to have been given the opportunity to serve as a sword in the Tsaritsa's army!

Although, the battle ended quickly, with Tsaritsa troops massacring the majority of the village's residents and vassals, with not a single domicile remaining due to the smoldering inferno that devoured the town, producing large fumes to swirl into the sunken sky. The scenery reminded Childe of the illustration of the underworld the Church would often display to the young children, in an attempt at manipulating them into a devoted believer.

Childe proceeded towards the palace's grand hall, whistling a nursery tune that Teucer had regularly loved to recite, wiping the metallic liquid off his face with the cuff of his black coat, wondering if the blood could somehow be washed off. It was crucial to ensure that every member of the royal family were to be executed, considering Capitano had earlier commanded him to apprehend and slaughter any individual who was still present within the palace. Childe nearly felt bad because, from his recollection, none of the royal family were particularly competent fighters, they couldn't even regulate their elemental abilities. Perhaps the Tsaritsa had a point when she had decided to eliminate this good-for-nothing nation. While it was depressing, what else could he do about it?

He threw open the entrance to the council chamber anticipating to see a considerable number of Royals huddling together at the rear of the room with a fearful expression upon their pitiful faces, ready to hear their pleas of wanting to live.

But the room was empty.

Childe held his breath while the eerie silence persisted, listening for any ruckus in the hopes of overhearing someone gasping for air, quietly mumbling a way to escape.

Nothing.

It's just fantastic. Capitano will not be delighted with him when he discovers that all these pesky nobles seemed to have fled, betraying their people and leaving them to die within the scorching flames. Childe turned away in a huff, preparing to leave the room, disheartened but also expecting a brilliant lecture from his idol once he receives the chance to file a report. The sound of soft yet frantic footsteps awakened his excitement, whilst did a flash of white from the edges of his vision and a loud whoosh. Which prompted him to take a quick step back, avoiding being injured by a small knife that was held by a pair of gloved hands, rather small hands in fact.

Childe charged forward, shoving the perpetrator to the ground, a high pitched howl escaping their lips as his knee prodded into their back.

"Oh? A soldier?"

He whistled before noticing the white gown that complemented your figure, the hair accessories that scrunched up the majority of your hair, and the white satin gloves that encased your flimsy fingers.

"No - a Princess?"

You didn't say anything but looked at him as you squirmed all over the ground beneath his knee, trying in vain to get the man to loosen his grip on you. Childe merely stood still, savoring your facial landmarks and appraising how charming you appeared whilst under his grip, seemingly pleased at the way that ungodly fear began to form within the pit of your eyes. How cute, if rabbits were capable of personifying themselves, he was sure that you would be the perfect epitome of those little things.

Childe briefly releases his firm grip on you before lowering himself to your level to grab your face harshly to examine your expression. Really pretty, indeed. You were quite fitting for your title of _'Princess,' _Childe mused.

"Where are you taking me?"

You questioned, your voice apprehensive, as Childe encouraged you to stand, his hand nudging your left arm forward, dragging you along as he leapt out into the hall. A warm liquid seeped into your worn-out shoes, and you grimaced as you realised it was indeed blood. A substantial amount of blood coated the floor, and you nearly threw up when you noticed the gory carcasses of troops strewn throughout the walls, their eyes rolled into the back of their head, not a single life seemingly spared within the blood massacre.

Childe merely gave you a fleeting glance before responding, his tone sounding strikingly chipper despite the horrifying spectacle that was unfolding out right in front of you two, prompting your suspicion to be more evident towards the old man.

"I believe you'll be accompanying me, Princess."

The Tsaritsa promised that she would grant Childe any request, having allowed him to partake in the combat with the other harbingers. Childe honestly didn't know what to wish for before commencing the fight as, apart from that motivation to fight, which again is simply his own little private ambition, he pretty much had everything he sought. Although, The Tsaritsa remarked that after partaking in the mission, his attitude seems to have changed.

His request was a clear one—he requested for the revered Princess of the exiled nation to be brought in hand for marriage. The Tsaritsa seemed rather reluctant at first, before agreeing with a sigh and stating that he must not further tarnish the reputation of Snezhnaya since she's already allowing him to marry a Princess from a traitor's land.

You were kept alive as the other members of your family were rapidly arrested by Capitano and his men and then executed in front of the whole Snezhnaya's community. While you were pardoned, the Fatuis only tossed you into a chilly, gloomy dungeon that mirrored the country you were once compelled to live in. You scoffed at the irony, huddling in the corner of the dark cell as you attempted to run your hands together to produce just any sort of heat that seemed rather useless.

But one day, you found yourself suddenly free.

No one told you anything; rather simply escorted you to a lavish chamber that was considerably exquisite than your previous bedroom at the palace. You are coerced into taking a bath by the Snezhnaya's maid, who oil your locks with a rose-scented shampoo and powdered your face to the finest quality. Every time you would questioned them what was going on, they would just look at you for a brief moment before continuing to dress you in a gown that unnervingly copied the wedding gown that your older sister wore to her ceremony. The gown was simply breathtaking, embraced your midriff, draped past your calves, and was embroidered with precious diamonds that probably coated more than your entire closet at your old residence.

But it was not until later, when you were being taken by an elderly man who had a noise that resembled something of a beak, down a corridor lined with lavender flowers and various decorations, that made you think that you were being wedded off. The corridor was lined with beautiful lavenders, and each side of the walkway showcasing a herd of people who stood with bright smiles while clapping their hands.

The man who had earlier accompanied you with departing the palace and entering Snezhnaya was standing beneath the ceremonial arch, dressed in a white suit, and beaming tenderly towards you. His face displayed an almost bashful expression, contrary to the cold expression he previously showed you while the both of you had to march over the pile of corpses within the old palace.

You were obviously livid.

The elderly man averted your eyes as you shifted to look at him, pleading with him to loosen the solid grip he had around your fingers. He appeared to be fully conscious of the absurdity of the situation, yet, he chose to do nothing about it. You were given into the care of the red haired man, who carefully took your hand and positioned you directly in front of him with a Priest waiting next to the two of you.

"Will you have [First Name] [Last Name] to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort and keep her, and forsaking all others remain true to her, as long as you both shall live?"

Childe's clamp on your hand tightened as he cracked a smile before responding to the Priest.

"I will."

Despite your obvious distress, the Priest did not spare you even a single glance as he seemed satisfied with his utterances and seemed oblivious of the forced marriage he was about to sanction.

"Do you_ [First Name]_ ensure to keep the same promises? Will you be more than willing to have Ajax be your husband?"

As you struggled to find the right tone of protest, your lips parted, and tears threatening to tumble from your eyes. This man, or Ajax, appeared to have taken a notice on the way your brows scrunched up, as if you were attempting to control your oncoming sobs, and the way your eyes appeared glossy underneath the cathedral lights. He squeezed your hand even tighter, and you nearly jumped in surprise, peering up at the man only to see him merely smiled before mouthing, 'I will,' trying to encourage you to respond to the Priest's words.

Shit, what choice did you even have?

You only stammer an 'I will' with a quivering lip, enabling the crowd to erupt in a loud, joyful cheer as Ajax draws you in close and presses his lips against yours. In front of what you assumed to be his family, his kiss was sloppy and stifling, as if he was attempting to devour you alive. You couldn't help but long to drop dead as he pulled away while smiling broadly.

In spite of the obvious laughter within the background, the redhead man leans in and whispers into your ear.

"I can't wait for tonight."

You were horrified as you stared at him, your blood running cold, feeling helpless despite being surrounded by so many people.

The wedding had no reception or after-party, and the crowd dissipated as quickly as it formed, resulting in you being shortly separated from Ajax. A young maid escorted you to your room, chanting something akin to encouragement, as if she was overjoyed by your mishaps despite you knowing that she probably didn't know the overall story behind your life, you still felt rather angry. You wanted to scream and pull at her face as she gushed about how fortunate you were to have a Fatui Harbinger for a husband, helping you in slipping into a significantly shorter gown than your wedding dress, which almost resembled a lingerie.

You were now sitting on a king-size bed, tweaking the edge of your red dress as you tried to make sense of all that had happened today. If God even existed at this time, he seemed to enjoy compounding your suffering. The torture from your family came first, and now you had to get married to a man you don't even know. You question whether God is even the kind and forgiving deity that people have claimed him to be; after all, if he were, why would he forsake you in this situation? Yes, you've daydreamed of marrying a righteous hero a lot ever since you were a child. Your wedding would have been surrounded by pigeons and beautiful white roses, with your younger sister having to walk along the aisle while attempting to throw flower petals at your family. But now it all seems like a hopeless dream that you will never be able to comprehend. Not when you've lost your family, kingdom, people, and now even your dignity.

What more does God want from you?

Your train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the bedroom door opening and Ajax entering clothed in plain black pants and a loose collared shirt that displayed half of his shoulders, his hair seemingly still wet from taking a bath earlier.

"Look at you, you're already fully dressed for me."

He chuckled, stalking steadily towards your figure as you limped away from him, only for him grasp your ankle and drag you towards him. You shrieked, your arms failing you in a pitiful attempt at protecting yourself, merely clawing his arms. Your efforts appeared to amuse Childe even more, as he came out laughing, his voice echoing through out room.

Childe didn't mind, he liked the thrill of the battle. You can cry and scratch at him while you flail around like a determined kitten all you want; it just adds to his pleasure, and because he will be victorious in the end no matter what.

"[First Name]."

Although he made an effort to cool you down, your resentment never seemed to be soothed as you placed your hand on Childe's chest in an attempt to push him away.

"Don't speak to me!"

You yelled, slapping his arm and turning to look at the other side of the mattress.

"Oh come on, don't be like that."

He groaned as he tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you into his chest, and pressing himself against your back. You felt his fingertips gradually ride up the dress to your hip, slipping to stroke your thigh, exposing your delicate skin of your legs to the cold, a shudder ran up and down your spine.

"You!"

His other arm was still tightly coiled around your body, and he simply grinned at your pathetic reaction while placing one hand on your naked waist. He inhaled your fragrance profoundly while snuggling his face against the crook of your neck and feeling you become stiff.

"What's the matter, [First Name]? I'm simply carrying out my responsibilities as a husband. No need to be shy."

"Don't you dare use the excuse of being my husband as a reason to violate me."

You sneered, doing your best to restrain yourself from twisting in his grip and lambasting him with derogatory words.

"Although we may be wed by some unfortunate contract, my feelings for you will never be the same."

Upon hearing your words, he merely grinned.

"Considering that you have never known lasting love, my Princess, how can you already be so harsh to me? Your family did not treat you kindly, as far as I'm aware."

Childe rolls you onto your back, locking both of your wrists with one hand while sporting a sarcastic smirk on his lips, without exhibiting the slightest sign of effort. He positioned one knee between your legs and methodically rubbed on your clothed cunt, causing you to exhale uncontrollably.

"I may not be a hero that you've dreamt of, but I'm definitely determined strong-willed enough to seek out for what is mine."

He replied as he watched you pray to him to stop, uncovering your collar and lowering the straps of your dress down your shoulder. Leaning down, he placed an open mouth kiss on top of your collar, soaking the way you flinched under his lips.

"I'm certain that tonight I'll demonstrate to you both my devotion to you and what it's like to serve as a Snezhnayan Knight."

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin imagines #yandere #genshin imagines #yandere x reader #childe x reader #genshin childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #dark content #yandere ajax #yandere tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia #tw noncon #i cant sleeeeeep

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Ryan Adamczeski at The Advocate:

The Rhode Island state Senate has passed a bill that would shield health care practitioners who provide abortions or gender-affirming care. S 2262, known as the Healthcare Provider Shield Act, would prevent those licensed in the state from being prosecuted by other states where abortion or transgender health care are criminalized, including protecting them from having to provide documents or patient information even upon subpoena.

The Rhode Island Senate passed the bill Thursday in a 29 to 7 vote. Senate Judiciary Committee Chairwoman Dawn Euer, a Newport Democrat who introduced the legislation, said on the chamber floor that the law would protect against "attacks" on health care. “Since the fall of Roe v. Wade, we have seen an unprecedented level of attacks on health care providers, on reproductive rights, across the country,” she said, reports the Boston Globe. “A number of states have passed hostile actions to try to cross state boundaries and go after health care providers in other states.” Rhode Island passed a law protecting the right to abortion in the state, the Reproductive Privacy Act, in 2019 in anticipation of a decision from the U.S. Supreme Court that would repeal protections surrounding the vital care. The Senate's vote on the Healthcare Provider Shield Act came exactly eleven years after the state legislature voted to enact marriage equality.

Rhode Island is set to join the list of states that have abortion and gender-affirming care protections that shield those from out-of-state prosecutions in states that criminalize abortion or gender-affirming care.

#Rhode Island #LGBTQ+ #Transgender #Abortion #Abortion Sanctuary State #Transgender Sanctuary State #Transgender Safe Refuge #Rhode Island S2262 #Rhode Island H7577 #Gender Affirming Healthcare

[princesscolumbia]

Ranma 1/2 Thoughts, Meta Edition

I have consumed...a lot of Ranma 1/2 content.

I mean, this is kinda what happens when you're a repressed transgirl who discovers the manga a year into a marriage that you got into to "fix" being trans and be "a real boy" in a desperate bid to fill the hole that you wouldn't learn for two decades could only be filled by living as your true self.

I've encountered precisely four (4) types of Ranma 1/2 fans in that time:

Transwomen who see Ranma as their idealized expression of the gender experience ("I'm not like this because I want to be, it's a curse. A curse that gives me a smokin' hot body and HUGE tits! But it's tooootally a curse, for realsies! I'll find a cure any day now, see how hard I'm looking? I'm trying sooooo hard to find a cure...")

Transmen who see Ranma as their perfect representation of their gender experience ("I'm a guy, damnit! This body...it's a curse! I hate it and I want nothing better than to be cured, but all sorts of Life Bullshit keeps getting in the way!")

Lesbians who kin either Ranma (butch NB lesbian) or one of their love interests (Akane - comphet closetted butch lesbian, Shampoo - Strong, smokin' hot bad bitch who goes after what she wants, Ukyo - transmasc coded genderfluid NB)

Completely clueless nimrods who miss the FUCKING POINT and are only into the show for the martial arts and think it would be better if Ranma got cured and they stopped having funny stuff happen.

(In case it's not obvious, IMHO the last group are the worst parts of the fandom and need to Go Away. Most of the toxic stuff that exists in R.5 fanspaces is because of this group of assholes which includes the incels that think everything would be better if Ranma just did stuff that's questionable from an ethics and morality perspective and chased after Shampoo because she's the closest thing to a Barbie-doll these closet fascists can allow themselves to fantasize about playing with, completely ignoring that she's a complex character that's a subversive pastiche to the Japanese racist stereotypes of the 1980s.)

I'm not kidding when I say that in the early days of the public Internet (before Facebook and Twitter ruined it for everyone), Ranma 1/2 was the SINGLE largest fandom by a MASSIVE stretch. I once checked my math on this by going to Fanfiction.net (before the massive purges) and brought up the Big List of All Fandoms and right there at the top with a MASSIVE number of fics was Ranma 1/2 by a HUGE margin. It took three fandoms (Star Trek, Doctor Who, and I believe Naruto if I'm recalling correctly) to have their combined total number of fics exceed the number of R.5 fics on FF.net...and that was JUST FF.net. There was an entire separate index (The Penultimate Ranma 1/2 Fanfic Index) that had the single task of listing, not even curating or reading or reviewing, ONLY Ranma 1/2 fanfics. Not fanart, not commentary, no RP blogs or chat transcripts or whatever, JUST fanfics. And only about half of those linked to FF.net, meaning that if you dig up the archives you'll find at least 60% of all fanfics that people had managed to index in the Ranma 1/2 fandom are missing because they were never properly archived and just...faded from the Internet as the public servers and places like Geocities started disappearing. You can find teasing, tantalizing hints of larger works that all we have left, like scraps of ancient papyri revealing a quote from a missing book of the Bible, are single chapters backed up on niche sites that managed to get spider-crawled by Archive.org, but many great works are just...lost. (There's an ero fic called "Playing with Water" that was SUPER hot and featured elements that we have tags for on porn sites but didn't really have proper words for back in the day...but even back when it was first being written finding the thing was hard...and today? Nearly impossible.)

(If you wonder why I'm such an absolute RABID advocate of AO3, this is why)

For me, Ranma will always be the transfemme coded genderfluid hero that we needed in the late 80s and early 90s. We were on the tail end of the AIDS pandemic, and just like COVID-19 there were a bunch of assholes who used it to ride to power and marginalize queer folk. It was easier to do with AIDS, of course, given the absolutely massive numbers of queer cis men and transwomen who contracted it and died. (Sidebar: the reason "L" comes first in "LGBTQIA+" is because it was the Lesbian nurses who were the caretakers of the Gay men who were dying in numbers large enough to be counted as a tragic statistic instead of a mere tragedy) and while the world was starting to acknowledge (again) that gay men was a thing that existed and they weren't actually trying to corrupt the youth, what we now call "transgender" was still listed in the DSM as a mental disorder that required treatment to "cure." According to the cultural majority in damn near every field you can imagine, the Gender Binary was the only way to exist and if you didn't fit neatly into one or the other then you were Damaged™ and had to be Fixed™ for The Good of All People™ (but specifically so cis-het-white folks, usually men, could feel comfy and not be confronted by things that made them feel icky and might have cooties). It's a truism that's treated as a joke that transwomen get into coding and wind up doing IT work in such massive numbers that between us and the furries we ARE the foundation of the modern Internet. And into the fanspaces packed to the brim with closetted AMAB transwomen who hadn't yet had their egg cracked came this plucky martial artist that gets to swap their gender with a splash of water but somehow still winds up the best of the best, the finest martial artist of their generation. (Goku can suck it, Ranma would turn the Kamea-meha right back on the over-muscled, braindead loser with a food fetish and still make it home in time for Kasumi's dinner)

I'm no sociologist, anthropologist, behaviorist, whatever, but I suspect that the reason Ranma Saotome spawned such a large fanbase so early in the modern Internet's history was specifically because the series created a safe space where people could talk about gender issues with a degree of separation that helped strip away the stigma surrounding feeling like you were in the wrong body.

I get why people like the martial arts aspect. I mean, Ranma kills a demigod. This is NOT something to sneeze at. I also understand the transmen who latch onto Ranma as a kin because I get the feeling like you have no control over what your body's doing and you're going through your days in existential dread of what might be dragging you further and further away from what you always knew was right and correct about yourself. It's a terrifying thing and here's someone who (esp. the anime version) IS a guy trapped in a girl's body.

For me, though, and for a LOT of transwomen out there, Ranma is transfemme. And, yes, canonically Ranma states right near the end of the manga that they're both and they kinda forgot about the 'cure' when they had to pick between that and the really important stuff and that they're okay with being fluid ('cause water, gettit?!) about their gender and it's a damn shame this was the 80s 'cause a continuation might wind up showing Ranma embracing being both...

BUT, and this is a transfemme thing, I know, if you continue the parabolic arc of Ranma's character development, the logical conclusion (for us) is that she eventually decides that she's a woman and just lives in her "cursed" form the majority (or all) of the time.

And yes, this is because that's the transfemme story arc. In the manga in some distant part of the multiverse that peers into our universe and for some reason decides to make me the MC (god, that must be a FUCKING BORING manga by our standards, I weep for those fans), my story arc is the gradual progression of uncracked, closetted transgirl to transitioned out and proud transbien mom. At one point I swapped back and forth between gender presentations because it was safer for me to appear in some spaces as the male that they thought I was. Now I would prefer to die before being forced to go back to pretending to be a man again.

Ranma has the choice, and good for them. Until the Kaisufuu is permanently destroyed, even if the "curse" is locked, they have the option of going one way or the other based solely on their own, personal desire. I can't say I'd be comfortable with that option being available. In that theoretical manga where there's a reboot that gives me a condition like Ranma's, I'd probably wind up destroying the equivalent to the Kaisufuu just because of the threat to my mental wellbeing it presents.

So it's not a stretch to imagine Ranma making the same choice. She's a woman now, she has the life she never realized she wanted because she never had the choice so didn't know she was allowed to imagine it, but now she's happier than ever and why would she ever go back to that struggle of being a guy that only ever brought her pain and challenges and heartache?

#ranma 1/2 #ranma #meta #fandom #trans #transition #transgender #trans woman #transgirl #lgbt

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Ben Appel

Published: Dec 26, 2023

In 2021, Harvard evolutionary biologist Carole Hooven stated on a television news program that there are “two sexes” and that “those sexes are designated by the kinds of gametes we produce.” She added that “understanding facts about biology doesn’t prevent us from treating people with respect” when it comes to “their gender identities and use [of] their preferred pronouns.” Afterward, a Harvard graduate student, in her official capacity as director of the Human Evolutionary Biology Department’s Diversity, Inclusion, and Belonging Task Force, tweeted that Hooven’s “dangerous” and “transphobic” remarks made the department unsafe for transgender people. The Graduate Student Union took out a petition against Hooven, and, since no one would agree to serve as her teaching assistant, she had to discontinue her popular lecture course. This past January, under duress, Hooven retired from her position at Harvard.

More recently, I heard Hooven speak at a conference in Denver. She talked about academic freedom and her dedication to creating a just society. She said something I believe: that the truth is the way toward true social justice, and that the truth is what ultimately alleviates human suffering. After Hooven left the stage, I tweeted my thoughts about what she said, concluding, “Yep, I’ll die on that hill.” A Twitter user, in a now-deleted series of replies, responded, “Wish you would then. And quickly.” Later, this person elaborated, “Cis white conservative gays can all d*e. Please do, no one likes you.”

This might be the first time I’ve been called “conservative” for voicing my support of the truth and social justice. Right-wing homophobia is nothing new, though the enmity for “cis white gays” like me from the other side of the aisle has sadly also become widespread online. Here’s a very small sampling:

“[C]is white gay men are the weakest links and idc who knows it.” — @ann_forcino.

“ur rave wasn't ‘100% queer joy’ it was a warehouse party full of white cis gay men who want to dance and fuck each other lmfao [...] “that's not queer joy, that's f^g joy.” — @Maxies_back

“Chelsea and Hells Kitchen, more so than other neighborhoods in New York, produce nothing better than prissy, entitled cis White Power pretentious gay men, who don't respect diversity, or the rule of law.” — “LGBT for Change”

“Maybe they were right all along and white cis gays really do go to hell.” — Jerry Falwell @obssdwmlp

“Behind every bad man there is an even worse cis gay white man.” — @ANIMETWTDNI

“We need to realize that gay cis white men are still cis white men.” — @pettypiedpipertake

“Maybe homophobia against cis white gay men is valid.” — @heartIwin

“Noah Schnapp is also evidence that gays will truly go to h£ll. especially a cis white upper class gay like i genuinely, genuinely mean that and i’m sorry if that comes off as problematic.” [Schnapp is a 19-year-old Jewish gay actor who has spoken out in support of Israel in the wake of the October 7 2023 terrorist attacks.] — @brat6z

 “I love it when white gays erase the trans and black side of this flag [...] You faggots deserve to get hatecrimed to death.” — @daredevilshill_

Writing for The Nation in 1994, the gay playwright Tony Kushner argued that homosexuality and socialism are intrinsically linked. Homosexuals, he wrote, “like most everyone else, are and will continue to be oppressed by the depredations of capital until some better way of living together can be arrived at.” Kushner lamented the growing number of gay activists, like Andrew Sullivan and Bruce Bawer, who advocated a more pragmatic approach to equal rights. The radical contingent of the LGBT community has long pejoratively described these types of gay and bi people — those who prioritize marriage equality, the right to serve openly in the military, and peaceful inclusion in Western society — as “assimilationist.” Real gay liberation, the radicals argue, will result from razing Western civilization and its capitalist, cisheteropatriarchal system and rebuilding it in their utopian vision. Like the gay journalist Donna Minkowitz once said to Charlie Rose, “We don’t want a place at the table — we want to turn the table over.”

The thing is, the pragmatic approach won. Today, gay, lesbian, and bi people get married, serve proudly, have jobs, own homes, and raise families. Like black civil rights leaders who preached nonviolent protest and a politics of respectability, discerning LGBT activists took the long view. We don’t want to exist on the margins of society, they insisted, we want to participate in it. LGBT people, just like black Americans, are a vital part of the fabric of this nation.

But the radicals haven’t taken this defeat lying down. After the 2015 Supreme Court decision in Obergefell v. Hodges, which made marriage equality the law of the land, the radicals pounced. “You got what you want,” they seemed to say. “Now it’s our turn.” LGBT rights organizations, either under the influence of impatient extremists or in an attempt to stay relevant (i.e., donor-worthy), refocused their missions to a form of revolutionary activism that purports to fight on behalf of trans people but in practice agitates for a revolt against Enlightenment ideals, liberalism, capitalism, and even basic biology.

Every LGBT organization seemingly became an extension of a university Gender Studies department, whose purpose was not to produce new knowledge but to interrogate — or, in their academic lingo, queer — existing knowledge which they spuriously associate with “whiteness”, colonialism, and Western patriarchy. Alongside this, a new social hierarchy of disadvantage was erected, where everyone was in competition to be the most “marginalized” — and therefore deserving of resources, a voice, and power in the revolutionaries’ value system. According to that value system, being gay or bi seemed to matter far less if one were also white, cis, and male, and therefore deemed to be in cahoots with the oppressors.

In 2017, while I was a student at Columbia University, I interned for GLAAD, one of the largest LGBT organizations in the US. Not only had their mission absorbed this new orthodoxy, it had filtered down to the interpersonal level. On campus and at GLAAD’s offices, I was regularly called “cis” in a kind of sneering, vitriolic tone that reminded me more than a little of the bullies who called me “fag” in middle school. The oddest thing was that much of the vitriol was coming from people who didn’t seem to be LGB, or even T, but who identified only as nonbinary or “queer.” Many of the people I encountered seemed to be profoundly homophobic. Any gay or bi man that didn’t at least adopt he/they pronouns, especially if they were white, was considered assimilationist, right-wing, traitorous upholders of the evil sex binary.

I never quite got used to being eyed with suspicion by other activists for my normative, gender-conforming appearance, or the constant bad-faith interpretations of anything I said. The only cis white gays spared this unfairly cold treatment were the ones who made a public show of being self-hating — the ones who renounced their “cis white gayness” and frequently apologized for their white privilege.

It was alarming to be on the receiving end of such vitriol simply for being myself — for not shaving one side of my head, painting my nails, piercing my septum, and adopting plural pronouns. It was alarming especially because so much of the hate I received when I was young came precisely because I was way too sex-nonconforming (in fact, in middle school, my classmates would often ask me if I was a boy or a girl). I wondered if my peers cared that I had been mercilessly bullied as a gay kid, or that I had worked on a trans rights anti-discrimination campaign when they were barely teenagers. I knew that my volunteering for marriage equality wouldn’t earn me any points, since marriage was to them an antiquated Western institution and part of an “assimilationist” agenda. This attitude has become so entrenched in LGBT activist spaces, I suspect it partially explains why support for same-sex marriage among Gen Z Americans has dropped from 80% in 2021 to only 69% in 2023.

Last year, I got a little more clarity about this issue when I came across an article, also written in 1994, by Stephen H. Miller. The publishing journal, Heterodoxy, titled it “Gay-Bashing by Homosexuals,” although Miller’s original title was “Gay White Males: PC’s Unseen Target.” In the late 1980s and early 90s, Miller chaired the media committee of GLAAD’s New York chapter. In fact, Miller came up with GLAAD’s mission statement, which was to “fight for fair, accurate and inclusive representations of gay and lesbian lives in the media and elsewhere.” In the article, Miller wrote that he was “purged” from GLAAD in 1992 because he objected to the rising political correctness and censoriousness in the gay, lesbian, and bisexual movement. Similar to the cultural shifts of the past decade, Miller recounts how activist organizations began prioritizing race and gender (and of course, the Correct political views) over individual merit. New staff members had to attend “endless sensitivity sessions” which “identified white men (whatever their sexual orientation) as the oppressor class.” Suddenly, it seemed like there was more antagonism towards the “white males” within the LGBT rights movement than without. Miller, who described himself as a “political moderate who believed in dialogue with the straight world and a good-faith search for common ground,” found himself “shunned.”

The race and gender quotas that LGBT rights organizations began adopting, Miller wrote, included weighted voting that favored women and people of color. For example, after regional delegations of organizers for the 1993 March on Washington for LGB rights failed to achieve their quotas, it was decided that women’s votes would count for three votes apiece and non-white votes would count for two votes apiece. That decision — and the many others that have since followed in LGBT activist spaces — calls to mind some dark and creepy moments from American history best learned from rather than imitated.

Of course, this also raises the question: Who decides who is a person of color and who is white, and how? Will they apply the one-drop rule, the early 20th-century legal principle that deemed any American with even one black ancestor (“one drop of black blood”) as black? I suppose that would be illegal since the Supreme Court outlawed the one-drop rule in its 1967 Loving v. Virginia decision. And yet, I’m not surprised by these backward tactics. It was Ibram X. Kendi who recently wrote, “The only remedy to past discrimination is present discrimination. The only remedy to present discrimination is future discrimination.” Around and around we go.

Then as now, as Miller wrote, anyone who challenged this illiberal orthodoxy was “deemed racist and sexist” and accused of harboring the belief that “white men are the main victims of discrimination.” Naturally, Miller notes, such accusations serve to discourage people who sense this hostility toward gay white men from voicing their dissent.

Then after AIDS decimated gay and bi male activist communities, lesbian radical feminists moved in, and a “critical attitude toward men, male sexuality, and ‘the patriarchy’” became the norm. “Male solidarity, once a hallmark of gay liberation, is now anathema.”

A direct line can be drawn from this upheaval in the early 1990s and the divisiveness in today’s LGBT activist spaces, where “cis gays” — and, in particular, “cis white gays” — are seen as upholders of villainous Western cisheteropatriarchy and its henchman capitalism. These modern activists are sure to include “white” not only out of an animus against white people, but because they assume that all people of color are helpless victims of Western capitalism who, because of their oppression, invariably hold the “correct” far-left politics. In his aforementioned article, Kushner invoked Oscar Wilde, quoting “A map of the world that does not include Utopia is not worth even glancing at.” He added that he is “always suspicious of the glacier-paced patience of the right.” Writing for The Advocate, the gay writer Bruce Bawer responded that he and so many others are “impatient with models of activism that involve playing at revolution instead of focusing on the serious work of reform.”

This anti-“cis white gay” attitude proliferates in LGBT media as well. “White Gay Men Are Hindering Our Progress as a Queer Community” was the title of an article published in the magazine Them. “You had your time — now, we have other things to fight for,” read the subhead. “Let's Talk About People That Aren't Young Cis White Gay Men,” a HuffPost article was titled.

I could go on and on.

A few years ago, I attended a conference for LGBT journalists. There, I met a young, white, gay writer who would go on to work for a progressive news outlet in New York. He said his upbringing in a Southern state had made him racist, but since then, he has “trained” himself to be attracted to black and brown people, and now black and brown people are the only types of people he wants to sleep with.

If this is the “progressive” strategy for combating racism, I want no part of it. And any liberal cis white gay person who opposes racism won’t either. This is racism, operating under the guise of “anti-racism”, plain and simple. It attempts to end inequality by inverting it and, in the process, is attacking the foundations of the principles that have enabled the remarkable progress our society has made in transcending bigotry and prejudice. I only wish more people who saw this dogma for what it is were unafraid to voice the truth about it.

==

Homophobia and anti-gay hate are alive and well as progressive virtues.

#Ben Appel #woke homophobia #homophobia 2.0 #anti male #anti gay #homophobia #anti white #anti gay hate #intersectional feminism #religion is a mental illness

[coochiequeens]

It's not bad enough they let works by men into a Women’s Art exhibit but they features these freaks?

By Genevieve Gluck December 30, 2023

A prestigious art museum in London has prompted backlash after featuring trans-identified males in a historical exhibition of the women’s liberation movement. The Women in Revolt! exhibit is a first of its kind project offering “a wide-ranging exploration of feminist art” made by over 100 female artists during the period between 1970 – 1990.

While the exhibit purports to amplify the work of women, some female visitors to the museum quickly noticed that a number of trans-identified males had been slipped in among the displays.

One of the most disturbing pieces include archival copies of a publication created by men with a sexual fetish for pretending to be women, including one letter from a transvestite who complains of being jealous of his wife.

“Once I had admitted my true inner self to others I felt great relief, and thereupon decided to be myself all the time and live life as it suited me and not as the way I had been committed to live since coming out of the womb,” reads the letter, written by a man identified as “Julia.”

“Prior to this, my marriage (to a woman), had broken up and my wife was seeking a divorce together with the custody of the children because of my attitude to life, namely brought about because of my jealousy of her femininity and her ability to become pregnant and know true happiness within the straight society.”

The admission was one of several personal anecdotes contained within a magazine primarily catering to gay men called “Come Together.”

Information on the exhibit was first posted to X by women’s rights advocate @Sorelle_Arduino, who visited the exhibit yesterday and uploaded photos to her social media showing displays featuring trans-identified males.

One of the photos snapped by the user was an abstract painting by transgender artist Erica Rutherford displayed next to Monica Sjöö’s iconic piece “Wages for Housework.” In the display’s description of Rutherford’s painting, it states that he was inspired by being brought “face to face with the humiliations” of being treated as a woman.

“No cultural womens event can happen any more without men. Art has become a simpering pile of conformist junk,” one user said in response to @Sorelle_Arduino‘s thread on the exhibit.

“It would be bigoted to talk about women without talking about the ones that are men,” another quipped sarcastically.

Other displays featured articles from newsletters produced by the Beaumont Society, a group created in order to advocate for heterosexual crossdressers to be allowed to practice their sexual fetish publicly.

Among their goals, according to the group’s website, is to “promote and assist the study of gender.” The lobby organization uses as its namesake the 18th century French nobleman Charles Chevalier d’Éon de Beaumont, who would assume the identity of a woman named Charlotte, and was officially recognized as a woman by King Louis XVI.

The Beaumont Society, which currently advocates for the medical ‘transitioning’ of minors, was founded in 1966 by four male transvestites, one of whom was a leading figure in the fetish movement in the United States. Virginia Charles Prince, born Arnold Lowman, aided in creating the organization as a branch of a secret society of transvestic fetishists, who called themselves Full Personality Expression (FPE), located in California.

Initially, the group, as well as others like it which began to spring up in the United Kingdom, the United States, and Australia at the time, refused membership to homosexuals, presumably on the basis that prominent transvestites did not want the practice associated with sexual motivations. In one newsletter printed by Virginia Prince, who is credited with having popularized the term ‘transgender,’ he writes: “Some of the more narrow-minded of our sister TV’s [transvestites] see nothing good in anything that homosexuals do, but personally I am all for their success and would cooperate in helping them to achieve it where I could out of pure self-interest for our group.”

Prince has also openly discussed the sexual nature of the crossdressing fetish. In 1985 he appeared in an HBO documentary titled, “What Sex am I?”, where he commented on the element of arousal involved, saying that it was a “turn on” for “almost everybody” who participates.

“You have to grow past the stage of being an erotically aroused male in a dress, which results eventually in an orgasm. But when the orgasm is over, if you continue to stay in the dress, you begin to discover there’s this other part of yourself. You cease being an erotically aroused male, and you simply become a man who becomes to recognize that, gee, there’s something nice about girlness that I’m enjoying experiencing,” Prince, a co-founder of The Beaumont Society, said.

In recent years The Beaumont Society has become increasingly influential within the government and the medical establishment. The group is listed as an advisor to the National Health Service (NHS) in England as well as in Wales.

This is not the first controversy involving the Tate Museum centering trans-identified males, with multiple incidents occurring over the past year that have raised concerns amongst women’s rights advocates.

In June, a trans activist known for staging protests involving human urine was invited to read poetry during the Queer and Now LGBTQIA+ art festival. Jamie Cottle was dressed in women’s lingerie during the reading, wearing white panties that had the words “Sugar Money” embroidered into the crotch.

Though Cottle’s presentation was said to be for ages 16 and up, there were even younger children in attendance in the nearby area, with no boundaries set up to prevent minors from entering.

#UK #Tate Museum #Women In Revolt! #Its not Revolting Men #The Beaumont Society #Full Personality Expression (FPE)

[whentranslatorscry]

Ikusamonogatari

Full EPUB [MEGA]

Hitagi Honeymoon, by nisioisin

001

There was something odd about the name Araragi Hitagi. No matter how I try, it just doesn’t sit right with me. If I were to trace our acquaintance back to our freshman year at Naoetsu Private High School, where we became classmates, I would find that I have known her for almost a decade. Yet every time I see this name, it feels as unfamiliar as if we had only just met. If you ask me to pinpoint whose responsibility this unshakable strangeness was, I can say with absolute confidence that it was none other than mine, still it felt as though trying to force together two jigsaw pieces that don't fit.

Look at the joints; they're practically crumbling.

It was at the hallowed grounds of North Shirahebi Shrine, in the presence of its very god herself, that we swore an irreplaceable oath to bring each other happiness. But once married, there was a hideous sensation, akin to smudging the most precious aspect of a person I hold most dear in my life, the one and only Senjougahara Hitagi, with cheap paints. It was an indescribably disgusting, unsettling feeling.

The wedding gown and white kimono were meant to symbolize something pure, “a canvas ready to be dyed in the colors of our choosing.” This oft-repeated phrase, while understood, felt old-fashioned, archaic to say the least. Moreover, for reasons unbeknownst to me, I had stripped her of her most precious and fundamental possession: her name. The mere thought of this fact felt like a sharp stab, an eternal reminder to accompany me for the rest of my life. Truthfully, the confidence to create a blissful and harmonious home had eluded me.

How unfair, how unjust.

How utterly tragic.

Under such circumstances, it was simply impossible for me to say that I had no sense of guilt.

“It's not bad at all, Koyomi. I think it sounds even better. Araragi Hitagi, see, it rhymes and rolls off the tongue with such ease it's like it's been my name this whole time.”

Although she claimed not to mind, I couldn't help but be painfully aware of the burden imposed on her that should've been equally shared: we were no longer on equal footing, and the intense sense of immorality did not fade as time went on. If anything, my guilt only intensified.

What I mean by “burden” encompasses the need to reapply for a driver's license, passport, and license plate number, among various other things. The name she had carried for a quarter of a century was forcibly and legally stripped away—wasn’t that an unbelievable, unforgivable act of barbarism?

Just like the domestic violence that suddenly emerges after marriage.¹

The life of Araragi Koyomi had always been one of ceaseless battles against all kinds of unreasonable circumstances. So, even now, he should continue to fight for the sake of his family name. But this time, his opponent was not a monster, nor was it a mystery or tale of supernatural transformation, regrettably—it was the country of Japan itself.

Well, it could be argued that there wasn’t much difference between the country of Japan and its world of supernatural creatures, but I can't simply let that claim go unchallenged. As an experienced public servant, someone who had truly sworn loyalty to both the nation of Japan and its people, it was hard to advocate for the immediate abolition of the antiquated custom of married couples sharing the same surname. After being transferred to the FBI for advanced training and subsequently being headhunted for employment, and after buying my own home there, I found myself questioning my own patriotism.

Naturally, if we were to go by logic alone, rather than Hitagi legally becoming Araragi Hitagi, I would have become Senjougahara Koyomi. In fact, I had secretly been working on this plan behind the scenes. At first, everything was going smoothly, but the surreptitiously obtained written documentation was soon discovered by her. Hitagi, that is.

Well done, I must say.

“From the very moment we met, I felt a sense of harmony with Araragi-kun—like we were meant to be together. Also, I don’t want my father's surname to be combined with ‘Koyomi.’”

Okay.

Setting aside the latter part, even she shared the same sentiment as me in the beginning. No matter how fiercely we fought, it seemed as though we were ultimately conquered by convention.

Although marriage itself is inherently a form of constraint, and whose surname is used is of little consequence, in the end, tradition dictates that the wife takes the husband's last name. This custom has been ingrained in society for ages. Indeed, it may make sense from a logical standpoint, but ultimately, it is not logic that we must bow to in this matter.

As I recall, the family of Hachikuji— the god worshiped within the grounds of North Shirahebi Shrine, where I pledged myself in marriage—all bore the mother's surname, Tsunade. But alas, as the twin-tailed lost god once confessed to me:

“In the end, things didn’t work out well for my family, you see. We’re no longer a family. During my third year in elementary school, my parents divorced and I had to change my name. I wonder what the point of it all was.”

That’s all.

When I first heard her speak of that, I was young and naive, so I played it cool and responded with a smooth and seamless reply. Now that I’ve become a party to the incident myself, I can’t help but ruminate on the workings and procedures of the law.

Even when putting aside the fact that I work in law enforcement, it’s not something that a civil servant should say, but indeed, one might call it quite bureaucratic. I have inherited this occupation of police officer from my parents (albeit reluctantly). I even believe that I don’t need to inherit the family name.

If it were high school Hitagi, especially during her most intense and edgy days, she would have unquestionably shoved a stapler deep into my mouth just to make me Senjougahara Koyomi.

She should have been resolute in not relinquishing her father's name— I guess you could say that she has grown softer over time. Well, whether she’s grown soft or not, I guess she’s grown up, too.

Back in my youth— or rather, in high school, I would have said to myself, “Won’t get married then. We won’t be bound by a little piece of paper. To preserve our names, our identities, we'll live together with two surnames under one roof. Hell, even with Oikura if I have to.”

Though in the end, as usual, it would most likely have led to a not-so-happy but rather bad ending. But inside the mind of twenty-four-year-old Araragi Koyomi, countless unbearable adult rationalizations came rushing in like a storm, saying, “Well, but things don't usually work out that way, do they? When you are a member of society, you must take reputation and position into account, and in the long run, Hitagi might also find it hard to live such a stubborn life. Besides, it's self-evident that various procedures would become troublesome if we don't enter the marriage registry, so, on the contrary, if it's just a matter of a single piece of paper, it would be best not to fuss about it and get it over with.”

But wait, what’s this? Has Araragi-kun suddenly become so enlightened that he begins to admonish all those ordinary families who have married uncomplainingly and blandly, keeping their own surnames? The times have changed. Nowadays, you can even go by your maiden name at work. Don't be so annoying and nitpicky about it. People like that aren’t popular, you know?

In all honesty, the idea of living with Oikura is tolerable, but the notion of taking Hitagi as a common-law wife is rather unsavory. As a career officer of the Japanese police force and an unofficial member of the FBI, it wouldn’t be surprising if I suddenly died in the line of duty, at least to the same extent as that hellish Spring Break. With the chances of an unforeseen accident being about fifty-fifty, I would rather avoid a situation where Hitagi might be kept from witnessing my final moments due to a bureaucratic technicality like a discrepancy in our last names. I'm sure everyone is well aware of how prone I am to life-threatening situations. No insurance company would ever enroll me in a life insurance policy.

On the other hand, the reverse was also a possibility.

Hitagi worked in the Japanese branch of a foreign financial firm, and you might think her life wouldn't be in any real danger. But she once confided that because she deals with massive amounts of money within the company daily, when she’s seriously out and about, she needs the accompaniment of bodyguards who cling to her like stalkers. I’m not sure if she was pulling my leg, but every time she leaves her home, she carries the latest version of her will with her.

“How strange, I was once swindled out of all my possessions, and now my job is akin to that of a swindler, treating strangers' money as my own and making it multiply incessantly—through stocks, foreign exchange, and cryptocurrencies that I'm not even sure really exist. It's all an enigmatic, ethereal mystery.”

Though her words carried a hint of self-mockery, it was because she had been both a pampered heiress in a mansion and a penniless tenant in a wooden box that she had managed to acquire certain skills. Good or bad, she believed that money was but an illusory thing.

Of course, that's not to say that she could approve of the person she was when she lost her weight and her mother… no, that too was a cherished memory and a cherished trauma.

It could never be forgotten.

Right.

These were the life experiences of Senjougahara Hitagi. Could they really be covered up with just my surname? As if erasing her individuality.

“I think the name change is fun, like a game. But why do you care so much, Koyomi? Is it because you're thinking of another person?”

“Another person?”

It's hard to ignore the seemingly lighthearted remark that it's like a fun game, it feels all the more like an attempt to escape reality. But for now, let’s let it slide. So, who could this other person be?

“Shinobu. Although I’m not sure if I can call her a human person. Come to think of it, Koyokoyo, wasn't it during that Spring Break that you cruelly stole her name?”

Koyokoyo.

The endearing nickname I miss so much…

I also used to call her by the nickname “Gahara-san,” but after she changed her surname, I could no longer address her in this way. It’s embarrassing for adults like us to use such nicknames, but hearing that I could never use it again made me feel as if I had been deprived of a basic human right, leaving me in a state of distress.

It was true, no matter how you put it: the King of Aberrations, the iron-blooded, hot-blooded, cold-blooded Kiss-Shot Acerola-Orion Heart-Under-Blade— the name of the vampire who has lived for six hundred years.

But it was taken from her, just like life itself.

After losing her prestigious title, the oddity specialist Oshino Meme gave her a new name— Oshino Shinobu.

The man in a Hawaiian shirt said, employing his specialist's surname as a constraint, he would seal her away, deeply and securely.

Which, to be honest, was contradictory and riddled with double standards. Yet, for me, calling her Oshino Shinobu resonated truer and felt more befitting for her as I have known her by that name for longer.

Of course, nobody refers to her as Kiss-Shot Acerola-Orion Heart-Under-Blade nowadays, but there seems to be a faction of specialists who still call her the “Old Heart-Under-Blade.”

Old Heart-Under-Blade.

What an antiquated name.

“When you think about it, it's a strange and wonderful thing to have the word 'old' added to your name. Don’t you think so, Old Gahara-san?”

“Indeed, if you are going to keep calling me that, I don't want to continue this conversation.”

“I have already experienced the guilt of taking away someone's name… What's going on with this marriage, it's like I'm making the same mistakes over again.”

“It's almost like a de facto remarriage.”

“No, it's a first marriage, actually.”

Although this example exposed the depths of my subconscious, it didn’t entirely resolve the issue which had already taken deep root. It seemed that because I had done it once before, I no longer cared about doing it again now, as if to say that killing one person was the same as killing two. This frightening thought was something that neither Japan nor America would endorse.

Rather, should we not learn from our mistakes?

That had been an emergency measure taken out of necessity for Shinobu, so it couldn’t be said that it was entirely wrong… In this day and age, I can't help but think there might have been another way to do it. It's hard not to question whether my decision to barely keep alive by turning the vampire— the King of Aberrations— that otherwise faced certain death, into my slave, was an immature one, driven by a child's desire for simplicity.

Even as the former Heart-Under-Blade happily gobbles on Mister Donuts in my shadow… And since it's acceptable to use your original family name in the workplace, why then must we discriminate and not apply the same rule to other situations?

With this in mind, I might as well create a business card featuring my Senjougahara pseudonym while at work. I wonder if it's possible to mark your former name on the police officer's guidebook. I'd have to ask Chief Kouga about that next time.

“A seemingly insignificant battle, huh? Ah, yes, an infinitesimally small skirmish indeed.”

“Sounds like you're saying ‘overmorrow's tomorrow.’”

“Even if you were to take the name Senjougahara, it wouldn't make any difference. It won't even make you feel better. It's like we share the same hardships, but it's not the same at all, it's not. The constant labeling of hardships might be painful as well.”

“Do we have no choice but to fight against the state?”

“That’d be quite the unexpected turn of events. Just imagine your high school supporters, they would be flabbergasted as they watch Araragi Koyomi take on the world of politics in a sequel.”

“But I can't overlook those die-hard fans' support. So, should I run for office under the name Senjougahara Koyomi?”

“In that case, to ease the voter process, it might be best to simplify the complex kanji in 'Senjougahara,’ say, using hiragana instead.”

“Must I change my name even if I run for office? Just because it's hard to write. What a troublesome thing, follows me everywhere. But revolutionaries didn't use their real names either.”

“Are we talking about starting a revolution now, like Hanekawa-san?”

“I can't use my real name to run a campaign and cause trouble for my parents. I'm not that unfilial.”

“I wonder about that. It may not be limited to revolutionaries. Nowadays, it seems that a pseudonym one can choose themselves is more valued.”

The conversation had delved into the complicated topic of real names versus pseudonyms… In such an era when anonymity is held in high regard, aren't real names becoming more important than ever? Apparently, in the past, one could not reveal their real name to anyone other than their parents.

“I'm not sure if I can let such a thing be erased on a whim.”

“Was marrying me also on a whim, Koyomi?”

“I retract my previous statement and apologize under the name of Senjougahara Koyomi.”

“You are apologizing under a pseudonym.”

“I apologize under the name of Sen jou ga ha ra Koyomi.”

“Please stop apologizing like a politician. I don't want such a person to be the future chief of the National Police Agency.”

“Your demands are too high for a husband.”

“Philosophy and thought do warrant contemplation, but let's think more about the pressing needs of life, Koyomi. Weren't we supposed to be excitedly discussing our honeymoon destination?”

Right, we were.

Having completed the wedding ceremony, with a god as our witness, and the tedious paperwork, we had finally settled down and arranged a meeting, albeit belatedly, to discuss our long-awaited honeymoon plans.

Although the novel coronavirus could be said to have been eradicated from the earth, given that I currently have a foothold in the FBI and Hitagi is a young leader at the Japanese branch of a foreign firm, we were communicating remotely more often than not. Nevertheless, we both understand the importance of a meaningful face-to-face conversation. After all, it would be impolite not to attend to such a significant matter in person.

Our wedding had narrowly avoided taking place entirely remotely, but fortunately, it was held with only family members present, regardless of any infectious disease-related concerns. It was charming and intimate.

“The only thing I regret is not getting to drag empty cans behind the car; I wanted to try it.”²

“Back in the old days, you would've tied me to the car and dragged me around the city as a public execution. But a honeymoon, huh?”

To begin with, neither Hitagi nor I were particularly fond of traveling; in fact, we both frequently shuttled across the Pacific Ocean. So, the word “travel” doesn't strike a deep chord in me. It's merely a transfer through different places, and it's difficult to attribute more significance to it.

I'd much prefer leisurely chats at home like this—without having to specifically go somewhere.

“I agree. Why not take a short trip then? How about the supermarket?”

“That’s too close.”

“But it sounds so super.”

“Well, you have a point. Supermarket is a pretty bold name.”

“But then, if the honeymoon has no significance, we’d better have not had a wedding at all, since it wouldn't be significant anyway.”

This statement sounds like something the old Hitagi would say—not Araragi Hitagi, but Senjougahara Hitagi.

In fact, many people these days consider weddings to be a grand waste of money, and couples often quarrel during their honeymoon, that’s why “Narita Divorce” gets thrown around as a phrase.³

Nowadays, you might also hear “Haneda Divorce” or “Kanku Divorce.”⁴

“Traveling has a way of revealing a couple's true nature, for better or worse. That's why I think it's a necessary ceremony.”

“A ceremony, huh?”

Surprisingly, Oshino was a man who valued such customs.

We can't take this lightly, then… considering our relationship.

“Speaking of which, that plan to go to Hokkaido to eat crab still hasn't come to fruition.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to go?”

“It’s tempting to tie up loose ends like a completed achievement, but it might not be the best season for that. I'd rather enjoy the best crab in wintertime anyway, that's what I really want.”

It's a tough one. Hokkaido, seemingly near but further than Washington D.C., has gradually taken on the nuance of being saved for our enjoyment during our twilight years. However, since we have refrained from indulging up until this point, it is only natural to savor the finest crab in the ideal setting of Hokkaido.

Yet as we speak, the warming of Hokkaido progresses at a steady pace. By the time we reached our retirement years, would it still be a snowy landscape?

“If we were to travel overseas, I think we should consider Europe or Africa. Including South America, both of us travel to the Americans for work often. Or what do you think about crossing the Atlantic Ocean?”

“There is also Oceania. Why not eat crab in Australia? I think you can't climb Ayers Rock anymore… Maybe New Zealand?”

“Apparently the stars there are beautiful. It's famed as a World Heritage of starry skies, they're even working to register it as an actual World Heritage site or something.”

A bit vague, but hmm.

Come to think of it, ever since high school—no, even before that during her sheltered upbringing, Hitagi has had a profound love for the starry skies. An unapologetic adoration.

If I recall, our first date was also at an observatory.

“In that case, what about revisiting that observatory nearby? It's only a few hours' drive.”

“Might take a bit longer if we dragged a heap of cans behind.”

“We probably shouldn't try that on Japanese roads, you know.”

As a cop, I couldn't pardon this.

The idea of revisiting a dating spot from our youth was not a bad one, but Hitagi didn't seem too keen on it, and she exaggeratedly tilted her head—a gesture straight out of the anime.

"What's up. If there are no lodging facilities, we could rent a camper van or something. The state should…"

"There's no need to bring up the state for that. You should be able to rent a car by yourself, right? Anyway, over there, I go pretty often, usually with my dad and Kanbaru."

"Really?"

While I was training as an FBI investigator, Senjougahara and Kanbaru rekindled their relationship… It's good that she's getting along with her family, which was delicate for a time, but still.

Whether that's how she truly feels or not, at least Hitagi says it's fine with her, but what does her father—and my in-law—think about it?

To have the surname he gave his daughter smeared by some random guy's…

Whoops, gotta stop thinking about it. If I'm not careful, my thoughts get pulled in that direction. The gravity of the issue is too strong.

I'm sure the meaning is just as precious either way, but the name Senjougahara is quite rare, so I can't help but contemplate the loss…

"Rather than somewhere you always go, like the supermarket, it should be somewhere special for the ceremony. If it's too familiar, the memories don't stick as strongly. Shouldn't you make memories of going somewhere you've wanted to, like an observatory? Or New Zealand is good, but wasn't there an amazing one in Hawaii or something?"

“Hmm. Electronic telescopes on that scale exceed my realm of expertise. But in the end, it seems we come back to America. Another idea is to go all the way to the Arctic Circle to see the auroras.”

“The Arctic. Mm, I wonder if Kagenui-san is doing all right.”

She doesn't live at the North Pole year-round of course, but when I hear “Arctic” she’s the first thing I think of—her and her shikigami. With that shikigami we could go anywhere in an instant... But the days of merrily living with a corpse doll under the same roof ended quite some time ago. Fraternizing with corpses is strictly forbidden nowadays.

The auroras. Not an uninteresting prospect.

I believe they can be observed either in Canada or the Nordic countries. If given a choice between the two, I would lean towards the latter in this case.

How about Finland, often said to be the closest to Europe? Who wouldn't want to taste the cinnamon rolls straight from their birthplace? The progress of women's social advancement in the Nordic countries is also noteworthy, and I assume, with a vague image in mind, that there wouldn't be any stipulation requiring spouses to share the same surname.

“Aha!”

And then it struck me.

It struck me like a shooting star.

As I've grown older, my brain has lost its freshness, and such instant inspirations have become all too rare these days. But at this moment, I felt that I had truly been hit by inspiration.

Not merely a shooting star, it could be likened to the brilliance of the Aurora itself.

Too bad about the Finnish licorice, but there was no need to cross the ocean for one. Couldn't there be an equally fantastic location in our very own country for our honeymoon? Although we wouldn’t be able to see any auroras for sure, the destination would more than compensate for it. We could call it a return to our roots.

Nay, there's no other way to describe it other than our roots.

“Senjougahara.”

“What? Do you still intend to rebel against our nation?”

“No, no, it's my love for our country! And our honeymoon destination.”

“……”

“Let's go to Senjougahara. According to our class president who knows everything, it's one of Japan's most beautiful marshlands for stargazing.”

Next Chapter

Originally: "DV". Refers to domestic violence in Japan, where men who were previously reserved but become violent after marriage are called "DV Men".

Dragging empty cans behind a car is a couple activity, the loud clatter they produce being a symbol of auspiciousness.

Tokyo Narita Airport is the largest international airport in Japan, and a necessary stop for many newlywed couples traveling abroad. However, because some shortcomings or habits of each person are exposed during the trip, many couples choose to divorce after leaving Narita Airport when their honeymoon comes to an end.

Haneda: Tokyo Haneda Airport. Kanku: Kansai International Airport. 

#monogatari series #senjougahara hitagi #araragi koyomi #ikusamonogatari #translation