A lot of great white shark images understandably focus on the incredible jaws and teeth up at the front end of the shark while the other end seems to lack much attention.
However it is this mighty caudal ( tail) fin behind the sharks incredible muscular and hydrodynamic body that drives the shark with such amazing acceleration in attacking its prey. Speeds of up 40 kilometers per hour (25 mph) are reached and at times this can enable these sharks to launch more than 10 feet (3.0 m) into the air.
I am a transgender man (see photo of my mug for context).
I love all trans people and I love non binary people. But lately some of my trans spaces (both on the web and irl) that are mainly non binary have started to feel a little hostile.
I want to make something perfectly clear before I continue - I love and respect non binary people, I think their genders are valid and I am in no way suggesting they are any less important that myself or any other binary trans person. I also need you to understand that this isn’t meant to be a post calling out non binary people at all, it is just me talking about my personal experiences in the hope that it can get people to be a little more considerate sometimes?
In university spaces, it seems that there is a growing population of non binary people that tends to dominate trans groups. Which is good in lots of ways, especially since it shows how this generation has become much more relaxed and aware that gender is a construct and fluidity is key. However, amongst people I know there is a lot of ‘ew gross men’, or 'ew gross trans men that are masculine’, while at the same time being predominantly DFAB populations.
Now trust me, I very much understand the dislike a lot of dfab trans people have of men. A lot of us are survivors and I think that does play a big part in how we feel about the gender overall. Not to mention it is not uncommon for men to be, for lack of a better word- wankers. However, I don’t think people consider trans men when we are talking about this.
Making a comment like 'ew men are so fucking gross’ to a room of trans people means that to a trans man you are saying one of two things - 1) you are gross, or 2) you aren’t gross because you’re not a Real Man, and you are excluded from this statement because you are and always will be, partly a woman. Even now I feel uncomfortable 'complaining’ about this. I have to remind myself that just as suggesting that a trans woman is somehow different to other women would be considered incredibly offensive, so is it for trans men.
I didn’t realise how much this stuff affected me until it did. Constantly being around people that talk about, how body hair on men is gross, masculinity is by default toxic, making jokes about my masculinity being toxic when I excitedly tell people that I’ve started going to the gym and its making me feel better about my body. No, it’s not funny. It’s MY dysphoria I’m trying to ease. I as a trans person want to feel supported and loved when I do things that have a chance of making me feel good about my body.
It hit me like a brick wall when I realised how much it had affected me. I was with my partner, and was trying to have sex, but I just broke down. I felt so incredibly disgusted with my body and myself. So much hair, so masculine. The noises I made, gross. The way I touched him, creepy. I couldn’t get out of my head the idea that later in life he would talk to people about how gross and unshaven I was, just like I had heard friends describe ex boyfriends so many times before.
I felt cheated because these were the changes I WANTED my body to make. But now they felt ruined. Spoiled.
It was after that realisation that I decided I had to get out. I stopped going to some of student socials and instead started attending a group for older trans people. It was so refreshing to meet other trans men for once (just because I rarely meet them at uni, and it was nice to talk to someone similar.) It was awesome to be around people who weren’t shitty about trans people being stealth (as I remember I once was.)
There are some important things to take away from all of this:
1) Telling trans boys and men that they are disgusting for wanting to be like men will only destroy self esteem and feed into the toxic environment that a lot of cis boys grow up in.
2) Non binary people are extremely valid and awesome, but also must accept they have a responsibility to cultivate a supportive and friendly atmosphere in spaces where they are dominant (I put this in here for university spaces especially)
3) Laughing at a trans man/woman for being excessively masc/fem presenting if you are a dfab nb person who mainly presents as fem or androgynous is facetious and not respecting that they may have to present that way to stay safe, (especially in the case of trans women that may be more 'obviously trans’) and that despite suffering prejudice in many ways, the one thing you are not realistically facing is street violence and such because you inevitably are not going to be clocked as trans. (which yes, does NOT make your transness invalid but we have to respect the different struggles people in our community face.)
4) Someone being stealth does not mean they are adhering to 'toxic gender roles’. It means they are either 1) trying to be safe or 2) surprise surprise they want to live their life as the gender they identify with. Trans people are not less legitimately trans because you think they are 'acting cis’.
5) Being a binary trans person does not give you privilege over nb people. Like seriously, trans women are literally the most likely to be murdered. Don’t be a dick. Erasure is a problem yes but it’s not the same. I read names out at the TDOR vigil and pretty much all of them were trans women of colour. Respect that. Help the community. This isn’t about scoring points over who has it the shittiest.
6) The idea that the only good kinda of trans men are 'soft sensitive kinda trans masc guys that don’t have surgeries and shave all their body hair’ is shitty and offensive (tho that kind of trans man is totally valid, that not what i mean). Its shitty because one you’re sexualising them either as more childlike or more feminine (both is rude, former is creepy), but its perpetuating the idea that trans men aren’t really men and the best ones are the ones that YOU think still kinda look suitably enough like women.
Hi! I see lots of people talking about that fangirls are fetishing mlm relationships, I see this like a problem too but I feel like lots of people think that it means that everyone who ships queer couple is fetishing it and forgets that there are also queer people who ship characters because they need representation. Where is difference between shiping and fetishing? Is every cishet girl who ships mlm ship fetishing them? (I was using word "queer" because I'm trans gay who ships Holmes/Watson)
For one thing, all of the talk around fetishisation in fandom really annoys me because I think it’s largely misguided. For example:
taking Johnlock as an example, there are currently 79639 fics on AO3, and of those, 11985 (around 15%) are rated Mature and 13488 (around 17%) are rated Explicit - that’s 32% in total, meaning that over two thirds of the total amount of fic isn’t sexually explicit in any way
In addition to that, I identified as straight when I first started reading fanfiction, and it was reading Johnlock fanfic, in part, which allowed me to come to terms with my sexuality (I now identify as bisexual with a strong preference for women). As well as normalising queerness for me, it allowed me to explore it at a distance (f/f fanfic seemed threatening to me at the time, no doubt because of my issues with internalised homophobia). It also introduced me to a community in which queerness was celebrated, which was exactly what I needed at that time, having no access to that in my real life (although I’m fortunate enough not to have been exposed to violent homophobia, either).
Also, I think it’s incredibly disingenuous to treat young teenage girls reading fanfic as being remotely on the same level as straight adult men masturbating to lesbian porn (produced by an industry which profits from the exploitation of women) and meanwhile often voting to deny real LGBT people equal rights. I also think it’s worth bearing in mind that girls are taught from a very young age to be ashamed of their bodies, and a lot of sexual imagery (in books, in films, in tv, in advertising, in music, everywhere) revolving around women’s bodies is incredibly violent, so it makes perfect sense to me that cishet girls would feel uncomfortable reading anything which implicates bodies like their own in a sexual context, regardless of their sexuality.
Of course festishisation happens, and I’m the first to criticise people for using real life LGBT victories to talk about their ships, for example, but I think that this issue is way more complex than people tend to make out.
Summary: This is my first entry for @bucky-plums-barnes “100 banging kinks for Bucky’s birthday” Reader gets bored while they watch a movie.
Word Count: 1,078
Warnings: Smut, Language, Spider Walking (kink)
A/N: Spider Walking is great and very underrated. It’s driving someone insane by touching them with the pads of your fingers, sort of like a fly walking up your arm. No actual skin contact, just fleeting caresses. Hope you like it, my loves!
You and Bucky lay in bed, his attention focused on the screen
of your laptop, his eyes following the movements of the characters in his
favourite film. It was a European film, lots of smoking and swearing, and you
grew tired of it after a few minutes. Needing to distract yourself, you started
mapping his veiny forearm with the pad of your index.
The arm around your waist squeezed gently. “Are you bored?”
His voice startled you and your fingers stropped tracing
patterns on his arm. You tilted your head up to look up at him, your lips
turned up in a shy smile.
“A bit,” You admitted, laying your head back on his chest.
“Was that annoying?” You slid your fingertips slowly along his forearm so he’d
know what you were referring to.
A soft laugh bubbled past his lips. “Not at all. Actually,
it’s very soothing.”
Why do men on SA mention in their bios that they’re not “full of money” or “want a relationship that exchanges money” or that they “want to be loved for them.” It’s the same story I’ve heard from escorts who have clients who ask them to lower their rates. Or from POT salt daddies who don’t understand why a blanket $3,000 allowance is reasonable.
If you want a regular girlfriend to love you for who you are go to a regular site. Match, OK Cupid, Tinder, Bumble, Christian Mingle, your local neighbourhood coffee shop.
Is it because you want the gorgeous bombshell with the amazing style and the well-traveled look? That girl with the perfect skin, her face oil cost $72 and her eye cream is $40. That girl with the long flawless waves, her hair costs $100 to cut, easy $150 on products, blowout and style for $50. The one with the incredible body, she pays for a personal trainer and a nutritionist and shops exclusively at Whole Foods organic section. The one with the brilliant mind, her education is 30K.
You want EVERYTHING for NOTHING. The best of the best for zero. Then you’ll complain about feminism and expect her to go Dutch on dinner.
Get off SA, don’t approach the expensive-looking escort, don’t introduce yourself as a sugar daddy if you’re not going to pay for the fantasy you so desperately want.
I looked from my laptop up as my sister Angie came into my room.
“Hey Zack, what’s up?” she said
“Hey sis. I just heard from Stephanie. She has too much work to do this weekend, and she can’t make it back.” Our older sister was in college and had been planning to come back for the three day weekend that now stretched out before us.
“That sucks. So are mom and dad at that conference?”
“No, they are out for tonight, back in the morning. Then they leave for it tomorrow morning, and will be gone until Monday night.”
“So, more or less, the house to ourselves for the entire weekend?”
“Yep.” I said with a grin. The two of us had always been really close, and we were looking forward to a relaxing weekend with just each other. My little sister returned my grin and her eyes lit up. She was two years younger than me, but was always more mischievous than I.
“Dinner?” she asked
She shrugged and left my room. It was early still, and I returned to finishing my homework on my laptop. It was Friday and I wanted to be done for the weekend.
Later that night, having finished dinner, Angie and I were sitting on the couch, watching a movie. She was curled up against me, with my arm draped over her. As the movie ended, I switched the TV and looked and my baby sister. Her face was furrowed and she looked like she was considering something serious.
“What’s up sis?” I asked. She looked up at me.
“Can I talk to you about something?”
“It’s kind of awkward and personal”
“Anything you ever want to talk about, I will be here for you Angie” I said. I squeezed her tighter with one arm and planted a kiss on her forehead.
“Thanks Zack, I know. Are you a virgin?”
I flushed a bit, but answered truthfully
“Yes. And I assume you are as well” I knew my sister well enough that she would tell me why she asked without prompting.
“Yes, I am. Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked as a blush rose to her cheeks and she turned away.
Rather than respond immediately, with the obvious ‘yes’ I looked as my little sister as a woman, not a girl, taking in her features. She was tall, about 5’10” and thin. She had an incredibly toned and trimmed body from the years and years of gymnastics that she was so found of. Rich chocolate brown hair that cascaded midway down her back. Small breasts, no larger than an A cup, but they sat perfectly on her petite frame that any larger would have looked absurd.
“I think you are beautiful” I replied, and I genuinely meant it. Angie’s eyes lit up, and she could tell my compliment was honest. I pulled her closer to me and planted a kiss on her forehead. She returned my embrace and beamed up at me. Then the smile faded into a look of unease. I could tell she was trying to work her way around to telling me why she asked about my history with women.
“I asked because I figured … well … we know each other really well … and we love each other a lot … and … we are both virgins … and alone … and well…” Her face flushed and she turned away from me, embarrassed.
I looked at my little sister, my mind jumbled, my body fighting for the blood my brain needed to make decisions. A squeezed her closer and brought my left hand around to her chin. I forced her face to turn back to mine, and saw tears of embarrassment shining in her eyes. I planted a kiss full on her lips, the first time I had kissed a girl in all my years. After the longest thirty seconds of my life, we broke apart and caught our breath. We looked into each other’s eyes, and I asked her,
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Absolutely. Do you, Zack?”
“Yes, Angie, I really do.”
“I love you, big brother.”
“I love you, little sister.”
Our lips locked again, and I could see many of my emotions reflected in my baby sister’s eyes. Lust warred with love, each seeking to blot out the other. Our lips parted and my tongue slipped into her mouth, as hers slipped into mine.
I rolled her over, and sat my sister on my lap. Our lips met again, and my hands wandered over her tight back. I pulled her closer to me, out chests meeting and our kiss never breaking. She started to shift her hips back and forth in my lap. Her small breasts rubbed against my chest and my cock started to harden with the constant motion. I shifted one hand down, to grip her tight ass, and the other up to her chest to cup one of her lovely tits. Her hands wandered over my chest and out tongues stilled warred in each other’s mouths.
Our kiss broke, and Angie shifted back slightly on my lap. We were both breathless, and for a moment, the only noise in the room was our breathing.
“That was my first kiss, sis” I said, and she giggled at me.
“Mine too” she said still smiling. There was a long pause before she asked, “Do you want to go further?”
In answer I grabbed her and she squealed with delight as I pulled her back to my lips. Her hands found my chest again, and then started to go lower. She found the hem of my shirt, and began to pull it up. I felt a tingle as the cool air rushed over my warm skin. She pulled the shirt higher and higher, and finally we were forced to break off our kiss as the shirt passed over my head. As soon as it was on the floor, we kissed again.
Then slowly, my hands came around to her firm hips. I grabbed the shirt and raised it up slowly. Our kiss broke again, and I pulled off her shirt and threw it on the floor. I looked at my sister, sitting on my lap, our skin touching. Her skin was pale, as was mine, and against that white background, the rainbow striped bra on her chest looked even more vibrant. It was about a 32-34 A, and seemed to delight in cling to such nubile curves. We resumed our passionate kissing, and she resumed grinding her crotch into mine.
After a few more minutes of this, I stopped her and pried my sister off of me. She looked confused for a moment, but when she saw the grin of desire on my face, lust overtook her. I stood her up in front of me, and reached for the belt around her waist. I unfastened it, and reached for the button on her jeans. I undid it, and drew down the zipper, the hooked my fingers under the waist band of her pants. In one fluid motion, I dropped the pants to the ground, and as she stepped out of them, I looked at her sky blue panties. Under my gaze, she squirmed a bit, and flushed embarrassed.
“Stand up, bro. It’s not fair that you’re wearing pants.” She whined playfully.
I stood, and her hands were at my waist, undoing my belt, as her lips found mine again. She reached for the zipper on my pants, and the next thing I knew, my pants were around my ankles. I stepped out of them, and fell back onto the couch, grabbing Angie as I went. She sat, straddling me, as we kissed again. We looked at one another, and nervous laughter rose in our throats. She resumed grinding our crotches together, but this time, but with only her sky blue panties and my red boxers on, the feeling was much more intense. My cock was rock hard at this point, and only the weight of my baby sister was holding it down. She was also getting into it, I realized, as I saw a damp spot growing on her panties. I kissed her again and again, one hand around the tight muscles of her ass, and the other around her back, snaking up to the back of her head, holding her close to me.
I looked down, breaking off our kiss, and looked at our bodies. Angie had on only her sky blue panties and rainbow striped bra, and I with only red boxers. Our flesh gleamed with sweat and her body, sculpted from almost a decade of gymnastics, was taut and perfect. She started pushing our bodies together faster and harder, and my cock started rubbing against her pussy.
At the same time, completely independent of each other, our hands started to reach towards our lap. Mine trailed down her chest, her taut stomach, and came to rest just on the elastic band that held her underwear up. Her hand did the same thing to my body. She raised her hips, and I slowly inched my fingers down on to her sweat mound, feeling the fabric under my touch, and beneath that, my sister’s warm wetness. Her hand traced its way over my boxers to the base of my straining erection.
She began to stroke my cock through my boxers, as I began to run my hand over her pussy. The friction of her hand and my boxers on my dick sent a wave of pleasure through my body. I rubbed her faster and faster, and in response she stroked me faster still. Our hips ground together, our hands rubbed at the others genitals and we saw bliss reflected in each other’s eyes. Her wet spot grew larger and she began to moan, softly at first, then louder as I groaned at my need for release.
Angie’s breathing got faster and faster and I could feel her trembling. I could also feel my own orgasm getting closer. All at once, we both stiffened and moaned. We both orgasmed in our underwear and collapsed on to the couch. We lay there for the span of several long, shuttering breaths, my sister’s lithe body draped over my larger one, her face pressed against my shoulder. Finally reality reasserted itself, and I looked over at her.
“Well…” Angie said, before we both burst into laughter. We laughed long and loud, uncontrollably, until we were both gasping for air. We were not laughing at anything, but we could not stop.
Our merriment finally subsided and we looked back at each other. I could feel a contented smile on my face, and it was reflected on my baby sister’s.
“That felt amazing, Zack.” She sighed, contentedly.
“You too, Angie.” I replied, giving her a squeeze. She giggled and writhed on my lap, rubbing our sodden underwear together. We both looked down and laughed again.
“Shower?” I asked.
“Together.” She responded. “Just let me get my breath back.”
We sat there for another few minutes, until Angie rolled off of me, and we stood up. We gathered our clothes, and I chased her up stairs to the bathroom we shared. We turned the water on, and as it heated up, started kissing again. Our mouths joined together, and we embraced tightly.
My hands roamed across her back, and found the hooks of her rainbow bra. I unclasped them, and peeled off the garment. Then I got my first real look at my sister’s naked breasts. They were small, but perky and sat perfectly on her slight body. I let my hands wander lower and lower until I felt her small tight ass. I slipped two fingers under the elastic band of her sky blue panties and slid them around to her hips. All at once, I jerked my hands down, carrying her underwear with them. I beheld her virgin pussy for the first time in my life. She was unshaven, and the coarse brown hair stood out in contrast to her perfectly smooth legs.
She blushed and turned away from me, allowing me a perfect view of her perfect, tiny ass. I drew her close to me and planted a kiss on the top of her head. I could see her smile and feel her relax and she turned back around and reached down. Her hands gripped the waistband of my boxers and eased them down. My erection was now back in full swing, and popped out. I was also unshaven. It was the first time I had ever been exposed to someone in a sexual manner. We stepped out of the clothes around our ankles, and kissed again.
My sister and I drew back the shower curtain and slipped inside. The warm water and close confines made me feel as though my head was in a fog. We started washing each other all over. My hands, lathered with soapy water, found their way around her back and came to rest on her petite breasts. I savored the experience, my first real skin to skin sexual contact with her, as I began to massage her boobs. Angie started to whimper slightly, and then as I tweaked her tiny nipples, she let out a moan.
I left off and snaked my hands down lower and lower. I ran my hands over her tight legs, higher and higher. Her lean calves, her firm thighs, and then above that, the golden territory, all covered with soap and water. A thought crossed my mind and I rested my hand on her bush, and asked
“Why shave your legs, and not up here?”
“Because,” her response was bashful, “I was afraid it would hurt if I slipped.”
“Do you want me to help you?”
“Yes. But not right now. You got me wound up, and I need release.”
I grinned and slid my right hand over her mound as my left worked its way back to her tits. There was wetness there that had nothing to do with the shower. I began to stroke my middle finger up and down her slit, and my index and ring finger along the outside of her pussy. My left hand was massaging her breast and my right spread her lips wide open. She moaned her desire and I plunged my middle finger deep into my baby sister’s pussy. The gasped and shudder at the sudden intrusion, and cried out three words
“Oh God Yes!”
I started to work the top of her pussy with my thumb, and began to thrust my middle finger in and out of her sweat confines. She was incredibly warm, tight, and wet. It felt like my finger was being sucked in on every pump. Angie moaned louder and louder, and I thrust faster and faster. Her arms wrapped around my right arm, and her hand went down to cover mine, forcing me deeper into her. I tweaked her nipple and thrust deep into her. All at once, she seized up and froze completely, her muscles locking, and I would have sworn she even stopped breathing for a second.
My sister would have collapsed onto the floor if my arms had not been wrapped around her. She hung like a rag doll in my arms for several minutes, getting her breath back, her ass still pressed to my straining erection. She finally turned to me and, planting a kiss on my lips, moaned,
“Thank you. That was amazing.”
I grinned at her, and she tiredly returned the expression. We continued washing for a few minutes, until I found myself facing the showerhead, Angie behind me. She unexpectedly grabbed me in an embrace, and whispered in my ear,
“Your turn big bro.”
Her breasts were pressed to my back and her arms were around my chest. Her soapy hands slid down to my cock and delicately traced over my pubic hair.
“I like you like this. Don’t shave it.” I could hear the grin in her voice. I grinned back and shook my head.
“Anything for you, little sis.”
She kissed my neck and grasped my dick with her warm, wet, slippery hand. She slid her hand up and down my shaft, while sliding her other hand over my chest. Her small hands pumped me again and again, until I was right on the verge. Then she slid her other hand down and grabbed my balls. It was too much for me, and I came all over the front of the shower.
I turned around and kissed my sister again and again, each kiss deeper and more passionate than the last. We finished up in the shower and stepped out. Looking at the clock, we realized with a start that our parents would be home soon. We quickly went into Angie’s room and she bent over to rummage through her dresser for something to ware. I did not help the process by taking that opportunity to grab and start massaging her firm ass. She playfully slapped my hands away and threw on some pajamas. We went to my room and repeated the process, but in reverse.
“So, I am looking forward to a fun weekend.” She said.
“Me too.” I grinned “Just the two of us from Saturday afternoon to Monday night.”
Request: I would love a Bucky smut where he and reader have to go undercover as a married couple.
Summary: You were supposed to go on an undercover mission with Steve, not the man you despised- James Buchanan Barnes.
Warnings: smut, slight angst
A/N: This was the first attempt for an old request that I ended up writing a whole different story for and I reread what I had written and decided I didn’t actually hate it. So, I finished it and thought I’d post it. Here you go! Also, it’s 5:09 in the morning, I haven’t gone to bed yet, and I just finished writing this so I do apologize if anything is incoherent. Enjoy!
“You’ve got to be shitting me, Steve! I am not going on the mission with him.” You pointed at Bucky, dropping your bag to the ground.
“Nat needs me on a mission with her, (Y/N), you two will get along fine.” He smiled and rested his hands on your shoulders. “I swear, it’ll be a painless mission. Just pretend you’re a married couple attending the wedding, alright?”
“I can’t pretend to be married to him! He’s an ass!” You backed out of Steve’s grasp, frustrated that you knew there was no other option. “Damn it, Steve.” You sighed.
“Please, (Y/N).” He shot you his famous puppy dog eyes and pouted his lip.
“Fine, but you fucking owe me one.” You picked up your bag and pushed passed him, avoiding eye contact with Bucky as you approached the Quinjet.
“I thought Steve was going on the mission with you…” Clint spun around in the pilot’s seat, looking worryingly between the two of you.
“Steve’s out helping Nat with a mission, he asked me to take his place.” Bucky flashed a smile at Clint.
“Fair enough.” Clint turned, starting the engine.
You were fuming. You hated Barnes; the two of you couldn’t be in the same room together for more than five minutes without chewing each other out. Barnes was just going to complicate things, he was going to ruin the mission.
“Be safe you guys!” Clint called to the two of you as you stepped out of the jet, and started walking into the airport terminal. You thanked Clint for having an inside friend at the airport, allowing him to land there and not in some random field.
An endangered snow leopard named Rilu at the @MillerParkZoo. Snow leopards have adapted to live in some of the most frigid environments on Earth. They have an incredibly strong and agile body and a white coat with black markings that blends in perfectly with their mountainside homes in central Asia. Their long thick tails can be wrapped around their bodies for warmth, and are also used to help with balance. These big cats once ruled the Central Asian mountains, however their population has shrunk by at least 20% over the past 16 years. Poaching and illegal trade have contributed to the loss of this species over the years, as well as overstocking of the fragile, high altitude grasslands with livestock where these cats once thrived. Overstocking leads to a decline in wild prey for snow leopards, and when they turn to livestock to eat they are often shot on sight. The good news is that snow leopards are protected throughout most of their range, and CITIES has made hunting and trading of their body parts illegal. The International @SnowLeopardTrust and Snow Leopard Conservancy are two organizations working hard to create a multi-faceted approach to the conservation of this species. To see still images of this beautiful cat, check out @joelsartore!
Pairing: Jimin x reader Genre: Smut Word Count: 3.7k dt: my soul sister, the Ji to my Kook<3
“Shhhh baby girl, try to keep quiet. Unless you’re wanting to get caught.”
What was suppose to be date night for yourself and Jimin, turned into a big gathering when six of your boyfriends best friends decide to crash your date. Things start to get heated when you go into the kitchen to get something to drink when Jimin decides to follow right behind you.