my body does things to men

i say “straight cis men are spoiled, that’s all. spoiled brats.”

my father bristles. “oh, so i can say the reverse of that? how would you feel if i called your entire gender something like that?”

like what? like bitch? like hysterical? like keep your voice down, don’t get crazy, don’t be one of those girls, come on, just say yes to me. like what? like needy, like over-emotional, like high maintenance? 

i say, “i know what it feels like.”

he says, “men just want things and you’re pretending being denied those things doesn’t hurt.”

oh i know it hurts. but when i hurt, i hurt myself. i cut into the lip of my body and rip out all the good things. when i hurt, i blame myself. when boys around me hurt, they hurt me. come at me with fists and knives and screaming. trap me on trains while they shout names at me. lock me in the car when i try to leave. hold me down and ignore the begging.

i say, “it does. but, while women can be toxic and abusive, i find that denying a man something is like telling a spoiled child they can’t have a toy for being good.”

on my tongue are stories that don’t seem to break the pattern. stories i know other women have. men who wanted me because i was nice to them, men who wanted me because they were nice to me, men who turned equally quickly into beasts, howling about their lacking, how i owed them, how they could take advantage of me, how, like bread and water, they were starved of me. of course i should give in, how dare i let them go hungry, how selfish it was of me. 

my father says, “when. there are tons of perfectly fine men and just as many bad women. you’ve worked in retail. you’ve complained about them.”

oh, yes. i’ve had my humanity dragged through the dirt by that-kind-of-haircut, by “speak to your manager”, by still-in-the-store-an-hour-after-closing. i’ve been screamed at and serenaded by swear words. i’ve had women look like they were about to pop a blood vessel. 

none of those women ever followed me to a car. none of those women ever wrote down my name just to find me on facebook. none of those women ever followed me home, sniffed at my neck, told me how pretty i’d look naked. oh, i’m sure they wanted to kill me. but they didn’t make it about how much they’d debase me. it was a clean threat, a cold knife. 

it’s a hard thing to explain. that i knew if these women went for me, it wasn’t because of my gender, and that made those threats differ. the same way that if they had been threatening me for being gay, it would have been scary. i was just in the wrong place when they hated me. they didn’t hate me because of my identity.

i clear my throat. “a spoiled woman wants what i’m not giving her, sure. but i can usually calm her down by helping and understanding. and we’re talking about the difference between being denied an object and being denied access to my body.”

my father snorts. “i think you’re blowing this out of proportion.” 

there’s an entire group of men on reddit that we’ve just come to accept as thinking of women as objects. it’s not a small group, either, but what are you going to do. they write each other novels about how women are all animals who need to be controlled, how they’re “involuntarily celibate”, that we’ve denied them all. and how somehow, that denial is our fault. there’s been murders because men were mad they couldn’t have women. mass murders. serial murders. and so many of them were straight violence: not for the intention of killing, but of dragging out the sorrow of it. did you know rape isn’t about sex, it’s about power.

my mouth hurts. i tell him, “you should see how they act when you’re in a position of power above them.” 

how they are when they find out a hispanic female got the job. how they are when it’s me, and i’m not even five foot three, and they know they can intimidate me. how it is when they raise voices over me, and sit on my desk, and come into my room without asking, and ask who i blew in order to get here, and ask to see my resume because obviously i was given the job for diversity and not my three years experience, and ask if i’d be their office affair, and stretch themselves to expand, like a balloon, filling, filling. how their voices pop, “stole my job,” “affirmative action is reverse racism,” “i’m going to bend her over one of these days and show her who’s boss.”

my father shrugs. “if it bothers you so much, stop listening to them.”

in three days from this conversation, one of my friends will text me that a guy pulled a knife on her in a bar because she said no. in two days from this conversation, i will have someone pull up my skirt. on the day of this conversation, three of my friends and i will get wine drunk and cackle over white boys texting and their dick pics and demands for love. when they say things like “you’re a slut and i fucking hate you and i hope you die” when she says no, we laugh. when my skirt comes up, i laugh. when my friend is at knifepoint, she laughs.

did you know laughter is a fear response. 

to my father i say, “just watch. watch what happens when a woman says no.”

he shakes his head. “god, where do you even get this stuff?”

i want to live in a world where i got this from nowhere. where it’s just a figment. where i’ve never met men in the wild, only read about them, and their hands, and their ability to take things from me without feeling sorry. i want to live in a world where other women are confused about the accusations, haven’t experienced the same thing, or haven’t heard the same thing from the women close to them. i want to live in a world where it’s fake, because they treat us like it’s fake; instead of living where it’s this giant open secret like a blood boil, pulsing, a shush of things we’ve learned to answer with laughing, a big burn mark we’ve all been through but is somehow not counted as scarring. i want to live in a world where i’m making up my experiences for want of them; where i’ve never been kissed or touched or groped without my permission, where i don’t fear trains and enclosed spaces. the world i see so many men live in; where it might be a concern on their periphery, but not enough to warrant attention.

“you’d see it too,” i say through his words, “if you just stopped and listened.”

 **My Favourites

The Children of Merlin ** (8/? | 74,661 | Rated M)

Magnus Bane has everything he could have hoped for: a job at Hogwarts, a chaotic made-up family that he loves more than anything and the freedom of doing what he wants whenever he wants.

When his friends manage to drag him to a Quidditch game, he doesn’t expect it to change his life. For better or worse.

They call themselves the Children of Merlin and they are going to make his life a living hell.

One Show Only ** (6/7 | 25,946 | Rated E)

It’s hard to stay in the closet when the guy you had a one-night stand with two nights ago turns out to be your new partner … but Alec will be damned if he isn’t going to give it a try.

Holding the Stick ** (8/? | 47,064 | Rated M)

Alec Lightwood has dreamed of hoisting Lord Stanley since he was eight. It’s in his blood. He’s spent the last five years trying to make that dream a reality, only managing to fall short each time.

Until a scandal leads to a multi-team trade that sends Magnus Bane his way. One of the top performing wingers in the league. An up and coming star.

And the most handsome man Alec has ever met.

He’s doomed.

Keep reading

Why the shows treatment of Yin Fen bothers me

*spoilers for if you are not up to date with either the show or infernal devices*

In the show you are introduced to yin fen as if it were any other recreational drug. Izzy gets hooked on it and displays the typical drug addict symptoms: cravings, fever, jitteriness, ect.  She is shown to be addicted to it, she is willing to do anything to get more of it; she is shown to be a very typical, unflatteringly painted, drug addict.

This completely destroys and undermines Jem Carstairs’ entire character arc.

It is immediately established in Clockwork Angel that Jem is not a drug addict in the common sense. Yin fen is not a metaphor for meth or cocaine or any other recreational drug. It is a metaphor for the wasting, cureless diseases of the day, such as consumption or typhoid or something:

A hero […] who was condemned to die young of a fatal demonic illness, no matter how desperate the efforts were to save him, just as in reality victims of consumption sickened and died without penicillin(Forward of Clockwork Princess, pg. 4) 

Clare states it clearly herself, yin fen is not a recreational drug like the show made it to be.

By giving Izzy this plotline, they have ruined any chance of Jem’s arc making any sense at all. People would see that Jem is addicted to yin fen and not be able to understand why he can’t just kick the habit. It wouldn’t make any sense that the drug is killing him, turning his hair and eyes silver and paling his skin, because this very obviously not what happens to Izzy. Izzy isn’t dying, she just feels like she is. 

It is made very clear that Jem hates what yin fen has done to him. He hates that he must rely on it, he despises how it has stolen his life from him. And while he compares it to the Opium in China and himself to the addicts(thus offering a compelling metaphor about colonialism and racism):

The British bring opium into China by the ton. They have made a nation of addicts out of us. In Chinese we call it ‘foreign mud’ or ‘black smoke’. In some ways Shanghai, my city, is built on opium. It wouldn’t exist as it does without it. The city is full of dens where hollow-eyed men starve to death because all they want is the drug, more of the drug. They’ll give anything for it. I used to despise men like that. I couldn’t understand how they were so weak.


There was one thing they couldn’t fix, though. I had become addicted to the substance the demon had poisoned me with. My body was dependent on it the way an opium addict’s body is dependent on the drug.

(Clockwork Angel, ch. 15, pg. 339-340)

He also makes it very clear that the drug is more of an bastardized medicine:

After weeks of experimentation they decided that nothing could be done: I could not live without the drug. The drug itself meant a slow death, but to take me off it would mean a very quick one.

The yin fen is what keeps Jem alive, and he despises that. He wants to burn bright like Will does, he wants to live to grow old with Tessa(though not for her but that’s another rant). This why he throws it in the fire in Clockwork Princess, why he was taking less of it. He loathes relying on it. 

This is not the case with Izzy. Izzy, like most drug addicts, craves how good the yin fen makes her feel. She actively wants more of it. It is not a unavoidable and cruel medicine, it is a recreational drug. 

But the worst aspect of this is that it plays right into the negative and degrading view the other Shadowhunters have of Jem and further causes and creates Jem’s greatest fear. 

The books works extremely hard to make it very clear that Jem Carstairs is not a drug addict. It is consistently referred to as his illness, the other characters work hard to combat this kind of thinking in the novels themselves. This plays into the vilification of the Lightwoods especially, with Gabriel constantly saying awful and derogatory things about Jem:

“You’re a decent Shadowhunter, James,” [Gabriel] said, “and a gentleman. You have your–disability, but no one blames you for that.”

(Clockwork Angel, ch. 9, pg. 206)

“I think,” Gabriel said, “that perhaps you might consider whether jokes about opium are either amusing or tasteful, given the…situation of your friend Carstairs.”

Will froze. Still in the same tone of voice, he said, “You mean his disability?

Gabriel blinked. “What?”

“That’s what you called it. Back at the Institute. His ‘disability’.” Will tossed the bloody cloth aside. “And you wonder why we aren’t friends.”

(Clockwork Angel, Ch. 11, pg. 269)

Not only this, but the scenes during and after Jem retrieves Will from the Drug Den, are extremely telling.

When Jem drags Will out of the den, the reader sees him lose his temper for the first time:

“You did not have to come and fetch me like some child. I was having quite a pleasant time.” 

Jem looked back at him. “God damn you,” he said, and hit Will across the face, sending him spinning. Will didn’t lose his footing, but fetched up against the side of the carriage, his hand to his cheek. His mouth was bleeding. He looked at Jem with total astonishment.

(Clockwork Prince, ch. 9, pg. 195)

In this moment, Jem is so blindingly angry at Will, even Tessa observes herself how this was so utterly unlike him, because he feels as if Will is mocking Jem and his addiction by going and getting high on a drug when Jem is literally dependent and dying because of the yin fen.

“There’s no cure,” […] “I will die, and you know it, Tess. Probably within the next year. I am dying, and I have no family in the world, and the one person I trusted more than any other made sport of what is killing me.”


“He knows what it means to me,” he said. “To see him even toy with what has destroyed my life–”

(Clockwork Angel, ch. 9, pg. 200)

Because Jem has to battle against the label of a drug addict everyday, and his biggest fear is that he is just a addict, that that’s all anyone sees. He hates that label. Which, as seen, is openly talked about in the books. This is such a big deal that Will actually apologizes for it:

“I went to that den because I could not stop thinking about my family, and I wanted–I needed–to stop thinking,” said Will. “It did not cross my mind that it would look like I was making a mockery out of your sickness. I suppose I am asking your forgiveness for my lack of consideration.”

(Clockwork Prince, ch. 11, pg. 247)

Even though Will makes a point to never apologize about anything so that others will hate him. He apologizes to Jem for this thoughtlessness because he realizes how royally he messed up. 

All of this is totally disregarded in Izzy’s storyline. People entering into TID after watching the show will be confused and not understand how Jem is sick and dying and is not really a drug addict at all. In short, they will enter into the novels with a prejudice and misunderstanding of Jem, and see him just like the other Shadowhunter’s do: a weak drug addict.

tl;dr: the show totally ruins and misconstrues and mocks Jem’s character arc by giving Izzy such a typical(and utterly incorrect) recreational drug addict storyline and I am furious about it.

Prompt List of Sarcasm [2]

Prompt List of Sarcasm: One 

  1. “I just know something bad is going to happen.” 
  2. “You don’t look like an angel.” 
  3. “This is who I am. Nobody said you had to like it.” 
  4. “Don’t talk. Please.” 
  5. “I’ll make my own decisions, thank you.” 
  6. “This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” 
  7. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.” 
  8. “Whoop! Whoop! Over-reaction alert!” 
  9. “It’s so ugly… I LOVE IT!” 
  10. “You lucky bastard.” 
  11. “We’re young. We’re fine. Let’s do some damage.” 
  12. “Who’s the bitch now, bitch?” 
  13. “I picked a helluva a day to quit drinking.” 
  14. “What’s that? Your stripper money?” 
  15. “Don’t you just hate those things you say that make you feel really blonde?” 
  16. “When I say problem, I mean global crisis.” 
  17. “Well, you don’t need to be snarky about.” 
  18. “If KARMA doesn’t hit you, I’ll do it.” 
  19. “Did you just fall?” “No, I attacked the floor.” “Backwards?” “I’m freaking talented!” 
  20. “Of course I can see you. I’m not blind you know.” 
  21. “The world can be amazing when you’re slightly strange.” 
  22. “Life is too short to wear boring clothes.” 
  23. “You throw punches, I throw insults.” 
  24. “Wow, I wish I could speak whale.” 
  25. “Sometimes I forget my middle name.” 
  26. “Let me just pound your head into the cement quick.” 
  27. “Yeah, I got that from your 600 voicemails.” 
  28. “I love the way your foul little mind works.” 
  29. “Haha, made you look.” 
  30. “Have you ever tried to run in heels?” 
  31. “Oh honey, I have a fake laugh with your name written all over it.” 
  32. “That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth.” 
  33. “All due respect, but that’s a bunch of crap.” 
  34. “Generally speaking, you aren’t learning much when your lips are moving.” 
  35. “Brains aren’t everything. In fact, in your case, they are nothing.” 
  36. “How did you get here? Did someone leave your cage open.” 
  37. “I hope karma slaps you in the face before I do.” 
  38. “Well aren’t we just a freakin’ ray of sunshine.” 
  39. “I’m the dumbest smart person you’ll ever meet.” 
  40. “You say I’m a bitch like it’s a bad thing.”
  41. “Do you want me to accept you as you are, or do you want me to lie to myself and try to like you?” 
  42. “I could do that, but I won’t.” 
  43. “How come you’re here? I thought the zoo is closed at night…” 
  44. “You’re just jealous because the voices are talking to me.” 
  45. “Oh, honey, don’t feel bad. There’s a lot of people out there who don’t have talent!” 
  46. “I’d like to kick you in the teeth, but why should I improve your looks?” 
  47. “Sorry… I wasn’t born with a filter.” 
  48. “At least there’s one thing good about your body. It isn’t as ugly as your face.” 
  49. “I’d like to see things from your point of view, but I can’t seem to get my head that far up your ass.” 
  50. “People would follow him anywhere, but only out of morbid curiosity.” 
  51. “You grow on people, but so does cancer.” 
  52. “It’s always darkest before dawn. So if you’re going to steal your neighbor’s newspaper, that’s the time to do it.” 
  53. “Always remember that you’re unique. Just like everyone else.” 
  54. “If I throw a stick, will you leave?” 
  55. “Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.” 
  56. “And that’s why women living longer.” 
  57. “Well, this day was a total waste of makeup.” 
  58. “I’m trying to imagine you with a personality.” 
  59. “If we killed everybody who hates you, it wouldn’t be murder, it would be an apocalypse!” 
  60. “This is an excellent time for you to become a missing person.” 
  61. “Are you always this stupid or are you making a special effort today?” 
  62. “I’m busy now. Can I ignore you some other time?” 
  63. “Don’t let your mind wander, it’s far too small to be let out on it’s own.” 
  64. “Don’t you realize that there are already enough people to hate in the world without you putting in so much effort to give us another?” 
  65. “I don’t know what makes you some dumb but it really works.” 
  66. “Don’t thank me for insulting you. It was my pleasure.” 
  67. “I’m impressed. I’ve never met such a small mind inside a big head before.” 
  68. “You are not as bad as people say. You are much, much worse.” 
  69. “Please keep talking. I always yawn when I am interested.” 
  70. “What do I say?” “I hear “hello” is really popular.” 
  71. “My ex had one very annoying habit. Breathing.” 
  72. “Please don’t interrupt me when I’m talking to myself.” 
  73. “You did what with who for how many muffins?” 
  74. “Heaven won’t take me and hell’s afraid I’ll take over.” 
  75. “I’m still drunk from last night.” 
  76. “I’m sorry for the mean, awful, accurate things I said.” 
  77. “Zombies ear brains. You’re safe.” 
  78. “If only closed minds came with closed mouths.” 
  79. “I’d agree with you, but then we’d bot be wrong.” 
  80. “Babe, if a woman tell you “You’re right” that’s called sarcasm.” 
  81. “Some people just need a high-five. In the face. With a chair.” 
  82. “There’s someone for everyone, and the person for you is a psychiatrist.” 
  83. “I want to say I’m hear to listen to your problems, but I’m not a therapist and I don’t like you.” 
  84. “Your flexibility amazes me. How do you get your foot in your mouth and your head up your ass all at the same times?” 
  85. “I’m actually not funny. I’m just mean and people think I’m joking.” 
  86. “Oh, you don’t like me? Well have a seat with the rest of the bitches waiting for me to give a fuck.” 
  87. “I’m sorry I slapped you… But you didn’t seem like you would ever stop talking and I panicked.” 
  88. “It’s called karma, and it’s pronounced ‘haha fuck you’.” 
  89. “I’m not jealous, I just don’t like the bitch.” 
  90. “Wanna see how far my six inch heel can go up your ass?” 
  91. “Oops, my bad. I could’ve sworn I was dealing with an adult.” 
  92. “You look like something I drew with my left/right hand.” 
  93. “Keep rolling your eyes. Maybe you’ll find a brain back there.” 
  94. “I’ve got a good heart but this mouth…” 
  95. “I don’t have the energy to pretend to like you today.” 
  96. “I take super hot showers to practice burning in hell.” 
  97. “If you don’t like me and still watch everything I do, BITCH YOU ARE A FAN.” 
  98. “Sweetie, I’m gonna need you to put those few remaining brain cells together and work with me here, okay?” 
  99. “Have you ever had those days when you are holding a stick and everybody looks like a pinata.” 
  100. “The trash gets picked up tomorrow. Be ready.”

Request: [x] Masterlist: [x]

mythaelogy  asked:

what were your favourite quotes/those with the most impact that you read this year?

 i’m expanding this to talk about poems and collections too because i am That Guy. 





How to kill four stormtroopers using just a stick.

There are a lot of things in Star Wars that don’t make sense. We all know they don’t make sense. Chirrut’s seemingly superhuman ability to clobber stormtroopers with a stick is, I’m happy to say, not one of those things.

Keep reading

some guy on my makeup post is arguing that men are expected to have six packs and muscles and shit and I’m just.

No. They aren’t. The fact that some women (and men) find these things sexually appealing does not mean that they are social expectations. The point is that outside of romantic relationships men are rarely judged based on sex appeal. Women are.

When we talk about our bodies being accepted as they are, we don’t mean that we want men to find us attractive regardless of how we look. We just want to be respected and treated fairly whether or not you want to fuck us.

anonymous asked:

If you find the energy and willingness to do so, I'm super interested in why you don't agree with Dean being a closeted queer person. (Not trying to start anything, I'm genuinely interested.)

Sure! Well, “closeted” is a word that I don’t find particularly fecund in an analysis, or in general, because “being closeted” has meaning in relation to something - like, for instance, you’re closeted to your parents, you’re closeted in your workplace, you’re closeted to everyone outside of the internet, you’re closeted to people you’re not very close to, etc. And sure, you can be closeted to everyone on the planet, but if you exclude people who haven’t told a single soul, there is no such thing as “being in the closet” in an absolute sense. You can come out to one person and you’re not in the closet in relation to them, but still in the closet in relation to everyone else. You can come out to literally everyone you have ever had a conversation with, but technically, unless you’re going around with a t-shirt that says “I’m queer”, you are “in the closet”, as in “not out”, to a person you’re meeting or getting to know for the first time.

This said, I have seen people using that word to mean - if I’ve interpreted it correctly - that Dean is either a) in the closet in relation to everyone; b) closeted to himself, so to speak, as in, he doesn’t realize and/or acknowledge and/or accept that he’s not heterosexual.

I don’t agree with either. Now, I’m gonna put here the disclaimer that this is my interpretation since Dean’s bisexuality/queerness is not stated textually in the show thus we’re talking on a level of signs and attribution of meanings (*insert something smart about semiotics*) and blah blah blah.

Allow me not to be specific with, like, references to lines spoken in the show in this post, maybe when I am done with my thesis and all will get the time to make a thorough analysis with specific references.

Now, do I think that Dean went up to his dad and told him “I like girls and guys lol”? … Nope. At all. (But being closeted in relation to someone doesn’t really mean anything. Being out isn’t an all or nothing thing. You can go to pride parades wearing feathers and still keep it hidden from your dad. There are people who wait for their parents or grandparents to die before publicly coming out or transition. It’s complex.) Do I think Dean went up to Sam or Bobby and told them “I like girls and guys”? I don’t think so, as in, I don’t think he gave them a speech about being bisexual, but I think that both Sam and Bobby have at least a partial sense of Dean’s not-heterosexuality. Has Dean let his queerness known to people outside his family? Sure he has. On the top of my head, I can think of: Ash, Frank, Charlie (all hackers and queer or queer-coded, there is a pattern of association between hacking and queerness, but this is a thought for another day); Crowley was exchanging innuendo with him after 0.2 seconds of meeting and, well, Crowley has gotten to know Dean pretty intimately; and let’s be real there are characters who just looked at him and caught up because of reasons (Gunner Lawless comes to mind, I guess Aaron Bass, pretty sure Max Banes) and people who assumed and used it against him (the Campbells come to mind, no wonder the poor guy built 5739 walls around himself in season 6 and at some point was like “I was busy having sex with women”). It’s also implied that both he and Garth knew what the Purgatory in Miami was and that Dean expected Garth to get the joke, and Garth is another character that knows Dean beyond the façades. And then there’s a constellation of tiny moments that don’t mean anything on their own but in the context of what we know about Dean fit in the picture, like Jenna Nickerson feeling comfortable mentioning the first girl she’d kissed after knowing Dean for a short while.

At this point we’re left with “does Dean know he’s not straight” and, well, at this point it’s obvious but the thing is: Dean takes pride in his being anti-normative. Unlike Sam, he embraces his underclass identity, his not-normal identity. He acknowledges he’s a freak ever since day 1, and while he has heavy issues with the loneliness that comes with it, he uses it as an important brick in the construction of his identity. May I refer you to this conversation I had with @aslightsgoflashing and @f-ckyeahfutbol that touches this very topic.

Now, Dean’s relationship with his sexuality is extremely complex - we need, for instance, to count his experiences with sexual assault into it (I mentioned season 6 before, which also happens to be where he gets assaulted by a man in a sexually charged context, while I believe the other instances of sexual assault on him are carried out by women). Dean lives a life where is body is a) a commodity for the job, b) always at risk of being violated (in multiple ways, from wounds to possession). He’s always walking on a line between protecting his body and weaponizing it (it’s not a coincidence his body has been used as bait so often) and he that goes with sexuality too. He’s vocal in expressing knowledge of obscure kinky sexual practices, talking about how he’ll “try everything once” or whatever (but enjoying wearing pink panties is a secret…).

He builds his identity is a complex, ambiguous, ever-changing relationship with his body and his sexuality, and there’s nothing about him that suggests to me that he lives in a bubble where he doesn’t know he’s queer. Maybe he didn’t always (or ever) had the correct terminology for it or really conceptualized it, but in his twenties the guy knew his Pink Flamingos references (and Sam didn’t).

I think that among the reasons why Dean isn’t throwing himself at Cas’ feet and declaring his undying love for him, the fact that Cas has a dude body is, like, the last one on the list. I mean, I’m not saying he does not perceive men and women differently - he has different ways of relating to men and women due to the overwhelmingly homosocial context he’s lived pretty much his entire life, although he’s clearly developed a less sexist way of relating to women through the years - but his reluctance in opening himself to Cas is not due to some “gay panic” thing. I mean, it would be pretty diminishing to read it as just that.

So… well, these are my two cents on the topic :)

So this morning I woke up having bled all over my pad, my underwear, my pajama pants, and my bed sheets. I had pains in my back so bad that I couldn’t stand up straight. So much so that I had to ask my husband to wash the bloodstains out of my clothes and sheets because I was just in too much pain and the hot water from the shower helps in times like these.

I have PCOS, so this is normal, but I’ve seldom had bad mornings like this.

I can tell you that at that moment, I didn’t love my body. Crying in the shower as I rinsed blood off my legs and letting the hot water hit me to make the pain go away, it isn’t fun. Now I’m in fresh clothes, I have a warm cup of tea in hand and the painkillers are starting to work, my brain is still a little foggy, but I feel mostly like myself. I happened to remember through all of this that post by @rosedave wherein he admonished us so-called “terfs” for our period blood-guzzling ways. In that moment, crying in the shower, I might have been that “normal person who menstruates” who, in rosedave’s mind, deals with their period the correct way, with detachment and disgust at their body. 

What I think the biggest issue with that post is that it doesn’t realize how the mindset of period as this evil, monstrous thing has been used against women. My privileged self, sitting in 2017 with my husband who didn’t balk at cleaning blood out of my underwear, also has a hard time envisioning it, although a little less so than men who will never experience a period.

Because here’s the thing: for thousands of years, this bleeding has been used against women. Women were told by the men in their lives, men who would have claimed to love them, that this thing their body does, the reason they can promulgate the human race, is what makes them inferior, what justifies their subjection, what makes them less in the eyes of their god than men. And these women had no choice but to believe these lies. 

In some places in the world, this still happens. Young girls and women are barred from school, and sent to period huts because they are seen as impure. Even in the west, echoes of this inheritance persist. You can see this when advertisements for period pads will use a blue liquid instead of actual blood to demonstrate a point about absorbency. These ads with highlight discretion rather than comfort and practicality.

This is why radical feminists try so hard to love our bodies and our periods, even when it is difficult. The entire world is telling us we mustn’t, even progressive liberals who claim to be women themselves. We have to remove the shame and stigma around our bodies ourselves, because not even our supposed allies will help us in this task. It’s not out of (what you think, rosedave) our supposed hatred toward transwomen, but because our bodies, our selves, are made to be a source of shame. We need to reclaim our periods so we can stop being made to feel ashamed of them. So we continue the work started by women in past who risked everything that we might be able to open declare our love for our bodies and our periods. 

And if you can’t see that value in that, then what right do you have to call yourself a feminist?


I am allergic to sunflower seeds.
My skin and brain cook so fast in the daylight,
I’m pretty sure my ancestors were born underground
and grew there in the dirt, like potatoes.
I could live the rest of my life in celibacy,
but if nobody snuggles with me in the next five years, I will scream.

At night, I tuck an arm around my own waist,
trying to trust in my own existence.
I can feel soft solid stomach down there but. Still not sure I’m buying it.

There is a language that my skin, blood, and flesh never learned how to speak.
Words exist for this phenomenon,
for what sliding my eyes over a naked body does for my pulse
(which is to say: nothing at all)
I used to squeeze onto dark dance floors,
confused and amazed by the men who pressed up against me,
shocked at myself for letting them
—and also how dry and clinical my thoughts stayed,
no matter where their hands went.
But the first time my boyfriend kissed my neck, my whole vision sparkled,
so I never felt like any one thing

(There are words for not feeling like any one thing,
but what if I haven’t earned those, either?)

Keep reading

Office Cohorts

fluff // There’s trouble bubbling up at work

With a screech, the chair in front of you was pulled up. You kept your face pointed down at your laptop, but your eyes didn’t dare take themselves away from the intruder who’d now sat down and placed his files and cup down. You waited for him to say something, better yet, stand up and sit at the other empty tables.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” He asked.

You inwardly scoffed. What was the point in asking when he’d already become well acquainted with the seat?

“Sure.” You finally said.

Keep reading


Men are such crybabies, and so dense. Tried to explain to this little boy in my messages why I don’t want men talking to me sexually and he asked if I was a lesbian……. no. The point is im not “asking for it” and I’m not horny just bc I post a picture of myself; these pictures are just who I am, they’re me in my simplest state. I’m not looking for someone to fuck.

Another point that I think men forget is that women are always nude under their clothes. Just bc I take them off and take a picture does not mean I want to have sex with you. You can do many other activities besides sex without clothes on– i.e., lay in your bed, dance, smoke weed, read, write, eat, brush ur teeth, sit and talk with friends, watch movies. I do all of these things naked, alone, with friends, and my significant other. You can be open with ur body and not be sexual. In other words, your body is not inherently sexual.

Lastly, I am not a porn blog. While I understand why people send cock pics to porn blogs or women who caption their posts with: fuck me, I’m wet, send me nudes, I do not asking for that. Please do not assume that bc I am naked and showing whoever sees it that I want u. I dont. I completely respect those blogs but leave those actions for those spaces.

I don’t mind talking to u if you’re not talking to me sexually, just know I will never personally send u anything or talk to u sexually. As said in my bio.

p.s. Dick pics make me wanna vomit☺️

If I would end a relationship with a man if I found out he was watching porn? Absolutely. For the sake of all the women hurt in and for the making of porn, all the girls and women hurt by porn sick men, all the rape victims whose perpetrators were inspired by porn, all the women in prostitution who are forced to accept men demanding to do the things they have seen in porn that hurt women’s bodies, and for the sake of my and every other woman’s humanity. A man who watches porn does not respect women and me and other women have enough evidence to know this. Men trying to convince us they still absolutely respect us is worth nothing. Show it. Prove it. Live it. For all women.

Last Jonerys Chapter Transition in ADWD

The 8th and the last chapter transition for Jonerys ( 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 67) is the most crucial for both of their stories and has a very parallel storytelling structure. Jon allows Tormund’s host of Wildlings through the Wall and breaks the news to the Watch. Dany goes to the opening of the fighting pits where Drogon crashes the party. 

Their chapters begin with, Dany with her handmaidens, deciding to leave for the fighting pits despite her feeling for the blood sport and Jon trying to come up with a compromise. 

She would rather have drifted in the fragrant pool all day, eating iced fruit off silver trays and dreaming of a house with a red door, but a queen belongs to her people, not to herself.

Tormund : “Whatever happened to that sweet lad I knew?”
They made him lord commander.

Dany takes a long ride with Hizdahr to the fighting pits.   

“Have you ever seen such an auspicious day, my love?” Hizdahr zo Loraq commented when she rejoined him. He helped Dany up onto the palanquin, where two tall thrones stood side by side.
“Auspicious for you, perhaps. Less so for those who must die before the sun goes down.”
“All men must die,” said Hizdahr

Jon meets Val outside Tormund’s tent. Context : She’s Mance’s sister in law, Stannis’s prisoner after the Wildling battle and the one Stannis offered Jon as a wife to seal the alliance with Wildlings when Jon was offered legitimacy & Winterfell, which he rejects. Similar to Dany’s situation, just as Hizdahr helps her bargain for peace with Harpy sons & Yunkai, Jon allowed Val to go beyond the Wall after Stannis leaves so that she can convince Tormund to bring his host and make peace with Jon. Jon & Val ride back to Castle Black and yet again,Jon makes observations which strongly resonate with Dany. 

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.
They look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well … but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.
“Have you been trying to steal my wolf?” he asked her.

Originally posted by gotladies

They are all convinced she is a princess. Val looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

Keep reading

it sucks that i cant talk about my lack of attraction to men, as a lesbian, without some terf taking what i said out of context and using it to bash trans women. like, just because your piece of shit that degrades women to their crotch doesnt mean we all are

Alone Together (Nessian AU)

Originally posted by xmas-wonderland

@highfaenesta asked: “ “You live across the hall and won’t stop playing bad Christmas carols” !! Nessian AU”

Winter Writing Masterlist

Full Fic Masterlist

Send me a request!

Look, I can get really into the holiday season. I blame my adoptive mother, who broke out the decorations every year before thanksgiving and baked holiday cookies months in advance.

This year was the first that I’d be spending in an apartment my myself, both of my brothers, Rhysand and Azriel, travelling back north to visit their girlfriends, Feyre and Elain, for the month. Both tended to be somewhat grinches when the holidays rolled around, groaning when I played Christmas carols before the first of December.

So really, good riddance.

Thankfully, since they were gone I was free to blast the carols as loud as I wanted. I sang along at the top of my lungs to each one, not caring that it was only 11 am on a Sunday morning. I was up, and most of the apartment complex was empty, with residents out shopping for the holiday season or out mingling with friends or family.

I can’t exactly say I was surprised when there was a sharp knock at my door, startling me from my decorating. Turning down the music (a shame, really), I strode to open it, revealing a very pissed off looking blonde.

I’d seen her before in passing. She lived across the hall, usually kept to herself. I knew she was Feyre’s sister, but not much else. I did think she was pretty though, even as she stood before me in her pajamas, her hair pulled up in a hasty bun and sleep in her steely blue eyes.

“Nesta, right?” She rolled her eyes but nodded.

Over the course of the year I’d lived here, I had few interactions with the sensuous being that was Nesta Archeron. Terse and closed off, she wasn’t fond of making small talk in the elevator and never brought anyone home. In fact, I rarely saw her go out at all.

“What can I do for you?”

“Do you know what time it is?” I glanced at the watch on my wrist.

“11 in the morning. Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She made a show of tapping her chin. “Maybe because you’re blaring Christmas music while some of us are trying to sleep?” She shot me a glare that would have sent most men running for the hills.

Good thing I wasn’t most men.

“Most people are awake by 11 am,” I drawled, I drawled, crossing my arms to lean against the door frame. I tipped my head to the side, a lazy grin on my face. ”Does my singing bother you?” Her eyes flared, and she opened her mouth to let loose a venomous reply.

“What bothers me is that you seem to have no regards for the comfort or concerns of others.”

“Trust me, I have plenty of concern for your comfort.” I my gaze wander over her body, enjoying our little game.

She snapped her robe closed over her green silk pj’s, and I frowned theatrically. “You’re an ass,” she spat, stomping back across the hall.

“At least I’m good looking!”

She scoffed, turning back to me as she reached her door. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Oh, I enjoyed her fiery remarks. It wasn’t often that I met someone I couldn’t charm instantly, and I enjoyed the splendid change of pace.

“I will, don’t worry.” I grinned, dropping my voice to a husky timbre. “You’re welcome to join me, you know. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Nesta rolled those beautiful stormy blue eyes, and I laughed. “No thank you,” she said, slamming the door to her apartment.

I don’t know why I delighted so much in pushing her buttons and getting her riled up, but I left my door open as I returned to decorating the living room. I cranked the music back up, singing extra loud this time.

It didn’t take long for her to come stomping back over, her nose scrunched up with rage. It was hard for a five-foot five woman in her pajamas to look fierce, but Nesta pulled the look off with feline grace.

“Back so soon? Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?”

“Turn down the music or I’ll call management.”

“You’re no fun,” I sighed, reaching back to do as she demanded. I turned back to the garland to finish pinning it around the room. She stayed in the door way, watching my movements like a hawk.


“Feyre and Elain are visiting Rhysand and Azriel.” My brows drew together at the random comment. I knew this; Rhys and Az were two of my closest friends, not to mention my roommates.

I tipped my head to the side curiously. “I know?”

“Do you need any help here?” She toed the carpet nervously, the tips of her ears turning a dusty pink. She waved a hand nonchalantly. “You know, with the decorating.”

She was cute when she was bashful, what with her reddened cheeks and fiddling fingers. The sight caused my stomach to fill with butterflies, a feeling I wasn’t entirely used to. I liked it though, how Nesta made me feel like I was moments away from bursting with the need to touch her.

“I’d love some help.” I smiled warmly when her eyes flicked up to meet mine. “Would you like some coffee?”

She nodded, stepping inside and closing the door softly behind her. Something told me she liked her coffee black, so I poured her a cup and didn’t add anything before handing it to her.

“Thanks,” she murmured, taking a tiny sip and sighing. “Perfect. How’d you know I prefer it black?”

I shrugged, opening a box of newspaper-wrapped tree ornaments. “Lucky guess, I suppose.” She sipped at the mug appreciatively, her slender hands wrapping around it to soak up the heat.

“So I guess I should thank bad Christmas carols for bringing you into my home, huh?” I hung the glass waffle I’d been holding on the small tree in the center of the living room and peeked over my shoulder.

“I guess so,” she murmured, padding to the ornament box and turning one shaped like a fish over in her hands. “Are all your decorations this weird?”

“I don’t do traditional.” She made a loud, sharp sound and placed the ornament in my outstretched hand. It took me a moment to realize that she had laughed. It had sounded rusty from disuse, scratching at her throat as it bubbled past her lips.

I resolved to make her laugh more, if only so she was more comfortable doing so.

“Will you be alone for Christmas then? With Azriel and Rhys gone, I know I will.” I glanced back at her, my smile faltering at the expression on her face.

“What’s your point?”

“I was just thinking that maybe you might wanna be alone… Together?” She let the crumpled newspaper in her hand fall to the floor as she handed me another ornament.

“I think I might like that.” A ghost of a smile split her lips, and I matched it with my own.

“Looking forward to it.”

Getting There

A/N: An anon request for a fic where the reader can’t orgasm and feels horrible about herself. Spencer reassures her. @coveofmemories @sexualemobitch @jamiemelyn @unstoppableangel8


“Baby, I’m sorry,” you said again, on the verge of tears as Spencer kissed his way back up your body. 

What was wrong? Why couldn’t you orgasm? You had the hottest boyfriend ever. He was so determined to make you feel good. You loved him. And yet your body couldn’t get there. The realization again overwhelmed you (unlike your orgasms, or lack thereof) and you brought your hands over to cover your face and hide your tears. “I’m sorry. It’s not you. I swear it.”

“Hey,” he cooed softly, wiping a small tear away from the corner of your eye. “It’s okay. Some women have a really hard time having an orgasm. Some women don’t even know if they’re having one. In this case, you aren’t unique and that’s okay. I will never stop trying to make you feel good.”

You chuckled softly and puckered your lips for a kiss, feeling undeserving of such an amazing man. As much as he told you that you weren’t unique in this case, it was hard to assume otherwise when so much of the media and literature you consumed claimed otherwise. “I just don’t get it. Like I can feel good, but I just can’t get there. It’s so frustrating.”

Spencer kissed your forehead and brought you on top of him so that your body was flush with his. “Actually, 30 percent of women of trouble reaching orgasm. Practically a third. On top of that, women have a harder time on the whole because their orgasms are brought on by the organs above the shoulders rather than below the waist.” He wiggled his lower half underneath you causing you to chuckle. “If you’re stressed that can hurt your chance. Medications sometimes don’t help, depending on the medication. The circumstances of one’s life make a much bigger impact for women than it does for men.” 

You grunted and knocked your head into his chest repeatedly. “I know…I just want to, you know? I love you and even though my body won’t get there, I can tell you you’re great with your mouth and other things,” you snickered. “I just want to reap the benefits and my body is being an asshole.”

Spencer laughed and gathered your head to his chest, his large hands encompassing the back of your head. “I’m sorry about that,” he said, pinching your nippled slightly as he kissed you. “But you aren’t actually alone in that inability. I can’t keep you from being sad about what you aren’t able to experience, but you don’t have to be sorry for me. I won’t stop trying.”

“I know you won’t,” you laughed. “I just can’t help but think how someone else might be reacting to that glorious tongue of yours.”

Chuckling, he kissed the tip of your nose. “I don’t want them. I want you, because I love you for more than what I can do between your legs.”

“My Prince Charming,” you giggled. “Want to watch a movie? Or I could get you going again?” You grazed his cock, still fairly rigid, but he twitched away. You’d already made him come twice and he would probably combust within seconds. “I guess that means a movie?”

He laughed against your neck and nodded. “Oh yea. Otherwise I might explode.  Can we stay naked though?”

“I’m always down for no clothes. And how about you read to me instead? I always love that.”

With another hearty laugh, Spencer stood up and walked out toward the kitchen. At the beginning of your relationship you would have never imagined him walking around naked with such confidence, but here he was, buck naked and acting like he was fully clothed. You did the same and went outside to cuddle in a blanket while he grabbed you both a cup of coffee. Reading and coffee was too great of a combination to miss - adding nakedness to the deal just put the icing on the proverbial cake. 

“Thanks,” you said as he strutted over with two cups of coffee. He placed one on the table next to you and sipped at the other one as he went toward the bookcase to grab something to read to you. With his back turned toward you, it gave you ample time to admire his adorable butt. You reached out your hands and pretended to pinch it until he turned around and caught you. 

“You pretending to pinch my ass again?”

“Stop having such a pinchable butt and I’ll stop doing it,” you giggled. He’d picked out Anne of Green Gables, a favorite of yours that you could read over and over again. Carefully, he placed his own coffee down next to yours and motioned for you to allow him into the blanket burrito. Although he had no issues being naked, it was getting cold.

A few minutes passed by, your back to his chest as you both sipped at your coffee, before he began to read. His voice always calmed you. It brought you out of your world and into another, his smooth tone narrating the entire experience. As he danced over each word, you curled your head into his chest and allowed yourself to become absorbed into Anne’s world - one where orgasms didn’t matter. 

“It probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof.“ 

“You still awake?” He asked after having read a few chapters.

Sleepily, you nodded against him, your rogue hairs tickling his chest. “Yea, I’m alive. I just can’t help it. Your voice is so soothing. Also, when you read to me, I can forget about the fact that my body is a giant dick and won’t let me orgasm.”

“But now you just brought it up again, so you’ll be thinking about it!” He exclaimed. 

Turning around to face forward, you giggled. “I guess you’ll just have to keep reading to me.”

“That was your plan all along wasn’t it?” he asked.

“I think it might have been.”

What he says: I’m fine
What he means: People who present themselves in feminine-coded ways- boys and girls and nb alike- are always portrayed as very feminine or androgynous in appearance. Why is it so hard to find them with masculine-coded shapes and features? Where is the love for manly men and buff  women who like to wear pretty things? Where is my six and a half foot muscley chubby bara in a fluttery skirt that flares out when he twirls around and glittery nail polish and a messy manbun? Where is my buff af tank lady in a floral sundress and a floppy yellow hat? Why does “feminine coded presentation” automatically equal “feminine coded body”? Why is it so blindingly obvious what my type is, seriously, this is getting ridicululous. Also why aren’t the artists of the world catering to me and my very specific tastes and wants and needs?


Pairing: AJ Styles/You/Roman Reigns

Warnings: Sex. Dirty talk.

Summary:  Roman Reigns and AJ Styles x Reader threesome orgy! You get in your car and drive home from a long, stressful day at work. You open your suite door and see that AJ Styles and Roman Reigns are in your jacuzzi with bubbles. After taking your clothes off, all three of you get right down to business! Details, smut, sensual moments and lots of kink! Thanks.

Notes: I did my best for you anon ! I didn’t feel comfortable going full smut because you weren’t very clear with what you wanted to see. I didn’t want to possibly write anything that might squick you. In the future when you drop by the ask box maybe give us some more details ?  - Dani

Everything that could have gone wrong has gone wrong today. You are just over it. This day needs to be over. You want to be at home in your jacuzzi tub, soaking in some bubbles and drinking your way down a whole bottle of wine. A nice long phone call with your guys would go a long way too. They always make you feel better even when they’re literally on the other side of the world.

Keep reading

Bad Girl Ch 28: It’s All About Lying

Sorry if this sucks…I gotta go to work… no boys really in this one it’s mostly me trying to be dramatic 

“Make sure to eat plenty and don’t forget your work, there should a few things you need to call about,” Jiyong reminds me as he prepares to send me out the door.

I chuckle as I pull on my booties and let Jiyong help me with my jacket, “I’ll call every night, work related or not.”

He smiles as he spins me around, grips my jacket’s lapel and brings our lips together in a soft kiss, “I’ll be waiting.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Another kiss, “Where is Jiho?” He wonders after he pulls away.

“He is meeting me down stairs in the car,” I answer, I turn on my heel and rush to the door. “See you soon!” I promise, closing the door behind me. On quick toes I get into the elevator and eagerly push the button. I’m outside a few moments later, my car is parked on the curb, I slide into the passenger’s seat with ease, grinning at the sight of my partner in crime.

“Are you ready to get to the bottom of this shit?” Jihyo is grinning back at me with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“As bad as I feel about lying, yes, I am so ready to figure out what the hell is going on.”

She gives me a look, “They have lied to you so many times.”

“That doesn’t make this right.”

My friend shifts into park, “Fine, if you feel so bad go up stairs and tell Jiyong and Jiho the truth, that you are lying to everyone about where you are so you can go question some girl about what they are hiding from you. I’m sure that will go very well.”

As much as I don’t want her to be, she is right. I think back to my conversation with Jiyong last night. I had gotten up the courage to ask him if there was anything he wanted to tell me, if all of our secrets were out on the table. I watched the battle on his face. Saw the words on his tongue before he locked them behind his teeth in another forced smile as he swears by his honestly. There is still a bitter taste on my tongue from the smile and sweet words I gave in return.

I don’t have to say anything for Jihyo to know what is going through my mind, her pale hand takes mine, a reassuring grip and a smile, “We are going to figure this out, okay?”

I nod.

“So where is this person who has all the answers?”

“I had some people follow her to some club on the other side of town,” I explain as I type in the address on the navigator.

Both our brows raise at the location, “A gentlemen’s club,” Jihyo chuckles as she shifts gears and speeds off down the road. My eyes linger on the building a little longer, knowing two men are inside, the men I trusted with my life and my heart. My chest feels tight as I force back my sobs into my throat. I’m not going to cry.

We arrive down the block from the club, BAP are hanging out in their cars when we arrive. Yongguk jumps out to quickly greet me, his younger members follow right behind. They bow a full 90 degrees, greeting me respectfully, “Welcome Mrs. Jooyoung.”

“Calm down boys,” I wave their greeting away quickly.

Jihyo whistles as she eyes the six boys up “Wow, that is one greeting, and by such handsome boys.”

“Sorry guys, I’m not in the mood for formalities, did Haneul just get inside? What is she doing here so early in the afternoon?”

Yongguk nods, “She’s been inside for about five minutes. The club seems to be closed at the moment, which is why she is allowed to be inside right now.”

“Allowed to be inside?” I want to scoff at the idea of someone telling Hanuel she can’t do something.

“Haneul used to be the madam of this club but stopped when she got together with Taemin. She can only go in if it’s closed.”

I nod, “Thanks boys, I appreciate your help!”


I wave to the boys as I send them on their way, Jihyo and I make our way down the block to the large double doors. I push them open without hesitation, suspecting there to be nothing but the disgusting smell of old spunk and sweat. Instead I am greeted by a tan woman standing at a dark host stand with a beautiful smile. Beside her is the woman I’m looking for, Haneul, who was facing the hostess, she looks over her shoulder to glare at whoever interrupted her conversation.

She grins wide at the sight of me, “To whom do I owe the honor of having the one and only white dragon entering my modest establishment?”

“I’m here to ask you about a few things,” I answer confidently.

Her friend raises her brows at me before looking at Haneul, almost laughing her ass off. Haneul waves the girl’s giggles away as she tries to not laugh herself, making my confidence falter slightly. “Of course you have questions, that’s why everyone comes here. Unless you were just trying to find a good excuse to come over for a dance?” She wiggles a brow at us.

“If you want one before you go,” The other hums with a wink, “Just let me know.”

Haneul steps away from the stand, “Follow me this way lovely ladies.”

“Do you want me to stay closed for a little while longer?”

“Nah, just open, things should be fine as everyone here keeps their mouths shut about me being here,” The older woman eyes us up.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” The other salutes us as we follow Haneul back behind the velvet curtain that leads to the club area. It’s mostly empty except for a few scantily clad waitress and bartenders hanging around in the round booth in the back of the club by the bar. They wave, giving beautiful smiles and flirtatious words. My eyes scan the rest of the club, small stages are scattered here and there, the main stage is against one wall, the black marble floor sparkles under the sole spotlight. She takes us up on to one of the smaller stages up against the wall and presses on the marron wall behind it, revealing a secret door. The hall behind the stage is drastically brighter than the dimly lit club.

Not only is there a proper amount of light but unlike the silence of the club there is the buzz of voices and hair dryers. Women in tiny outfits run pass us in heels so I high I’m honestly surprised they can stand. Each woman greets Haneul with a smile and a small bow before rushing off. A few turns later we reach, what I am assuming is, Haneul’s office. She looks over her shoulder at us before peeking in to make sure there is no one inside. Once the paranoid woman is sure, she ushers us in, making sure to lock the door behind her. With that done she turns to us, I open my mouth, ready to ask her my many questions when she decks me.

Jihyo stares with wide eyes as I fall on to my ass, Haneul is standing over me, cracking her knuckles menacingly, “You know I like you but I do not like being followed. Who the fuck told you I was here?” Her words are wrapped in a harsh tone I’ve never heard from the playful woman.

“I had BAP follow you here so I could talk to you without anyone knowing,” I answer as fast as possible, scrambling away to hide behind Jihyo. Self defense training be damned, I don’t think they prepared me to fight someone like her.

“A call would have worked,” She clicks forward in her heels, looking ready to take me down again. “I am nothing but discreet when it comes to meetings and sharing information.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you angry I just want to talk!” I blurt out helplessly when she reaches me. With a huff the Latino woman grabs me by my lapel and pulls me to my feet so we are almost eye to eye.

“This is your only warning sweet girl, you do anything like this again and you will not be happy with the consequences, understand?”

I nod.

“Great!” She drops me, her tone returns to it’s usual playfulness, along with her iconic terrifying smile. “Jihyo, Jooyoung, please take a seat.”

My friend gulps, obviously frightened by the sudden change in mood, “You know who I am?”

“I told you she knows everything,” I mumble under my breath. Jihyo visibly pales.

Haneul scoffs as she claims her seat on the other side of the desk, “I looked on your social media, no need to freak out girls. Everything I know about this crazy girl is what she told the world.” She straightens out the small amount of disarray on the desk before looking up at me, completely professional, “What questions do you have for me?”

Jihyo and I share a look, “I want to know what my oppas aren’t telling me.”

She nods, “You are going to have to be more specific than that, there are lots of things they aren’t tell you.”

“How much of it do you know?”

“Almost all of it if not everything.”

“Would you know what they discussed at their meeting together that got Jiho so riled up?” My friend leans forward curiously.

“Something that they talked about that would get Jiho antsy?” Haneul hums. “I can imagine exactly what it is.”

“Well tell us!”

I place my hand on Jihyo’s to calm the anger obvious in her voice, “Wait, before you tell us anything, aren’t you going to ask for something in return?”

“Smart girl, I normally would. You are a very special case though, I like you and I love Yixing so this places me in between a rock and hard place. My answers to your questions are going to be heavy but I’m not going to give you more than you ask for. At the end, I will give you the price on the words I have given you, understand?”

I nod.

“Good, now to answer your first question, the thing that got Jiho upset was that they were discussing Zico.”

My body reacts on it’s own, tensing at the name, my hand grips Jihyo’s tighter, clinging to her like a life line. Images of the men with the masks dance around my mind, forcing me to keep my eyes open, knowing their masks will be drawn on my eyelids waiting for me.

“Jooyoung,” Haneul calls to me softly, pulling me from my lost moment. “How much does that man terrify you? From what I’ve heard through the grape vine you are trying to find them.”

“I am trying to find them, though I don’t know what I’ll do if I do, to be honest. The thought of being in a room with them makes my hands shake.”

“But what about Zico himself? Was he as tormenting as the others? Taeil tends to be the main asshole in these events, B-bomb and Jaehyo aren’t angels either but I would say they are at least a step down.”

My head snaps up, eyes narrow with suspicion, “You know those fucking monsters?”

“Sweetie,” A poisons smile spreads across her face, “we are all monsters in this world of ours, your boyfriends are the worst of them so don’t look down on me for my choice in company. Now answer my question, how afraid are you of the man known as Zico?”

“Well,” My thoughts drift off to my week in that hell hole, focusing on my interactions with Zico. “He never caught me. He was always the spectator, only stepping in if things went too far or he would send PO to do it if he couldn’t be bothered.”

“You only fear him by association?” She concluded.

“Association? He’s their fucking leader!”

“I’m just trying to understand why you are angry with a man who never raised a hand to you.”

“He was there and did nothing!”

“You’re alive aren’t you?”

“That’s because Jiho saved me!”

She just stares at me for a moment, nodding to herself then looks off into the distance before looking back with a straight face, “I’m just saying, don’t paint the man a demon with you lie in bed with many different devils.”

“Why are you defending him?” Jihyo chimes in. “Are you that close with him that you would defend the actions of a man who tortures people?”

“We have a common friend who thinks he hung the moon so I’m just trying to do them a favor,” Is all she adds, looking at her nails as if they have suddenly become interesting.

“Do you know why they were discussing Zico?”

She shrugs, “From what I heard it was because he is still breathing.”

“Where did you hear this from?”

“The mouths of your pretty boys.”

“Yixing told you?”

“God no,” She scoffs, “There was a bug in the room during this lovely discussion.”

“So you heard everything that the talked about? Show me!” I demand, suddenly on my feet, fingers gripping the edge of the desk.

She doesn’t even flinch, “Not yet.”

“Why not? I came here to know what they are all lying to me about and that answer would be on that tape!”

“It is, but I already told you what they are lying to you about.”

“Then why can’t I hear what they said?”

Haneul is standing in front of me, her eyes narrow, “Try to remember I am helping you right now so kept your tone down before you get both of us in trouble.”

“Why?” I question quieter this time, taking my seat once again, “I just want to know the truth.”

Her eyes soften as I deflate, she quickly changes the subject, “Have you spent anytime with the younger boys yet?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Taemin told me Kai has been whining about not spending much time with you yet.”

I nod, “I haven’t got to the younger six.”

“After you have your time with them, I’ll show you.”

“I don’t want to wait!”

“If you want that information from me, you will.”

“But why?”

“Because what you hear may make or break everything you have right now and I want to give both you and those boys a moment together after your separation.”

“How do you expect me to go back knowing their keeping this big secret from me?”

“With a smile. As much as you don’t want to admit it this secret does not affect your love for those boys. Go play house for a little longer, prepare yourself, and once you’ve had time with each boy you can call me and I will play you the recording.”

Jihyo frowns, “Prepare for what?”

“For every possibility that could come from this, whether it being packing your bags and leaving or picking someone, you need to consider it all.”

My friend and I share a look, “Jihyo already started preparing for me.”

“How so?”

“Fake passport,” We respond together.

Haneul hums, “Good start. You’ll need a plane to take you, a private jet shouldn’t be hard for either of you to get a hold of and if you need a little help I know more than a few people who make people disappear. Money, of course, and a destination.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before,” I somewhat tease.

“I help girls escape this world when I can. Plus everyone needs an escape route when you’ve done what I’ve done. It could be escaping the police, a deal gone wrong or just a person, you need a plan, always.”

“What is the price for all of this?” I finally ask, with only one real question I hope the price isn’t too high.

I expect her to give me one of her classic playful smirks, not the somber smile that spreads across her face, “A call. If you want to just runaway not knowing the truth, or if you stay with all of them, or one of them, or if you learn the truth and leave, I want a call once or twice a month to know you are okay, that you are safe and loved.”

“What kind of payment is that?” Jihyo questions skeptically.

“It’s the price I give to all girls who pass through here looking for away out. It’s the price Yixing made me pay when he saved me.”

“Are you saving me from something Unni?” I wonder.

“I hope so.”

“What would that thing be?”

“People who don’t deserve the love you are giving.”

“Is Yixing included in that?”

She leans back in her seat with that sad smile on her face, “Yixing hung the moon in my eyes. I want to give him everything but even he has things he doesn’t deserve.”

“Thank you Unni,” I hum, honestly grateful for the little bit of information she gave me. Even though I didn’t get  a full answer it gave me bit of honest I needed, that they are lying to me. All of the men I love are lying to me about one of the most terrifying moments of my life when we swore to be honest. I’m done with lies. I look Haneul in the eye a small smile on my face, “I’m looking forward to our next conversation.”

She nods, “As am I.”

We see ourselves out, Haneul orders that we keep our mouths shut about her being there and she will do the same for us as she snuck out the back door. Jihyo has a reassuring arm wrapped around my shoulders as we walk out to the car. I climb into the drivers seat and sit there.

“That went a lot better than I expected after she punched you. I totally thought we were going to die,” Jihyo chuckles awkwardly.

I don’t respond, there is too much going on in my mind.

She leans closer, “What are you going to do?”

“I want the truth,” I tell her, looking over with glossy eyes.

“So we wait.”

“I don’t know if I can do that though. I’m so tired of people lying to me.”

“I know girly,” She rubs small circles on my back. “A few days is all it will take. A few days and we can be gone.”

I’ll update again when I have time I’m sorry.