#did you see cis men getting away with it every time and wanted to have a taste of that

[loveyouanyway]

i'll kiss your scars

buck x eddie | 900 words | teen rating

prompt: trans buck for @steadfastsaturnsrings 🥰 💖

“But y-you like men.” “Yes I do. Particularly the amazing and gorgeous man in front of me.” Buck stumbles across his words, all flustered. “But Eddie, I’m not— like I don’t have a you know.” He glances down there. “That doesn’t make you any less of a man, Buck." or Buck tells Eddie that he's trans and things change between them, but for the better.

read on ao3 or below :)

Buck, Eddie and Christopher are enjoying their dinner together in comfortable silence.

Christopher finishes his plate of spaghetti and meatballs first and now that he’s not eating, the silence feels weird so he speaks up.

“I’m not the only Christopher in my class anymore.”

Eddie hums. “Oh new student?”

“Nope. His name used to be Chloe but now it’s Christopher.”

Eddie and Buck look to each other in understanding.

“So he’s…”

“Trans. Yeah, it’s not a big deal, Dad. Now people just call me Chris and him Christopher.”

“How did people react?” Buck asks curiously.

“Everyone was cool about it. Some people had questions though so Christopher answered them. Then Mr. Nolan told everyone that he will not tolerate any transphobia or homophobia but he’s happy to tell us more about it. And if we ever have to talk to him about it, we can.”

Buck blinks back tears thinking how happy he is that in school, kids can come out and people will be supportive or at least respectful enough that they won’t say anything negative. He thinks about how bad it would be if he came out in middle school. He’s so glad Christopher has a teacher like Mr. Nolan.

He should probably tell Eddie that he’s trans. It’s been over a year since they’ve been friends. He knows Eddie will be accepting and everything but it’s still difficult. He doesn’t want anything to change between them.

“Buck?” Eddie and nudges his foot with his own under the table.

“You okay?” he asks.

Buck quickly nods. “Yeah no I’m good.”

Eddie thankfully doesn’t push and instead asks what movie they should watch tonight.

—

They watch Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse and Buck suggests they watch the second one next movie night which Christopher enthusiastically agrees to.

Christopher gets ready for bed reluctantly and Buck reads him a chapter of Percy Jackson. Eddie watches them with a sickening fond smile.

Once the chapter’s done, he and Eddie both hug Christopher and tell him “good night” and Buck yearns for him to have this every night.

They walk into the living room and Buck plops onto the couch with a sigh.

Eddie sits down next to Buck and faces him.

“Hey, you know that you can tell me anything, right?” he says earnestly with his stupidly pretty eyes looking him in the eye.

Buck breaks eye contact and nods. “Yeah of course, uh thanks.”

Eddie doesn’t reply as if he’s hoping Buck will say more.

“Just give me a moment.” he adds and to that Eddie hums and rests his hand on Buck’s thigh. Oh god. This isn’t helping his nerves.

Buck takes a deep breath. “I’m trans.”

A second passes.

“Thanks for telling me.” Eddie smiles, trying to act like he didn’t know this but Buck sees past it.

“You already knew. How?”

“I saw your testosterone gel thing in the bathroom once. I guess you forgot to put it away like you usually do,” Eddie answers softly.

“You’re not mad I didn’t tell you?”

“Of course not, Buck. You don’t owe me anything regarding that.”

“We’ve been best friends for months.”

“Yeah well did I come out to you as cis? No. Besides gender is fucking stupid. Am I even a man?”

Buck sighs. He supposes Eddie has a valid point.

“Uh, while we’re talking about more serious topics, I have something to tell you,” Eddie admits.

Buck doesn’t have enough time to panic before Eddie calmly says “I’m in love with you.”

Is this a fucking dream? Buck doesn’t know what to say. “I- What do you mean?”

Eddie continues, “Yeah that was one of the factors in the whole me discovering my sexuality process. Hen called me out so many times about my gay panic for you.”

“But y-you like men.”

“Yes I do. Particularly the amazing and gorgeous man in front of me.”

Buck stumbles across his words, all flustered. “But Eddie, I’m not— like I don’t have a you know.” He glances down there.

“That doesn’t make you any less of a man, Buck. I know how I feel about you. I love you beyond your body but I mean, I really love your body and I hope I can make you feel safe and comfortable with it.”

Yeah this is a fucking dream come true.

Eddie lifts up the bottom of his shirt. “Can I…”

Buck has no idea what he’s about to do but he’ll let Eddie do anything to him. That probably should be concerning but he doesn’t care.

“Yeah,” he says with a shaky breath.

Eddie gently takes Buck’s shirt (which actually belonged to Eddie originally) and looks at him with such adoration, it makes Buck want to cry.

He lowers his head and brings his lips to Buck’s top surgery scars. He softly kisses along the two lines, whispering “I love you” after each kiss.

Now Buck is crying. He is just so overwhelmed with love—both his love for Eddie and feeling so loved by Eddie. He manages to say, “I love you” back before the tears make unable to speak coherently

Of course Eddie understands and doesn’t tell him “No it’s okay don’t cry,” instead he embraces him into a hug that makes Buck feel all warm and fuzzy — like all hugs from Eddie do.

They stay there, holding each other and Buck realizes things have changed between them but in the best way possible.

#also yeah at first i just put mr nolan and then i was gonna change it but i couldn't come up with anything so i am christopher's teacher 😌 #nolan writes #my fics #buddie fic #911 fic #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #trans buck #buck and eddie #buck x eddie

[corfisers]

one of the reasons i didn't accept being trans sooner is because i'd look at the cishet men i know and at how they treat women in their lives, at how fucking vile they can get and how casual they are about being blatantly misogynistic, how there are usually absolutely no repercussions for any of it, and i'd think to myself "if this is what being a man is about then i don't want to be one". eventually i'd figure out that no, this isn't what being a man is about, it's just something a lot of them perpetuate, it's not inherent, you don't have to be That. so seeing other trans men who, generally speaking, should've had somewhat similar experiences, come out of it on the opposite end where they gleefully grab onto transmisogyny and have fun with it and feel justified and righteous perpetuating it is fucking baffling

#this is very subjective of course but still #all this talk about “”female socialization“” and for what? it's just an excuse to be blatantly transmisogynistic and nothing else #what about experiencing misogyny yourself and seeing it happen over and over and over and not wanting to be a perpetrator of that #how do you see all this shit and then come out of it wanting to target not just women but the most vulnerable group of women too #did you see cis men getting away with it every time and wanted to have a taste of that #with your fancy little “i'm trans tho” shield and a bunch of transphobic excuses why being mean to transfems is fine actually #transmisogyny #<- for blacklisting purposes but if more people than i intend see it then whatever ig #benvey tag

[spacerockfloater]

Being a female viewer and hating Criston Cole is deranged.

I have to get this off my chest. The blind hatred that Criston is receiving from women is insane and I’m going to explain why.

For context, I am talking about Show Criston, not Book Criston. Comparing two standalone versions of a story is silly.

I cannot wrap my head around the fact that so many women, who are the primary victims of utilitarian relationships, would ever come together and shit on Criston for enduring such a situation.

I’m sorry, but how many of you have been used by men? How many of you have been reduced to one night stands, situationships and placeholder wives? How many of you have been deemed “not good enough” to be an exclusive partner? I log into tiktok and I see NOTHING but stories of broken women who are just used for sex, money, care and whatnot by men, and then they are tossed away like worthless trash while said men continue their pursuit of the ideal woman. Being used by men just for sex and being denied the status of girlfriend, let alone wife, is probably one of the worst plagues women are experiencing in the western world because the MOMENT we were emancipated, men understood that they don’t owe us shit anymore and instead of treating us with respect, they decided to grab whatever they can and give nothing back. Do not tell me that there are women out there that are fine with this arrangement because the multiple “GWM while I tell you about the guy that was with me for 12 years and then married someone else” tell a different story, one of multiple women’s dignities being trampled by hungry men. My heart breaks for every woman (EVERY woman, cis, trans, EVERY woman) who has been called by a man she loves just for sex, for every woman whose man never wanted to be seen in public with her, for every woman who had to hear that her man is not ready for a relationship only to witness him getting engaged to another woman 2 weeks after. I hope you overcome this and become stronger and I am glad that we are finally supporting one another.

How can we then, the women who are helping other female victims rise up and speak out against this kind of abuse, push Criston down and tell him to suck it up and accept being Rhaenyra’s plaything? Have we no mercy? Are we so hungry for revenge against men that we’d want them to endure the same humiliation that we did, as if one fictional man’s suffering would bring us justice? Are we so jealous that Criston didn’t sit down and just take it like the rest of us, but instead spoke up and removed himself from that situation? Or are we so gullible that we accept what the screenwriters shove down our throats and unknowingly support the patriarchic view that if you’re being used by someone you should just accept it?

I can hear some of you arguing that “Oh, this is different because Rhaenyra is royalty!” as if being used and tossed by a powerful person somehow makes the situation any better? Would it be okay if a rich person wanted to constantly use you for sex while he keeps looking for a better woman to be by his side, just because he values his wealth and status more? Rhaenyra straight up sneered at the idea of a simple life with him. She straight up told him that HE is not worth as much as her crown. OUCH. Even though I can’t even begin to imagine the pain of being told you are not enough by your loved one, it was Rhaenyra’s right to choose what her priorities are, but WHY would he have to accept being her sidepiece? “These were different times”: does this make it any less devastating for the victim? And he was a victim because Rhaenyra still used Criston and misled him by constantly complaining about how she HATES her duties for YEARS and then luring him to break his oath. Do you think he would have still slept with her if he was aware that moments ago, Rhaenyra was begging on her knees to be fucked by Daemon and only turned to Criston because her first option was no longer available? Like, the man was contemplating having sex with her and resisted her for a good fucking while, so imagine how quickly he would have turned around and walked out that door if he had that information beforehand. You know why? Because he loved her. He loved her to the point that he broke his oath for her, the oath of a station he FOUGHT FOR IN A WAR. He shed blood and sweat and risked his life for the mere opportunity to gain that position. This was ALL he had, he came from NOTHING and he was still willing to toss it all away for Rhaenyra not once, but twice. It wasn’t just sex he wanted because we never see him have sex again after that. He became vulnerable and gave up everything that he was to be with Rhaenyra. He was willing to abandon his whole identity for her sake. Is this not what the ideal partner is? Ready to abandon everything for your shake? Everything he fought for, tooth and nail? Was he unreasonable in thinking that Rhaenyra was willing to do the same for him? Was he crazy to think that because he was ready to put everything he FOUGHT for aside for her shake, Rhaenyra would also put aside a duty she was handed and actively seem to hate for him too? Fuck no! After hearing her constant talk about how she hates her father, her duties, her refusal to wed other men, how she is trapped as a princess, how people have no idea how much it SUCKS being her, why would he not assume that she’d be willing to give it all up for him, as he’d do for her We never see Rhaenyra even TRY to be a ruler, just complain about it. Of course it would be a fucking shock to him hearing her say “Lol dude, I actually do kinda want this”.

Criston was actually the only person in the series that wanted Rhaenyra for her, not her money or crown. I’m not saying she had to follow him, it was her right to refuse him, but his willingness to lead a simple life with just her has got to mean something. And don’t give me that “he only wanted to redeem his honour by marrying her” crap, because first of all Criston nutted up and admitted everything to Alicent and was ready to face death without EVER blaming Rhaenyra for anything, and second of all, oh no, how dare a human being have ethical values and desire to live with dignity in society’s broad light rather than move in the shadows as the princess’s secret boytoy! Bad, bad Criston for feeling you have to atone for your sins. Maybe we as people have become so corrupt that we envy those who wish to walk a virtuous path in life. Or maybe y’all have become so fond of the unhinged unapologetic character trope because it feels “original” (even if it’s ridiculously overused nowadays) that you’ve actually forgotten what characters with good morals are. Like, picking your fave war criminal and rolling with them because you enjoy good drama, especially in a show that’s meant to provide entertainment, is one thing, but passionately stating that Criston had to submit to that humiliation is something else entirely.

Finally, let’s ditch the Criston being a misogynist bullshit because he had NO issue obeying Rhaenyra before their affair or Alicent. And he is ALWAYS true to himself and his values, because even after everything he endured, he did not use Alicent’s anger as an excuse to take revenge on Rhaenyra and harm her children. Criston never betrayed her, Rhaenyra used him and he walked away and he went towards the only person who seemed to spare him some sympathy and understand him and not condemn him for his crimes even if he hated himself, which is typical victim mentality. And don’t get me started on the Joffrey incident because y’all tore Cole to SHREDS for it. Joffrey had it fucking coming. You don’t go up to people’s faces, especially ones you don’t know, threaten them by telling them you know their secret, a secret that SHAMES them and burdens them to the point they’re ready to commit suicide, and all but directly call them a whore. What the fuck did he think was going to happen? They’d shake hands? Piss off. Let this be a lesson to anyone that doesn’t know how to keep their mouths shut and their noses out of other people’s business. Also, mocking his suicide attempt makes my stomach turn. Just take a moment to consider all the young women who just like him, reluctantly surrendered their virginities to men only to find out they were nothing but sex dolls in their eyes, all these girls whose trust led to their secret being spread and them getting ridiculed and slut shamed for it: how many girls have taken their own lives because they found living with such a burden unbearable?

For the love of everything you hold sacred, please wake up sisters. The narrative that you can be used by someone powerful and you have to accept it because that’s the way things are is a man’s construct. Do not let them fool you.

#house of the dragon #hod #game of thrones #asoif/got #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #rhaenyra targaryen #criston cole #alicent hightower #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti criston cole #anti alicent hightower #pro rhaenyra targaryen #pro criston cole #pro alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #team black #team green #house stark #house hightower #house targaryen

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Look, This is gonna be one of those things that sounds bad until you read the whole story. Please don't read the title and go to 'yta' without reading.

AITA for yelling at our friend that my brother isn't trans?

Look, My brother ISNT trans. He likes to wear kilts and sew, Which is what kind of started all of this. My brother is NOT trans, He loves being a boy (trust me, I can hear him enjoying being a boy in his room all the time. Theres no way he'd wanna chop it off(I mean this as a joke I don't actually know how the surgery works), He's told me multiple times that being told by others what he likes is 'feminine' and 'girly' upsets him because he's proud of being a boy and doesn't like being called a girl. Its not because he hates girls or thinks less of them, He just does not like being called the wrong gender which I'm sure you want to be called the correct gender too.)

Anyways lets begin. I (16F) am my little brothers (15M) best friend, Basically. We grew up together and do everything together, Including sewing. I liked it when I was younger, And eventually convinced him to try it as well. He loved it, And we love just sitting together and making random crap we usually end up selling at our yearly garage sale. (Our mom makes us sell all our unneeded crap every year, But we aren't complaining when we make like $100 for it, Mom and dad even help us figure out what we actually wanna keep (we sometimes see old things and go 'Oh I could never get rid of this' and then throw it away))

Sorry for the rambling, But you'll see why some of this is important to know.

Basically, We were getting our shit together for the garage sale, And invited over a mutual friend of ours, Who I'll call uhhh Ley (16F). Shes kind of obsessed with the LGBTQ and loves to help people 'realize' they're gay or trans or non-binary. By this I mean she'll literally bully people she 'knows' is gay or trans by always telling them they are and spreading rumors about them saying they are. The way she 'knows' these things are from gut feelings. I thought maybe she needed friends who would be honest with her and tell her gently that it needed to stop. She stopped being so bad with it and we even convinced her to admit to the rumors she started being fake. We've known her for around 3 years now, And she's stopped doing it as aggressively for 2 of those years. She still makes jabs and 'jokes' saying things like "Oh thats so girly, Are you sure you're not trans?" and "Oh thats such a boy thing to do, Are you a lesbian?", Both quotes she's said to me and my brother less than a week ago. I am straight and cis, So is my brother. We have nothing against the lgbt, We just aren't apart of it. We support the lgbtq as much as possible (with my part time job I like to donate some of my paycheck towards point of pride so people who need the surgeries or binders can get them), And are very open about supporting them.

While we were cleaning out my brothers room and finding stuff to throw into the 'sell' box (we like to do precleaning before our parents help us, It makes everything faster and less work on the people trying to help), And Ley found my brothers kilt. She did a long exaggerated gasp, Looking at my brother.

"So, How long have you been trans? Why didn't you tell me?? I knew it the whole time!"

My brother tried to explain that it was a kilt for men, And he wasn't trans, But she kept interrupting him saying crap like 'you don't have to lie I know now' and 'Its nothing to be embarrassed about, I knew ever since you started to sew'. The last straw for me was when she continued not listening to him and started to ask about how he was gonna come out as school. I yelled at her to get out, That neither of us were gay, Neither of us are trans, And neither of us are apart of any of the lgbtq. We are allies and nothing more. She tried to argue that he had a 'skirt' which OBVIOUSLY meant he was trans, I basically screamed at her that she was a stupid know it all who made everyone who wasn't apart of the lgbtq's life hell because she made sure everyone knew them as someone they arent (I know, I shouldn't of brought up 2 years in the past) and that I was tired of her trying to force everyone to be in the LGBTQ when its just not realistic. Not everyone is gay or trans, Some people are cis and straight. She started crying and left, We haven't spoken in a few days but I think I'm justified. I'm tired of living my life being told I'm something I'm not, I'm tired of seeing it happen to my brother too.

My brother later thanked me for standing up for him, Telling me it made him really upset when she said those things. To cheer him up we watched his favorite movies and I made him his favorite dinner (mom and dad both work day jobs so we both make lunch and dinner)

And for those who are gonna say that allies are apart of the LGBTQ I strongly believe the A is for aro/ace. Being an ally isn't a gender or sexuality

(unless people identify using ally/allyself of course or whatever it is, I'm not quite sure how neos work or whatever but I love to see how creative people get with it and am happy it gives people who don't identify with any of the normalized(? Idk the correct term but yknow the man woman and nb) genders a chance to be who they actually are)

Extra info on why I think I could be the asshole: I feel like we might've been able to explain it if we got her to shut up for a minute, But she kept talking over us. I feel like I went too far by insulting her, And I feel like I might be TA because she's also autistic (so is my brother though, And I have ADHD).

Why I think I'm NTA: My brother is really quiet and doesn't really defend himself often. He doesn't really know how to stand up for himself and is 'easy' to talk over (soft spoken, Quiet talking voice and nonconfrontational) which is why I believe I had to step in in his place, And I don't believe I did anything wrong defending my brother and making her stop calling him what hes not.

Anyways. AITA for yelling at our friend that my brother isn't trans?

To see later: PINK PANTHER

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[superdillin]

Gender! At the Strip Club

How Sex Work Transed my Gender

(but also it's far more complicated than that I just love a punchy headline)

It’s tricky to have a conversation about the realities of sex work in a world that sees things too profoundly in a binary. Admonishing certain realities of it may be misinterpreted as siding with TERF ideology but romanticizing it ignores the complicated intersection of labor exploitation and bodily autonomy inherent to the industry. Because I want to talk about an ultimately positive experience I took away from my time within the industry, I feel that it’s important to start by saying that when people say sex work is work, we mean that it is labor, and needs the support that all laborers need. The workers need organizing power, ownership of the fruits of their labor, and protection from their clients and employers.  

Recognizing the impacts of sex work on my life has been a delayed reaction because ultimately, it was a traumatic time of survival. I spent nearly a decade in Fight or Flight, with no time to analyze what I was experiencing while it was happening. I’m not even blaming the industry for that, because as problematic as it can be, poverty was the true villain, as insecure living situations, unstable work, and working multiple full-time jobs will keep your nervous system in overdrive 24/7. 

So years later, every so often, I find myself with a new lightbulb appearing cartoonishly over my head, drawing another connection from who I am and how I interact with the world today, and how said behavior ultimately originated in a place called Nite Moves, of all things. Some of those behaviors have resolved with time. How I interacted with all cis-men during those years and for a time afterward was undeniably disordered. I inherently distrusted every single one, yet felt like I needed them around at all times for a feeling of safety and security. I kept dangerous men in my life for no good reason. But that went away with time and therapy. Now I distrust cis-men an appropriate amount. (ba dum-tss)

Other things did not resolve with time. My ire for how club owners (often in tandem with security staff) exploit workers and prioritize clients and profits over the safety of dancers? That ire was justified, and all that’s changed now is that I know more about labor organizing, leftist politics and have more context in my belief system to explain why the system is wrong. The other thing that did not resolve is how it made me view myself on the gender spectrum. 

All sex work involves a bit of gender performance, but stripping as a whole is the most hard-line, binary-adjacent area of the industry I’ve dabbled in. Because everyone in the strip club is performing. The dancers are obvious, but if all a client wanted a hot woman to ogle, pornography is cheaper and easier to access. Cam girls can offer you a completely tailored and personalized experience. And no one is more discrete than a full-service worker. Part of why men go to strip clubs is to be perceived in a strip club by other men. It’s a whole gender ritual, even. Half of the men who get taken to these clubs on their birthday or bachelor party have told me in the privacy behind the curtain that they wished they had gone to play pool, camping, or whatever their friend group’s shared interest is. But outside the champagne room, they’re pinching asses,ordering bottle service and getting high-fives for how good they can play this role. 

So, on the converse side of this gender performance, strip clubs tend to encourage the most rigid portrayal of a culturally-accepted femininity, often to the point of a very bad homogenization. On that topic, the lack of racial and body diversity in strip clubs is something people with a better perspective have talked about before, including the Portland Strippers who recently unionized, and the Black Feminisms blog, check those out for more on that perspective. 

So getting ready to work at the average club is not a matter of dressing down and dolling up. You’re trying to fit a very rigid expression of femininity that, if I were a gambling man, would likely not line up with most of the dancers own personal definition of femininity. And the more “high-end” the club, the stricter and more rigid those rules. I’ve seen clubs have restrictions to what the owner thought were the “most feminine” nail polish colors. Hair length mandates. One manager inspected my midsection to make sure it “passed”; if it hadn’t I would be restricted to wearing corset-tops on the floor. 

But for me, it unlocked something personal that I did not expect. I’ve never felt particularly attached to femininity, even when I identified as a woman. Then, I began to appreciate the ritual of putting femininity on as a costume. Once I did, I instantly had an easier time enjoying it. In my subconscious it was clear that this was not me. It was a role, a gimmick I was playing at, and thereby I felt so comfortable indulging in it. The best part, though, was the other ritual at the end of each shift. Taking off the costume, and tucking it away. The blissful comfort I would feel in my own body for the several hours after a shift - no matter what happened that night, no matter how dreadful or dry - I would be reenergized. I literally got to put femininity on like a costume and then take it off again. 

I also found that it shed a light on something interesting about my relationship to girlhood, not just femininity. There are things about girlhood that have always resonated with me in a homey way, sleepover delirium and bar bathroom camaraderie, but those resonances don’t make me feel like any more of a woman. In the strip club, girlhood feels like having an army of girls meet you in the dressing room without you having to ask because they saw how ‘that guy’ was acting, throwing a separate funeral for your friend because none of you would be allowed in at the real one, boycotting a patron who hurt one of you because security refuses to boot him.

I am not a woman. I am trauma-bonded to girlhood from my time spent in the trenches with it. 

I am not a woman. I am whatever is left is left when society’s vision of femininity is shed and packed away.

I am not a woman. But I play a pretty good one when I need to.

#gender #lgbt #trans

[standfucker]

Thoughtful

Happy Valentines, @jadedrrose! I got the pleasure of writing your gift for the @onepiece-blorboexchange​. I hope you like it!

(Sorry it’s a bit over the word count, I have trouble being concise and did my very best! Also sorry I’m a whole hour past the deadline! OTL)

Characters: Ace

Reader: cis fem

Word Count: 5,749

CW: mostly fluff, Explicit N.SFW content, light jealousy, rough sex, marking, sub reader

Summary: Ace had plans for you this Valentine’s Day.

Ao3 Link

You woke up feeling oddly crowded and hot. The reason became rapidly apparent once you shifted and found you had no space to move: Ace had crawled into your hammock at some point while you slept. It wasn’t the first time he had done so, despite not being allowed in the women's quarters. Half-covering your body with an arm around your side, he was currently awake, watching you with nothing short of adoration even though you probably looked a mess.

“Ace?” you mumbled.

“Shh.” He put a finger to his lips, glancing at the other hammocks in the room where the nurses slept.

You lowered your voice to a whisper. “You’re gonna get in trouble again.”

“Worth it, for this,” he whispered back, then pressed a kiss to your lips.

You smiled when he broke away. “I gotta say, it’s not a bad way to wake up.”

“That’s the general idea. I want today to be extra special,” Ace rested his forehead against yours. “Even today, we won’t have much time alone.”

Living with a fleet of over one thousand people meant that time alone with Ace was hard to come by. Valentine's day was no exception. It didn’t take much for the crew to find reasons to celebrate–every holiday was a chance to throw a party, keeping morale high. Still, with the ratio of men to women being almost nonexistent, it meant that there were very few couples among the crew. Given that, you didn’t expect Valentine's Day to be celebrated as well.

Having joined a little less than a year ago, this would be your first one with the crew. And to your surprise, the fleet had docked by a beach the night before with every intention to cut loose today.

Ace reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper, offering it to you.

“What’s this?” you asked, accepting it gingerly.

“It’s the first clue,” Ace said cryptically. “I set up a little game.”

You blinked in surprise, then smiled, your curiosity piqued. “I like games.”

“I know,” Ace grinned, “I–”

“Portdgas D. Ace!” Tate’s shrill rebuke made Ace freeze.

“Oops. Gotta go,” Ace said, hastily exiting the hammock. “See you soon!”

“Ace, get the hell out!”

Ace slid out the door right as Tate’s sandal smacked against it.

You gave Tate an apologetic look. "Sorry..."

"You didn't do anything wrong," she grumbled.

It was nice that Tate didn’t expect you to ‘keep him in check.’ Everyone knew Ace better than that. Not a single crewmate would have put such an impossible task on you, not even Pops himself. When he had first heard that you two started dating, he laughed and wished you luck. Not in a health-and-blessings way, but in a ‘have fun with that’ way.

You unfolded the paper, revealing a line written in his handwriting: ‘Beneath where we first talked.’

That had to mean the Mess Room. You freshened up quickly, eager to see what he had planned, and headed there straight away.

The first time you ever talked to Ace was shortly after you had joined the Whitebeard Pirates. You had stood awkwardly in the Mess Room during lunch, holding your tray nervously, not knowing where to sit among the hundreds of strangers at the tables. Ace had waved you down to come sit next to him, and you ended up talking for hours. He had a way of making you feel at ease with his boyish charm and endless energy.  You two stayed put long after everyone else had left, ignoring your duties in order to keep conversing. Both of you had gotten yelled at for it later.

Ignoring weird looks from other crewmates, you got on your knees and peered under the chair you had sat in that day. A pulse of giddy excitement went through you to see another piece of paper taped to the bottom. This one was folded over itself like a pouch, with something small inside. You pulled it out to find a little wrapped square of chocolate.

No way, you thought, heart swelling in your chest. Ace did this?

You unwrapped the chocolate, popping it into your mouth before reading the clue. It was only two words: ‘First fight.’

That made you frown, unsure of its meaning. You and Ace rarely fought, and when you did, you were always able to talk it out once tensions had cooled. Thinking for a bit, you wondered if he meant ‘fight’ as in sparring–while you couldn’t remember any of your past arguments in detail, the first time you sparred with Ace was particularly memorable.

At the end of the fight, you had Ace pinned to the foremast with a hand around his neck, your arm coal-black with haki. Vista was mentoring you on its usage, and your control was still imperfect. Ace took advantage of that, distracting you with a coy smirk and a "Not gonna lie. This is kind of hot."

Caught off guard and terribly flustered, your control over your haki waned for a just moment. Ace took the chance, dissolving into flames and reforming behind you, wrenching your wrists behind your back and shoving you into the foremast. He leaned in to whisper into your ear. "But I like this better."

Your cheeks warmed at the memory, but sure enough, the next piece of paper was taped to the foremast. This one had a piece of chocolate inside, as well.

The clues were all like that, references to times spent with Ace that led you around the ship. Crewmates hurried around you as you searched, setting up for the day with chairs and blankets and nets for volleyball.

One clue in particular was more poetic than the others, making you smile: ‘With the stars as our witness!’

The crow’s nest, where you had first confessed your feelings for each other. He had kissed you that night, underneath the blanket of stars.

You climbed into the crow’s nest to find Ace waiting there, twirling another piece of paper between his fingers and beaming once he saw you.

“You made it! Good, I wasn’t sure if some of those hints were too vague…” he said.

You crossed the short distance, sat right in his lap, threw your arms around his neck, and kissed him. Ace immediately relaxed into the kiss, reciprocating softly. You were aware of a faint sizzling noise, but didn't realize what it was until the smell of something burning hit your nose–the paper Ace was holding had caught fire in his excitement.

“Oops,” Ace muttered against your mouth, “I’ll just tell you that one.” You giggled as he ran his hands down your back, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer.

The two of you kissed for a long while, not unlike the very first time, caught up in the momentary privacy. You cupped his face once you finally broke apart.

“Ace, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” you said.

“Really? That’s a shame. Sure makes it easier for me to impress you, though,” he joked.

You giggled, looking out over the beach. Crewmates were already starting to enjoy themselves, playing in the surf or sand. “Maybe we can just stay here for a while.”

“We could…” Ace kissed you again. “But there’s no shade up here, and the rest of the clues are on the beach.”

“On the beach?” You pulled away to look at him questioningly. “Did you set this up overnight?”

“I didn’t stay up late, don’t worry. And it’s nothing close to the tide. There aren’t chocolates in those ones, though. I figured they would melt.”

“Just how many clues are left?”

“Not many. You’re halfway done. At the pace you’re going, you’ll probably finish before noon.” Ace looked sheepish. “I thought it would last a bit longer, to be honest.”

“That’s okay!” you said quickly. “I love that you did this for me! It’s been fun. And if you want it to last longer, I can take a break and find the rest of the clues later.”

“Sure, we have all day.” Ace looked out over the beach, squinting at something. “The tide’s out right now. Want to go look at some critters?”

You followed his gaze to the tide pools at the far end of the beach. Both of you shared a love of animals in common. “Yeah, let’s do it!”

Once you descended to the beach, Ace not-so-subtly insisted you coat each other in sunscreen (“Marco says it’s important!”) and you had to tell him to rein it in when he started getting a little too bold with his hands, reminding him that you were surrounded by the family. Maybe he had no shame, but you still got flustered when crewmates teased you over his sometimes-relentless PDA. He also made eyes at you while you spread the sunscreen on his chest, making your cheeks bloom hot despite having been together for months.

“Cut that out,” you muttered, giggling when he started waggling his eyebrows.

The intertidal zone was brimming with life, the curtain of the ocean temporarily lifted to reveal a brief window into the world below the surface. Ace was stepping delicately for once, careful not to disturb anything while mindful to keep in the shallows where the water wouldn’t go past his boots. He pointed out animals in the deeper sections, and you would herd them to swim closer to his feet so he could get a better look.

Colorful anemones and urchins bloomed like underwater flowers, interspersed with barnacles and sea stars clinging to the rocks in a constellation. You watched a crab scuttle away from where you had accidentally disturbed it, hiding from you in the seagrass.

“Hey, check it out!” Ace called. You turned around to see that he had stuck a pair of sea stars over his chest like a bra. “I’m a mermaid~!”

Covering your mouth did little to stifle your laughter, his big, dumb grin almost funnier to you than the act itself. He was just so proud of himself–he always was after making you laugh.

Ace cocked his hip, checking himself out. “Damn, I could give those girls on Fish-Man Island a run for their money.”

“Yes, yes, you’re a very sexy mermaid,” you laughed, stepping over him and reaching for the sea stars, “now put those poor things back.”

Ace turned away from you, covering his chest and squealing girlishly. “No! Don’t strip me!”

“Ace,” you reprimanded, trying again to peel the sea stars off, but he squirmed and pushed you away. You scrabbled to get at them, Ace half-heartedly fighting back, play-wrestling until you were both giggling.

“My virginal body!”

“Ace!” As cute as he was, you didn’t like to remove animals from the water if they weren’t going to be eaten later.

“Fine,” Ace conceded, finally standing still and puffing out his chest for you. “I know you want to see me shirtless.”

“You can’t use that against me because you’re always shirtless.”

“You’re welcome.”

You rolled your eyes, gently prying the first sea star from Ace’s body. Though they had not latched on tight, Ace was not done messing with you, because as you peeled one off, he let out a loud, excessive moan, drawing a few heads.

“Stop!” you hissed, gritting your teeth to keep from laughing again–it would only encourage him.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.”

Ace only said it so you would let your guard down. You really should have known better. He moaned again when you removed the second star, and not expecting it, you were unable to suppress your laugh that time.

“Put them back where you found them,” you said once you composed yourself, handing him the slow-moving invertebrates.

‘It was right here, don’t worry.” Ace crouched down to return the sea stars to the water, bringing him close to your feet. He looked surprised when he stood back up. “Where are your shoes?”

“I’m down to one good pair, and I didn’t feel like getting them wet. It’s fine, I’m watching my step.”

“There could still be venomous animals around here,” he said, playfulness overwritten with concern. “You could also cut your feet on the rocks.”

“I told you I’m being careful. Besides, we got Marco. He could fix it.”

Ace’s face fell a bit at the mention of the phoenix man, an uncharacteristic frown pulling down the corners of his lips at the thought of Marco touching you.

“What?” you said, though you immediately knew what he was thinking about. “Are you still upset by the hip thing?”

A few months ago, a fierce battle with enemy pirates left you with a deep gash low on your hip, beneath your underwear. Marco had to touch the area to heal it, of course. He was nothing but professional, as always when in ‘work mode,’ but Ace had been bothered by the sight regardless.

Ace grinned sheepishly, fully aware of his own shortcomings. “I can’t help it.” He grabbed your hips and pulled you close, practically grinding his crotch into you. One of his hands shamelessly slid below the hem of your pants and underwear, hot fingers tracing the rough scar on your hip. “I should be the only one to touch you.”

You gasped, then quickly regained composure. “Boy…” It was a low warning, one that made him smirk.

“You always react so strongly.”

“Ace–full disclosure,” you started, glancing around at nearby crewmates, “I’m a little blown away by what you’ve done for me today, and at this point… Let’s just say I would be extremely cross with you if you started something you can’t finish.”

Ace’s chuckle was deep in his chest, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine and not helping at all. “And you haven’t even found all the clues yet,” he said smugly.

Your heartbeat had picked up. Even after almost a year, and the new relationship energy wore off, he never failed to make your heart race. You pulled his hand out of your pants, occupying his fingers instead with your own, threading them together with his. He squeezed your hand in response.

“You’re making me more and more curious,” you said. “I want to go find them now.”

“Nooo, do it later.”

His protest was also curious, making you try to figure out why he wanted to postpone the game. Then you recalled an earlier clue.

“Ah, is it maybe… You want me to find the last clue while the stars are out?” you searched his face, knowing you were right when a light blush formed on his cheeks. “You know, Ace, you’re surprisingly romantic.”

His hand still on your hip squeezed, and the smirk returned to his face before he leaned in close to your ear to whisper. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew the kind of thoughts I had about you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you started to feel a little warm in places you’d rather not feel in public. “Ace…”

He pulled back, letting go of your hip but still holding your hand. “Right, right. Don’t start what I can’t finish. Sorry…”

Ace seemed genuinely apologetic, so you took a breath to calm yourself and shook your head. Finding time and space to be intimate felt impossible at times, and only made your craving for each other worse. Sometimes–most times–that meant it was really easy to get riled up, which only led to frustration. But damn if you didn’t want to indulge, especially after all he had done for you.

The tide coming in forced the two of you to return to the sandy part of the beach. Ace was watching a few of the volleyball games that had been going on as you got closer.

“Looks like Marco and Vista are playing volleyball…” he said. There was a playful spark in his eyes when they met yours.

You knew what he was thinking. “You wanna play a game using haki again.”

“You know me so well,” he grinned. “Can’t do it without my number one partner, though–you in?”

“Of course! Just remember–you have to transfer haki to the ball right as you hit it, or it’ll explode from the force.”

“I won’t explode the ball this time!”

You giggled. “I know. I believe in you, babe.”

Ace beamed, a little bounce in his step at the pet name.

Marco and Vista eagerly accepted your challenge–up until then, their games had been normal, even dreary. The game between the four of you was intense and exhilarating, each haki-infused strike of the ball sounding almost like a gunshot. Marco and Vista had a significant height advantage over you and Ace, but the two of you made up for it with sheer grit, spiking the ball back with equally savage blows. You were both competitive types, another trait you shared in common. It may have even been enough to win the game, had Ace not suddenly fallen asleep on the spot.

“Aaand he’s out,” Marco commented, lobbing the ball lightly at Ace’s head, “I guess we win by default, yoi.”

The ball bouncing off Ace’s head did not wake him. It didn’t even knock him over.

“I guess so,” you said between pants, a little more out-of-breath than the endlessly-rejuvenated devil fruit user. “I could use a break, anyway.”

You lugged Ace over your back in a fireman’s carry, seeking out a shady spot to sit. Finding an untaken pool chair beneath the shade of an umbrella, you reclined there, pulling Ace so he was laying back against your chest. Safe with your thousands of brothers dotting the beach around you, cool in the shade, and cozy with your lover snoozing against you, it seemed the perfect chance to nap. You barely had the thought before your eyelids grew heavy and you drifted off.

You thought you woke up before Ace, as he was still laying on you, but when you shook him to wake him, he looked up at you with full alertness.

“Sleep good?” he asked.

“Ugh… Too good. How long was I out?” you said, groggy. It was not your intention to sleep that deeply.

“Not sure. You looked real comfy, though. I didn’t want to wake you.”

You shielded your eyes and looked indirectly at the sun. It was low in its arc, starting to descend. A few hours, then.

“Why don’t we get something to eat–”

“Yes,” Ace agreed before you finished.

“–and then I can find the rest of the clues.” You gently pinched his cheek in retaliation for cutting you off, but he only smiled.

“Sounds like a plan.”

After you both had eaten, Ace told you the next hint, which led you further away from the beach. The next clue was taped high up on a palm tree, forcing you to climb a bit to reach it. Ace knew you could manage it fine, though you still wondered why he placed it up there. However, when you glanced down at him and saw his eyes settled on your ass, the intention became clear.

“You really have no shame,” you said once you hopped down, though your tone was only amused.

“Not my fault,” Ace said, then gave your rear a sudden, firm smack that made you yelp in surprise. “It’s so thick. What else is a guy to do?”

You grabbed the hanging cord of his hat above the skull emblem, pulling his head down so he was looking you in the eye. “I swear to god, Ace, I will slap your ass back and I will use armament haki if I have to.”

“Kinky,” he grinned, unfazed.

Given that there weren’t any crewmates currently around, you let it slide, unfolding the clue. It pointed you toward the opposite end of the beach. The next few clues had you walking all over, you and Ace holding hands as you went. With a gentle breeze piercing the warm air, it was leisurely and relaxing. The sun was setting by the time you ended up standing over a sandy part of the beach, where two sticks were crossed over each other in an ‘X.’

Digging in the sand was your favorite way of finding a clue so far, and when you unearthed the small, copper treasure chest, you were certain this was the final one. You glanced back at Ace in amazement, not having expected a gift. You thought the day was the gift.

Ace was clearly nervous as he watched, which only fueled your curiosity, and you didn’t wait another moment, unlatching the chest and lifting the lid.

Sitting on a white felt backing was a bead necklace, similar to Aces’ in size and shape, except the beads were painted a brilliant cobalt blue, the color instantly triggering a memory of diving in the open ocean.

When you didn’t say anything after a moment, Ace spoke up, sounding as nervous as he looked. “I… I thought we could match… I hope you don’t think it’s cheesy–”

“I love it,” you blurted out. The reason for your pause was awe, at first. Then you had to take a second to collect yourself, getting emotional from the thought behind the gift. “Ace, it’s perfect.”

Tension left Ace’s shoulders, and then he lit up like the fire child he was, seeming to glow with joy, his jubilant grin challenging the beauty of the sunset behind him.

You held the open chest out to him. “Put it on me?”

“Yeah!”

Ace lifted the necklace from the box, focusing very hard so as not to light either on fire in his eagerness, and you bowed your head to let him hang the beads around your neck. His fingers trailed along your collar, making you shiver.

“How’s it look?” you asked, heart pounding.

“You’d look beautiful in a burlap sack,” he said sincerely, “but–damn, babe. It looks even better than I thought it would.”

“I love it,” you said again, reaching to cup his face. Ace automatically leaned into the touch. “I love you.”  You pulled him in for a kiss, and he responded by dropping the empty chest to wrap his hands around your lower back, pulling you against him.

Ace broke away for a second to say “I love you too–” but you silenced him with your mouth, because obviously–he didn’t need to say it after all of today. He got the idea, melting back into the kiss, teeth closing on your bottom lip gently to make your breath hitch.

Feeling yourself getting heated and knowing you could do nothing to sate it right there, you reluctantly pulled away after only a minute. Ace seemed to understand that, too, not pursuing your lips for another kiss but just pressing his forehead to yours in quiet affection.

“There’s one last clue,” he murmured. “It was under the necklace.”

“Really? Another?” you said, surprised.

“Just for fun.” Ace released you to pick up the chest he had dropped, peeling off the clue taped to the inside and offering it to you. Right before you could take it, he jerked his hand away. “One last thing–you can’t look at it right away. You have to give me sixty seconds to hide.”

“To hide?”

Ace’s grin promised mischief, setting the paper into your hand. “The last clue leads to me.”

“Oh?”

“You’ll see! Close your eyes and start counting.”

Normally you’d give him a suspicious look, but at this point you would have gone along with almost anything he proposed. “Alright…”

You covered your eyes and started mentally counting, hearing Ace giggle and take off. He was gone by the time you reached sixty, and you started heading back toward the more occupied part of the beach. A raging bonfire had been built over the last hour, almost as big as Whitebeard himself, crewmates drinking and laughing and roasting marshmallows around it. You kept your distance for now, walking where the waves skimmed over the shore and tickled your bare feet, admiring the reflection of the stars in the water.

Right as you unfolded the clue, a beach ball whizzed by, smacking into your hands and knocking the paper from your grip. The clue fluttered away before you could grab it, landing on the sand just in time for a wave to roll over it.

“Sorry!” someone called as you scrambled to get the paper before it was washed away. You managed to retrieve it in time, but the ink on the paper had bled so badly it was completely illegible. You sighed heavily before plucking the beach ball and tossing it back.

At a loss without any hints and with little choice, you started searching on your best guesses, scouring the beach for where Ace could be. After a fruitless half-hour, you couldn’t help but wonder if something had happened. What if he was hiding by the water and fell asleep? If he fell into the water while hiding, no one would spot him in time. The thought was a bit paranoid, but it ate at you until you decided to ask for help, finding Marco standing a ways away from the bonfire.

"Hey, Marco!"

"Hey, yourself," Marco said, cheerful expression faltering at the sight of the worry in your face. "Is everything okay, yoi?"

"It's Ace. We’re playing hide-and-seek, but I can't find him anywhere," you said. "I know it sounds dumb, but I can't help worrying that he fell into the water or something."

"Hmm…" Marco narrowed his eyes, scanning the beach. He smiled. "You sure he just doesn't have a clever hiding spot?"

"I hope that's all it is, but I can't figure it out! Can you help me?"

"Sure. I know how to draw him out." Marco beckoned you closer.

"How?"

"Like this, yoi." Marco slung his arm around the back of your neck, pulling you in close. Far too close, his face–and lips–only inches from yours.

"Marco?!" You pulled back, immediately uneasy, but were held in place by his firm hold.

"Relax. Look…" Marco released you, tilting his head in the direction of the bonfire.

The bonfire flickered, then something within it solidified, forming the shape of a person. Ace stepped out of it a moment later, kicking up sand as he stomped over to where you were.

Of course–it was obvious in hindsight. Relief flooded through you, though it was slightly offset by Ace’s glare. It was entirely directed at Marco, however, and Ace stepped right between the two of you, one arm held out protectively as he faced the blond. Even though you trusted Marco with your life, the sight of Ace’s back was still comforting.

“Oi, pineapple head,” Ace said thickly, “what was that supposed to be?”

“Chill. I was just getting your attention,” Marco replied smoothly, unbothered.

“There are better ways to do that. Ones that don't involve making her uncomfortable.”

At that, Marco paused, a flash of guilt crossing his face. “You're right, you're right.” He looked past Ace at you, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Y/n.”

“Apology accepted, don’t do it again, etcetera,” you said, waving it off. “Next time, use your words.”

Ace wasn’t as easily assuaged, standing rigid and fixing Marco with a dirty look. You took his wrist, guiding him away before he worked himself up any further.

“Come on, Ace. It’s fine,” you reassured. Ace let you lead him for a minute, then suddenly twisted his wrist out of your grip and grabbed yours instead, starting to pull you in the other direction.

“Ace?” you questioned, but he didn’t respond, walking briskly until you had reached one of the changing rooms that dotted along where the sand turned to packed dirt. Ace dragged you inside, shut the door, melted the metal lock in place, and promptly pushed you against the wall.

You gasped at the force he used, his grip tight around your arms. He followed with his body, pressing his entire torso against yours, pinning you in place with his hips. A pulse of excitement had run through you as soon as he melted the lock, and you were already breathing heavier from the dark intent radiating off of him.

Ace dipped his head to kiss you, claiming your lips more roughly than usual. You accepted the advance enthusiastically, parting your lips when his tongue traced along them, letting him explore the shape of your mouth as if he had never done so before.

“Didn’t like that,” Ace pulled away to mutter before kissing you again.

“I–kind of–figured,” you said between kisses, pushing him back so you could speak properly. “You know I’m not interested.”

“I know.” He dove right back in, this time kissing along your jaw. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

You saw an opportunity suddenly, a chance to push him a little. He couldn’t see your conspiratory smile, but he heard the devilishness in your voice when you said, “Well… Maybe you should be.”

Ace paused.

“On second thought, he’s kind of attractive, in an older-man sort of way.”

You felt Ace’s lips curl into a smirk against your jaw. He knew the game, knew what you were seeking. His body started emanating heat to an unnatural degree, an odd side-effect of his devil fruit whenever he got really excited, and his burning hands slid down your arms to your wrists. He lifted them above your head, practically slamming them to the wall.

“Don’t test me,” Ace growled in your ear, deep timbre going straight between your legs. He grinded his crotch into yours, the prominent bulge showing that he did not mind being ‘tested’ as much as he said, and your gasp turned into a little moan.

“But, Ace,” you panted, “I mean, forty years old–think of the experience.”

His grip around your wrists tightened almost painfully. “You know, Y/n, I wasn’t going to leave any marks,” he said, lips skimming down your neck, “but now, I’m going to make sure the whole damn fleet knows who you belong to.”

Ace sank his teeth into where your neck met your shoulder, making you cry out and buck your hips into his, whimpering when he started sucking on the spot. He started another mark higher up, and then another, like he was ensuring no collar would be enough to hide his work. His tongue and teeth made your knees weak, heat pulsing at the apex of your thighs from the assault and from his needy rutting. After the teasing throughout the day, it took little for you to grow wet, and when Ace shoved his hand down your pants to cup your cunt, he felt it, groaning and thrusting into you harder.

“Ace,” you whined. “Please.”

No matter how far you had pushed him, he could never say no to you. Ace released your wrists to hastily remove his pants, and you did the same with yours, the both of you far past eager to feel each other . He didn’t even bother with your shirt, grabbing your ass and lifting you up to push you harshly against the wall, hips flush with yours. It always made your heart skip at how effortless it was for him. Even if he didn’t look as buff as some of the frankly ridiculous crewmates you lived with, Ace’s strength was no joke.

“Please,” you whimpered again when he rutted the length of his rigid cock along your slit.

“Just a little more. Beg for it again,” he commanded.

“Please, Ace! I need you! God, I’ve been wanting this all day–”

You didn’t need to say any more, Ace lining himself up and sheathing himself in one thrust that stole the breath from the both of you. His next one had you both moaning shortly, his head falling to your shoulder as he started a brisk, firm pace. There was no gentleness behind the unrelenting snap of his hips, giving you exactly what you had asked for with your taunting.

As a haki-wielding warrior of the Whitebeard Pirates, it was difficult to make you feel weak in any way. Ace did a fantastic job of it, fingers digging into your ass hard enough to bruise, growling as he drove into you mercilessly, your back scraping against the wall with each thrust. You gripped his shoulders tightly, unable to suppress your noises from the rough treatment.

“Fuck, Y/n. You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, “can’t believe I bother holding back around the crew. I ought to just take you whenever I please–wherever I please.”

You moaned, pressure building deep inside you. “Ace!”

“I bet you’d like that, huh?” He adjusted you slightly, angling himself to target your g-spot, making your toes curl and your head thump back against the wall. “After all, Y/n… You’re mine.” He punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust. “Aren’t you?”

You tried to form a response, but found even simple words struggling to form, the drag of his cock and the spiking of the mounting pressure within you both overwhelming.

“Can’t even talk, huh?” Ace smirked. “You think anyone else can fuck you this good?”

All you could do was moan as you rolled your hips to meet his, one hand falling to rub your clit desperately. Sensing you were close, Ace pulled you away from the wall to bounce you directly on his length, your weight dragging you down so he was tapping deep.

It only took a few more thrusts before you were coming hard, spasming around his length with a sharp cry as pleasure overwrote your senses. Ace nearly whimpered from the sensation, muffling his noise by biting your shoulder again, unintentionally enhancing the effect as he fucked you through your orgasm. He kept even going after it had subsided, tipping from euphoric into overstimulating, making you twitch and keen helplessly.

Finally taking mercy on you, Ace slowed to a stop, resting you back against the wall but not pulling out.

“Oh, fuck,” you managed to breathe out, trembling all over. “Oh, Ace… D-Did you cum?”

“Nah,” Ace said, leaning in to kiss you, hot and passionate. “Gonna make you cum at least one more time first. Don’t know when we’ll get another chance like this, and all.”

You fingered the beads of your necklace, a smile stretching your lips. “My thoughtful man,” you crooned, making him grin and kiss you again. “In that case, don’t keep me waiting.”

Ace would never have dreamed of such a thing.

#one piece smut #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagines #reader insert #zen writes #the word count on the word doc and the AO3 one are not the same and im not sure why but im too tired to check right now #I will look into it later

[julieverne]

Jane's broken up with men for a lot of stupid reasons.

For Joey it was cheating off her test. And calling her frog face.

For Steve it was the movie he chose.

For Martinez it was getting her CI killed. Not just that, but physically preventing her from going after her when she could have made a difference.

For Dean it was making her shoot Maura's father. For making Maura hate her, however brief that hate might have been. She wished Paddy had killed him. Still does sometimes, when she remembers the anger and hurt on Maura's face. Sometimes she wishes she'd shot him instead of Paddy for setting that whole thing up. For using her to get a lead.

But for Casey it was because he threw out the Marmite.

"Maura gave me that," Jane said, digging through the trash can, looking for that flash of yellow that always brightened her day.

"I got you a new one. One that's not expired," Casey said, putting it on the counter as though that made anything any better.

"Where is it?"

"I took the garbage out after you left this morning. It's gone." The congenial smile left his face, followed by concern.

"I told you not to touch it. Get out." Jane opens the door and watched as he packed quickly. She locked the door behind her, heading for the back of the building.

"I'm sorry," he called after her, but she was already vaulting into the dumpster.

---

When Maura's hand tapped the side of the dumpster, Jane's head popped over the edge, still scowling.

"Frankie said you needed Marmite," Maura said, holding up a jar. Jane shook her head, disappearing, rustling through the trash like a racoon. Occasionally Maura heard the thump of Jane hitting the dumpster in anger, or her swearing at touching something gross. "If I call Frankie, you know he's going to jump in." Jane's head appeared, filthy but excited.

"Yeah, call him. He's real good with trash. Oh. OH!" Jane disappeared again, coming up triumphantly with a jar of Marmite clenched in her hand. "YEAH!" Jane yelled, her adrenaline pumping. Maura moved forward to help her out of the dumpster, then stepped back. She grabbed a hose on the side of the building, taking the Marmite with a glove from her bag before hosing off Jane, arms spread wide and face turned to the sky, smile on her face without a care in the world.

Jane left puddles in the hall. Maura shoved her in the shower fully dressed, then went out to mop up after her so the HOA didn't try to kick her out again.

Jane came out in a towel using a second towel to dry her hair, occasionally sniffing herself.

"I think I'm clean. Am I clean?" Maura leaned forward and sniffed Jane, giving an impressed smile. "Okay I'm clean. Which isn't saying much because half the time we both smell like a deco." Jane threw herself on the couch. Maura had picked up some disinfectant wipes and started cleaning the original jar of Marmite, sitting beside Jane.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jane groaned and turned away.

"He threw out my stuff, Maura, there's nothing to talk about."

"Frankie said Casey said you kept yelling that I gave it to you, and how dare he. He's staying with Frankie, by the way. He seems to think you broke up with him over Marmite."

"Not the Marmite." Jane sighed. "I leave it on the counter so I see it every day. So I remember that no matter what godawful kind of day I've had, you're my friend again. That we're still friends. The little flash of yellow makes me think maybe it's not so bad. That I'm not so bad. It's like... forgiveness? Absolution? Something. It's stupid, but it's something you gave me. You get it, don't you? And it felt like he was throwing you away. It told him not to, and he did it anyway, in my house. It was really disrespectful, and I don't take disrespect. Not any more. It felt like he was trying to replace you. It made my skin crawl."

"So you went dumpster diving for two hours? Jane. I have spare Marmite. I've given you lots of things over the years. Why the Marmite?" She tilted her head, genuinely curious. Jane looked down at her hands.

"It was the first thing you gave me. After Hoyt. We were just getting to be friends. You were opening my jars for me. And you gave me this." Jane picked it up and looked at it. "And you said I'd be able to open it myself one day, and if I never did then you'd do it for me. And I never opened it because I knew I could call you. And you'd come. You'd be here, and you'd open it. When we were fighting I moved it to my bedside table and I stared at it every night. But I never called."

"I would have come," Maura admitted. "I didn't realise you'd attached so much significance to such an unassuming object."

"It's a metaphor or something, right? A simile?"

"Symbolic," Maura corrected her gently. Jane shot her a grin, picking up the jar. "Don't," Maura said when Jane reached for the lid.

"Why not?"

"If it's a symbol, let it be a symbol. So you know, any time you need me. You can call. And I'll come. Even if it's to open your expired Marmite. It's a promise, Jane, and I take those seriously." Jane shrugged, trying to hide her smile, and grabbed the new jar, twisting the top off easily, dipping her finger in.

"Oh YUCK! That is rank, Maura." Jane gagged.

"You were in a dumpster for two hours and you regularly hang out with corpses. You can handle a little Marmite."

"It wasn't about the Marmite," Jane admitted, looking over at Maura. "It just made me think he was trying to make room for himself in my life by getting rid of you. And nothing is ever going to get you out of my life. Not Casey, not Hoyt, not Dennis. No one. Nothing. You know that, don't you?"

Maura wet her lips with her tongue nervously.

"What if I said I was jealous of Casey?"

"I'm done with Casey. You don't need to be jealous of him. You won't walk in on us again." Jane shot Maura a nervous grin. "We can jog whenever you like."

"No, Jane, I mean - I wasn't just jealous of him taking up your time. I was jealous because -" Maura bit her thumbnail and looked at it absently. "Because he got to be with you. He got to date you. He got to -" Maura blinked rapidly and looked away, grabbing her bag and getting to her feet.

"Maura." Jane's low voice stopped her. Made her turn back to the couch to see Jane's anguished face. "I wouldn't spend two seconds in a dumpster for anything he gave me," Jane admitted.

"Okay," Maura said slowly. "So where does that leave us?"

"I've been trying to figure that out for a while." Jane screwed the cap back on the Marmite and put it down, making a decision and getting to her feet. She strode over to Maura in two short steps and kissed her.

They'd kissed before, on the cheek. Both cheeks when Maura was feeling cosmopolitan. But never quite on the mouth. Circling, perhaps, drawing closer every time. But Jane, emboldened by her near loss of something incredibly important, went for it, pressing her lips to the soft mouth she watched so often, feeling Maura open up to her, hearing Maura's purse drop to the floor.

"You taste terrible," Maura said when Jane pulled away. Her face and chest were flushed, and her hand was on Jane's ass under the towel.

"I taste like Marmite," Jane said, quirking her eyebrow and leaning in again.

---

Casey always maintained that Jane had broken up with him over a stupid jar of Marmite, but Jane knew that she had a good reason. The best reason.

She had Maura.

#rizzoli and isles #rizzles #rizzoli & isles #maura isles #jane rizzoli #rizzles fanfic

[twinkpeaked]

my trans\genderfluid non-complete story as a young transmasc for all the other young transmascs out there

(Im jumping to to teenagehood immediately cuz childhood is just another paragraph)

The start of it (body image)

Idk if this is niche but figuring out im trans has second handedly cured my eating disorder. Let me elaborate. Ive always been skinny, not sickly skinny but overall just skinny. Then i turned 15. I just didn't feel right in my skin and there were a lots of posts about ana and all that stuff and i said yup. That must be it. I need to starve i need to be those idealised pics thats been going around to finally feel at peace in my own skin. But as time went on it just didn't feel right, i starved i was miserable i pushed everybody away (cuz thats illness like that does to you traps you in a little cocoon away from everyone you ever cared about, pitifully sitting feeling sorry for yourself) those posts never resonated with me, you know people glamorising their sickness, the body checking, and plainly bragging about how little they ate and how wonderfully the number on the scale went down. It never resonated. I didn’t care to be the smallest person in the room, i fucking loved food and the whole idea seemed rather silly to me. Immature. Fast-forward to me age 17, started recovery because again starving was not my answer to why i didn't feel comfortable in my body, and here where things started to change.

Realization

I started thinking why every time i envision myself i see a boy, why every fictional character that i wanted to be and resonated with was a boy. Ironically i was even using he\him pronounce on all of my social media, it just felt right. Yes i started recovery (and its so much worth it 100% no regrets at all) but i was still miserable and i think that summer i was at my lowest with my own identity.

Features

My hair was long. I hated my hair. I hated looking at it. I hated people complimenting it. I hate the way it felt on my shoulders. Same with my curves. I didn’t have a big chest per se but it still wasn’t as flat as i fantasised about (another thing that didn’t resonate with me, everybody on these ed filled spaces wanted to keep their chest and felt sad when they didn’t) and overall the hourglass figure. How deeply i despised it.

Taking action

Fast-forward uni started. And oh boy. Everybody was expressive with their identity, different hair colors different haircuts and styles and i was at my most miserable. Started cutting my hair. It was short, not boyish, still felt uncomfortable. Changed my entire wardrobe to whatever the guys on my Pinterest boards were wearing, finally we’re getting somewhere. Cut my hair shorter, boyishly, didn’t go to a solan because they never succeeded the first time. And let me tell you this, cutting my hair by myself was the most humiliating thing i’ve ever done and it is the most rewarding. To have your gender crisis in public is character building, and it showed me that i’m capable of doing anything if it meant having peace within myself. The hair was a mess. I showed up everyday with different hairstyle different hair length and my cutting wasn’t perfect i’m sure it looked horrendous from behind, but i didn’t care. Or i did but there’s nothing i can do about it it’s either that or loathing myself and i chose the former. Anyway. Then i got a binder. Things have turned 180 degrees (get yourself a binder!). I was my most confident. Hair like a boy’s, so was my chest.

Envy

I still get dysphoric. hell more than ever, voice dysphoria, body dysphoria, height dysphoria, even neck dysphoria. And i am very envious of men. Just daydreaming my time away if i was born cis. and even other trans ones. living in a place where its not safe to come out and there’s no treatment whatsoever i.e no testosterone shots, no top surgery and if i came out and asked for these i’d probably be put in a mental hospital with sever religious supervision.

Afterthoughts

So for anyone struggling out there with the injustice of the world i hear you. But don’t let it deprive you from who you actually are, seek any gender affirming act no matter how small it is. Just because the environment around you is trying to suppress you doesn’t mean you let it. And please please be compassionate with yourself. the world is cruel enough doesn’t mean you have to be too.

#i probably missed a lot of details this not all not even close to all of it #you can share your experience or if you’ve relate to anything or experienced something similar i’d love to hear #transmasc #transgender #trans boy #trans man #trans joy #nonbinary #trans pride #transgenderism #genderfluid #genderqueer #gender identity #trans community #trans stuff #trans struggles #trans story #ed mention #gender dysphoria #body dysphoria #transmaculine

[ggreactionsandscenarios]

I’d like Any cute fluffy Wendy (RV) scenario, please. The story is up to you. Lots of cute kisses please! Thanks

Wendy x Reader

Speed dating

Here you were again, attending a super cringe speed dating afternoon because of your older sister.

She kept forcing you to go to those things even though you repetitively expressed how much you hated it.

The guys went on and on, not one being slightly interesting and to be honest at some point you figured that your interest had been picked elsewhere.

A few tables away, towards the back of the coffee shop you were in, was a really cute girl. Dark hair, fair skin and beautiful smile, she seemed as bored as you and you noticed how the guy in front of her was the one who kept talking about how loaded he was when he talked to you.

You could feel her disgust from here.

"Ding !"

At every bell's sound the guys were to change tables (pretty misogynistic you thought).

As a new guy sat down you couldn't pay less attention to what he was saying, only pretending to listen by nodding which went unnoticed by him. Cis men sure have a way to talk to themselves.

As you were focused on the faraway table, you caught up on the fact she was about to have enough and almost ready to leave. She kept checking the time on her watch and throwing glance at the door, almost ready to run away at any moment.

As the bell rang, you rushed to her table, not even taking the time to bid goodbye to your so called 'date'.

When you got to her she was packing her things in her bag. You coughed to get her attention, making her bang her head against the table.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry !"

Without thinking you got to her side checked her head. When you realised that maybe you shouldn't do that for a stranger and it might make her uncomfortable. You took a step back, apologizing again, quite ashamed of how bad you messed up.

Because you were hiding your own embarrassment, you failed to notice the way her cheeks had turned red.

Before you both fell into an awkward silence, you tried to regain composure.

"Sorry can we try this again ?" You asked scratching the back of your head.

The girl gave you the sweetest smile, encouraging you to go on.

"I'm Wendy."

"I'm Y/N, I noticed you were getting ready to leave. I'd like to be your last date if you'll let me. I can let the guy obsessed with his Porsche be the last person you see on a date today."

She laughed at the comment.

"Oh my god, you got him too. I swear at some point I wanted to crash his porsche just to give him a reason to talk about it."

You both laughed at that, bonding over the fact that this man was a douch. When you laughs died down, she looked at you and smiled.

"And yes I'd like it if you were my last date, please take a sit."

You did and there you spent the best day ever.

You talked for hours not minding the bell, however at some point it had to come to an end.

All the other participants were getting ready to leave and you both looked at each other sadly. Clearly neither of you wanted to part ways, so you got idea.

"Would you maybe like to have a second date with me ? One with less bell ringing maybe ?"

"I'd love that actually."

You agreed to meet up the next day in front of this same coffee shop and ever since it became your meet up point.

Like today, for your 1st anniversary.

The only big change is that you never get greeted by a simple 'hello' anymore but rather by a love attack.

Wendy would indeed come running in your direction, tackling you in a hug and a good amount of kisses. Today was no exception.

"Let's go ?"

She denied your request.

"Not yet I still want to kiss you."

And she did, you only left for your date ten minutes later.

Based on a dream I had, hope you like it -Ael

#kpop girls #girl group #girlfriend #girl group scenarios #red velvet wendy #red velvet #red velvet scenarios #rv wendy #wendy red velvet #son wendy #rv seungwan

[julien5-malfunction]

24012024

Kinda venting since Reddit is down ???

CW[ Trans stuff and kinda se*ual harrasment, I suppose]

I wanted to post this in the FTM subreddit but idk why whole Reddit seems to be down atm???

So I get like 30+ incels adding me on snapchat for the past week or two, and most of them just whine for pics or nudes. This one specific guy actually talked to me for a bit so I didn't dispose him right away. So I crack jokes at him for about three days and I think I told him that, imo, he was boring bc he just talked about how much he wanted to showe his dick into every possible hole of mine. And I tolerated this and proceeded to crack random shit at him, now he is like

'I'm boring so no boobs right?'

I awnsered 'I don't send those kind of pictures to anybody'.

-'bye then.

-'lol' then I deleted him.

Like why and when did snapchat turn into this pussy hunting game, where I'm like the unwanted prey, bc I'm not willing to send even regual pictures of my face to pussy hungry men like that. What the fuck, seriously.

The just the amount of convos that go like; they ask me, age? location? pic? And I awnser those. The convo ends when I say I'm a fucking tranny or that I don't do pics, is just way too high to find this incel carousel entertaining anymore.

Neveg mind the few times people send pics of dicks without asking if I give a shit about that OR EVEN ASKING MY AGE FIRST. Like, I could have been under age!!! wtf!!!

And this ONE discusting shit, sent me videos of his junk and proceeded to VIDEO CALL ME MULTIPLE TIMES IN A ROW, I told him not to do that, and when asked what his problem was, he just replied 'sex' to everything. Reported him. Not cool.

At least some just go 'ok' and ghost you after telling them they ain't getting any fun out of you or they ask if you wanna see their junk, before they just shove it into your face. Like thanks for being even that much considerate.

But for real, I feel targetted on snapchat.

Another completely different, but kind of related source of anxiety for me now, is that the another care company wants me to take part in their group things or hang out on their little HQ, and I'm not comfortable around cis-boys. I'm more comfortable being in a group with queer ppl or girls, since none of those have treated me like a sex object or tried to do things to me.

Girls usually don't give a shit about me or I think some might talk shit about me bc I'm not pretty or skinny and I dress a little weird. Queer peple are usually neutal, some even talk to me a little.

But boys... see me as a girl or an object, no matter what. This might be cause I was always put in the same box with the girls in school and most of all people I had in my life, have been women. I guess I just see them as a scary, diffirent breed now, bc the few male people I did know, treated me that way.

I just feel like I'll never fit anywhere. I hate my body. I hate that I'm so tired all the time. I hate that I cannot change things that cause me pain and the people who could do that, won't. I wish I was in a diffirent body, some one else, like a bimbo girl bc that's ehat people want, right. Or just plain dead.

I just want to be alone but sometimes it just really sucks but when I'm given a chance to be around people I remember why I can't stand being around others.

#vent #transgender #self h@te #tw: harrasment #i want to be alone #i wanna die #I can't even fucing talk to people anymore bc the moment I spill about the nasty depressive shit I trigger someone #I'm a broken record #i can't get over this

[redheadbigshoes]

Hi ya'll 🌻anon here! I wanted to thoughtdump after seeing someone post 'I see all this discourse about queer identity and labels and i kinda agree but disagree with both of them but I just call myself queer' and like, it struck me that a lot of people might not know how important queer identities are for some people?

I grew up in a small town in the deep south, heavily indoctrined by a christian family, homophobic and transphpbic media, and hostile culture, it was isolating and grew self-hatred into me that I still struggle with. I literally didnt have a word for 'gay woman' or being transgender until college, I did not know these were possible, that other people who felt like I did existed.

While I was starting transition, my therapist withheld hormones from me unless I was actively dating a man, and combined with internalized transphobia telling me no cis woman woupd ever see me as a woman, and internalized homophobia telling me that I should just be straight, I was suffering being indoctrinated again that you cant be a woman without being attracted to men.

Without the identity, the language of lesbianism, I honestly wouldn't be here today, I was self-harming and suicidal until I was able to get hormones away from my therapist and be myself. I had language to communicate to others how I felt, a community of people who felt like I do that I can talk about these experiences with.

I think people who aren't part of any particular queer identity, or aren't invested in one, have trouble understanding how it opens up our world, we don't live in a magical fantasy world where everybody has knowledge of all of the spectrum of human experiences and and nobody faces discrimination or oppression for their differences.

So yeah, it matters that we have language for an idea that may save someone's life, sue me for caring about that.

-🌻

Hi!

A lot of people since labels are not important for them they treat as if they aren’t important for anyone else. People need to understand if they do decide to label themselves with something specific, the least they could do is respect the label’s meaning.

If our society wasn’t misogynistic, homophobic, racist and transphobic labels wouldn’t be so important.

A straight person doesn’t really care about the fact they’re straight and keep using that label every time, and that’s because they have their rights and experiences respected.

If lesbians were respected (or if any other identity that’s a minority) we wouldn’t keep needing to remind people of who we are and fight for our rights.

And not only that, language exists for communication, and communication exists to facilitate things. Misusing words and ignoring their meanings isn’t doing anything, that’s not helpful and that’s only making communication difficult.

#stephanie answers #🌻 anon #long post

[eroticcannibal]

I’ll just get this out of the way: I believe in transandrophobia or whatever people want to call it, I believe in listening to trans mens experiences.

BUT. I cannot stand most of the big people on here who discuss it for reasons similar to the recent post you made about how privileged women still experience violence.

I once saw a thread of trans men all saying that cis white women who fear violence and being kidnapped murdered, shouldn’t fear that, and that any cis white woman who is scared of misogynistic violence has just been brainwashed by mainstream true crime and crime shows, and a couple people said “lol they don’t want you why are you scared”.

I am a white cis girl (I’m also a trans guy but that’s not super relevant rn lol). I fully know my privilege and frequently have discussions along the subject of white privilege with friends of color. I don’t shy away from the topic.

but I have almost been kidnapped twice in the short 18 years I’ve been on this planet. One of my earliest memories is that experience in a shopping mall. Every cis girl I know, white or not, has had real life experience at least once with this kind of thing.

and when I saw that thread, it made me feel ill. To me it feels like so many other trans guys on here decided that the “being a man doesn’t make you bad” doesn’t apply to any other privileged group because they didn’t want to be seen as deniers of other forms of privilege. I also saw an entire thread where a shit ton of trans guys were literally saying that, because white cis women are the physical “vessels of the white race”, then apparently we are not at risk of domestic violence because cis white men need us to keep their dream of a white supremacist world alive. and many people responded with righteous outrage just to be dismissed as “well they are just trying to defend white women”.

the fucking rampant misogyny in these spaces is so fucking hard to deal with, and they complain all day about how people ignore issues men have, then turn around and act like one form of privilege means your other experiences of oppression don’t matter.

so long story short thank you for those posts I’ve been so ducking exhausted lately trying to find a balance between discussing transandrophobia with other transmascs, and protecting my mental health from all the misogyny in those spaces. it’s so fucking tiring.

U get it. U get it. And yeah this sickening attitude towards women is rampant in spaces that support the idea of transandrophobia (and honestly I think this most recent wave of "progressive" misogyny is squarely on trans men who believe in transadrophobia, and insay that as one of them) I wasn't sure if I was gonna call out that group specifically myself but since u bring it up!

Also I think we saw the same post cus that sounds like one of a few that set me off lol

Like im not even shocked at ur experiences there. I have experienced and seen some SHIT while playing the role of a white cis woman. And it was all normal. The women who raised me to always be on guard did that for a reason. The distrust of men among white women isnt from brainwashing, its from knowing half your friends were molested by their male relatives and seeing their mothers get beat every evening.

But also that other example you discuss... now I've not seen it in these spaces specifically but I have seen *some* people dismissing violence against white women due to something something white supremacy and just. Its truly sickening. Its evil. (And shows a fundamental misunderstanding of white supremacy, female subjugation is an intrinsic part of it).

And yeah like you say. Any time someone brings attention to any of this shit its "how dare you defend WHITE women". As if they arent still women.

And especially when the social space i occupy still overlaps with the experiences considered that of white women, when I'm facing these justified fears of violence (again) in my day to day life.... yeah. Its fucking exhausting. When the spaces that claim to support my experiences as a man dismiss my experiences and fears because those are the experiences and fears of icky white women. (When they arent even mutually exclusive categories, and even people like me and the most cis of cis women have more in common than difference)

#ppl dont touch if u arent willing to approach this with compassion

[sophieinwonderland]

So *now* you agree that "sysmed" is transphobic? Y'know.. after we've been saying that for ages - of course, when anti-endos think it's transphobic it's not, but when pro-endos do, it is? You have GOT to get your opinions straight, you go through stances like a revolving door

Context is important.

"Sysmed" was coined by trans systems who felt that the ways medicalist views on systemhood harmed them was similar to how transmed views did.

It's not transphobic for trans systems to draw an association between two groups that have abused them. But it is a huge red flag for the system medicalists to say "yeah, you know, we actually are like that other group that abused you."

There are some terms that you just don't want to "reclaim." Ones that create associations like this with groups responsible for oppression and harm are among those.

Another example of a term like this might be "feminazi," drawing an association between two different groups. If feminists were to attempt to reclaim the term feminazi and go by it proudly, they would probably lose a lot of support from marginalized communities.

Now, feminazi is obviously several degrees different. It's not coined by a group who was oppressed or harmed by actual Nazis. It's actually coined and popularized by straight white cis men in the political party most likely to support actual neo-Nazi groups. In the case of the term feminazi, the comparison boils down to the people who are actually associated with taking away the rights of marginalized people saying "see, women wanting equal rights are actually the real Nazis here!"

Because of this, both the term itself and attempts at reclaiming it are problematic.

In the case of sysmed, again, the ones who coined this were transgender. Many are non-dysphoric, who were directly harmed by transmeds and their rhetoric. There is also a pretty big overlap between the two groups. Maybe not every sysmed is a transmed, but the majority of transmeds are also sysmeds.

It's not transphobic for victims of transmeds and sysmeds to make a comparison of the two groups who have hurt them.

But if the system medicalists want to "reclaim" the term and use it as a self-identifier, it will drive a wedge between them and the transgender community.

And remember, this wouldn't be the first time anti-endos have associated themselves with groups oppressive to the LGBT community. Remember the endophobic pride flag, using language commonly associated with people who hate homosexual and transgender people as self-descriptors?

I'm still amazed that over 200 people gave that likes.

If the anti-endo community wants do this, I won't stop them. I would love nothing more than for the anti-endo community to get so ostracized from the mainstream LGBT community so hard that they're left without any allies except for transmeds and TERFs.

The sooner the anti-endo community self-destructs, the better. And "reclaiming" terms like this feels like an excellent way to hasten its end.

#syscourse #lgbt #transgender #trans community #lgbtq #lgbtqia #endogenic #pro endo #pro endogenic #system #system stuff #lgbt discourse #politics #political #multiplicity #plural #systems #plurality #endogenic system #actually a system

[aeide-thea]

Some Small Dumb Projects Wot Yrs Truly Has Tackled Lately, all of which (it should be emphasized) involved some degree of experimentation that would probably scandalize actual experts:

experimentally felting a bit of roving onto the threadbare heel of an old smartwool sock as a patch. we will see how this goes! an obvious problem with this approach is that if yr sock becomes too much felt and too little knit you will no longer be able to get it onto yr foot. also frankly highly probable that i haven't felted the patch on *enough* and it will pull away either in the wash or in the wearing. but worth a try, i thought! shd note that bc the roving i have is vaguely cream-colored, while the sock in question is dark brown, the fibers of the patch are absolutely visible on the outside and it looks very stupid. fortunately i find that charming!

rebuilding the heels of my birks, which, yes, i DO wear with increasingly-thick socks as long into the fall as i can get away with it. glad the fashion world is coming around on this deeply gorpcore move. but anyway: i have been a heel dragger since my stroller days and continue to be, so that portion of my soles reliably wears away disproportionately quickly. Real Birkenstock Repair Places, understandably, want more money than i want to pay them to fix this, so instead i bought a bit of foam sheeting for a dollar at michaels a while back, along with some contact cement, and have been cutting out little heel pads, cementing them on, and then cutting/sanding to size. it honestly works pretty well! really the only downside is that because the foam i bought is softer than the original soling, it needs redoing more often; someone on etsy sells half-sheets of actual birk soling foam for less than ten bucks last i checked, so at some point i might try getting some and seeing how that goes. (it would alter the process slightly because in order to preserve the treading pattern, which my current foam doesn't have, i'd need to cut away the relevant portion of the preexisting sole, rather than just sanding down the patch. seems doable though! i might try it once i run out of this foam but like. even this method honestly lasts a while so. we'll see.)

changing the fucking flat i mysteriously gave myself (more on this in a bit) maybe last week sometime?? this would not be a big deal at all except that i have gatorskin tires which, while *great* for avoiding punctures, are unbelievably terrible to get on and off the wheel, because they're SO tight. i have googled about this in the past and wound up on bike forums that led me to the depressing albeit validating conclusion that no, there was nothing i was doing wrong, these tires just suck to change. in theory the upside is that you don't have to DO it that often because they prevent punctures! but if you wind up with a flat for a different reason... sadface. now the reason *i* had a flat was that the last time i went to stick a little extra air in my tires, i somehow managed to (as i thought at the time) totally fuck up the valve with my bike pump. this was extremely irritating and also extremely confusing, because i've used this bike pump many times without issue! fine, i said, i'll swap out the fucking inner tube. once i calm down. then i fucked up another inner tube pumping it up. what the fuck, i said, very furious at this point and also very mystified. fine. guess i'll go to the LBS and get ANOTHER fucking inner tube. (some people, at this point, would have explained their difficulties to the LBS employee who assisted them and asked for advice. i did not. this was partially for soc anx reasons, partially because i'm always braced for condescension from the cis men who staff every LBS i've ever been to [this is probably unfair because ALMOST every time they've actually been really lovely to me! but alas, i have a big gendery chip on my shoulder. stuff 2 work on.], and partially because i do just get more gratification out of figuring a problem out for myself! toxic masculinity, etc.) at this point (armed with, may i remind you, my *third* inner tube) i was like, okay, what the fuck. time to do a google. so i said to google, bike pump unscrews valve. talk to me. and discovered: some presta valves have removable cores! which i guess has some utility, although not for any use case i personally have, but when you've got a pump that screws on... shocker, unscrewing it can also unscrew the valve core, if it isn't absolutely thoroughly tightened. so! massively irritating but also educational. i bought a little valve core tool, which is tiny and adorable, and tightened down the valve core of, again, my third inner tube before trying to inflate it: hey presto, success. so, you know, now i have two extra inner tubes hanging around unspooled and flaccid, that there's actually nothing wrong with! which i guess is cool, because it means i still have them to use at a later date, but, you know. good luck 2 me with folding them back up into a configuration it's at all possible to carry... we'll see how that goes. but on the whole i feel like: i learned a thing and also seem to have a rideable bike again! so. choosing not to be TOO bitter. :)

and this has been today's installment of Extremely Long-Winded Anecdotes Abt Very Mundane Problem-Solving with yr friendly-if-incompetent host K! thx for spending this time with me. :)

#journaling #mundanities #long post #(like. did this post need to be almost four pages long? absolutely not. is it? yes.)

[official-sovietunion]

Yesterday was trans day of visibility. I want to write this post here bc it is the only account online where i feel comfortable doing so. I dont use this account anymore, but when i did, i was very vocal about being trans. I was vocal about being trans everywhere. I was, and still am, proud of my transness, and dedicated to fighting for myself and my trans siblings. I was also pre-medical transition, and despite feeling i looked very masculine, existing in the world meant outing myself every single day.

It is exhausting. It is exhausting to constantly be fighting and correcting and telling not only strangers but people ive known for years. I did not know there would ever be another option for me, so i accepted this and fought and made damn sure my voice as a trans person was heard. It is also exhausting to be homeless and stealth for safety reasons, knowing you have nowhere to run to, knowing that any sign of queerness could be the end of your life, knowing you must constantly hide and choose your words carefully to not gibe anything away.

Shortly before starting hormones, i experimented with being stealth in a particular online community that is known for its edginess and tendency to attract bigoted people (there is also a large amount of queer people in this community and we've managed to shift the userbase over the years to be more inclusive).

I made this decision because of the interactions i would have with some members that were sometimes s3xual, as well as interactions i had on dating apps. I had sent some nudes with a packer to cis men on grindr without really meaning to pass it off as my natal organs, but they assumed i was cis. That was the first time i realized i might be able to 'pass' in this capacity.

I knew that many of the cis people there, if they knew i had certain parts, would never fully think of me as a man. I just wanted people to imagine me with a penis regardless. Did being stealth in this community work? Not exactly. A lot of people made it clear they knew i was trans and would harass and ask me invasive questions, but i was adamant in never admitting my transness to them. We dont owe cis people anything.

Shortly after this i became homeless, following my 18th birthday. from that point on i have been 100% stealth until i find out someone else is trans too, i will tell them in private. At first i was getting misgendered still, but i would act confused like 'you thought i was a girl? How wacky and unusual for me! Haha!' This seemed to work pretty well and after a couple years on hormones i passed pretty much 100% of the time.

A lot of trans people read me as cis. This was comforting, briefly, since if even another trans person couldnt tell, a cis person definitely wouldnt be able to. But i hate it. I hate to think that any trans person has to wonder if they can be themselves around me, if they can trust me. Its interesting also to see the way cis people will talk to me about trans people, not realizing im "one of them"

I feel like i am betraying part of myself. I feel like i am betraying the whole trans community. I want to fight and be vocal again. I want to actually be open about my gender identity. I tell people i am a man because it makes things easier. Because it is safer. Because of all the people who just continued to call me a girl and said i had to pick a gender. I dont have to pick a gender. Gender isnt real to me. I will present the way i want to present.

As i get closer to bottom surgery, i feel much more confident that i will be able to be more vocal about transness. I dont know what i will tell people about my gender identity. I dont really want to have to have a gender identity at all. I have experienced far too much ego death to be connected to any concept of identity that goes any further than a preformance. I just dont want people to know my AGAB. i want them to see me as someone who has always had a penis, even if it was only in my mind for much of my life. What i really want is for people who have no business in my pants to stop thinking so hard about whats down there.

I want to balance being able to maintain my privacy while not feeling i hafta hide myself. I want to balance being able to feel safe with my activism. So many people dont have the priveldge to hide. I was one of those people once. I dont want to hide, its more important than ever that trans youth see people that look like them. This isnt something that will come easily, with everything happening politically. And aside from that, untill theres not a single transphobe left in the world, i dont think ill ever feel completely safe as an openly trans person on the street. But im working towards… something. Like everything, itll be a transition.

Im tired of my identity, my existence, being so intertwined and influenced by violence, biogtry, capitalism. If it werent for the way cis people treat us, if it werent for the way this society works that keeps us poor and refuses us housing, i wouldnt hafta worry about any of this. I would be loudly and joyously trans. I dont know if ill ever be able to get to that point, bc its not even really up to me. But if i am willing to speak up and fight, i can help make changes that will make it possible not just for me but for everyone.

[theseandthestars]

The day I broke Facebook's Artificial Incompetence advertising algorithm (or at least made it work really hard)

So every once in a while I have one of those days where half of my feed is nothing but ads and the ads are very weird and mostly irrelevant to me... Today was apparently Ad Day. When I see ads I usually will hit the X and say I don't want to keep seeing that ad and then I will hit the thing that says to hide all by that advertiser. Of course normally that just makes Facebook keep showing me that same ad three times as often as it did before and I keep telling it to go away and after a while it does. Maybe. If it doesn't I eventually find a way to block the page that's sending it which usually involves reporting the ad for harassment and then I'm finally presented with an opportunity to block the page.

With me so far?

This morning, before I was even out of bed, it was giving me ads for clothing for short men. I'm short, but I'm a cis woman, so I guess Facebook needed coffee as much as I did right then. I told these ads to go away and went in search of caffeine.

Next up on the ad parade were a whole bunch of ads for items described as devices to rejuvenate the vajayjays of postmenopausal women. So, vibrators. Seventeen different ads for vibrators. In a row. Now, I've got nothing against a good vibrator, but c'mon. I'm not trying to start a collection over here, and I'm not looking to open Vibrator Warehouse. So I told them to go away, too.

Then came the ads for bras for women with small breasts. (HA, Facebook has obviously never met me!) I said “Yeah, no.”

Which then brought on a wave of ads for various versions of feminine hygiene products I no longer need (see: postmenopausal woman) and various Viagra substitutes...

After I made those go away, I began getting ads for pregnancy trackers, and after I told THOSE to go away, I began getting ads for lesbian dating sites. (I mean okay, but I'm straight, so... ) I told the lesbian dating sites to go away and then started getting ads for various Solitaire games. 🤣

You cannot make this stuff up!

Oh, Facebook. You were trying SO HARD to entertain me, and you succeeded, but not at all in the way you meant to! LMAO