#where the assault of a guy is treated as a joke

[kid-az]

Female on male double standards abuse my beloathed 🖕😀🖕

#small rant #tiny rant #rant for ants #female on male abuse #tropes #bad tropes #especially when it involves SA #where the assault of a guy is treated as a joke #or worse yet #the story presents them as “lucky” #tw sexism

[artificial-transmutations]

Finally Together

When Jerry called, I could immediately tell something was very wrong. He was holding an ice pack up to his face and looked deranged overall.

"Jerry? What the hell happened to you?"

"Oh, hey. Yeah. This." he pointed at his face. "That's a long story."

"Let me see!" I demanded. You see, Jerry was, most definitely, my bff - my very best, very gay friend. And he had a talent for getting into trouble, sadly.

He slowly lowered the ice pack and I gasped. His right eye was swollen shut, and his face was covered in bruises.

"How..."

"Well, there was this guy. He was kinda hot, and totally my type, but, you know, straight as an arrow. At least *now* I know that." Even despite his bruises, Jerry raised his eyebrows in the cutest way possible - one of the traits I admired about them.

Yes, I should mention, I kiiiind of had a tiny little crush on Jerry. Or perhaps a gigantic one. You always want the ones you can't have, right? In my case, I was a woman - which was enough to disqualify myself rather finally.

"...and? Did he hit you?" I asked, even though I already suspected the answer.

"Yeah. I was just talking to him, trying to subtly find out his orientation. You know how it goes. Apparently, I wasn't too subtle about it, though, and he kind of escalated all over my face. It's no big deal, now I know."

Jerry smiled, but I could clearly see that it caused him pain to do so. It nearly broke my heart.

"It is a big deal." I answered. "That's horrible. You are worth so much more than this. Where did it happen? Did you call the police?"

"It was in the gym. Keith - that's the guy - works there, so, I guess, I need a new gym." Jerry joked. "And no, I didn't call the police, it's just... it's alright, okay Mathilda?"

I was not convinced but decided to let it go. Jerry was just a so sweet and innocent guy, he wouldn't even cause someone trouble if that someone punched in his face. I, on the other hand, was fuming. That was not a way to treat my bff! I would have really liked to kick that Keith's ass right now.

I chatted a bit more with Jerry before he had to go and promised him to come over that evening.

To be quite honest, I didn't plan to do anything, but when I was walking to Jerry's apartment in the afternoon, I passed his gym. I didn't even know it was on the way, because I honestly never paid attention to it much. But now that I saw it on the way, I couldn't help it. I would go in there and just tell the manager that one of their employees was a homophobic asshole. Just a little push in the right direction.

I entered the gym. It looked quite standard, but I couldn't see any manager or anyone else to talk to, for that matter, so I just went in there. It was quite empty, which was not surprising at this time of the day. There was, however, a young, muscular man doing push-ups. It was quite disgusting, actually, with all the sweat dripping down his body and a musky, penetrant smell was filling the room.

He stood up and greeted me.

"Hi, there. You're not a member, are you?"

"I'm not." I said. I felt like adding a "sorry" or something but decided against it. Instead, I clutched my handbag tighter.

"So, what can I do for you, ma'am?" He had that smug grin of an urge driven man who seemed to undress me with his gaze. I shuddered in disgust, but still, I straightened my back.

"Well, actually, I'm here to make a complaint."

"A complaint? About what?"

"Your staff."

"Oh? Do you have an issue with someone working here?"

"Well, yes. I just learned that one of your trainers, Keith was the name, I think, assaulted a customer. That is a terrible way to treat people, and I will not stand for it."

The guy laughed and flashed me a superior grin while he nonchalantly readjusted his groin. Free balling of course. Ugh. Can you spell 'toxic masculinity'?

"Look, honey. Whoever told you that, they lied to you. Keith would never hit a girl, especially not a pretty one."

I felt my face reddening from anger.

"First off, I'm not your honey, and secondly, it wasn't a girl but a guy."

The guy raised his eyebrows. "Really? A guy, huh?"

"Yes. He is my very good friend, and it's not funny at all."

"Hmm. Yeah, I think I remember the guy, some fruity fag who needed to be told a lesson."

Then it dawned on me. The disgusting guy in front of me was the man that had hurt Jerry.

"You're the one who did it! How dare you!" I exclaimed and tried to slap his face.

Before I could land a hit, though, he grabbed my wrist with an iron grip and grinned like a predator.

"Ah, ah. I wouldn't try that, if I were you. Would be a shame, if something were to happen to your pretty face, too."

I withdrew my hand and trembled from disgust.

"Ugh. You're just such a disgusting... jock."

In hindsight, I had no idea what happened, but perhaps some benevolent spirit or sprite was listening. In any case, Keith all of a sudden got a really strange expression on his face and looked really pale for a moment. And then... he suddenly looked even paler, like white paper or cloth. I will never be able to forget the expression of surprise on his face, as his body kind of... collapsed in on himself. His muscular torso diminished, and his arms and legs twisted and fused into thin rubber strips. But his face... His face contorted into a white fabric pouch that was completely devoid of any features within seconds. It had only taken a few moments, but Keith had disappeared.

I looked around first, but nobody else was in the gym right now. I carefully stepped closer and inspected what was left of Keith. Inside his black, damp gym shorts that was lying on the ground, I could see a pair of men's underwear, I believe it was called a jockstrap: A large fabric pouch held by rubber bands - designed to just cover the genitals, although, judging by the size of the pouch, rather large genitals. Now, as Keith had demonstrated quite clearly just a few moments ago, he had certainly not be wearing any underwear - and I had seen what had happened to his face.

With pointed fingers, careful not to touch the damp gym shorts and almost gagging from the strong smell, I picked up the piece of underwear. I had almost thrown it away again, when I noticed that it, too, was covered in sweat and stink. However, the piece of underwear that had once been a man held a strange fascination to me. I lifted it up to my face, to have a closer look, but didn't consider the consequences. When I breathed in, my nose was filled with the overwhelmingly strong and manly smell of sweaty, unwashed genitals, and it triggered something inside of me. All of a sudden, I felt tingly all over and groaned. My body felt weird all of a sudden. It was like that disgusting smell was all around me, enveloping me, pushing me to... change, somehow.

In horror, I felt my feet swelling up in my shoes. It wasn't painful, but it felt like I had been wearing boots that were way too small. The pressure was quickly getting unbearable and painful until my canvas shoes and thin socks couldn't take it anymore. First on the left and then, shortly after, on the right side, the toes of massive feet burst out from the footwear. The pressure subsided, and it felt fine again.

The changes didn't stop, though. Now that my feet had broken free from their restraints, my legs were the next to follow. A ripping sound heralded the death of my tights, as my legs gained mass and muscles. It looked almost comically how the threads of my tights were ripped apart, strand for strand. At the same time, I watched, as my hands grew larger. Gone were my delicate fingers, replaced by thick sausage-like appendages. Those new finger weren't carefully manicured but instead, I was now sporting short, ugly nails that would have been fitting for a lumberjack, rather than a girl.

While my legs were still growing, and I was getting visibly taller, my arms were next to follow. My blouse didn't even stand a chance as the arms did not only grew longer but most importantly, stronger. My biceps swelled like I visited the gym every day and, to my horror, I saw a tattoo forming on my right arm that reminded me a lot of the one Keith had had. I didn't have much time to think about it, though, as a new force practically ripped my blouse apart: My torso was pushing outward in all directions. My shoulders widened considerably, and my bra snapped from the strain. At first, I thought my boobs were growing, but it was quite the opposite. They were receding into my body, being replaced by even more massive and decidedly male pecs. Below them, a ripple went through my stomach, leaving behind the cobblestone road of abs.

The changes had met up at my midsection now and I was afraid of what was going to happen next. Sure enough, my skin-tight summer trousers bulged forward as something pressed against them from the inside.

"No..." I groaned, with a lower voice than I was used to, and tried to push whatever was appearing back into my midsection, but it was no use. With another ripping sound, a penis emerged from between my legs, quickly followed by a pair of testicles that pushed the ruined trousers down and settled in between my tree trunk-like thighs.

My head started swimming. That was wrong, that was so wrong. But the changes just went on. An Adam's apple formed in my throat, further lowering my voice, and my face reformed. It became squarer, and my jawbones became more pronounced. At the same time, my beautiful long hair receded into a short masculine cut. However, as hair disappeared on top of my head, it grew elsewhere. Or, should I say everywhere. Disgusting, wiry body hair grew in on my arms and legs and even on top of my enormous feet and the back of my hands. My chest was coated by a layer of short and coarse hair, and a treasure trail led down my midsection, where it disappeared into a thick pubic bush.

Speaking of bushes, two more formed in the large area of my armpits. Ugh. I was hairy like a fucking monkey. The only well-groomed bit of body hair was on my face, in the short beard that I could see in the gym mirror.

I could hardly believe my eyes. Staring back at me from the reflection was no one else but Keith. *I* was a splitting image of Keith now, only naked aside from the tatters of my clothes. I wanted to scream, but all that came out was a low grunt.

Okay, Mathilda, no reason for panic, I told myself. I would just... Go see a doctor. Yes. There had to be an explanation. This could be treated.

I took a step towards the exit and stumbled over the remains of my coughing. Oh, right, I was still naked.

The only piece of clothing was Keith's gym shorts. Well, his gym shorts and Keith himself, who was a piece of underwear now. I looked between the shorts and the underwear. On the one hand, I really didn't want to wear what had just been Keith, but on the other hand... I certainly wasn't going without any underwear. Everyone would be able to see the outline of my current genitals. Yuck.

So, lacking other options, I pulled on the white piece of underwear. It was, unsurprisingly, very sweaty, and it clung to my junk. I grimaced, but it was better than the alternative. My ass was still largely uncovered, but that was not as bad as the front side. I had to admit that my new equipment filled out the pouch pretty well.

I quickly shook my head and pulled on the gym shorts as well. It felt weird not to cover my chest, but that was probably acceptable in my current state.

Perhaps I could ask Jerry if I could borrow some men's clothing from him.

Oh my, Jerry. He was probably waiting for me. I grabbed my handbag and fled the gym.

Walking felt weird. Of course, regardless of my looks, I was still a woman, so I took small steps and refused to spread my legs too much while walking. It was very awkward. The sun was shining down and although it wasn't all *that* hot, I found myself starting to sweat. How disgusting was that? It was like those stupid mountains of muscle were producing so much heat that my skin was soon glistening with sweat and my armpits started to smell. I tested it by lifting an arm and taking a whiff. Ugh. I needed a shower, badly. I probably would be able to use Jerry's.

Jerry... I saw his face right in front of me in my mind. The cute smile, the adorable brown eyes, the cute little dimples on his cheeks when he grinned.

A strange feeling came over me from my groin area. What was going on down there? When I looked down, the ample bulge of my cock had become even bigger, probably tenting out the pouch that had been Keith's face. I groaned. Men were so primitive. All it took was one sexy thought and bam, erection.

Still, I couldn't deny that it felt pretty good. I checked it anyone on the street was looking before I felt the outline of the cock through the layers of clothing with my big hand. The touch made me moan, and I felt my member throb.

That's when I experienced the weirdest feeling. As the sweat from my groin mixed with the fluids seeping out of the cock head and were absorbed by the jockstrap, all of a sudden, I felt the presence of Keith - the real Keith. It was like a strong mental attack, to get his body back, but I fought back. It was not *his* body, it was mine, even though it may have looked like Keith right now.

It was the strangest experience. I could practically *feel* his thoughts and emotions. The humiliation from being wrapped around, well, *my* cock and balls, I could even taste and smell an echo of what he was tasting and smelling, including the weird taste of precum that had mixed into the face-pouch recently.

It wasn't easy, but I repelled Keith's mind and kind of stuffed it back into the underwear. When I continued my walk, I didn't even notice that I know walked like a man: With long, powerful strides and enough room for my balls.

Luckily, my cock had calmed down a bit by now, and I ran the rest of the way, just to make sure. I was glistening with more sweat when I finally arrived at Jerry's apartment and rang the bell. Ugh. That musk was so bad, I just hoped I could hop under the shower right away.

However, when Jerry opened the door, we were both stunned for a moment. I because Jerry looked even better in reality than when I imagined him. Foreign hormones flooded my system, coming from my balls and I just stood there for a moment. Of course, I had a crush on Jerry before, but right now, in this moment, I realized for the first time that now, Jerry wasn't quite as unreachable as before.

Jerry, on the other hand, backed away, an expression of fear on his face.

"Keith, what... Is this some kind of joke?"

I was taken aback by his reaction.

"No! It's not... It's me, Mathilda!"

"Who?"

"Mathilda, your best friend."

Jerry stared at me, confusion on his face.

"What are you talking about Keith? Wasn't it enough for you to bash my face in? Do you want to humiliate me now?"

"No, please. Listen, Jerry, you're my friend, and I would never hurt you."

He scoffed. "Oh really? My black eye says otherwise."

I could feel myself getting upset from all the testosterone and took a deep breath.

"I can explain. Please, Jerry, hear me out."

He looked at me skeptically.

"Fine. I'll listen."

With that, he let me into his apartment.

"Okay, first of all, can I take off these gym shorts? They are really really disgusting and sweaty, and they are clinging to my legs. Yuck!"

"Uh, oookay." Jerry looked even more confused but allowed it.

Gladly, I got rid of the stinking shorts and threw them at the ground, far away from me. Jerry frowned but was apparently more captured by my now only jockstrap-clad body that I sat down on his couch. I admit I wanted to get rid of the jockstrap, too, but then I would have been completely naked in my friend's living room.

The thought was oddly exciting, and I felt my cock raise in reaction.

I just hoped that Jerry wouldn't notice my state of arousal, even though there wasn't much fabric left to hide it, but I quickly spoke.

"So, Jerry, it's really me. Remember the time when we watched Star Trek: Voyager and had a pillow fight, and you beat me easily, even though I am taller and stronger?"

"How would you know about that, Keith?" Jerry crossed his arms. He had obviously noticed my midsection problem, which was throbbing now, leading to another wet spot on the piece of underwear.

"I'm telling you, I am Ma..."

Suddenly, I grabbed my head. There it was again. Keith had reacted to my arousal and was fighting for control of *my* body again. It was weaker this time, though, and although it took me a few moments, I pushed him back between my legs, where he belonged.

Finally, I spread my legs, man-spreading without even thinking about it and giving the whole world in general and Jerry in particular a good view of my massive groin. A smirk formed on my face. Having such a big cock was something to be proud of.

"...Mathilda." I finished my sentence, although I found the name rather unfitting for a stud like me. "I just kind of... transformed into Keith's body, but it's still the same old man as always. Woman, I mean."

"Uh... what?"

I smiled and stood up, slowly, so he could see all the muscles I had gained. I was taller, too, taller than Jerry even.

"But tell me, do you like what you see?" My cock was throbbing like mad now. God, I needed to have this man!

"Uuuh... uhm... yes? Yes."

I chuckled. "Well, Jerry. I don't know how to get back to my original body yet, but do you want to... touch this one?" I gently took his hand and placed it on my chest.

Jerry didn't react at first, but then he started caressing my chest. It felt great, and he moaned, too.

Another small spurt of precum spilled into my underwear and again, Keith acted up. It was even weaker this time, and I had no trouble staying in control. I did notice something else though. Apparently, Keith was enjoying this a lot, way more than a straight man should. He was almost addicted to my cock fluids by now, and he mentally lapped at my organ submissively. And he exhibited a longing for Jerry that appeared to be too deep-rooted to have developed recently. Well, good for him, because as my jockstrap, he would have a front row seat in what happened next.

"Mathilda, is it really... okay?" Jerry asked, barely being able to restrain himself.

"Yes Jerry." I said while looking into his eyes. "It's more than okay. It's perfect. And it's Matthew from now on, okay?"

I took a deep breath, breathing in my wonderful musky smell, and I watched Jerry do the same. And when I kissed him, I couldn't wait to tear his clothes off and plow his cute little ass with my mighty cock while my lucky jockstrap was watching.

#female to male tf #muscle transformation #straight to gay #inanimate transformation #sweat #musk #man stink #romance

[feeder86]

SNAP!

SNAP!

“Ow! Shit! What the hell…?” Joel shouted, turning around to see what had hit him hard on his backside. He could feel the skin on his rear stinging. Whatever it was that had smacked him, his ass hurt like hell! But as he looked around, he couldn’t see anyone there in the moonlit garden. “Shit!” he moaned again, rubbing his butt, hardly believing that it was still hurting so much.

“What’s the matter?” Harry drunkenly asked, walking into the garden himself, chuckling from his friend’s unknown misfortune. “Ow! SHIT!” he blasted himself a moment later. “Who the fuck was that?”

“Argh! Fuck me!” blasted Danny, as he too followed them both. Joel could just make him out, standing there on the path, rubbing his own rear. “What the fuck is going on?” He ripped his cell phone from his pocket, letting the screen light up and cast a dim glow on the garden as the boys all came together, back on the path. 

There, standing in front of them, was an older, stern-looking woman, staring up angrily. She held a walking stick in her hand and the boys immediately knew that that was clearly the source of their current discomfort.

“What the hell are you doing, old woman?” Harry grumbled, still rubbing his ass. “That fucking hurt y’know!”

“Don’t you talk to me like that!” the woman shot back, pointing the stick up at his face, so close that he went cross-eyed from following its swift movement. “You’re trespassing! I’ve seen you boys here every night this week; drunk on beer and taking a shortcut through my garden; trampling through all my plants!”

“This is assault, you know that?” Danny shot back, incensed by the pain he still felt. “You’re a fucking danger! Old hags like you should be in a nursing home!”

His head spinning from the beer, Joel put a hand on his buddy’s broad back,seeing that he was going a little far. The old lady was quite right after all, they weren’t supposed to be there in her garden.

“I was married to a jumped-up, arrogant pig, just like you three,” the woman began, still managing to make eye contact with all of them, even with Danny’s cell phone shining in her face. “He thought that the world should revolve around him too; that no one else mattered but him,” the lady continued, showing them all her contempt and disgust. “He was under the impression that his good looks were all he needed in life. And just like you three, he didn’t have any manners or respect for women either.” She paused; the garden becoming eerily quiet. “You’ll get what you deserve though. The way you treat people in life always has consequences.”

“Whatever!” Danny huffed, continuing to charge through the garden to jump the fence at the other end. “Come on guys. Just ignore her,” he called back to them both.

“You’ll see!” the old woman cried with a voice dripping with satisfaction. “Maybe tomorrow, maybe next month, or ten years from now, but one day everyone will see what arrogant pigs you really are.

Joel heard Harry begin to follow on. Feeling a pit of guilt about upsetting the old lady, he waited a moment longer. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, before turning and following the other two; climbing the fence and making that shortcut back to the frat house.

Over the following years, Joel looked back fondly on his time in college. He’d worked hard and played harder. But it had also got him to where he needed to be in life: a good job, with plenty of travel opportunities; perfect for someone with few aspirations to ever settle down. Back in the day, he would have said that Danny was a closer friend to him than Harry. However, it was only Harry that he remained in contact with these days. Sometimes that was just the way life worked out.

“There you are, you handsome bastard!” Harry cried; his face lighting up as soon as he saw Joel arriving at the wedding venue. “Have you ever seen a prettier face on a guy than this one here?” he joked to those around him as he embraced Joel for the first time since his stag party a couple of months earlier.

“How are you feeling? Nervous?” Joel asked his friend. He stepped back, feeling that something was different when he hugged Harry. “What’s this?” he asked, reaching a hand out to rub a small paunch that seemed to be sprouting from Harry’s middle. “Have you been stress eating?” he joked, finding it incomprehensible that fitness-obsessed Harry would ever carry a few extra pounds on his athletic frame.

Harry laughed, but immediately changed the subject, clearly embarrassed about his new shape. Joel looked on as his buddy nervously paced up and down, checking on things before his bride would be arriving. His suit was surprisingly ill-fitting. The pants were snug around his butt cheeks and Joel wasn’t altogether convinced that the top button was in place underneath the guy’s belt. It was clearly a fresh gain, for Harry had shown no signs of getting a little chunky at the stag party when he’d raved all night without a shirt on. In fact, even when his stunning bride arrived, walking down the aisle, her eyes were not filled with the loving adoration that most would expect. Instead, she frowned, seeming to silently scold Harry as she looked down at the tight stretch of his shirt buttons.

Joel’s attention soon started to wander as the day went on. Harry had clearly started early that morning, building his courage before the ceremony. So when the beers and champagne flowed later on, it was clear that he was struggling a little more than most. The chief bridesmaid was ridiculously sexy and as Joel made enquiring eyes over in her direction, he was pleased to see that the interest appeared to be mutual. There weren’t many people that Joel knew at the wedding, and aside from the guys he’d met at the stag party, he’d turned his charm up to full blast in order to make friends. But that bridesmaid was still looking over at him, getting Joel so aroused that he didn’t even notice a gluttonous Harry making his fifth tour of the buffet. The sex, when they eventually made it that far, was pretty decent for a one-night fling, and Joel lay back in bed feeling more than satisfied; content to stay there the entire night and enjoy a second round in the morning.

“It was a good wedding yesterday,” Joel rambled after they came. It was still too early in the morning to just take off; feeling that he needed to hang around for at least twenty minutes so that it didn’t seem rude. “I think they’ll be very happy together.”

The bridesmaid huffed sceptically. “Ya think?” she asked, as if she knew something Joel didn’t. Then, when Joel looked at her curiously, she rolled her eyes and told him everything. “Harry and I slept together a couple of nights ago. He told me he’d always had a thing for me and that he couldn’t get married without having me first… We were both drunk. He came in less than three minutes. It really wasn’t good!”

“Harry cheated?” Joel asked, completely shocked. He could hardly believe it. Then again, he’d been so turned on when he’d spotted this girl only yesterday. He couldn’t imagine having to stare at her for years and years and never getting to have any fun with her. It was the whole reason why Joel never did relationships, and he made thoroughly sure that everyone knew it. “Does anyone know that you two..?” he began asking.

“No. I’ve not told anyone. It doesn’t exactly make me look good, does it? Sleeping with my best friend’s husband!” She sighed and held her face in her hands.

Joel was soon putting his pants back on and making his escape. He slipped back into his own room and freshened up before heading down for breakfast in the hotel. It was still early and not many had made it down as yet. However, there was Harry, still dressed in his tight pants and shirt from the night before, greedily feasting from one of the many plates of food he’d brought back to his table.

“Hey, buddy!” Joel cried, slipping his hands onto Harry’s shoulders as if to massage him. “What’re you doing up so early? And where’s your wife?” he laughed, trying his best to forget about the guy’s infidelity. 

Harry didn’t answer. He only ate.

“Is everything alright with you two?” Joel asked, setting aside his usual boyish bravado whilst he spoke to Harry now. The revelation of Harry’s cheating had unnerved him.

“I woke up feeling really hungry,” Harry replied between mouthfuls. “Has the fresh bacon come out yet?” he asked, looking up at the buffet tables. “They said it was coming.”

Joel could see several greasy plates, already emptied and waiting to be collected from Harry’s table. “Dude, it’s the morning after your wedding. Why are you worrying about bacon?”

“Is the bacon ready, or not?” Harry demanded aggressively.

“Harry!” Joel gasped in shock. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

Seeming to realise he’d overstepped, Harry looked ashamed, dropped his fork and put his hand to his surprisingly sweaty forehead. “Joel, I don’t know what’s happening to me!” he mumbled. “I did something, and now…”

Harry suddenly looked like he was fighting something inside of himself. His body jerked forwards slightly and it seemed almost as if something was trying to climb out of his throat. That was when it happened. He snorted quietly, as if making an impression of a baby pig. Immediately, the tension in his face seemed to retreat and he snorted twice more, just a little louder, before picking up his fork again and setting back to the copious amount of food still on his plate.

Joel suddenly found that his heart was racing. It wasn’t the fact that Harry had just done something so strange; it was the fact that he had done something that was actually unsettlingly familiar…

Eight years earlier, it had been the boys’ final weeks in college. Despite the beautiful sunshine that had arrived, everyone had grown strangely serious, studying and spending every last minute thinking about their final projects. Everyone, that was, apart from Danny. He’d always been the party-boy; the bad influence, always getting himself into trouble. But now the guy had seemed to drop off the face of the Earth. Perhaps it wasn’t all that surprising, given that everyone Joel knew had come to him and asked if he’d heard from Danny since it had all kicked off after the final football game of the season. There had been a huge party and, just like the other boys, Danny had become very drunk, very quickly.

“I hope he’s ashamed of himself,” Emma stated snootily. “Doing that to Jemma just before her final exams! It’s unforgivable.” 

Joel tried not to take sides or nod in any way that might signal to Emma that he agreed with her. After all, Danny was his best friend. He’d made a mistake, getting so drunk and kissing Harriet like that. But we’re all human. Mistakes are what we’re best at. 

“He’s not replied to any of my messages since last Tuesday,” Joel explained, trying to reframe the situation and let Emma see that he was currently more concerned about Danny’s safety than he was about Jemma’s broken heart. “Even his mom hasn’t heard from him since the weekend.”

“Hopefully he’s dead in a ditch somewhere!” Emma snapped unsympathetically, refusing to be drawn into the building crisis. Then she strutted away from Joel as if he too was contaminated by Danny’s deceit. 

Joel tried not to let the worry overtake him. The guy in the dormroom next to Danny had reported hearing him going in and out at strange times. However, Danny hadn’t ever been in when Joel had tried to reach him. Either that, or he simply hadn’t opened the door.

“I need to get into my friend’s room,” Joel explained to the lady at the desk, flashing his devilishly handsome smile, whilst maintaining the doe-eyed look of concern. Even at that age, Joel was more than aware that his good looks were going to get him further in life than any college degree could “No one has heard from him in days. His mom is calling me up every couple of hours.”

“Oh, dear!” the lady replied, rising to her feet. “Well, it’s not really allowed. But this clearly isn’t a normal situation. I suppose, if I came with you, it should be okay…” she pondered aloud, stepping out from behind the desk, ready to follow Joel wherever he was leading her and trying her best not to stare at his cute little butt as she trotted on behind him.

The smell of stale sweat and old beer hit the nostrils hard as soon as Danny’s door was opened. Both of them recoiled a little as they entered the dark space, where the curtains had clearly been drawn for many days. Joel’s finger slid over the greasy light switch, illuminating the large body of the Quarterback sprawled, face down and naked over the bed. 

Joel’s feet kicked through empty food cartons and beer bottles as he rushed over to check if Danny was okay. He pushed his hand against the guy’s broad back, surprised at how hot and almost feverish the skin felt to the touch. Breathing just fine, Joel knew that his buddy was most likely on the verge of one hell of a hangover. Perhaps he should have been more weirded out that his friend’s naked, meaty butt was on show, but Joel had seen Danny without his clothes on so many times before: in the changing rooms, or when he was irredemably drunk or high and letting his exhibitionist side out.

“I think we should open the window,” the lady suggested, holding her finger over her nose and looking like she had no intention of doing it herself; or even touching anything in the dirty room.

Feeling obliged to her for getting him inside, Joel immediately followed her suggestion. “I can look after him from here,” he offered, seeing how uncomfortable she was. “I think he might have just had a little bit too much to drink.”

“I think you need to pick your friends more wisely,” the lady whispered to Joel. She was looking over at Danny’s hunched over form; his naked rear pointing directly in her direction as he let rip in his sleep.

“I will,” Joel smiled, determined to remain polite but desperately wanting to get her out so that he could speak to Danny properly and find out what on earth was going on with him. He followed her to the door, closing it behind her, even though the smell of the room was really quite potent.

The mess all over the floor was unreal, like Danny had invited a hundred people over to party in his tiny bedroom.

“Danny! Come on, wake up!” Joel called to him, shaking the football player by the shoulder. He was so hot to the touch, with a thin layer of sweat all over him. “I need to check that you’re okay. Where the hell have you been?”

Danny suddenly stirred and slowly flopped over onto his front. His body on show, Joel instinctively jumped straight off the bed, thinking for a moment that this wasn’t Danny after all. Sitting beneath his mighty pecs was a rather large and distended gut, bloated to the extreme. Danny was groaning and reached his hand to hold it, like it was still expanding and hurting him.

“What the hell have you eaten?” Joel demanded, his eyes wide in shock.

“Everything!” a groggy Danny replied.

“Danny, look at your stomach!” Joel implored him, demanding that he snap out of his stupor. “Have you taken something?”

Despite shaking his head, Danny didn’t even open his eyes. Whilst rubbing his belly, his other hand went straight to his dick, stroking it up and down, even with Joel there in front of him. 

That was when Joel heard it: the oinking sounds coming from Danny’s throat. Combined with the stomach rubs he was giving himself, it was as if Danny was making the sounds in order to help himself get off.

“Danny, stop!” Joel demanded, trying to rip Danny’s arm away from his dick. But Danny was strong and holding on tight.

“She did it,” Danny murmured. “This is what she wanted. She said.”

“Who did?” Joel asked, watching as Danny appeared to get closer and closer to coming with quite remarkable speed.

“That woman in the garden. She cursed us.” Danny mumbled, his voice getting deeper and deeper as the inevitable was approaching. “She’s turning me into a…” he tried, before the oinking sounded out once again. Huge jets erupted from his dick, landing all over the duvet and even on the sleeve of Joel’s jacket.

“Danny! What the fuck!” Joel shouted, filled with rage and anger now. But all he could see was his bloated friend, grinning with his eyes still closed tight and a look of contentment spreading over him. “That’s not cool!” Joel spat, trying not to look at the semen on his sleeve in fear that he might start gagging. The stench of the room wasn’t helping either. “Fine!” he stated at last. “If you don’t want my help, I’m just going to leave you like this.” 

Joel knew he wasn’t making an empty threat. Why did Danny deserve his help when he’d got himself into a state like this?

“I’m going now,” he announced, hoping that Danny would rouse, even a little, to say something to him.

But Danny was silent and already falling blissfully back to sleep. As Joel left the room, he had no idea that he would actually never see his friend again.

“Harry,” Joel whispered quietly, sitting at the breakfast table with his buddy the morning after his wedding. “Do you remember that time in college when…” Joel began speculatively. 

Harry’s face suddenly turned deadly serious, as if he too had been thinking about exactly the same thing. “Danny,” he mumbled; a name that had not passed his lips in years. He stood, as if in a sudden panic. “I’ve got to go!” he mumbled. “I can’t let this…” 

The kitchen doors swung open and a steaming tray of fresh bacon was making its way to the buffet. Harry’s face calmed, grabbing his plate and rushing over to fill it up; forgetting everything.

Joel left with an uneasy feeling after the wedding and, against his usual policy, he took the bridesmaid’s phone number and asked her to let him know if things were okay with the newlyweds. He certainly wasn’t expecting to hear from her less than two weeks later, informing Joel that it was over. Just like that, Harry’s wife had left him, packing her bags and abandoning the apartment that they had lived in together to move back in with her mother.

It was a long drive to get there, but the feeling of dread at the pit of Joel’s stomach was almost too much for him to bear. He’d thought so much about the similarities between what had happened to Harry and Danny, enough to entertain the possibility that curses could actually come true. Perhaps it was the fact that the sting of the walking stick hitting his butt still twinged occasionally. As if the impact of it was sitting just beneath his skin after all these years. He had to see Harry. He had to rid himself of these doubts and worries in his mind. There was no choice in the matter.

Joel couldn’t get into the apartment block; there was no answer when he buzzed through or tried to call Danny’s cell phone. It was only when he caught the door as someone was leaving that he managed to enter and creep up to Harry’s floor. He knocked on the door, getting no response and feeling the strangest sense of deja vu.

“Hi,” Joel smiled at the middle aged lady who answered the door across the hall. He leaned himself into the doorframe and plastered his face with the boyish smile that always got him what he wanted with the ladies. “I’m supposed to be staying with my buddy, Harry, tonight,” he lied, pointing at the apartment door behind him. “I think he must have forgotten what time I was arriving though!” he sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically and widening his smile even more still. “I don’t suppose you know whether any of the neighbors keep a spare for that apartment, do they?”

The lady, who had already been beaming at him, nodded emphatically. “It’s Joel, isn’t it?” she asked. “I remember you from the wedding!”

Pretending to remember her, Joel nodded and told her how great it was to see her again. Most people he met seemed to remember him. And so it was that, within no time at all, he was holding the spare key in his hands, bracing himself for what he might find behind Harry’s closed door.

The first thing that hit Joel was the empty space inside the apartment. It was immediately obvious that there had, until very recently, been a lot more furniture inside. The sofas were gone, with piles of papers and junk sitting in stacks around the space. There was a faint sound of heavy breathing coming from somewhere, but the lack of furniture seemed to disorintate Joel as he explored, looking for his friend. Finally, he swung open a door and found the tiny kitchen space. It was an absolute mess, with a large, stout and barely dressed man asleep on the tiled floor; his head propped back against the cupboards. It seemed as if Harry had been to the supermarket only that day, for one of the paper bags remained intact on the floor. The others, however, seemed to have been ripped to shreds the moment Harry had returned. The floor was covered with the evidence of it all; his mouth smeared with bits of everything; an ill-fitting t-shirt stained and stretched beyond anything that would have been acceptable to wear outside of the apartment.

Harry’s gut was monstrous, his belly button deep and highly visible. Still, he looked strong and broad, even intimidating considering the sheer mass of him. How much had he actually eaten to grow so enormous in such a short time? No wonder his marriage was over. He barely resembled the slightly overweight man he had been only a couple of weeks earlier. He’d fallen asleep with his right hand resting inside his overstretched boxers, giving the impression that he’d masturbated before he’d finally lost consciousness. What an absolute mess!

Joel poked at his friend until he started to rouse. “Get up,” he ordered, trying to hide his irritation that Harry had got himself into this state. “I’m here to look after you,” he stated, suddenly realising that this was never going to be a flying visit. There was no point in trying to ask what was going; no hope of getting any sense out of the man.  “Go get yourself a shower and I’ll clean up in here.”

Harry barely seemed to register Joel’s presence as unusual. He rose to his feet clumsily, causing more crumbs and packaging to rain down on the already daunting floor that Joel would have to tidy. He stumbled, almost drunkenly into the door, then strutted, as if unsure of how to carry his own body weight, back into the lounge and disappeared into the bathroom.

“I never told you how bad it was last time I saw Danny,” Joel admitted a couple of hours later, having carried a chair from the bedroom for his buddy to sit on and opting for a short stool for himself. “At least, not the full details,” he admitted, feeling the same sense of shame he had carried with him for years now. How could he have ever abandoned a friend like that? “But, whatever you seem to be experiencing, I think he was going through the same thing. Whatever this is, he wasn’t able to control it either,” Joel stressed, trying to keep Harry’s eyes focused on him. “You’re the only other person in the world who could possibly understand what I’m about to say, but… I think this is all happening because of that night. The old woman in the garden.”

Harry nodded slowly, as if only just comprehending. He sat without a shirt on; his giant butt contained, at least for now, inside straining material that dug sharply into his hips. “She said we were…” Harry started, before Joel stopped him. He didn’t need to hear it.

“I think we need to go back. I think we need to find her. If she’s still alive that is.” He rubbed his forehead, hardly believing that he was saying this. It was all insane madness. Where had his rational brain vanished to? Nevertheless, it was the only course of action he could think of. “First thing in the morning, I’m taking you to that house. And we’re not returning until we have some proper answers.”

Joel made good on his promise, getting Harry out of the apartment bright and early the next day. It hadn’t been easy either; Joel had re-entered the apartment at six in the morning, having crashed in his car for the night as there hadn’t even been a sofa, or comfy chair for him to take inside. Immediately, he had heard the sounds of Harry gorging himself on whatever was left in the kitchen that Joel had spent so long cleaning the night before. He’d been furious and his harsh tone seemed to be the only thing that finally got Harry moving. They’d stopped very briefly for Joel to head quickly into a mall and buy something a little less fitted for Harry. The sight of his big ass crack had turned Joel’s stomach that morning, and there was simply no way he was prepared to let the guy out of the car until that gut of his was covered up.

Harry seemed to drift in and out of full awareness. For ten minutes, he could be bright and clear; explaining vividly why his marriage had so quickly broken down due to the strange urges he’d been experiencing. At these times, he appeared completely self-aware and disgusted with himself. Then, after this period ended, he seemed to become more animalistic. His urges built until he was growling for Joel to stop and let him buy more food. He’d rub his belly and stroke his dick, complaining bitterly that he couldn’t climax without feeling his belly stretching with food. Joel had yelled at him to put his dick away, fearing that those around them would see. It also made Harry sweat quite considerably. Joel could see the shimmer on the guy’s skin and tried not to retch as he imagined the sweat building under Harry’s armpits and within the folds of skin; all of it soaking into his car upholstery. He put his foot down, driving onwards at a steady pace and making good progress by midday. 

At long last, the two men were pulling up outside the house that they had known so many years ago. There had been so many familiar places on the way in through the city; Joel’s mind singing with nostalgia. If only he was here under more pleasant circumstances.

“Maybe you should wait in the car?” Joel suggested, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a handful of protein bars to distract the glutton whilst he slipped out and locked him inside; knowing that Harry was a little too spaced out to find the unlocking button and that he had at least three minutes before the car alarm would sound. The knowledge of that made him move with a little more haste into the garden and up the stairs to the front door. 

The garden still looked the same as it had back then: well tended and functional, vegetables and fruits growing in most of the spaces. He rang the bell, surprised at how fast his heart was beating. Despite knowing for quite some time that he was coming here, the reality of it only seemed to hit him at that moment, as he waited for someone to answer the door to him.

“Hello!” Joel called out after some time had passed without any response. “My name is Joel Rogerson. I used to go to college here a few years ago,” he tried, not wanting to have come all this way for nothing.

Suddenly there was movement from inside and Joel’s heart quickened again. Someone was coming to the door, one slow step at a time. He braced himself, swallowing hard and trying to look smart for reasons that he could not entirely explain to himself. When the door opened, Joel’s jaw dropped. Standing there was the one person he had least expected to see in the entire world; a face he had not looked upon in many years, but one that he strangely recognised with ease. Unmistakable, it was old buddy, Danny. His face was altered, swollen with fat that had enveloped his entire neck and shrunk his eyes back into his head. He was also shirtless; wide, with an enormous, apron-like gut falling lower than his crotch and a belly button that looked deeper than any Joel had ever seen. He couldn’t imagine the audacity and lack of pride Danny had to come to the door looking like he had.

“No shit!” Danny scoffed, gazing a little down at his old friend, standing there on the porch. “I remember you,” he chuckled, as if he had lived an entire lifetime since their old college days. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same question,” Joel replied, caught, almost speechless, at the sight of the monstrously large man Danny had become. Easily surpassing five hundred pounds, Danny loomed large and wide, yet his shoulders appeared strong and masculine, but for the sagging nipples that dripped from his broad chest.

Suddenly, Danny became more interested and his nose twitched, sniffing at the scent he was picking up from Joel. “Who have you brought with you?” he demanded; seemingly excited. He stepped out of the house and gazed into the street, just as Joel’s car alarm burst into life; Harry inside, tearing at Joel’s backpack in the hope of finding more snacks.

Sighing, Joel unlocked the car with a click and Harry immediately climbed out. Amazingly, Danny was charging across the street to meet him; the fat wobbling and the skin folds on his enormous back on show for all to see. He embraced Harry with a genuine delight that he hadn’t shown Joel, guiding him into the house eagerly.

“So, what’s happening to him then?” Joel asked a short while later, once Danny had set Harry up with a large stack of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that he was already making fast progress with. The whole house was a mess and the kitchen dirtier still. Joel couldn’t imagine accepting any food that came out of it, but Harry didn’t seem to even notice.

“The curse,” Danny chuckled, watching Harry gorging from across the room, like a proud father. “I’m guessing Harry cheated on someone, just like I did. Then, snap! The curse activates… But I’m sure you already worked that out.”

“It’s true then,” Joel sighed, losing all hope of this being one large and unfortunate coincidence.

“Of course it is!” Danny chuckled, unable to tear his eyes away from Harry as he attacked the stack of sandwiches with nothing but pure gluttony. His eyes seemed to sparkle with delight, or worse, nostalgia.

“Is this how it happened to you?” Joel asked, setting aside his own guilt for abandoning Danny all those years ago.

“Pretty much!” Danny nodded, smirking as Harry seemed to speed up with his eating. “The food’s not even important. The curse is what is making him fat, not the calories. But it’s still fun to watch, eh?” he smiled, nodding briefly at Joel.

“How do we stop it?” Joel asked with a little impatience.

“You don’t,” Danny replied, suddenly short-tempered. “I came here, trying to find the old lady who did this. She let me stay here; said she needed a good, strong fat boy to look after her garden whilst she’s away. That’s how I ended up staying here. She grows things in the garden; special things that draw power from the soli; something can only be found in this area.” He looked at Joel, sensing his disbelief. “I don’t know how it works. “I just do as I’m told. I live here, rent-free, and have a little security guard job that keeps me in food,” he grinned, patting the monstrous tank of belly fat he had amassed. “She’ll be so pleased when I tell her Harry has shown up here at long last as well.”

“He’s not staying here,” Joel stated with absolute conviction, realising that Danny had altered beyond anything he recognised now. He was no friend; not any more. “He’s not going to end up like you have. I’ll make sure of that.”

Danny simply smirked at Joel’s challenge and called over to Harry as he watched the man snaffle the last of the bread. “Did you enjoy that?” he teased patronisingly, as if speaking to a child. He raised himself slowly and Joel tried hard not to look at the enormous ass on the man; each glute pumped full of fat, yet remaining strong and capable. “I’ve left out another little treat for you,” he went on, heading to the pantry and returning with a large carton of ice cream. He handed it to Harry, and chose to sit next to him now, deliberately goading Joel as he slipped his fat arm over his old friend, as if claiming him for his own. “You get that down you. You’ll feel better then… I promise.”

As much as Joel had wanted them both to leave, he knew his best hope of getting in touch with the old lady who had created the curse was to hang around and pick from what he could in the house. He’d pretended to need the bathroom, knowing he wouldn’t be missed downstairs, then slowly went on the hunt for anything that might help him. He wouldn’t be missed downstairs, given how infatuated the enormous Danny seemed to be with watching Harry eat.

There were three bedrooms in the house. Danny’s one was obvious straight away. His bed had become a giant pit, sinking in the middle and smelling of stale sweat. Empty snack wrappers and cartons filled the space in much the same way they had the last time Joel had gone in his dorm room and it was obvious, by the simplest of glances, that this was the room of a very obese man. Joel had hoped to find something in the other rooms, but they were nothing but dusty, soulless spaces, devoid of anything interesting whatsoever. Still he tried, lifting the mattresses and searching behind the wardrobes for anything that might help him track down the old lady who had once lived here; something he knew Danny would never help him do.

“That’s it, Piggy!” Danny cried from downstairs, accompanied by loud, deep moans from Harry. “Get every last drop down!”

Joel raced down, wondering what on earth Danny was inflicting upon Harry and kicking himself for having left him alone in the first place. He arrived in the living room just as Harry ejaculated all over his now naked body. His dick was very firmly in Danny’s fist, even as the fat man held a giant gallon bottle of milk over his open mouth. “What are you doing?” Joel demanded. “Leave him alone!”

Danny smiled at Harry, then leant in for a kiss, which Harry gladly accepted and returned; their tongues fusing together as Joel could only watch on. Then, rising to his feet, Danny’s smile faded and he looked grim-faced at Joel. All of a sudden, Joel felt himself being grabbed by his t-shirt and pushed back over the sweaty sofa; his chin held by Danny’s arm and the rest of him pinned against the enormous man’s mass. At that moment, Danny’s part time job as a security guard seemed to make perfect sense. Joel hadn’t even seen it coming and he squirmed, finding it hard to catch his breath.

“You’re killing my mood,” Danny growled at him. “All I’m doing is playing with the pig.”

“Harry… Harry,” Joel gasped, trying to look up at his friend, only inches away from him; sitting on the sofa where he had been laid out flat by the gigantic fat man. “Get him off me!”

Danny chuckled, looking across at Harry himself. “Keep eating, Fat Boy!” he teased. “Grow nice and fat for me!”

To Joel’s astonishment, Harry did exactly as he was told, picking up more of the food Danny had brought in and feeding himself without a single concern about Joel’s ongoing attack.

“He’s mine now!” Danny declared. “But thank you for bringing him to me. You can go home now.”

Harry!” Joel tried one last time; practically begging for him to get up off his ass and get Danny away from him. “Please!”

“You think you’re so much better than us, don’t you?” Danny growled. “But there were three little piggies who were cursed that night, remember…”

Seeing that Harry was not coming to his aid, Joel stared hard into Danny’s eyes; his gaze stern and defiant. “I’m nothing like you!” he growled with all the energy he had left in him.

Danny seemed to lower his face down to him and Joel tried to shrink away as he felt the disgusting guy’s hot breath on his face. “Here piggy, piggy, piggy!” Danny whispered in an almost inaudible tone.

Joel felt like he was about to pass out. The room seemed to go dark and he had the strangest feeling of suddenly being outside of his own body. Someone, somewhere, had started oinking like a pig.

When the room came back into focus again, Danny was stood again, with a naked Harry and his stout little belly standing by his side. They were both laughing, very clearly, at him; as if he had just done something he wasn’t even aware of.

Joel rubbed his face and rose properly to his feet, surprised by how dizzy he felt. He grabbed at Harry’s newly bought clothes, empty and discarded on the floor and held them out to him. “Harry, get dressed!” he demanded, feeling physically afraid to stay here any longer. “Come with me now.”

The two men were laughing at him still; as if every word that came out of his mouth was gibberish.

“I mean it, Harry! We have to leave!”

Finally, with no other idea of what to do, Joel threw the clothes down and headed straight for the door. He didn’t look back as his car engine roared into life. He’d done it again; taken the easy option, just as he had eight years earlier. And in doing so, he’d just kissed any hope of saving Harry goodbye.

Joel’s experience played on his mind for months. He felt irritable and impatient with people. He now knew for certain that a curse lived within him, like a parasite waiting for the order to eat him up from the inside. There was no one in the entire world who could know what it was like to live like that; there was no one who would believe him if he tried to explain it. Joel had never really considered marriage and starting a family, but now he felt like those options no longer existed for him anyway. Why open up to someone properly when the temptation to cheat could have such disastrous consequences? Why start a family when his whole life could suddenly fall apart, like Harry’s had?

Going back to his old life was never going to work, and Joel knew it. He needed a fresh start; to get away and make new experiences for himself. Working for a global company, there were occasionally opportunities for someone to make a big leap, just like Joel needed now. When the Gold Coast position came up, it felt like it was meant to be. Joel could easily see himself living in Australia. He’d always been a keen surfer and the lifestyle out there seemed to match entirely with his personality. As such, he didn’t waste any time in submitting an application; already starting to plan his big move.

“May the best candidate win!” Sarah smiled as she passed Joel in the corridor. “I hear you’re going for the transfer too?”

Joel raised his eyebrows in surprise. He knew that other people had the option to try out for the new job, but he hadn’t heard anyone else expressing an interest. If he was honest, he wouldn’t have minded all that much if someone else did go for it, but not Sarah. She had one of those formidable personalities: smart, alert and highly capable. She seemed to give off exactly the sort of energy and ethos the company liked best; it was clear to anyone who met her that she was climbing the ranks at rapid speed.

“How come you want to transfer to the Gold Coast?” Joel asked, trying not to let his longing for the job shine through. “I thought you’d want to be heading your way to head office and really start making a name for yourself?” he tried, hoping his words might make Sarah rethink.

“Oh, absolutely!” Sarah nodded. “But this job will be amazing for me, at least for a few months, don’t you think? Just imagine the experience I’ll get!” she beamed.

Joel bit his tongue. Sarah was willing to ruin this opportunity for him just to boost her CV. He could tell that she already knew she had the job, and why wouldn’t she? Everyone seemed to think the sun shone out of her ass. But she didn’t know how much Joel needed this move, and he doubted very much that an ambitious girl like her would even care if he ever tried to explain it to her.

It wasn’t Joel’s finest moment, but as he saw Sarah’s application form sitting there on their line-manager’s desk whilst she was out to lunch, he did the only thing he felt he could do to take back some sort of control in his life. Sifting through the papers, he took out the optional personal statement where Sarah always seemed to excel. He read it through, shaking his head. He’d spent hours trying to sell himself on his application, yet Sarah’s words were all so much better than his. Hell, if he was choosing, there’s no way he would give the job to anyone else after reading this. It was instinct: scrunching the personal statement into a ball and quickly scurrying out of the office, knowing that he had definitely given himself a much better chance: a last hope. There would be plenty more opportunities for the likes of Sarah. But, right now, Joel had to put himself first. He deserved this after all he had been through recently.

It was the Friday of that week when it happened. The clock ticked to midday and Joel suddenly felt an almighty, thunderous slap on his butt. He was sitting down at his desk at the time and he jumped up shouting a loud expletive. Everyone looked up at him from their computers, some scowling and sheltering their phones to protect customers from hearing any more unprofessional workplace language. 

Joel didn’t care. He rubbed his ass, wondering what the fuck had hit him like a sharp, stinging cane travelling at a hundred miles an hour. Had no one else heard the loud SNAP as it had connected with him?

He sat back down, still grumbling as the busy office continued on regardless.

“Are you all right?” asked one of Joel’s colleagues. “You were in the bathroom for like, half an hour.”

Joel shook his head. “Was I?” he asked, squinting to see the time on his computer. It was almost the end of the day and he was nowhere near done with everything he needed to do. He rubbed his forehead, feeling how sweaty and warm he felt. “Have they turned the heat up or something?”

Surveying him from a distance, Joel’s colleague felt confident in her diagnosis. “I think you’re coming down with something,” she declared, before insisting that he went home a little early.

Although Joel remembered agreeing to leave work, it was gone eight in the evening before he found himself finally getting into his apartment. He felt so hungry, deciding that he was going to grab something and then head straight to bed in order to shake off whatever this strange funk was.

Joel was woken by a knock at his door. He looked around, seeing he’d drifted off on his couch and he slowly got himself up. He brushed his hand through his hair, still feeling that he had a temperature. He almost forgot what he was getting up for, until he heard the knock again; louder and more impatient.

“Hey there!” smiled Freya, leaning seductively against the doorframe. “Did I interrupt a workout?” she teased, seeming to appreciate the sweaty sheen on him and the way Joel’s t-shirt was clinging to his toned chest. 

Joel knew what Freya wanted. She only ever came round when she was bored and horny. Then, most of the time, being the gentleman that he was, joel would sort her out and have some fun along the way. As occasional fuck-buddies went, Freya was a smoking hot choice. Her hand slipped onto his shoulders and they began smooching right there on the doorstep.

Freya must have peeked during their kiss, for she pulled out of the kiss suddenly. “Jeez, Joel! Your apartment is a mess!” she laughed. “I’ve never seen it like this!”

Joel knew he hadn’t hoovered since last weekend and he shrugged, not wanting to turn around and look when he was holding Freya’s beautiful hips in his hands.  “Shall we go straight to the bedroom then?” he asked.

Freya smiled back at him, glad that their foreplay time was getting shorter and shorter these days. They both had an itch to scratch, so why waste time?

Twenty minutes later, Joel had never felt more embarrassed in his life as he came out of his bedroom, trying to convince Freya to stay a little longer. He’d never had these issues before. He was young, fit and very accomplished in the bedroom. These sorts of things didn’t happen to guys like him.

Freya didn’t seem to have any patience and actually seemed deeply offended. No matter what she had done, where she had put Joel’s dick, or how much effort she put in, Joel just wasn’t getting hard with her. “Maybe we could try again tomorrow?” Joel asked, keen not to lose his occasional bed companion, or for her to spread the word that he hadn’t been able to get it up. But Freya was not stopping for a chat. She’d made her frustration quite plain in the bedroom and, within a moment, Joel found himself alone, looking down at his dick, wondering what the hell had just happened. Whatever lurgy he was suffering from today, he wasn’t feeling at all himself.

“Joel? Where are you, buddy? It’s gone 9am.”

Joel shook his head and tried to make sense of why his boss was calling him. He looked across at the clock on the wall. It was twenty past nine, but he had no idea whether that was morning or night. It certainly couldn’t be Monday morning, surely?

Sensing his grogginess, Joel’s boss blundered on, filling the silent void where Joel was still trying to think of what to say. “Angela said you looked like you were coming down with the flu on Friday before you left? I’m guessing you haven’t had much of a weekend?”

“No,” Joel replied, rubbing his sweaty face, finally ready to believe that he was actually late for work. “I’ve been pretty spaced out. I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s like some sort of fever. I didn’t even realise it was Monday already.”

“Joel, it’s absolutely fine,” his boss replied; her voice full of understanding and concern. “Five years you’ve worked here and never taken a sick day. I was starting to think you were super-human or something. Please look after yourself, go see a doctor and give me a call when you think you’ll be ready to come back in.”

“Thanks,” Joel mumbled, already losing track of what his boss was saying: too much information all in one go.

“When you come back, I’ll want to talk to you about your application for the transfer too,” she went on. “You were by far the strongest candidate with your personal statement. Even Sarah failed to sell herself on her application form. I’ll be sorry to see you go.”

“You mean, I got it?” Joel asked, suddenly brought back to life by the news. 

“We’ll talk about it when you’re feeling better,” his boss chuckled. “But, yes. Well done, Joel. You did it!”

After putting the phone down, Joel felt a burst of energy and clarity that he hadn’t experienced in some time. He’d got the job! Even Sarah hadn’t been able to outdo him this time!

But then Joel’s smile faded. He began to think back to the week before, when he had slipped out part of Sarah’s application and kept it. He’d got the job by cheating; he knew that. And if no one had noticed before the midday deadline last Friday, her application would have been seriously weakened. But, he’d cheated, Joel’s mind kept on reminding him, and Sarah had suffered for it. He remembered the weird thwack he’d felt on his butt that lunchtime, bringing back that awful memory of the night he, Harry and Danny had been caught in the old lady’s garden, back in college. That was the last time he’d experienced pain like that before. He’d cheated, his mind repeated. Like a selfish pig.

Joel felt his heart sink like an anchor plunging into icy seawater; yet it began beating faster than he had ever felt it before. He shifted from this way to that, not knowing where to go. He eventually found himself in the bathroom, feeling the sudden urge to pour cold water over his face to try and keep his mind focused. It was the first time he’d noticed that he was still naked after getting frisky with Freya. Had that been Friday night? Saturday? Time had gotten away from him. Then, in the reflection, he saw it for the first time. The masking of his abs with a budding layer of fat. It had surreptiously built, thickening his waistline as Joel twisted to see if what he was actually seeing was true. He looked like he’d gained twenty pounds in a single weekend. “No, no, no, no!” he panicked, twisting further to see his small, tight buns also looking thicker and beefier. Then he pushed his face into the mirror, observing the start of a small chin under his handsome jawline. “No! Fuck!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. It was all so unfair! This was all happening because of fucking Sarah? Where the fuck was the justice in that?

Joel needed to do something. He could explain! He probably still had Sarah’s personal statement scrunched up in his pocket somewhere. He could take it to his boss and confess to what he had done. It didn’t have to be too late! 

But just as soon as this thought came to him, Joel suddenly felt a sharp pain attacking his stomach. With his fingers, he gripped the edges of the sink and lowered his head, growling with discomfort. It almost seemed like his insides were being rearranged, his stomach tying itself in knots. Joel tried to push against the unpleasantness, to squeeze it back from wherever it came from. But there was a feeling, like something trying to creep its way up his throat. He opened his eyes and looked at his reflection in the mirror to see what it was as he couldn’t hold onto it anymore. “Oink, oink!” he heard himself snort. The feeling of relief was instantaneous. “Oink, oink!” he cried again, not fighting the urge this time; the pressure in his stomach decreasing dramatically.

Within a few more seconds, the episode seemed to be over. He gazed at his body once more, surprised to see that his little paunch had appeared to gain a few more pounds again. He was getting love handles, curving out to the sides! Yet, there it was: the erection that had so evaded him during his evening with Freya. Pumped full of blood, it tingled with wild sexual energy, like he had never felt before. His train of thought lost, Joel put his hand to it and fell even further.

Joel couldn’t remember going out for supplies, but he cringed as he saw how he had dressed himself. Having planned to go to the gym on Saturday morning, his tight shorts, fitted sleeveless t-shirt and trainers were the only things he had left out for himself. Now they all seemed to fit horrifyingly badly. In the last couple of days, his stomach had been swelling up, becoming like a small tire around his waist. He’d developed love handles like he’d never seen before, soft and doughy to the touch, whilst his belly button had seemed to deepen with each passing hour. He gazed in horror at himself, seeing how he had the appearance of a man who had no comprehension of how dreadful he looked; his fleshy stomach peeking out below his t-shirt, his underwear and shorts not quite large enough to cover his rear; a sweaty ass crack on display for all to see. Had he bumped into someone he knew as well? He couldn’t quite remember properly. All his memories seemed shrouded in a fog. He’d offended someone. There had been shouting. Now there was cake, or chocolate sauce, or something along those lines, all smeared around his face.

How long had it been since the curse had activated? All sense of time was lost and Joel seemed incapable of remaining level-headed for more than a few minutes at a time. He now understood why Harry had been behaving in the way that he had. He couldn’t imagine the mental effort it must have taken for him to recite his wedding vows after this had all started. 

But what about Danny? How had he done it? He may not have been anything like the guy Joel remembered, but he didn’t seem to have the same difficulties with staying lucid. He even had a job! Was that because he wasn’t trying to fight it anymore?

As he thought, Joel suddenly realised his hand was in his pants, tugging at his dick; his other hand sliding across the fresh fat in his middle. He growled angrily in frustration that he barely seemed able to do anything for more than two minutes before he was gorging himself on something, or trying to pleasure his body in other ways. He needed to work past this stage and quickly. He needed his mind back and to end the mental exertion of fighting this.

“I’m giving into this curse. I surrender,” Joel told himself in the mirror, looking straight into his own eyes as if speaking to the curse within. “You win!” he told it. “I’m a…” he hesitated, finding it hard to say the word. “I’m a pig!”

Afterwards, Joel couldn’t remember a thing. He seemed to have skipped days and days. He looked at his body, all bloated with pounds and pounds of even more fat. He’d developed a gut, fleshier nipples and a rounded double chin. His ass appeared to have doubled in width; his thighs fleshy but strong. There wouldn’t be a thing in his whole apartment that would conver his body now and yet, there were larger pants and t-shirts waiting in parcels that he didn’t remember ordering. 

Joel pinched and grabbed at the flesh, feeling his hardness throbbing as he did so. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he didn’t need to worry about work anymore and there was a nagging feeling that he would have to leave his apartment soon. Had something happened? He chuckled at the vague memories that passed through his mind. He would need to find somewhere else to go…

“Well, well, well!” Danny sniggered as Joel let himself into the house near their old college campus. “What have we here?” he chirped, standing up and admiring the changed form of Joel.

It had taken so much training for Joel to handle the long journey up here, but he’d managed it at long last. His mind had needed sharpening, his attention span building up once more. He’d spent hours choosing to be on all fours, gorging himself in order to support the transition. He had stuffed himself beyond feeling full and masturbated more times than he ever had as a teenager. But it had all been for the best. He felt, for the most part, alert once again; remembering most, if not all, of his days. He matched Danny’s stare and held it confidently, letting the guy know that he wasn’t about to be pushed around by him again. He grinned, snorting like a pig and then watched as Danny lost a little of his own composure, leaning forwards slightly and echoing the sounds, whether he meant to or not.

“Where’s the othe pig?” Joel asked; his dick hard and excited to see the transformation. Already he was kicking off his shoes and removing his shirt, letting Danny know that he was here to stay.

“Upstairs, sleeping,” Danny reluctantly replied. “He’s still pushing against it. At least, some part of him is,” he explained. “Jeez! Fuck, Joel! You got fat!” he then suddenly excliamed, seeing Joel’s enormous gut and sounding rather jealous.

“I triggered the curse three months ago,” Joel smirked, tapping his large gut and enjoying the wobble of the softest underside of it.

“Like fuck you only triggered the curse three months ago,” Danny shot back. “Bullshit! Even Harry isn’t as big as you yet.”

“Well that will need to change, won’t it?” Joel laughed with pride. “That old lady had cursed three fat pigs; not two. He’s going to have to catch up now I’m back here. He can’t keep fighting against this forever.” 

Joel deliberately sat himself down in Danny’s chair, resting his large butt and sighing in appreciation of being off his feet. Danny, the former quarterback may have been the biggest now, but he wouldn’t always hold that title; Joel knew that with absolute certainty. 

“What do you think you can do to get Harry fattening faster than I have?” Danny grunted, seeming put out by the insinuation that he hadn’t been doing a good enough job with their mutual friend.

“You’ll soon see,” Joel smiled, rubbing his large gut and feeling it expand with the confidence he felt in embracing his new personality. What a life this would be; living here, rent-free, with two other fat guys. He jiggled his gut to catch Danny’s attention, knowing that he’d have sex on tap with both of the horny pigs that lived here. Then, just like that, the enormous man  came striding over to rub and caress Joel’s gut, as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Even with all his bravado, Danny was a slave to the fat, every bit as much as Joel was.

“Where’s good for pizza around here?” Joel asked. He put his sweaty feet up on the table knocking over everything that had been left on there. Then he spread his legs as Danny slipped his hands into Joel’s sweatpants and began tugging him off. “I’m absolutely starving!” 

[petrichor-idyllic]

Heyy I would like to make a Minho x fem reader request but it contains slight SA and if you aren't comfortable writing that, it's okay :). So one night the reader isn't able to sleep so she decides to take a walk around the Glade but a boy decided to attack her and threaten her with a kn¡fe to do stuff with him but she manages to break out of his hold and hit him so he can faint (Minho's fighting lessons came handy here ;) ). But she is in shock of what happened and got cut on the hand at the progress so she just goes to Minho's hut to help her (Kind of "I didn't know where else to go" trope) and he takes care of her but also makes sure to banish the piece of shit that tried something on her. Thank you sm <3333333

Damn I'm actually getting requests this is kinda mad lol. I'm so happy that y'all are like my work :))

Also, sorry, this one isn't as long because normally I write multiple scenes in one, but this is really just one long scene.

SAFE PLACE

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above, but I am going to try to not describe the assault very much so there is nothing explicitly violent. This takes place after the direct aftermath of the attempt. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Themes of sexual assault and references to blood. Nothing explicit. Inappropriate language.

It was meant to be a simple night. You'd always been restless and sleep never came easy to you. It was kind of common knowledge that you're an insomniac, so when you decided to go on a late-night walk earlier, you never expected to end up on Minho's doorstep, blood dripping from your palm, physically shaken.

Another Glader, a Builder called Darren, had come onto you a couple of times, so when he'd tried tonight, you thought nothing of it. That was until there was a knife pressed to your throat.

It's almost a blur. You got away- there's no way you weren't going to put up a fight. A swift knee to the groin, grabbing the knife and headbutting him square in the nose was more than enough damage to sprint away.

Though, in your desperation, you'd grabbed the blade of the knife, causing a deep gnash to spread across the delicate skin of your hands.

You knock again. You know Minho has to be up early in the morning- he has to be up early every morning. Being the Keeper of the Runners is a demanding and hard job to do, and under normal circumstances, you respect this.

But not tonight. Minho is your best friend. He was the one of only boys that treated you like a normal person when you first arrived. Sure, he still made some flirty passes, but whilst the other boys stared and stuttered around you, Minho was smooth and joking. And with Newt and Alby always being caught up in something, you spend most of your evenings with the Runner.

And you trust him.

And you're desperate.

You knock again. "Minho!" A pit forms in your stomach. Darren could easily still be around here, recovering in time to attack again.

"Jesus, you wanna see me that bad?" Minho's playful tone reaches you through the poorly constructed door, but his face pales once he sees you.

Tears threaten to roll down your face as you tremble in front of him, cupping your injured hand in an attempt to nurse it and ease the sharp sting.

"Shuck, what happened?" Minho steps forward and reaches out to you, but you immediately flinch away from his touch.

"Hey, it's me," he pulls his himself back, "you're safe with me, yanno that."

"I didn't know where else to go," you confess, and he visibly softens, his tough guy facade crumbling under your teary eyes. "Can- can I just come in? Please?" You sniff, trying to stay reasonably stable.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," he steps aside, and you brush past, hearing the click of the door behind him.

You've never actually been in his hut before. It's surprisingly nice- homely even. It's simple and clean, only a couple of maps scattered around the room to show that Minho actually lives here.

"Sit down," he gestures towards the bed and you obey, sitting on the edge whilst blood starts to pool in your hand. He rumages through a drawer, pulling out what looks like a make-shift first-aid kit. "I'm no Med-jack, but you can't be bleedin' everywhere."

You attempt to laugh at his poor joke. Concern is written on his face. He's never seen you like this. You're always capable and competitive, always bringing fire to your work and getting shit done.

He sits next you, not close but not too far as he holds his hand out, wanting you to show your injury to him. After a second, you do so.

You hiss slightly as the antibacterial wipes contact the wound, earning a string of mumbled sorrys from your friend. The cut is deep and angry, making you cringe as you look at the state of your own hand.

Minho is incredibly delicate. Something bad has happened, and he can tell- hurting you further is definitely something he doesn't want to do.

He cautiously puts glue strips against your palm. Like he said, Minho is no medical expert, but he's used to getting scraps and scratches out in the Maze, so he is well prepared. Though he's unsure if this will actually stay in place. It looks like it'll need stitches, but you look in no state to be asking Med-jacks for help.

As he cautiously starts to wrap a bandage around your hand, he finally speaks.

"What happened?" His eyes flicker up to meet yours. You'd calmed down a bit now; the feelings of panic having faded into a numbness. Silence settles for a second and he knows better than to push you.

You take a shakey but deep breath. "I couldn't sleep, so I went on a walk- a-and this Builder, Darren, he came up to me," you pause, processing everything like you're starting to understand it yourself, "and he started hitting on me. It was nothing new and I told him I wasn't interested, and I don't really remember what happened next, but..."

"But, what (Y/N)?" It's rare that Minho uses your name. He's nervous himself and rage he's never experienced before has started to bubble in his stomach.

"I don't even know what happened next, I just remember being pinned to a tree with a knife pressed against my throat. He was saying all this shit and told me to be quiet and tried to undo my belt and-"

Minho's knuckles go white as they fall to his sides, fury seeping through his veins. He's in the right mind to go and find this guy right now- but he knows he'll be the one that gets banished for what he'll do to him.

"-and I kneed him in the balls and ran off, I cut my hand escaping." Minho stares at the ground, his gaze fixed on some invisible spot.

After a few seconds pass, you grow concerned, "Minho?"

"I'm going to fucking kill him."

Minho isn't exactly known for being the most level-headed shank around. He's picked a lot of fights in his time and is no stranger to a night in the Slammer. But this? This is different. He looks like he might actually stand by his words.

"You can't do that, man-"

He's on his feet, walking towards the door before you can stop him. "Minho!" You scramble up too, blocking him as he gets to the door. "The shuck are you doing?"

"I've gotta tell Ably, slintheads can't be getting away with this klunk!"

"Alby will be asleep."

"I don't care," he goes to move past you, but you grab his wrist.

"Please, can't this just wait 'till the morning?" You sigh, "I don't wanna think about it right now. Please."

It's his turn to sigh. He doesn't want to make things any worse tonight than they already are. "Okay. Fine. But I'm getting his ass banished- he hurt another Glader. He hurt you- he tried to do worse. I'm not letting that slide."

Minho is murderous. He's protective and angry; something you expected but not to this extent. He's literally going to get Darren killed. Not just get him killed- but make sure of it.

He's right, though. That's the penalty for hurting another Glader. And if everyone else can respect Alby's rules, why can't this Builder?

"I have to tell Alby." He's more definite this time, and you give him a soft nod.

"I know," you fall into another round of quiet and he's heart-broken seeing you like this.

"Can I, uh, can I hug you?" He doesn't want to cause you anymore discomfort, so asking for permission is key. You nod.

He's quick to wrap his muscular arm around you, something you accept easily, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

His comfort and the emotions catching up to you finally cause you to break. A sob shakes you and Minho's grip tightens as you cling to his shirt.

"Hey," he rubs circles on your back, "hey, it's okay."

You can't speak, and you both stand there for a while. His warmth is swallowing, and you've never felt safer. Minho isn't going to let anything bad happen to you.

You're safe with him.

You look you, sniffing, feeling slightly guilty when you see his tear-stained shirt. "Can I stay here? With you? For the night?"

He blinks at you. He was too blinded by his own anger to consider what he was going to do with you. Obviously, you're not going to feel safe going back out there.

"Yeah, yeah, 'course." He steps away, looking around his room, trying to work out the best way to go about this. "I'll uh, I can sleep on the floor and you can take my bed."

"You don't have to do that-"

"Dude," he sends you a sympathetic look, "you've been through a shuckin' lot tonight. I'll take the floor."

You give him a sad smile, choosing to nod in agreement instead of using your words.

Minho stole a pillow and a blanket and you both settled into your sleeping arrangements, but it's clear neither of you are getting any sleep.

Minho's bed smells like him. It's strangely comforting, and it's helping relax you. But that doesn't stop you from tossing and turning. After what must have been an hour, you give up.

"Minho, you awake?"

"Yeah," his voice is groggy and rough, tiredness taking its spot in his mind.

You turn to face him, opening the blankets. "Get in."

He sits up on his hands, using them to level him up. "What? I don't want to-"

"Just get in. Please."

Minho hesitates, but does as you say. Standing up, he slips under the covers with you. Normally, you'd be too embarrassed or anxious to even dare to be so bold, but you need comfort.

Once he's lay down, he opens his mouth to speak but you shuffle closer to him, once again hiding your face in his chest and flopping your arm over him. Minho stills for a second, deciding to keep up the wordless interaction and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer.

"It's gonna be okay, (Y/N)," he mumbles as he soothingly strokes you hair, "I'm gonna look after ya- you're safe here."

Here is another request for Minho. I love writing for this man and it's a nice change to write something softer, even if it is under some horrendous circumstances. I didn't want to write anything explicit because I think that's unnecessary, but I hope that works here.

Anyway, as always, let me know what you think. Some more light-hearted stuff is on the way soon.

#🌿 petri tmr minho #🌿 petri writes #🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri writes tmr #minho tmr x reader #tmr minho #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #minho maze runner

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PROPAGANDA

KATHERINA MINOLA (THE TAMING OF THE SHREW) (CW: Domestic Abuse)

1.) We had to read this for English my senior year. I got so mad at the way she's treated. She's the titular "shrew" of the play. She has to be married off before her younger sister can get married, because that makes sense.

Then the most dogshit man imaginable comes along, and everybody thinks they're perfect. He literally gaslights her and denies her food and water.

Fuck Petruchio and Katherine Minola deserved better!

2.) Literally the whole play is about how she is so awful that the main guy needs to change her entire personality, which he does as a challenge not because he likes her, and then proceeds to her abuse her for the rest of the play. Yet, he is portrayed as the hero, not a villain and she is shown to have "improved" at the end. People will say, oh it's open to interpretation, it can be played different ways, it's satire, but i don't find abuse funny and there is a distinct lack of commentary in the play to count as satire imo. Taming of the Shrew is a tragedy not a comedy, I will die on this hill. Kate deserves better!

3.) The title isn’t joking, ya’ll. She literally gets broken like a rebellious feral animal and it’s treated as a happy ending.

BARBARARA GORDON (DC COMICS) (CW: Ableism)

1.) Famously fridged in 1988, which was so popular with misogynists it became canon. After almost 2 decades of being one of the only disabled characters, was rebooted to a younger, more fun version of herself whose only history is that she was fridged but not disabled by it.

2.) The Killing Joke is one of the biggest comic examples of a female character getting hurt to motivate male characters. Also tbe way different cannons will trade off who her romantic intrest is out of Batfamily is pretty disturbing ranging from Bruce Wayne in Batman the Animated series universe (ew) to Tim Drake in the Arkham games (ew). Not to mention DC now is not letting her grow out of being Batgirl taking away her legacy of other young female heroes taking up her mantle and her getting to mentor them instead forcing her into a Batgirl cycle of purgatory when she was always better as Oracle (Its a little more complicated in the new Batgirl book but its still not solving the issues in a way that feels meaningful enough to make up the damage).

3.) Was shot as angst value for Bruce and her dad, implied to be sexually assaulted in The Killing Joke with absolutely no respect for her long career as Batgirl. When Alan Moore asked if he could, the editor said "cripple the bitch." She became paralyzed from the waist down. THankfully, an actually good writer picked her up from there and then wrote one of the best stories ever written (Oracle Year One: Born from Hope). Was one of the most iconic disabled characters in comic book history, hell, as Oracle, she was definitely up there as one of the most iconic disabled characters ever as well as a fantastic character, period. There were a few moments where people kept trying to make things out of her disability and had her be shitty to other women for no reason but for the most part, she was awesome. During her time In 2011, Dan Didio and some other misogynistic/ableist comic book writers were responsible for "curing" her disability and forcing her back into Batgirl, despite her having shown absolutely no desire to do so, as part of the New 52. They also made it an editorial mandate that she couldn't have glasses, a cool secret base, and her time as Oracle couldn't be referenced. This was because those writers were nostalgic for the 60s Batman show where Babs was played by an actress they all had the hots for and couldn't accept she'd grown up and moved on. That was bad enough, but over time, she's been increasingly deaged and reduced even further to just Dick Grayson's on and off again girlfriend and a generic girlboss. Batgirl of Burnsides burn in hell.

#polls #round 1 #week 2 #new #cw domestic abuse #cw ableism

[unhinged-transmasc-man]

(This is a very long post, but worth reading)

Being a trans man is bizarre. Because you grow up being treated as a girl and sexualized as one, mocked and diminished and dismissed as one. “Oh you’re just a whiny little hysterical girl, shut up.” You’re constantly gaslit about your interests and experiences and trauma. You know what it looks like when someone sees you as small and insignificant, unworthy of listening to. You have femininity forced onto you and get punished if you disobey. If you’re Asian, you’re even more sexualized and infantilized due to fetishization. And if you’re black or brown, society never considered you innocent to begin with. You’ve been an adult from the moment you were born. Being socialized as having a white girlhood is a very particular experience. But if you’re on the internet and in queer spaces you learn that femininity is always really good, actually, that it never punishes anyone, and that you can be anyone except a man. You can be a lesbian, you can be non-binary, you can be butch, you can be transmasc, as long as you don’t Step Over The Line to being a man. As long as you Stay Good. These ideas slowly creep into your head and stay there, sometimes being what keeps you from realizing you’re a man.

And then you realize you’re a man. And you still have all those experiences, you’ve still been hurt by misogyny in the same way, you’ve still had violence enacted upon you. But now it’s somehow worse, because the same people who supported you when you were butch, or a lesbian, or transmasc but not a man, suddenly they’re gone. You can see the distaste they have for you. Suddenly those “jokes” about men you and others made out of pressure and internalized self-hate affect you, and it hurts. So you speak up, say that actually, you’re a man and you’re not bad. And they laugh at you. They say that either “oh we didn’t mean YOU,” or “if you’re a man, then you’re included.” And what are you supposed to say to that? Either all men are evil but you’re not evil so you can’t be one, or you become a victim of a kind of violence resulting from 2010s Buzzfeed “progressive” gender essentialist bullshit “feminism”, where you have to tolerate demonization of your identity as a man to be acknowledged as a man. Sometimes you’ll take it, because you want to be seen as a man so bad that even being complicit in your own dehumanization is better than being forced into womanhood. (I’m also talking about you, pick-me trans guys. If you grew out of it, good in you, but this may be a wake up call you need.)

So you go on the internet for a supportive trans community and you find that things have shifted since you thought you were still an identity of Not A Man. You still have the same experiences, but now you can’t complain about them. People call you “a whiny hysterical little girl,” but in different words. Now you’re “an aggressive toxic man.” Keep in mind, you’re still regularly misgendered and treated as a girl offline, but that doesn’t matter to these people. You’ve crossed that line, and now you’re Bad, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t talk about experiences, you can’t talk about prejudice, you can’t talk about issues that uniquely affect trans men. You can’t talk about how cis women throwing a tantrum at inclusive reproductive language is at words meant to include trans men, not trans women. You can’t talk about how afab socialization still effects you, that it keeps you from speaking out at this very moment. You can’t talk about the rate of violence, or of murder, or of sexual assault. Suddenly the people who know full well how inherently violent it is to misgender trans women in death are saying “but terfs like trans men, they just want to save you, you don’t die like we do,” and you don’t know what to say. Because it’s so untrue.

You know exactly how terfs attack trans men, all the fear-mongering about “poor autistic lost lesbians,” and “amputating healthy breasts and fertility,” and “internalized misogyny, they did this to escape the patriarchy.” You know the fear-mongering about it and where it comes from, because you’ve seen it from the day you were born. It’s the language of putting men who they see as deviant women back in their place. And yet no one besides you and other trans men seem to see it. When JK Rowling comes out with her transphobic manifesto, she talks just as much about trans men as she does trans women. And yet the only response you see to her is “trans women are women!!!!”. And generally, that’s the only response you ever see to any type of transphobia. That trans women are women. This gets so ingrained that anyone other than you is completely unprepared for how to defend trans men against transphobia, because they think transphobia only affects trans women and don’t understand the unique language. It also doesn’t help that most of them already believe the same things (mainly, that being a man is Bad and Not Progressive) and they can’t argue against what they believe.

And so here you are, still experiencing misogyny and violence, still being misgendered and threatened, uniquely in danger for being visibly trans, but you can’t talk about it now. Because you use he/him now, and that makes you evil. Other trans people, who are supposed to be your family, think you’re evil. They project their hatred of cis men and masculinity onto you, and you’re bewildered. You realize they can accept you for being trans, but they can’t accept you for being a man.

They’ll try and get you to separate those parts, say nonsense like “all transphobia is only based on trans women,” when you know for a fact it affects people in different ways. If you say telling all men to die is problematic, they’ll call you transmisogynistic and sexist as though you don’t know misogyny like the back of your hand. You try telling people who have been dehumanized for being trans that you don’t want to be dehumanized for what makes you trans, and get demonized even further. You get the worst combination of all. You get diminished and mocked and condescended and dismissed, “Oh you’re just a whiny little hysterical girl, shut up,” turns into “Oh you’re just a whiny little hysterical man. Stop speaking over women.” You’re still constantly gaslit about your interests and experiences and trauma, because liking masculinity is seen as bad now that you’ve realized you’re a man. You know what it looks like when someone sees you as small and insignificant, unworthy of listening to (especially as growing up as a Jewish girl, and now a Jewish man). They see you as not only small and insignificant, unworthy of listening to, but they justify it with your identity. Before, it was that “women” weren’t worthy of being listened to because they were stupid and insignificant, and now it’s that you’re a man, and men shouldn’t talk about their experiences fear because they’re Evil. You had femininity forced onto you and got punished if you disobeyed, and now you get that again! But now you’re a “toxic man” if you hate being misgendered. You get the misogyny of being treated like a woman and the demonization of being a man, and you can’t talk about either. “You can’t complain now,” they say, “you asked for this. You chose this.”

They use the same language of those “he’s only pulling your hair because he likes you” teachers (“terfs want to forcibly detransition you bc they care about you”) or “you were asking for it” adults after being catcalled for the first time at age 12 (“you chose to be a man”) or the same fucking language as terfs, who they claim to hate. They use this same language, except now it’s a chance for them to project their trauma with masculinity onto you. You learn a lot of people only hate terfs because they don’t include trans women, not because they’re fascists who believe in innate gender essentialism and that your genitals determine everything about you. You learn a lot of trans people are terfs. In everything but name, they are. They believe in gender essentialism, in radical feminism, that all men are evil, just including trans women. In their view, they slot trans women into the status of white womanhood as eternal victims, and trans men into the status of white manhood as eternal oppressors. Except that doesn’t work.

(Not to mention that non-binary people can also be men or/and women, and are entirely left out in all of this except to fit into this oppression point calculator developed in a previous un-invented circle of discourse hell)

You find a small circle of trans men and mascs talking about the same stuff you’re talking about. You realize that realizing you’re a trans man means you have to become an activist for trans men. Every word you think of to describe your own experiences is, again, mocked and dismissed. You’re gaslit even more heavily than you were before, by the same people who claim you have power over them. People who have never talked to a trans man in good faith spread misinformation, that testosterone is easy to get (it’s actually harder to get than estrogen because it’s a level three substance that results in a felony if taken without a prescription), that it’s poison (and maybe it was for them, but they say it as a universal statement), that all trans men worry about is misgendering, ignoring the very real violence against us specifically for being TRANS MEN. And you die a little inside and grow very disillusioned and alienated from other trans people. You notice that traits of a testosterone-induced puberty are demonized even when that hurts trans women, and you notice any trans women who try to speak up are silenced, just as you are. And it hurts. Where is the community in this?

But still, you have your own community, slowly raising awareness for these things. You dust off your skills you got from validating yourself from harm from your abusive mother, and put on that same shield you used against abusive cis boys in high school who made period jokes and said cis lesbians just wanted to be men. You use the language to describe your own oppression that you know to be true. You use “transandrophobia” and “anti masculinity” without apology. You’re not going to apologize, flutter your lashes and give a nervous laugh the way you did for cis men when you were in danger, to other trans people about transphobia. Not anymore, not now, and not ever again. You work through your own self-hatred of masculinity that the queer “community” fully endorses and practices daily, and realize that being a man is good, actually. You start defining your own ideal of masculinity, and start being your own role model of what you want to be as a man.

You’re on testosterone and see it demonized daily by other trans people, and see that what gives you happiness is mocked as what makes you unlovable and disgusting. It hurts, but you learn to brush them aside. Solidarity is important, you’ve always known this. Sometimes you can get through to people, who will realize they’re hurting you and stop. But some people won’t, and will victimize themselves eternally. That’s not your fault, and the emotional labor you carried over from being raised as a girl means you especially need to hear this. That’s not your job. Not because women should have that job, but because no one should have to do more work than is equal. You are trans because you are a man, and so your manhood cannot be separated from your transness. Other people practicing transphobia against you is their fault, not yours.

You start to learn that damn, the patriarchy really does effect men from how other queer people treat you. Because people, especially women (both cis and trans) start treating you like a non-human robot, an emotional punching bag. That’s if they don’t demonize you entirely. But still, you have your community, you’re transitioning, and you’re happy. You start growing into your manhood and masculinity, really growing into it. And there are times when you’re really, really happy. You decide to make your own representation. Don’t let anyone take that away from you, fellow trans men. You are handsome, you are strong, you are resilient. Your are courageous and lovely and kind. You are worthy of love not despite being a man, but because you are a man. It’s been hard, it’ll be hard. But it’s worth it to be a man.

(This ended up being a long post, a combination of what started out as a rant and turned into more of a personal journey narrative. I want to make people feel heard. You are valid. It’s not just in your head, they are gaslighting you. You aren’t sensitive, you aren’t dramatic, you aren’t toxic, and you aren’t whiny. You’re a trans man who wants to be known as a man without being demonized for it. Never be afraid to speak up against transphobia, especially when it’s from other trans people. They should know better, it is not your fault. I love you. I’ve also learned more about multigender people and intersex people, but I can’t speak to their experience at all and so didn’t want to misrepresent. But I can only imagine it’s even more complicated and hard for you, so you get even more love and support <333)

(If you’re not a trans man or transmasc reading this, and you support it, thank you. This was specifically about trans men because it’s the man part people really demonize, and transmasc as an identity is still seen as “safe” because it’s “not a man”. For supportive trans women and transfems, I love you. Keep speaking up for us. But for anyone who comes at this in bad faith, re-evaluate why you feel attacked. Are you perpetuating harm against trans men? Are you continuing gender essentialism but justify it because you have a marginalized identity? Are you projecting your trauma against cis men, men in general, and masculinity against people who can’t fight back? Reflect and grow the fuck up. Are you a trans man who’s bought into dehumanizing yourself so you can be seen as “one of the good ones”? Are you a white trans woman weaponizing your newfound sense of white womanhood onto trans men, especially non-white trans men? Reflect on how demonizing men and masculinity as inherently predatory and dangerous effects jewish men, black men, brown men, disabled men, and Asian men. And maybe just white cishet men as well!!! They’re also people!!!! Being a man isn’t inherently a bad thing. You should be mad at systems, not people, and individuals when they perpetuate harm. Being marginalized in one area doesn’t mean you can claim to be the voice of the community while hurting members of the community you supposedly consider yourself apart of.)

#cw transandrophobia #transandrophobia #transmisandry #anti-masculinity #cw sa mention #cw terf mention #cw jk rowling #trans guy #trans man #trans men

[lady-griffin]

It’s honestly amazing to me how the Try Guys story remains ongoing. Sure, it’s still new and all, but it just feels like there shouldn’t be THAT MUCH MORE to it.

Yet, it keeps gaining layers.

For instance, consider the tone-deaf SNL skit. Where they make fun of the three men who removed their co-owner for having a long-term affair with one of their employees; as though that’s not a serious workplace violation, misconduct of behavior, and abuse of power that opens their company to several different lawsuits. 

It’s amazing how many people don’t seem to understand that it’s bad for a company to have someone onboard who puts the business in that kind of danger. Ned’s actions also put their company under some heavy financial strain and negative public scrutiny – which again, bad for business.

The skit treats the remaining Try Guys, like they’re overreacting and even insinuates that this affair was just a one-time kiss, thus downplaying the whole "boss having a long-term affair with an employee” thing. 

How dare these three men hold their former friend and co-owner accountable and protect their company from his actions. This skit turns them into petty, greedy drama whores, who are only upset because he didn’t tell them first about the totally innocent “kiss.”

As well as the weird tone - that because they do silly and stupid things for people’s entertainment that means that they can’t be taken seriously nor are they running a real business. Which weird take for SNL to have, like that’s an especially weird for them to have. 

Or at least that’s one of the vibes I got from it. 

Basically, the skit doesn’t make fun of the man who made so much money selling how perfect his marriage was and also apparently stupid enough (despite going to Yale) to go out in public and cheat on his wife with an employee. 

Which is odd, considering the many ways SNL could’ve gone about this scandal; even NBC’s twitter got in on the joke of “I lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship.”

Now is the skit all that shocking? No. Especially considering some of SNL’s other skits and especially their own problems at the workplace with things of this nature.

However, it gets so much juicer and arguably even more telling, because apparently one or two of Ned’s friends from Yale are writers on the SNL staff.

Like what?

And this also brings back to light a lot of the sexual misconduct and assault SNL has enabled and it’s just…

In a twisted way, I’m curious to what the next layer will be.

How will this story mutate next?

#Try Guys #Try Guys Cheating #SNL #SNL Try Guys #Ned Fulmer

[bonni]

I've talked before about how I think hisoka's reputation as a "well-written villain" is undeserved and I still stand by that for reasons I'll get into at the end of this post. but I think the most frustrating thing about hisoka as a character is that I understand where that reputation comes from, because sometimes his character really works and thinking about what he could have been compared to what he is is infuriating.

hxh is, at its core, a shounen deconstruction, and one of its major themes is how the blind ambition of hunters is damaging on both an individual and interpersonal level. this is specifically reflected in gon, who's ambition and stubbornness hurts himself and the people around him (this post isn't about kurapika but obviously he is a prime example of this as well and the two have major character parallels). both ging and hisoka act as foils to gon, harboring the same blind ambition as he does but in increasingly twisted ways, with ging becoming so easily bored he can't treat a single human being with basic respect, and hisoka literally fetishizing ambition itself; gon, as a child, also finds himself facing abuse and assault at the hands of both of them, and they both use their twisted world view as a justification, with ging neglecting him for his entire life, grooming other vulnerable people in the process, and instructing them to hurt gon, and hisoka literally molesting him.

people sometimes get offended when you talk about the similarities between gon and hisoka, because yeah it feels kind of icky to compare a 12-year-old kid to the adult pedophile who's assaulting him. but the parallels exist for a reason, and that reason isn't to say that gon's going to turn out like this guy, it's to illustrate that hisoka's path is one potential outcome to prioritizing your own ambition over the lives of others. hisoka doesn't have a single relationship that isn't grounded in his own selfish worldview, and neither does ging. these are the people that gon admires and wants to surpass.

gon finally landing a punch on hisoka is an awesome moment, but in retrospect, it's upsetting. it reminds me of utena's duel against mikage; instead of confronting the ways in which they're unhealthily similar to their opponents and maybe doing some soul-searching, our protagonists celebrate the progress they've made towards their own destruction. gon's march towards a self-inflicted doom is a slow and steady one, and the chimera ant arc is the climax. gon can't be a great hunter like ging or hisoka. he cares too much about other people, and it destroys him.

so, yeah. as a foil to gon and as a source of commentary on the way a traditional shounen world encourages child abuse (not unlike our own world, hm?) hisoka is actually a good villain. the problem is, he isn't written consistently. togashi seems to like him too much and is fixated on making him some sort of anti-hero, which completely detracts from his supposed role as a villain! and, elephant in the room, he's still a homophobic stereotype. if you're going to write a predator, don't make him effeminate, and also include gay characters in your work who aren't predators (I do believe killua is intentionally gay coded but let's be honest, it's not enough). and when we look at the way gon's history of grooming and characters like palm are handled, it just becomes increasingly obvious that togashi doesn't really care about making any commentary about csa in a respectful or appropriate way. at best, it's there for shock value, and at worst, it's literally a joke. I will never respect the way that hisoka's character is handled in the series, but I do understand his appeal as a villain, and I really do wish he was written in a more respectful and consistent way.

#chatter #hunter x hunter #hxh meta

[tan1shere]

Treat

Young Miko X female reader !

A/n: just a lil something for you all <3

Summary: Miko had been working in the studio all day and she comes home to food, drinks and nakedness ;)

Warnings: smut ! Mdni. Fingering, pet names, swearing- pretty sure that's about it !

Masterlist

There was no denying that you were excited for Miko to come home. She had been in the studio all day and you missed her tons. She had been working so hard lately and you were incredibly proud of her for that, so. You being the kind and generous soul you are, you decided to make her a lovely meal. It was and will be late by the time she gets home, the darkness of outside cascading into your small home. Having nothing but a candle lit. So far this was going quite romantic, but you had a bigger surprise for her. You had cooked her favorite meal, setting it on the table and preparing everything else, some drinks for the two of you also. When you see her car pull up, you scurry up to your guys bedroom, beginning to strip. You had contemplated whether you should be fully naked or have some cute lingerie on. But you knew once she would see you. She'd want you right away, and you didn't want to keep that from her as she deserves it and nothing less. "Honey I'm home." She says in a slight joking way, quoting that one line. Her steps come to a halt once she sees the table all set. "Baby?" You don't respond wanting her to come up to find you in all your naked glory.

She begins to make her way up to your shared bedroom, instantly stopping in her tracks when she spots you, her eyes widen as she stares at you, speechless. "Whats- what's all this for?" Her mouth hung open a tad. "Thought you deserved a treat. You've been working so hard." You begin going towards her, slowly but surely. "So I made food." "I saw." You inch closer. "And decided to do this alongside." She bites her lip, looking down at your figure, now being close to her. "We haven't even eaten yet." She breathes out. "Thought you may want something a little sweeter beforehand." You now bite your lip, making her lick hers. "That's incredibly tempting." That makes you grin. "Well then, come get me." You keep that grin on, turning around and crawling back onto the bed. She was obsessed with you, there was no doubt about it. "Can't believe all this is for me." Moving over to lean against your body, you look at her lips. "Mhmmm, you're so special." She smiles. "And you're so hot."

You lean in connecting your lips against hers, it felt heavenly, seeing as you haven't been by her since earlier this morning. The kiss slowly heated up, making you loose your breath, but in fairness. Did you care? No. She moves her hands to your hips, knowing she could touch absolutely anywhere right now, but she takes it slow, wanting to savor this moment. You knew that wouldn't last long as you felt the current nakeout sesh intensify. "I missed you all day. Was thinking about you." You let out a hum against her lips. "I missed you too." She smirks. "Yeah?" Making you reply with a breathy 'mmm' her kisses move to your neck, grazing the skin while beginning the sucking assault. You let out a small breath, it slowly turning into a moan as she sucks harder. Her soft hand makes contact with your thigh making you softly gasp. The kisses move down lower, moving to your newly hardened nipples, sucking almost instantly. You once again let out a moan, a bit louder than the last.

"Please.." Your breath is uneven, getting needy for more of her. More of her touch. She lets out a low hum, continuing to suck around the bud. The hand that was once on your thigh, moves painfully slow, close to where you needed it most. She hovers it over there, as if she awaited something else. "Baby." You whine slightly, making her brain go all fuzzy at the lovely noise. This makes her waste no time, touching your sopping folds. Resulting in your mouth opening, letting out the occasional moan as she moves her fingers against you. "You're so wet already. Have barely touched you." She speaks against the flesh of your boob. You could hardly think straight at all now, closing your eyes and focusing on her fingers. "F-fuck. Faster.." her moves do infact speed up against your clit, when she suddenly moves them to your entrance. Giving you no warning, slipping them in and working away at your core. "You make such pretty sounds mama." Your eyes roll all the way back as she fingers you, deep. You couldn't get enough you wanted to be closer to her.

"Mm- I need you." You say. Honestly you didn't know what you needed, but Miko somehow does. "Want you to cum before we move onto the next thing ok?" She was all about your pleasure first which turned you on to the max. Her words, her movements. "I- I'm gunna cum!" You breathe out, feeling the liquid go onto her fingers. Your breath is rapid, slowly but eventually coming down from your high. She removes her fingers, without any thought into putting them in her mouth. "Best meal, ever." You felt like you were dreaming. "N-need." You try to get out, going to tug on her pants. She got the hint going to take them both off, along with her shirt. You run your hands over her stomach, tits. Going to kiss her again as she lines up with your pussy. You were too distracted by the kiss, that when you felt her hot cunt on yours, you let out a breathy moan into her mouth. Falling into the mattress as you couldn't hold your weight up.

Your back arches off the bed, begging to feel it all. Desperate for it. It was genuinely messy but so delicious. "I needed this all day." She rasps. Enjoying every bit of it. You reply with a moan, keeping your eyes shut. "Baby, eyes on me. Please." And how could you ever deny that. You immediately open your eyes to look at her, but it was a struggle, wanting to relax into the feeling more. Your eyes were droopy, hooded. "Mmm fuck." You eventually manag to get out. Keeping your mouth agape. She watches you so closely, your lips, tits, noises. Everything. "Look at me mami." This just makes you arch your back more as she keeps the same pace she's been going at. "Wanna watch you as you cum." She continues out of breath. "I- I'm so close." She nods. "I know. Me too angel." As you could feel it approaching you feel her hand grab one of your breasts, squeezing and pinching. That sends you overboard, cumming right against her with a small scream of her name, she follows not long after. Let's just say, that food downstairs were going to become leftovers.

#young miko x reader #young miko smut #young miko

[penisbagelbite]

"Affirmation" & Malgendering

"Fine, I'll 'respect' your gender, but I'll make it absolutely miserable for you. What? You don't like the way I'm 'affirming' your gender? Guess you'll have to stop being a (trans) man then."

I want to put something out there about what I call "malgendering". I see trans men talk about the phenomenon and acknowledge it as a part of antitransmasculinity but not the concept of "malgendering" itself and what it's purpose is, and as trans men and transmasculine people are especially caught in the lose-lose situation between misgendering and malgendering I think it is an important concept to establish. The erasure of transmasculinity, particularly as a unique gender and gendered experience, also serves to keep the transmasculine trapped within this double-bind, positioned between the gender binary of cis patriarchal ideas of womanhood and manhood, where for us there is only misgendering (being abused with the Woman gender) or malgendering (being abused with the Man gender).

I define malgendering as the practice of "validating" someone's gender identity only when it can be used against them and to hurt them, and malgendering almost always involves the enforcement of only the most negative sexist stereotypes available onto the victim with none of the "positives". If misgendering is forcefully pushing you back into your 'proper place' such as by calling you a "girl" or a "her" and showing you that you're really a woman through sexual assault -malgendering is scaring and traumatizing you into it by using your own gender against you. Malgendering is the realization that you don't need to misgender someone to hurt them or to punish them for the way they identity and push them towards the gender they're 'supposed' to be - you can do all that through 'validation'. It's psychological warfare on the sense of self.

This violence and abuse under the guise of "respect" and "identity affirmation" creates plausible deniability of intent and places the blame on the victim for "identifying that way", so much so that even other trans people will defend it and believe it's not maligned (especially because "but being seen as and treated as your gender is what trans rights is all about!" and "errm but its transphobic to not treat u this way?/ur misgendering urself by wanting to not be treated this way :/" with the hidden message being "don't like it? stop being trans"), even when faced with evidence of the (very much intended) effects it has on stalling and outright eliminating transmasculinity (ie. repression, detransition, suicide).

Some examples I can pull off the top of my head:

A transphobe is talking about a pregnant trans man. The whole energy of the Facebook video is 'comedic', and while calling birth the most “feminine” thing someone can do and alluding to how the trans man is really a woman, they still use he/him and call him a “guy” (in air-quotes). Not out of any respect but because the idea of a man being pregnant, calling a pregnant person a "he", and the very existence of the trans man in question, is the whole joke. In doing so, the transphobe has turned the act of using the proper pronouns and gendering him into a source of humiliation and made the experience of being properly gendered a demeaning one. -

The Ukraine military situation where all males aged between 18 and 60 were banned from leaving the country and obliged to serve in the military. Trans women were denied passage out of the country "because they were men", and trans men were similarly denied passage out of the country "because they were men". With the discrepancy between invalidating the gender of trans women and "validating" the gender of trans men, you'd think the motivation behind this would be obvious - that trans people are expendable meat and it's better they die than cis people. It shouldn't of needed to be said that "I'm only affirming your gender because it allows me to put you in a position where you will likely suffer and die and put the blame for it on you" is not 'respect' or 'affirming' at all but somehow this was taken as evidence for the idea of that trans men are more 'respected' and seen as their genders than others (and are thus 'privileged'). -

A common one almost every trans guy deals with at some point is cis people threatening to beat trans men up (and often following through), because "If you're a man and not a woman (anymore) that means I can punch you," using the proximity to masculinity that transmasculine people claim as a justification for violence. Every other week there's a new story in online transmasculine spaces about someone having their ribs broken with "Since/if you want to be a man so bad-" preceding the attack. -

The above is in a similar vein to when accounts of violence done to transmasculine people by cisgender men are brushed off and they're told something along the lines of "welcome to being a man", "that's just what men do to each other", "that's just the way things are with men", etc. along with the insistence that their attack had nothing to do with antitransmasculinity, making it an immutable problem with (cis)men as a whole - creating a sense hopelessness and that this is all they have to look forward to. -

Transmasculine individuals being refused treatment, tests, or insurance for gynecological issues, especially cancer, despite the knowledge that they are transmasculine, because "men don't deal with these problems" and they don't want "men in women's spaces", and if you don't want to be 'treated like a man' and get the care you need (and not die), you're going to have to go ahead and detransition, change that M marker back to an F.

All of this functions to create contention, and eventually a rift, between the individual and their sense of gender identity. Creating an association between being gendered 'correctly' and 'respected' as your gender (and ultimately existing as a transmasculine person) with abuse, violence, helplessness, trauma, fear, isolation... and by making transmasculinity and transmanhood uninhabitable and driving a wedge between the individual and their sense of gender identity you can more easily drag them back to their 'proper' place. Plant seeds of doubt by making being transmasculine an exceedingly unhappy experience. Make them think that everything that's happened is their own fault for choosing to be transmasculine or trying to be a man. That maybe since they're so unhappy this isn't for them. That living as a transmasculine person is just too difficult and they're not cut out for it, that if they "gave up" and were to be women again things would be easier and they would be safer and happier.

This also all serves to maintain cis patriarchal ideas of gender and the gender binary and police the boundaries of manhood, in a way I can't articulate right now.

Through all this, despite being called "men" during malgendering, we are not actually perceived as such. We are always an "other". Acknowledging us as "men" is just another weapon, and why some transmascs flinch at the phrase "trans men are men". Our own genders are used to beat us.

Using a scrap from my .txt journals:

"[...] on the subject of having a core aspect of yourself taken from you and turned into a weapon to beat you with, with the result being that aspect of yourself now becoming a source of trauma and pain so you abandon it and lock it away like an awful secret, that’s exactly what happened with my gender. Being genderless and a(nti)binary is what I’m most comfortable as, a(nti)gender is my ~real gender~, but I have to admit a lot of this is because I have been traumatized out of any gender with binary associations and have consequently come to know gender itself, and the act of gendering, as violence. Gender is but a designation for what exploitation, abuse, and violence can be enacted upon you and the justification there of. When someone asks whether you are "masc" or "femme", behind their back as they face you is a hammer in one hand, and a knife in the other, and what they are actually asking is if they can pummel you or lacerate you. When it comes to the “direction” I’m transitioning in though, it is obviously “masculine” (as much as a negation of "femininity" is always taken as stepping towards "masculinity") and you wouldn’t be entirely wrong to call me “transmasculine”, though I have been scared to death of being acknowledged as such."

My first encounter with malgendering was when I was 13 and had just started to realize I was "ftm" and looking for community online. My first exposure to any affirmation of transmasculinity was someone I came to respect reblogging a post about how Kill All Men includes trans men. This would set the precedent of the next decade of my life of existing while transmasculine. A decade of only hearing the words "trans men" and "transmasc" used negatively and as the butt of jokes that served to reinforce patriarchal ideas of gender. The consistent and relentless denial of transmasculinity as a unique gender and gendered experience, the denial of transmasculine reality especially in regards to misogyny, and continuous abuse and threats of violence, all under the guise of affirming trans men's genders as men (and affirming the gender binary in the process). A decade of having antitransmasculine sentiment fed to me in every way possible.

For me, the experiences of antitransmasculinity and malgendering from non-transmascs has effectively "chased" me out of my transmasculinity and any acknowledgement of it. For years I have hidden my transmasculinity and presumed "AGAB" out of fear, even in queer and supposedly trans-friendly spaces. I have not been able to associate with any “masculine” language in reference to myself without feeling that I am in imminent danger, have made a grave mistake, and suffocating in anticipation of punishment. I have always been scared of posting any of my art that eludes to my transmasculinity. I have always been terrified of being referred to or perceived as “transmasc”, a “trans man”, of being called a "guy" or “dude” or “bro”, of using "he/him" anywhere. All of it. Deep down on some level I do desire it, but it’s been forbidden and only aggravates existing wounds.

And this, in turn, pushed me out of associating with other transmasculine folks out of fear and internalized antitransmasculinity towards other transmasculine people, isolating me from any community or connection with anyone similar to me, exacerbating my loneliness and alienation as a youth to the point where now as an adult my ‘normal’ human social needs – connection, community, relationships, empathy – are completely broken. I don’t feel loneliness anymore, or the desire to connect to anyone, despite in ways being even more alone now than I was then. In a way I believe antitransmasculinity shaped the path of my schizoidism. Isolating and divorcing me from my transmasculinity and the world at large is what I understand to be yet another point of this type of antitransmasculine rhetoric - because when you've destabilized and isolated someone from their whole sense of self and community, they are much easier to control.

#transandrophobia #antitransmasculinity #transmisandry #malgendering

[theminecraftbee]

For anyone looking to make their own Persona AUs, the Shin Megami Tensei wiki is honestly one of the better places to research the recurring tropes of various social links (ie, the Magician typically being the Protagonist's first male friend, the Justice typically being prone to anger). Do note that because of the nature of the Persona and SMT franchises you'll find potentially triggering content, so do tread lightly!

yes, very true! the wiki is SUPER HELPFUL in that regard!

and this is a good time to bring up actually: if my talking about persona has made you interested in playing, yay! they’re super cool and fun games! HOWEVER, they have some pretty big content warnings on them. (here the content warnings are for p3/p4/p5; I would be shocked if these themes aren’t in p1/p2, but I haven’t played those.)

all three games have at least some mentions/relevant sexual assault

all three games have scenes of severe bullying

all three games discuss suicide

all three games have death, including major character death, as a theme, with persona 3 having death be its MAIN theme.

all three games have some elements of institutionalized abuse as part of their story

familial/child abuse is also in at least one social link in all three games, and is a major plot point in at least p3 and p5.

mental health in general is a major theme of all three games.

all three games have some element of unreality as a theme.

additionally, while the above are the things I think atlus would say they intentionally put in as heavy themes, persona also has some… “jokes”… that it is irresponsible to make a recommendation without mentioning.

atlus tends to use the “predatory gay man” and “predatory trans woman” bit for laughs. yes, I’m sorry, in all three games, although I was pleasantly surprised to see they’d actually removed that from persona 3 in p3 reload! but it’s in one scene in p5, and in p4 it’s… complicated. one of the lead characters is gay, and part of his character arc is about internalized homophobia. however, another character will make statements like he’s scared to share a tent with him, which is never treated as justified but IS treated as a “joke”, on account of the character doing the homophobia being a comic relief character. additionally, naoto’s character arc can easily be read as transphobic (as naoto needing to accept being a woman rather than a man), although I know different people have different reactions to this arc. p4 is my favorite but it is NOT a recommendation I give without content warnings for a reason.

also, while p4 as a game is well aware of the amount of violence against women in it and the bad guy who does it is a nihilist and a loser, it is a major plot point, and it’s not always treated with grace.

also, all three games notoriously have at least one “comedy relief” scene of the guys picking up women and honestly it’s normally more like, anime cringe than actually misogynistic but it feels like I should bring it up?

also in both p3 and p5 there are social links that can lead to you flirting with your teacher. yeah. it’s avoidable but it’s sure there.

overall: REALLY GOOD GAMES, and when the writing is good in them it’s REALLY GOOD. they’re also consistently games that people who otherwise wouldn’t be into an 100-hour jrpgs end up realizing why people like the genre with! but they are ALSO games where the content warnings here are warranted!

#answered #latenitewaffles

[lottieurl]

incoherent travis related ramblings ahead. proceed with caution

so an anon wanted to know what i meant by calling travis's arc a deconstruction of gender and i'm not sure if i can properly word anything that's bouncing around my skull but here's to trying. so i think there are a lot of interesting writing decisions for travis even early on (now that we know where they take his character after that) like even in the first half of s1 where he's honestly making it so hard not to dislike him it's clear all that toxic masculinity is hurting him as well and he basically hides behind misogyny. he avoids being vulnerable around nat by lashing out at her with misogynistic insults just to stop her from seeing his insecurities. he makes other misogynistic comments around the girls seemingly just to keep them at arm's length. and normally that's something that makes a space unsafe for girls and women. a guy who seems to be bad at controlling his emotions and who is vocally misogynistic is a red flag both in real life and in fiction. and they put him with nat! and yes on first watch i Hated that. we learn that nat had a misogynistic violent father and then travis points a gun at her and shames her for her sex life. but what they do next though is so.. fascinating. doomcoming comes around and travis is taken advantage of and assaulted in a way we are used to seeing female characters being treated on screen (and honestly in the way that is common for most women to fear in real life). he's drugged, he gets kind of pressured into having sex he clearly didn't really want to have and then gets sexually assaulted. i think it does say something interesting about power and thus is a deconstruction of gender in a way and kind of refreshing in that it doesn't shy away from showing that. especially when there still is a persistent "feminist" view (hinging on bioessentialism and cissexism really) that argues men's violence is some inherent part of men as a whole that women aren't capable of on the basis of gender or even more to the point on the basis of their biology/"sex"

like i think it's narratively so good? because you're primed to think like. he's the danger. he lashes out and he's misogynistic. but they're in the wilderness where the power dynamics of regular society that they're from no longer apply and so he's in danger now by virtue of being a guy their age (which actually parallels the way ben in s1 is stripped of all his authority AND his health is put at risk because of a girl's crush on him) like all jokes aside and all gay headcanons aside there is obviously heteronormative framing that most of those girls look at the world through. and they're all drugged and traumatized and he very much becomes the target Because of his gender. even would go as far as to say around 1x08 is where travis becomes objectified (which in turn makes that scene from the first lake scene where they're like is he actually hot? kind of dreadful) and so what that means is that for him to stop being A Target is to become one of them which is what we see in s2 and what we call girlcoding of travis martinez lol

plus what kevin said about him wanting to belong in a group is really interesting. and i love the way his interactions with the rest shift in s2. him being A Guy is a huge part of s1. like he's not one of them not because he's not on the team - neither is misty she literally just carries equipment - but because he's a guy. and he does as much to alienate himself from them as they do to other him in turn. but in s2 TO ME it very much feels like his gender stopped being relevant and through that he removed the target from his back. and that happens through him joining them in all the rituals which neither ben or javi ever do. travis the first ever genuinely girlcoded character (real not clickbait)

#is this anything #i didnt say anything new really #yellowjackets blogging

[aita-blorbos]

WIBTA for getting revenge against the person that ruined my life?

I (36M) am (still am, losing your job doesn't get rid of a persons PHD) a scientist that specializes in theoretical physics and studies of the multiverse. Until around a year and a half ago I had a job at a prestigious science facility, where I designed a device that would transport anything from other dimensions to ours (we had to set it off a little bit ahead of schedule, but overall, I'd say I did a good job with the timeframe I was given!).

This is where a person I'll call SM comes in.

One of the tests I ran on the device involved bringing a radioactive spider from another dimension to ours, but unfortunately, it escaped and bit him, which resulted in him gaining amazing powers, and becoming a superhero (he killed the spider right after it bit him, BTW.) (just thought I should bring that up.) (really stellar guy, takes important moments in his life REAL seriously.) (I don't think text is doing a good job conveying how sarcastic I am being right now, so to clarify: I AM BEING REALLY SARCASTIC.).

My first face-to-face meeting with SM was brief, but impactful. It happened when he and another important-but-not-so-relevant-to-the-story-guy broke in to my (ex) workplace a day before we were going to set off the device for real, all so that they could steal top secret information from us....And a bagel?! Which SM actually used as a projectile to HIT ME WITH (what kind of person DOES THAT? And with so much unnecessary force, too!)

Then, a day later, he blew up my invention WHILE I WAS STILL IN THE ROOM. I wasn't even one of the people fighting him, all I was trying to do was grab a canister of the dark energy my device was generating, but he didn't care at all that I was there!

Because of him blowing up that machine, I was turned in to...Something else. I don't have a face anymore, and my entire body is covered with these holes. Things fall through them all the time, and it leads to all sorts of embarrassing accidents that always cause people to laugh at me.

Not only that, but by doing this, he also made me lose my job, which was practically my entire life. I look so grotesque, my own family won't even LOOK AT ME, and I can't even get a new job to support myself because of the way my condition makes me look!

So that means by the time SM and I finally met again, I was so dangerously low on funds, I had to resort to a life of crime! I decided to jumpstart it by robbing an ATM machine because that's pretty harmless and easy, isn't it? I mean, it's a machine, nobody loses anything from me taking from one of those, besides for the bank, but who cares about them? They steal from people all the time! I'd hardly say it's a villainous act to take from them, except for the fact that robbery is illegal. Anyway, the shopkeeper assaulted me for trying to steal from the ATM machine.

Maybe I should have seen that one coming.

...Eh, whatever.

It only gets worse from here, because then, out of nowhere, SM shows up, makes fun of me, and then cuts me off while I tried explaining to him who I am and why I should matter to him, just so he could read a text. Which is just unbelievably rude, and tbqh, pretty unheroic!

He spent the rest of what was SUPPOSED to be our epic battle on his phone, texting some person. This fight was meant to be a huge deal for both of us, and he didn't take it seriously at all, he barely even bothered to look at me for a majority of it. At one point, he even webbed me up and left in the middle!

Our fight did eventually resume, and midbattle he told some police officer that I was just a "villain of the week", while I was RIGHT THERE!

Eventually, the fight brought as all the way back to the site of the accident, right where our connection first formed. This was finally a point where I had the chance to tell him everything, what I did for him, what he did to me! And even after all that, he still treated me like a JOKE!

I got really mad at that point, which came back to bite me pretty quickly. As in, I accidentally kicked myself in to one of my own holes (like I said before, I have a lot of holes, they go places, one hole took my foot to my own butt, and I fell in to another hole).

But on the bright side, this resulted in me finding out that I'm a transdimensional superbeing. Which gave me an epiphany! I finally know what I want to do now, and how I'm going to do it. There's a lot of science involved, multiversal travel, stuff like that. But the basic idea is that I'm getting payback. The way I see it, he took everything from me, so why shouldn't I get to take everything from him? It makes sense, right? Because of him, I have nothing, so why should he have anything? It's only fair!

So, as long as everything goes according to plan, by the time I'm done, he shouldn't have anything left, and then he'll finally learn to respect me.

....Wow, this came out way longer than I thought it would.

Here's a tl;dr!:

SM ruined my life, WIBTA if I ruined his in return?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

[asmo-ds]

(Sorry for sending an ask when you aren't open, you said it was okay but I still feel bad. Also trigger warning for implied past assault)

How do you headcanon the demon brothers would react if Mammon told MC about the situation with the witches (where it was implied they assulted him) and then MC absolutely exploads on all of the brothers for having joked about it. Like so angry that they're pulling out all the stops and protecting Mammon like a guard dog

MC Yells at the Brothers for Not Protecting Mammon

TW: Past SA, yelling, swearing, guilt, self hate, insecurities

Description: When Mammon confides in MC about his past assault from the witches and his brothers' responses to the situation, MC loses their mind and goes off on all the brothers, causing them to rethink their behavior

a/n: I haven't written since that last fic i posted a very long time ago so I might be rusty, but since i recently started playing again I wanted to try and do some writing for you guys that stuck around, thank you for being patient <3

Lucifer

When MC comes storming out of the room they and Mammon were hanging out in Lucifer is shocked to see the slam the door

As he is about to scold them for not being careful in a house that does not belong to them they suddenly point to him and say “Go sit in the dining room and wait for your other brothers.”

Due to his pact he is forced to the table, sitting in stunned silence for his brothers to arrive.

One by one they enter the dining room, all looking around with worry

Once everyone but Mammon had sat down around the table, MC began speaking

“You all knew about what the Witches did to him. You all KNEW they had hurt him. Yet you find it amusing and laugh about the situation. Your brother is in pain and yet you mock that pain,” they continue on, exploding and ranting about how they could have protected him, or at the very least, comforted him after his assault

The brother look around guiltily at each other, except for Lucifer who keeps his head hung low

He searches for a way to justify his behavior, but as MC continues to point out more and more errors in his ways, he cannot seem to find anything.

Why didn't he protect his brother? That was his duty.

After MC had stormed out of the dining room and back to Mammon he remained still, his mind racing, guilt building up over just how badly his behavior had hurt his little brother

Mammon had  fought alongside Lucifer through every battle, sure he was annoying and often caused damage to Lucifer’s credit score, but that didn’t matter, what mattered was the way he failed to fight for Mammon, the same way the younger had done for him for thousands of years.

As soon as he returned to his office, he got to work, recalling every name that he could recall being mentioned in Mammon’s story, finding their whereabouts, making documents of the incident to send to Diavolo to properly handle the situation and try and make things at least a little bit right.

Mammon

He confided in MC, he wasn't sure if it was the emotional vulnerability he somehow felt around the human or the demonus they had been sipping on in his room

He told them about his traumatic event, recounting every detail and the way he was treated by his brothers afterward and how hard it was to watch them laugh at his situation like that.

When he looked up from his lap he saw MC’s eyes were filled with rage and he regretted telling them, thinking they were mad at him for trauma dumping without permission

He began to apologize but they put a hand on his shoulder, raising the other to his cheek, cradling the somehow fragile demon lord in front of them

“It’s going to be okay, I need to do something very quickly but I will be right back and we can do whatever you need to be comforted right now,” they said, storming out the door. 

He waited a few minutes before going to look for them, hearing their loud voice coming from the dining room

He hid behind the door frame and listened to their words, the way they defended him and called out the bad behavior and treatment he had received in response from his brothers

He felt guilty for getting his brothers scolded at- but damn did it feel good to see someone love him so much that they'd scream at a group of the 6 most powerful demons in the Devildom.

When he sensed MC was finishing up, he scurried back to his room, a sad yet fond smile on his face- someone cared, and it felt so good

MC returned to his room, quickly wrapping their arms around his neck and kissing his cheek

“You’re safe now, I won't let anyone hurt you again”

Leviathan

Leviathan was peacefully playing games in his room, when there was loud banging on his door, startling him and causing his character to die

He groans and makes his way to the door, “Password?” he loudly asks

“None of that shit, get in the dining room, NOW,” MC hisses back, their words dripping with venom

He shivers, knowing things couldn’t be good if MC was using their pact to force him into a different area

He unwillingly makes his way to the Dining room, where he sees Lucifer sat, also with a bewildered look on his face

He feels like he may throw up, the vibes MC gave off in their short meeting before were causing him great anxiety

He felt his hands grow sweaty as he fidgeted, watching his brothers make their way to the room one by one

As MC began speaking he felt his heart sink

Throughout their speech his heart sunk lower and lower, guilt eating at him as he thought about how it would feel if he were in Mammon’s shoes

He felt tears filling his eyes and his cheeks burning red, he was embarrassed and guilty over his treatment of Mammon, even if he stole his stuff sometimes

He knew he shouldn’t have been so mean when the actual event happened, but making fun of Mammon had become such second nature that he couldn’t help it

But he should’ve done more

The second MC leaves he runs back to his room, shutting the door, locking it, and turning off his lights, clumsily making his way to his bed

He laid there crying and trying to think of ways he could repair all of the damage he’d done

Satan

Satan could sense an angry force coming quickly towards his room, closing his book he ran to his door, ready to open it when MC would arrive

He smiled- thinking Mammon had somehow enraged the human and now they were coming to him to let off some steam since he was the avatar of wrath and knew how to handle anger properly

Before they could even knock he swung open the door, smiling politely at MC, only to be met with an icy cold glare

As they commanded him he made his way to the kitchen, confused and worried about the human

Had Mammon pissed them off so bad they were going to announce their early departure from the Devildom?

He saw all his brothers fidgeting and exchanging worried glances

What worried him most was how quiet and submissive Lucifer was acting- it wasn’t normal and he knew that it must mean bad news

MC arrived and he sighed, glad he’d finally get to know what had spiked their anger levels so high

They spoke and his blood ran cold with every word

He let their words sink in, keeping his composure on the outside but raging on the inside

His initial reaction was to be mad at both MC and Mammon, Mammon for tattling on their bad behavior and MC for daring to speak to them in such a way

After storming back to his room though he truly realized what had just happened

He realized he hurt the brother who raised him

Someone who always protected Satan when he was weaker and younger

He felt like his soul had been crushed, finding comfort in sad stories for the rest of the night, unable to focus on the words

His main focus was finding those piece of shit witches and introducing them to his torture chamber

Asmodeus

Asmo was doing his skincare routine when the sharp knocks came on his door

He skipped to the door happily smiling at MC

“MC! Did you finally ditch Mammon to come spend the night with me~” He squealed happily

“Go to the dining room and wait with your brothers

His happiness immediately disappeared as they used the pact on him, shocked by the sheer power of their pact and the venom in their voice

He sat at the table, still in shock, and turned to his brothers, whispering to them about what could be happening and asking if anyone knew anything

As MC entered the room he looked at them with terror in his eyes, their body trembling with rage and more power leaking off of them than he had ever seen from any human besides Solomon

As they began to speak and tell the brothers why they were so angry he felt as if time stopped

Asmodeus had dealt with enough SA stories from close friends and witnessed and saved many people from SA

So when he had initially heard his brother’s story he was shocked it had happened

He hadn’t made fun of Mammon, he just stayed quiet and didn’t address the problem- an action he deeply regretted

He was just so distraught at the time, he had stopped so many SAs and comforted people who had been SA’d so why couldn’t he do that for his dear older brother?

Was it harder to accept because he had such a deep connection with the person it had happened to? He wasn’t sure

As MC left the room, he slowly made his way to his own

He took off his face mask, deciding to end his routine halfway through

Instead he curled up on his bed, staring at absolutely nothing and unable to clearly understand his thoughts

At some point he felt himself crying but he felt so depressed over the situation he couldn’t fully process it

Beelzebub

In the kitchen, he had been eating away at the food that filled their fridge, ensuring it would be empty by the time the clock struck midnight

He hears many footsteps entering the dining room, confused as they had all eaten dinner as a family earlier in the night

One of the footsteps grew louder, approaching the kitchen and he hurriedly tried to hide the scraps of food he’d already eaten in the fridge

He saw MC and smiled- but immediately it faded as he saw the look in their eyes

“Sit in the Dining room and wait,” they didn’t even use the pact on him, knowing Beel wouldn’t put up a fight

He walked to the dining room and sat down next to his brothers, listening to Asmo ask what could be wrong and only offering a weak shrug in response

Calmly he also tried to think of what they all could’ve done wrong

MC strode into the room with wrath filling every inch of their small human frame, power oozing off of them

He shivers and listens to MC as they speak

His hunger seems to vanish and be replaced by his guilt

He guiltily looks down at his lap

Mammon fought for Lilith, he fought literal GOD for his family, and when he needed a shoulder to lean on or someone to fight for HIM.. Beel just did nothing

He retreated to his room, letting his stomach growl for hours as he paces the room, plotting on how he could fix the bond he’s broken

He asks his brothers if any of them had located the witch who hurt Mammon, knowing they surely must be thinking the same thing

He decided he would not eat the night before they go after the witch, knowing he wouldn’t want to fill up before he made a meal of them

Belphegor

Surprise surprise… this bitch is sleeping when MC is making their rounds

MC opens the door to the twins’ room and finds him sleeping soundly

They walk over to the bed, shaking the demon harshly, hardly being able to wake him

They pull him until he falls off the bed, effectively waking him up

He grumpily looks up at the enraged human and glares, “Why are you waking me up?” 

They tell him to go to the dining room but he simply climbs back onto his bed, about to pull the covers over himself, when he feels the human grab him by the back of his shirt and begin to drag him out of the room, their strength coming purely from the anger they felt towards the demon

He struggled at first but eventually opted to let them drag him there

Once he was sat at the table MC began to speak

He was listening sleepily at first, but as they got more and more into how disgusted they were with the brothers, Belphie woke up, starting to feel disgusted by himself as well

After MC leaves he retreats to the attic, trying to sleep once again but not being able to with how many of his thoughts were racing

Mammon had never treated Belphie badly besides stealing a few things every now and then, but Belphie treated Mammon like a punching bag and it wasn’t fair

As he thought about his disgusting behavior he thought of every other disgusting thing he’d done up until that point

He was left laying on the bed in the attic, unfortunately awake and drowning in self-hatred

#obey me #obey me! swd #obey me headcanons #obey me headcannons #obey me headcannon #obey me! #obey me shall we date #om! swd #obey me! shall we date? #obey me belphegor #om! lucifer #om! mammon #om! leviathan #om! satan #om! asmodeus #om! beelzebub #om! belphegor #obey me hcs #obey me hc #mammon hcs #mammon headcanon #obey me angst #obey me x reader angst

[witchthewriter]

𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆   𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍.

Paid story for @yourwinchesterbros. Word Count: 3k Warnings: swears, talks of death, blood, talks of period blood in particular, someone being shot.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

(Red Right Hand by Arctic Monkeys)

JAX.

The night was heavy with the dread of oncoming death. But whose? That was still undecided.

Guns had been aimed, with triggers ready to be pulled. Even though the meeting was supposed to be weapon-free.

    “So much for reliability and transparency,” Jax uttered. His heart may have been pounding but with adrenaline over fear.

This meeting with a potential partner in Cara-Cara, was deemed somewhat reliable by Bobby. So, hell it was a surprise to find these gentlemen so gun happy. Bobby wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the club. Both Sons knew that, so what the fuck was with these guys.

If it were truly up to Jax, he wouldn’t be looking for another partner, but with Nero desperate to pull out, he had no other choice but to look at other investors.

   And fuck, this guy wasn’t one to wait. This meeting was set for two weeks and now it was suddenly rushed to today.

  Oddly enough, everything had seemed to be alright, until the bald-headed Russian asshole took a joke too far. The girls at Cara-Cara were treated with respect. It was a non-negotiation. Women were constantly mistreated in Charming, Jax had seen it with his own eyes, hell, Gemma and Tara had been assaulted in the past. Jax never wanted that to happen, let alone in a company he owned.

  Chibs’ eyes flickered from his president to the exit, and Jax subtly shook his head. Like fuck he’d let Chibs risk himself. They looked at each other, truly looking and almost in silent communication Jax said, ‘we get out and we get out together.’

   Chibs’ jaw ticked.

  “So, boys. What’s it gonna be?” The Bossman with a shaved head said.

  “I think I’m gonna have to go with … go fuck yourself,” Jax said with a smile. He wanted to rile this fucker up. Was it the right move? Maybe…maybe not. But you never knew when a man would back down – over respect, intimidation, or approval.

ZO.

(Night Creeper by the Blackwater Fever)

You awoke with a knot in your stomach. One that you couldn’t get rid of. No matter what you did. Stretching, hot baths, hot water bottles, and then you saw the blood, and everything made sense.

   Of course, you were in your period, it sucked but it was also … a bit of a positive. You definitely weren’t ready to have children. Not now, not yet.

 As you boiled the kettle for what seemed like the hundredth time, you crouched down and rested your head against the kitchen bench, groaning.

     “Fuck, I feel like I’ve been shot,” you moaned, one hand holding your stomach, rubbing ever so gently. This month was one of the worser ones. Like a pattern, your body either gave you a light easier period or a heavier harder one.

   When your kettle finished boiling, you emptied your hot water bottle and filled it. A few drops missed the opening and landed on your hand.

    “Fuck!” You yelled, already irritated, and nearly gave up. But your stomach lurched again, and you pushed on. “Not fair,” you mumbled, and slumped to the couch, where a bunch of snacks lay ready for you. The tv was flicked on and laid down, curling onto your side.

 You looked at the clock and frowned, usually Jax would call around this time, but there were no notifications on your phone.

JAX.

The big-bellied boss laughed and lowered his guns. As he did so, all of his men followed. The dread was slowly starting to leak from the room. But all the doors and windows were pulled shut, so it was taking its time to leave.

  “I like him,” the man said. His Russian so thick it was comical.  

Winking at Chibs, who came to stand to Jax’s right, he angled his body between the most guns and his president.

The fat Russian continued to speak. A lot of bullshit tumbled from his mouth, but still, Jax and Chibs were on high alert. As they always were.

   That’s how the Sons of Anarchy had survived so long under Jax’s rule, never let your guard down. And never let the other guy see it still up.   

So, they lowered their guns too. But when Jax turned to leave, telling the Russian he would be in touch, the man knew he wasn't going to get the partnership.

And the Russian mobster wasn't used to being denied.

ZO.

(Done All Wrong by the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club)

The afternoon had gone by slowly, as the pain never left. You had already told Skeeter you weren’t coming in, and when he asked why, he was absolutely awkward about it. As if he didn’t have one of the gorier jobs. What was period blood compared to dead bodies?

  Getting up from the couch was difficult, but you did it. You wanted to take your pups for a walk before they had their dinner, and it got too dark.

  Their leashes were tucked in the same spot they always were, and whenever you went near that area, even without the intention of a walk, their tails would wag.

    “Yes, walkies!” You exclaimed, clipping their collars.

But as you walked, you could feel the blood moving with gravity. Only a short walk, you thought and looked down at your two large dogs, their faces full of pure delight.

  Opening and closing the front door, you turned around to lock it, when you felt the presence of someone behind you. Whipping around, you saw a face you really wish wasn’t there.

  Gemma Teller-Morrow, dressed in black jeans, a grey top that showed her chest scar and wearing big black high-heeled boots. Ones you were sure she slept in. You couldn’t envision her in anything else. Her black and blonde hair was perfectly curled and slightly brushed, giving it a voluminous affect. She was a beautiful woman. But intimidation practically leaked from her.

  Both your dogs moved to stand in front of you.

   “Ugh, hi,” you said with an awkward smile. You, on the opposite hand, were wearing the baggiest pants you could find and a jumper, with joggers (and mismatched socks). Hair greasy and pulled in a bun from your face, you felt vulnerable; practically naked, in front of her.

  With pinched lips, she said, “hi,” and the hands that were on her hips moved to cross in front of her.

   You wanted to ask what the fuck she was doing here, but absolutely did not.

“You know Jax is away?” Her voice was almost disinterested, as if she had been forced to be here. But no one was in the car you had located behind your own.

   The boys must be with Wendy then.

“Ugh yeah, I helped him pack.”

      “Hmm, well I haven’t ugh, heard from him.” Now you understood. She thought Jax was here for some reason. And she came looking for him.

   “Neither have I actually,” you said, shifting your weight to one leg. The sun was setting, creating a slowly drifting picture of purple, pink, orange and yellow across the sky.

   “Huh,” she said, moving her hands into her back pockets and clucking her tongue, “thought he might be here.”

  Ding ding, fucking ding. As if you would be that irresponsible – or Jax for that matter. You two were grown-ups and knew how to act. Why was this lady running after her grown-ass son?

  You were doing all you could not to let your thoughts show on your face, so you shifted again. And thankfully, one of your pups whined; easing the tension.

    “Right, you taking ‘em on a walk?” Gemma said, in your mind you instantly replied with ‘fucking duh,’ but only nodded.

  “Mind if I join you?”

JAX.

(Dad's Gonna Kill Me by Richard Thompson)

Getting shot isn't the same feeling for everyone.

Jax hadn't fully felt the bullet in his right hip; he thought it had only grazed the bone.

The gunfire didn’t cease, however, and revealing his wound to Chibs wasn’t going to help. Jax wasn’t sure if the bullet was still inside his body, but thoughts like that weren't helpful right now. All he could focus on was getting the both of them out.

Holed up against the side of the bar, there was barely enough coverage for one man.

   Yelling, “cover meh!” The Scotsman knocked over a few of the bar’s table and chairs. Creating a sort of barricade.

  Even shot, Jax was a great aim. Taking out an arm with each bullet, gave Chibs more time to create their defence.

In a heated moment, Chibs picked up one of the cheap stools and threw it across the room. It landed with a loud smash, as once a glass table now lay in a million pieces.

   “WHAT IS WITH THESE MOTHERFUCKERS!” The fat Russian yelled, his face red, bleating. His blood pressure monitor started beeping; his wife made him go to the doctors to get his weight under control. And that gave the mobster a 24/7 monitor to wear underneath his clothes.

  For a beat the gunshots stopped as the beeping sounded, and the hired guns stopped to check on their boss. He had been fine, and then he watched as the Sons got up and ran.

    And then the Russian stopped being able to breathe. 

Bursting out the door and into the bright daylight, the two men covered their faces and ran toward their bikes, Jax leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

   “Almost free Jackie boy,” Chibs said as he got out his keys.

Doing the same, the blonde Son was about to shove the keys in the ignition when they fell out of his wet, red hand.

    “Fuck,” Jax growled as he bent down, but as he did so, he saw six pairs of black boots coming from the same door they ran from.

   “Jackie, what-“ And then Chibs saw the soaked through shirt, the blood on Jax’s hands and the paleness in his face.

 “FUCK,” he yelled, grabbing onto both sets of keys and jumping behind Jax. Chibs would sacrifice his bike for his president any day. And today was that goddamn day.

     The group of men were nearly upon them, as Chibs fiddled with the keys.

“Fucking put them in,” Jax said with a slight slur. Maybe it was just a bone graze… Jax was thinking and thinking and reached out a hand to touch his side and screamed.

  Punctured.

The word rung in his mind before he could even process it.

   And all the while Chibs had finally turned on the engine and revved. Leaving the men behind in a wall of dust.

   “I got you Jackie, I got you-“ Chib’s voice was barely audible over the sound of the engine. But Jax heard it nonetheless. He always would be with Chibs. But maybe this was something that no one who loved him could save him from.  

ZO.

How could you say no? You couldn’t. That’s why you were now walking side by side with Gemma, your dogs looking behind you every few seconds, keeping an eye on the ‘threat.’

   If you were supposed to say something first, then you had no idea. Your lips were clamped shut, your mind an untuned tv; fuzzy and loud.

You had walked to the end of your block in silence, until Gemma asked, “do you love him?”

   Stunned. You almost choked on your intake of air. It was a miracle that you hadn't tripped over your own feet.

How could you tell her before telling Jax? It felt like a betrayal in a way.

  “Of course, I do.”

The words left your mouth before any other thought could appear.

   The steady crunch of Gemma’s boots on the sidewalk gravel was the only noise for about a minute. Then she said, “you know he had a wife-“

“I know his backstory,” you cut in. Doing your best not to roll your eyes. Was she this far behind? This out of the loop? Should you be insulted or grateful that Jax wasn’t telling his mother about his relationship?

CHIBS.

(You're Not God by Anna Calvi)

The road was long ahead of them, the dirt and rubble kicking up where the wheel’s trekked. There wasn’t a moment for pause, not one second to spare so Chibs could look over his shoulder. Jax was nearly limp in his arms; slumped against him, barely able to keep his balance.

   They hadn’t been gone long, but soon the club would be worried if they didn’t hear anything soon. And Chibs knew Zo, Jax’s Old Lady, would be hanging on, waiting for the phone to ring. Chibs always noticed things like that. Things that the others didn’t.

Men were terrible at keeping in touch with each other, it was the women in their lives that they checked in with. Most men found it overbearing, but really they should be grateful. It made them think, kept them moving and ultimately kept them alive.

   That’s how Chibs felt about the other Old Ladies as well. Especially Tara, who had a lot on her plate, and needed to know if Jax was okay. When he was coming home. It wasn’t the only reason why Chibs would leap in front of a bullet for a brother. Whoever was in this club, was his family. That’s why he would give his life for theirs. Especially when they had more to lose than he.

  No one knew, but he felt like his life wasn’t as important as the others, whose family (or ex-family) was still close to them. The woman he loved and the only daughter he had were on the other side of the world. If he died, it wouldn’t change anything for them.

    And he could be replaced. Easily in the club.

But he’d never say that out loud.

So, like every day, Chibs pushed on, knowing his president’s life depended on him. On his next move.

GEMMA.

(Fight Like Gods by Chelsea Wolfe)

   Gemma was worried to say the least. She hadn’t heard from Jax in a while, and she thought he was over at your place, forgetting his responsibilities.

  The whole ride over to your house, Gemma’s car had been silent except for her constant monologue. (She never used her radio - the presenters were complete morons in her opinion).

   “I’m going to rip her ear’s from her head if he’s there,” her violent promises falling on no ears but her own. Her white-knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel so hard she couldn’t feel them when she pulled up.

   There was a moment where she debated bumping the back of your car, just giving it a little dent. But she was thankful she didn’t when she saw you come out with your dogs.

   Gemma knew Jax wouldn’t be at your place if you were taking your dogs on a walk, especially with a shirt that had a massive stain in it. But she asked you, nonetheless, to see what your face looked like when it was telling the truth.

   Talking over coffee in a café wasn’t really Gemma’s ‘thing,’ she was used to randomly pulling up to people’s houses unannounced. It made it harder for them to turn her away. So, Gemma knew good and well that it was a bit rude to intrude on your dog walk, knowing you wouldn’t – or couldn’t – say no.

   And when she asked if you loved Jax, your face didn’t change; she knew you were telling the truth.

But every so often she could see your face screw up, not knowing that it was the cramps. Well, not until she saw the blood on the back of your pants.

ZO.

(Oui Oui Marie by Chelsea Wolfe - slow + reverb)

 Everything was fine.

Even though you were sweating, your stomach hurt and you felt like your head was going to explode. There was a moment after Gemma said something, that she stopped and grabbed ahold of your arm. Halting you, and your dogs, suddenly, Gemma said it was time to go home.

   Frowning, you gave her an incredulous look, and with nothing for her to give you to cover it up, she thought it was best not to alert you. But damn your stubbornness. You weren’t going to be told what to do.

   “We’re not finished with our walk,” you said, or rather, snapped. Another cramp squeezing your uterus; making your thighs ache and stomach lurch.

“Oh you definitely are,” Gemma said, starting to turn around, expecting you to follow.

    “They aren’t tired yet,” you reasoned, a hand on your hip. Completely unaware that your grey sweatpants were reddening.

  “Just shut up and listen, you’re leaking,” Gemma retorted, the kindness fleeing her instantaneously.

“Well fuck!” You said, trying to turn around and see.

‘Oh’ was all you said as you followed her home.

JAX.

  The Prince of Charming, also known as the Prince of Death, did not receive his latter title because of all the deaths he had endured, but the ones he had ensured.

    This life had promised violence. It had promised death, and he had stayed the course. Even if he tried to leave with Tara and the boys at one point.

  It was death that made him stay in this particular way of life.

And it would be this way of life that caused his death.

  That very thought swirled around Jax’s mind. It was so ironic that he actually found it somewhat humorous. Death and life, life and death. The two always interconnected.

  “Stay with me Jackie boy!” Chibs roared over the rumble of the motorcycle.

The sunset was a reprieve from the jostling of the bike. With each mile gained, less consciousness Jax retained. And he soon found out that not being able to use his core to sit straight, made riding a whole lot less enjoyable.

   All he could think about was the people he loved. His boys, Zo, his mother, and his brothers. What his death would bring. How much grieving there would be; it made him sick to think about it. Or maybe it was the bullet lodged in his side that was making him feel ill.

    A thumping began in his temple, a headache that drained his energy. It must be the adrenaline wearing off, he thought.  

 The bike continued to tear down the road and Jax could feel himself bleeding. He didn’t know if he was bleeding out, or just … casually bleeding.

Not daring to look; in case he fell off the bike and threw Chibs off with him. Jax knew that at this speed, it would end up killing them both. He stayed still. Trying his best to keep his breathing steady and his eyes open.

  And yet, Jax had no idea where Chibs was going or what the Scotsman was doing, only that he trusted him. And that trust was either going to kill him or save him.

#memories of desire #jax teller #jax x zo #jax x zoe #jax teller fanfic #jax teller paid fanfic #paid fanfics #commissions #witchthewriter #witch the writer's stories #witch the writer's paid stories #sons of anarchy #soa #soa fanfic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #tig trager #chibs telford #chibs telford fanfic #juice ortiz #happy lowman #memories of desire fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #commission #commisions open #paid story

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 13 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

HEY! So this chapter is not as sad, still a teeny tiny bit. But the rest is fun! I had a good giggle. I am really setting myself up to be super duper hurt when the inevitable happens, but I have grown so attached to Skip and Alex. I know they were just trouble makers! Silly little pranksters with terrible jokes and great banter! Goofy goobers. That's their group name the goofy goobers ahahah. Their foxhole would've been the most lively and loud!

This is based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved!

“He had a god damn Luger in his pants.” Buck explains to Babe and Bill what happened to Hoob. I sat quietly listening, when Buck first arrived talking about the incident I wanted to run away immediately, I didn’t want to have to think back to Hoob’s death. It hurt too much. But I couldn’t get away fast enough or come up with a good excuse to leave while Buck was talking. Buck was so serious. He was different from before, or so I had heard. I had only met Buck briefly before we did the Market Garden attack. He was injured in the assault, which I had treated. God that felt so long ago. That was only my second day after going through the shimmer, which is what I lovingly call the portal that took me here. I had no idea what I was doing. It’s weird to think back to a time where I wasn’t close with all the Easy men. Bull had been kind enough to take me under his wing and surprisingly everyone else was kind, but I wasn’t close to them. I consider them now my family, I love all of them so dearly. I often think about what my life would be like if I didn’t put my hand through the shimmer, had just ignored it and moved on. When I had my first few months here, I would constantly look for the portal. I would sneak away during the night when I could and scour the surroundings. But after a while I stopped looking, I stopped thinking about it altogether. 

“Jesus.” Babe muttered, as Bill stated, “Dear God.” 

“And don’t you two do something stupid like that, all right.” Buck warned the two men. He thinks he doesn’t have to warn me, but little does he know I also have the pistol that Winters gave me in my bag. But I keep it unloaded, too paranoid that it will fire even with the safety on.  

“Try not to, Buck.” Babe reassures him. 

“I mean it.” Buck reiterates trying to drill his point into the men’s heads. “And you, Wild Bill, I’ve invested too much goddamn time shaping you into something useful.” Bill gives his signature chuckle. “You do something crazy, get yourself knocked out of this thing…” Buck laughs but his manner is serious.       

“I know, I know, you’ll kill me.” Bill finishes Buck’s sentence knowing what the man is getting at. 

“Even if you’re dead, I’ll still kill you!” He jokingly threatens, as he bonks Bill on the head with a stick. I laugh watching the interaction, the sound of the stick hitting Bill's helmet just tickling my funny bone. 

“I’ll see you guys later, alright. I’m gonna check on the other guys.” Buck swiftly left. 

Babe and I watched the man leave. “Crazy Joe McCloskey.” Babe muttered to himself. I looked over at him, giving him a confused look, I swivelled my head to look at Bill who was wearing the same expression. 

“What?” Bill asked Babe who still stared at Buck who had kneeled down to talk to the men in the next hole over. 

“Who’s Crazy Joe McCloskey?” I asked Babe. He turns to me. “This guy used to hang out the front of Delancey’s and just… you know, stare at people.” 

“Yeah, I know who Crazy Joe McCloskey is. What the hell’s that got to do with anything, Babe?” Bill retorts trying to understand what Babe is going on about. I look between the men, listening to the conversation.  

“Hmm, Buck kind of reminds me of him now.” Babe says still watching Buck. 

“What?” Bill says in his harsh accent, leaning forward in disbelief. 

“You know, ever since he got shot in Holland.” Babe stated. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Bill moved to come sit in between Babe and I. “Wait. What are you saying he’s nuts? Cause Crazy Joe McCloskey was fucking nuts, Babe. That’s why they called him Crazy Joe.” Bill tried to get what Babe was saying straight. 

“No, I'm not saying he's nuts. I’m just saying-” Babe pauses trying to articulate his point.

“What? What are you saying?” Bill pushes Babe for an answer. 

“Oh, forget it.” Babe dismisses his comment.

“What?” Bill coerces. 

“Forget it.” Babe pauses thinking again about his original statement, “Oh, come on, you’ve seen him Bill. He’s-he’s all wound up like a spring.” He finally comes out with it. 

“Hey, hey, hey he’s fine. It wasn’t getting shot that got him. It was being in that hospital. I’ve been there ok? It ain’t pretty.” Bill defends his friend. Babe nods understanding where Bill is coming from. “Besides, you saw, once he was up and moving around, he was his old self again. I’m telling you Buck Compton’s fine.” Bill and Babe nod at each other. 

Their conversation piqued my interest. Don was good friends with Buck; they often sat and talked to each other when they had time. I was friendly with Buck but I wasn’t as close as the rest of the men were to him. I wondered if that’s because I had only properly met him after he had come back from the hospital that Bill was talking about. He had already formed bonds with the men before I had arrived and then after being discharged he wasn’t the same. He still had the same friendships with the men due to having the rapport beforehand but with me he was polite. We didn’t click the way I did with everyone else. He didn’t sit and chat with me, or try to get to know me. I had tried before but he didn’t stay long. The conversation often felt forced and awkward. He seemed to be in his own mind most of the time. 

We crowd around Peacock as the men wish him well on his travels home. I don’t know who’s more stoked, the men or Peacock. He’s a sweet guy and tries his best but he’s not the best platoon leader, often getting lost, or leaving the men behind to fend for themselves. Peacock was being sent home to rally more men to join the cause. Due to the heavy amounts of casualties from the war, we needed men to replace the ones who couldn’t make it back to us. I stand on the outside watching as the men huddle together and chant, “Hip, hip, hooray!”

More days pass, it’s quiet. Eerily quiet which puts me on edge. Skip and Alex tell me to relax, enjoy the holiday while we can. I laugh, shaking my head, “Yeah what a holiday, I’m freezing my ass off stuck in a hole with you two nitwits.” Skip mocks hurt feelings as Alex tried to pin me under his arm to give me a noogie. I laugh playfully fighting with Alex, these two are like the brothers I never had. They constantly tease me, wind me up, tell me terrible jokes. I give it back to them, roasting them with witty insults. 

One of the men films us on an old camera, well I say old, this is new technology for this time. I laugh thinking about if I just pulled my phone from my bag and showed them the camera, they would be shocked. Probably a bit too shocked, do they still burn witches in this time? We smile and pull silly faces as the man shoots us, laughing at Alex for doing a stupid face. 

“Skip, did you see what he did?” I manage through laughter, Skip laughs shaking his head. “He did this.” I mimic the strange pose Alex did, crossing my arms over my chest and puffing it out, pulling the face he did, he kinda looked like Robert De Niro, the scrunched up face and pulled down lips with squinting eyes. Alex scoffs pushing me over in the hole, as Skip and I die laughing. 

“I didn’t do that!” He protests.

“Yes you did! Yes you did, you did this!” I laugh doing the pose again as he shakes his head disagreeing with me. 

We stand in line waiting to get our meal. We shuffle forward slowly in the snow. I stand between Alex and Skip, who shiver furiously from the cold. Alex puffs on the smoke that hangs from his lips. 

“Hey fellas, look who I found.” Bill announces, I look over my shoulder to see Toye and Bill standing together looking pleased. I smile at the man, and then my smile drops, what is he doing back? Joe makes eye contact with me, I give him a questioning look. All he does is send me a cheeky smile and wink. I smile at him, but shaking my head, silently telling him off. 

“Hey, Joe Toye, back for more.” Skip cheers from beside me.

“Hey Muck, how are you?” Joe says in his gravelly voice. 

“How are you Joe?” Alex says, patting the man on his shoulder. Joe nudges into the line in front us with his plate.    

“Yeah, doing pretty good. Escaped from the aid station.” He replies to the men. 

“How’s the arm?” I question, he smiles at me. 

“All better, Em.” He waves his arm around to show me it’s fine, grinning as he does so. Gene had treated him but it was bad enough for him to be sent back to the aid station.

“Where’d you get hit?” A replacement, who was standing behind Alex, asked Toye. Joe glanced at the young man, giving him a judgey stare. 

“What’s that?” Joe asked, motioning at the man, like he couldn’t hear him. I let out a scoff at his brashness. 

“Ah, it's Webb, replacement.” Skip informs him. 

“Really? Thought it was some guy I’ve known for two years and I forgot his face.” Skip chuckles at Toye’s comment. 

“Joe got hit in the arm. New Year’s Eve gift from the Luftwaffe.” Alex tells Webb. 

“Jesus. A lot of you guys been injured?” Webb asks us as we shuffle forward, closer to the food. My stomach growls. 

“It’s called ‘wounded’, peanut.” Martin says from behind Webb. “Injured’s when you fall out of a tree or something.”

We move forward, I put out my bowl for the hot meal. Smiling at the soldiers serving up the meal, thanking them quietly. I’m so excited to eat this food! 

“Don’t worry there is enough crap flying around here, you’re bound to get dinged sometime. Almost every single one of these guys has been hit at least once. Except for Alley, he’s a two-timer.” Skip says as Webb hangs off his every word. I follow behind, not even waiting to find a seat, I eat the food from my plate. “He landed on broken glass in Normandy and got peppered by a potato masher in Holland.” Skip points to Alley who sticks his bread into the food on Skip’s plate, gathering the juicy content and eating it. “Now, Bull, he got a piece of exploding tank in Holland.” We pass Bull who sits on the ground eating looking unimpressed by the replacement. I grin at him, a small smile forms on his lips. I follow behind, waiting for Skip to sit down so we can eat properly, but he’s caught up in his chatter. “And George Luz here has never been hit. You’re one lucky bastard.” He pokes the eating George in the chest. 

“Takes one to know one, Skip.” Mumbles George, mouth stuffed full of food. 

“Ah, consider us blessed.” I roll my eyes at the chatter-box, scoffing, the noise catches his attention. “Even our medic here, Emily, got hit. Took a bullet to the hip, ain’t that right?” Skip points at me, as I still trail behind the pair.

“Yeah. How come I got a bullet and you still haven’t been hit yet?” I asked the man with a cheeky grin on my face. 

“I’m blessed, don’t ya know it. Now, Liebgott the skinny little guy, he got pinged in the neck in Holland. And right next to him, that other skinny little guy, that’s Popeye. He got shot in his scrawny little butt in Normandy.” Skip points out all the men to Webb. My face lights up as I see Don, walking over to join him. Alex was already standing beside him. God I should’ve followed Alex over not Skip, who took us on a whole tour before rejoining the group.  

“And Buck got shot in his rather large butt in Holland.” Malarkey adds on to the list of wounded men. Buck turns around lifting the back of his jacket to expose his behind, pointing at his butt. I laugh at his silliness. 

“Yeah, kind of an Easy Company tradition, getting shot in the ass.” Alex adds. 

“Hey even 1st Sergeant Lipton over there, he got a couple of pieces of a tank shell burst at Carentan. One chunk in the face. Another chunk almost took out his nuts.” Skip says as we all giggle at the thought. 

“How are those nuts, Sarge?” Bill asks Lipton who stands beside him eating in peace, shaking his head from the comment that came from Bill. 

“Doing fine, Bill.” He smiles trying to hold back his laugh. “Nice of you to ask.” 

I finish all of my food, satisfied with a full stomach. I stand and talk to the rest of the men, Webb hangs around Skip like a bad smell. I’m sure he was just ecstatic when Skip actually spoke to him, the rest of the men just avoided them all. I felt bad for the replacements but I understood where the soldiers came from with their disdain. They were always so eager to fight, to see action and then when it came time for action they made stupid decisions or decided they actually didn’t like it at all and tried to flee. Which wasn’t helpful when there was an assault and we needed all the firepower we could get. They men rightfully didn’t trust them. The Easy men from Taccoa stuck together like glue, however their numbers were slowly dwindling. 

Much to our dismay, Easy was being moved back into the old position outside of Foy again. I walked with the normal trio as we made our way back again. Passing the men we were leaving behind to hold resistance on the main line, they were attached to D company for the time being until Easy took hold of Foy. Men made passing comments to the men as we walked by. Warning them of the scary Ronald Speirs. I could attest to his scariness, when he had shown up when the D company soldier was trying his best to kill me, I felt like I was also going to be discharged when I hadn’t done anything wrong. His cold stare shook me to my core.  

“Hey, be careful if he offers you a cigarette.” I pushed Malarkey as he teased the men sitting in the hole.

“Hey, be careful Frank, Christenson and Webb.” I said pointing at them, “I want you back in one piece, you hear!” They smiled at me. 

“Oh we sure will Em, don’t you worry about us.” Christenson assured me. I turned, walking backwards as I yelled at them. 

“Oh and be sure to brush your teeth, Frank. Don’t forget! Gotta keep up the good oral hygiene. Webb, don't let him forget. Twice a day Frank.” I teased Perconte, he laughed, shaking his head at me. I was grabbed by my elbow as Alex led me away from the men. I walked backwards still facing them, as Alex ushered me along, waving at the soldiers until they were out of sight.

I turned facing the front again, so that I didn’t trip over, walking alongside Alex. Skip and Don walked just ahead of us. 

“Hey Skip, did you tell Em, what you told me?” Alex called to the man walking in front of us. Skip looked over his shoulder confused at what Alex was talking about. Trying to remember what he had told him. I could tell exactly when he remembered as his face lit up, mischief in his eyes. He slowed down to walk beside me. 

“What?” I asked nervously as Alex and Skip grinned at me.

“You know Webb?” Skip asked, I nodded, eyeing the men suspiciously. Before he could tell me anything more the pair burst out into a fit of giggles unable to contain themselves. 

“What?!” I laughed along with their infectious hysterics, but I was still confused. “What’s so funny! What?” I pushed Skip as he tried to catch his breath. They straightened themselves again, taking deep breaths. Skip tried to tell me but made eye contact again with Alex, sending them into another bout of laughter.  

“What are you doing to them?” Don turned around assessing the scene, Skip and Alex could barely walk, they both held onto my arms trying not to fall over from how hard they were laughing. 

“I didn’t do anything, I’m waiting to be let in on the joke.” I tell them man, trying not to fall over myself from the pair of idiots holding on to me for dear life.

“Ok! Ok!” Skip sighs. Wiping tears from his eyes. Alex has to look away from us, not being able to make eye contact with his friend. 

“So Webb, asked me if you had a boyfriend.” Skip tells me. 

“What? What did you say?” I asked, looking shocked. 

“We said that you were married to Don!” The pair crack up again. My eyes widened.

“What? Why did you tell him that?” I feel a blush rising to my cheeks. 

“He looked so disappointed.” Alex added, while Skip was still losing it. “Then we convinced everyone else that you had secretly eloped.” 

“WHAT?! Are you two serious? What is wrong with you?” I couldn’t help but laugh as well though, the thought of all the men being tricked into believing I was married to Don was pretty funny. I could imagine Alex and Skip, the devious pair that they were, going around telling the men. Trying their best to control their reactions when the men were persuaded. Then having it as their inside joke. 

“Have you told Malarkey this?” I asked when their laughter finally subsided. 

“No we haven’t.” Alex shook his head as we continued to walk, Don none the wiser strolling ahead of us. 

“Should we not tell him, and wait for someone to bring it up?” Skip said, as Alex and I nodded our heads vigorously. The thought of having our inside joke with Don being clueless made us all giddy. I couldn’t stop laughing. We would be walking in silence and then one of us would start to laugh, knowing exactly what the other was thinking we would all join in.

#they eloped #jk #we joke #ehehe #got em #oh skip and alex would've totally used that #frank brush your teeth #watch out for the scary Ron #ahhhhh #who needs a light? #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #donald malarkey #band of brothers imagine #fanfic #hbo war #joe toye #bill guarnere #dick winters #alex penkala #skip much #my oc #my work