or however you identify

3

Focused on environmental change rather than flavor, art students Hung I-chen, Guo Yi-hui, and Cheng Yu-ti from the National Taiwan University of the Arts concocted a line of “frozen treats” titled Polluted Water Popsicles. The group collected polluted water from 100 locations in Taiwan, first freezing the collected sewage samples and then preserving their creations in polyester resin.

At first glance the visually pleasing treats seem to imitate the aesthetic of recent craft and artisanal food trends. However on closed inspection you can identify the trash contained within each mold—bits of plastic, bottle caps, and wrappers lying within the popsicles’ murky waters.

The project is intended to spread awareness about water pollution and its deep effect on our world’s population. (Source)

if you identify as a boy, your body is a boy’s body, no matter what it looks like!


if you idenify as a girl, your body is a girl’s body, no matter what it looks like!


if you identify as nonbinary, your body is a nonbinary person’s body, no matter what it looks like!


there is no right or wrong body for your gender! however you identify is who you are, and the way your body looks or acts don’t change that!

anonymous asked:

So, im gay. But I'm only 12 so most people dont believe me and are like "Its just a phase" but i know its not because being open and free to like who i like has made me the happiest ive ever been. What do i do?

First of all, I am hardly an expert on any of this, so please do not take my words as a final authority. But, I believe you’re the only person who knows you the best. No one else has authority over what you’re experiencing. For me, I started realizing I liked boys at around 8 or 9, and it was confusing but I was also alone and had no one to bounce my experience off of. And also, who you like is not a set thing. It can always change and shift, so if you identify as gay right now, that’s awesome! If that’s not how you identify later in life, that’s great too! Sexuality can be fluid. There’s no pressure and however you identify as at a certain time, that’s valid cause you know you best. If this identity is bringing you the most happiness, it sounds like that’s the thing to listen to, but again, I don’t have authority to say. Proud of you for being unafraid to openly start asking questions about this. The journey in figuring yourself out never truly ends! I hope no one pressures you in any way in determining your own identity!

How I recognized comp het/coercive heteronormativity

I get a lot of asks about how to tease apart genuine attraction from compulsory heterosexuality/coercive heteronormativity and how I figured it out and all that and the sucky answer is that there’s no cut-and-dry test or yes or no way to figure it out. Ultimately, in the end, you’ll have to decide whether you feel genuine attraction for men or whether it’s been conditioned into you. That doesn’t mean your conclusion can’t change over time, but you have to make the call in the end. No one else can make it for you.

Statements I have that helped me (speaking from my own experience) conclude that I was experiencing compulsory heterosexuality and not genuine attraction to men that might resonate with you:

  • I like getting attention from men and being validated in my attractiveness, but the moment it goes from attention to an interaction (i.e. from flirting to asking out) I start panicking.
  • I’m constantly testing my attraction to men. I pick one or more conventionally attractive men in the room, and try to force myself to be attracted to them.
  • I like the idea of being with a man, but any time a man makes a move on me I get incredibly uncomfortable.
  • I like the idea of marrying a man/being in a relationship with a man, but I can always pick out a reason to not want to date any man that is interested in me or any man suggested to me. These reasons are sometimes reasonable, but often insignificant (i.e. “I don’t like guys who do their hair like that, he has a weird mole on his face, he’s too tall”).
  • I can fantasize about men and find men attractive, but thinking about realistically being with a man makes my stomach churn.
  • The guys I like always seem to be incredibly feminine or gay. (This never happened to me specifically, but it has happened to many friends).
  • Alternatively, the guys I like are always a hyper masculine man’s man who embodies everything about manliness.
  • The guys I like are always unattainable.
  • I get crushes on guys but they immediately disappear the moment they might like me back.
  • When I think about guys, I think about all the things that I could tolerate doing with them (dating, kissing, sex, marriage) but always in terms of what I could force myself to do, not what I want to do.
  • Being around guys that are interested in me gives me intense anxiety.
  • I like male celebrities, fictional men, and men in art, but never men in real life.
  • All of my fantasies around men are always with faceless, nameless men; the more realistic the fantasy and the more details about my partner I invent, the less excited and into the fantasy I become.
  • I want to marry a man, be a stay at home, have 2.5 kids and a dog named Spot, live in the suburbs, and have my kids play sports and paint. I have no idea why I want this, I can’t pick out anything about this goal that is appealing to me, but I want this to happen.
  • Your fantasies about men still somehow turn out to be a little gay. Maybe you’re penetrating him, you don’t have to look at his face/don’t want to look at his face (I had and still have this one big time), you want a threesome with another woman, he’s very feminine, etc. It might be a “straight fantasy” but you’ve altered it in a way straight people might not be totally interested in.
  • Your fantasies about men give you intense distress or anxiety. They could be intrusive thoughts, forms of self-harm, or otherwise.
  • You figure you’re attracted to men but don’t really have any evidence for it. (i.e. “I guess I’m attracted to men because I had a crush on Brian in 2nd grade. I don’t hate men and I have men who I am friends with and whose company I enjoy. Why wouldn’t I be attracted to men?”)

This by no means an exhaustive list of how compulsive heterosexuality/coercive heteronormativity affects people, and there are plenty of people who are genuinely attracted to men who may relate and identify with one or more of these bullet points. However, if you relate to or identify with a lot of these things, I’d say it’s worth an investigation into why so many of these things resonate with you. Is it because you have a specific taste in men or because society has conditioned you to want this? Is it because you have bad experiences with men related to trauma or because these kinds of desires have been ingrained into you? I can’t answer those questions for you, and it will probably take some soul-searching but these are things I noticed for myself that indicated to me I wasn’t experiencing genuine attraction to men.

If anyone else has any compulsory heterosexuality/coercive heteronormavitiy signs they’d like to share, feel free!

Not identifying with a binary gender is okay.

Not identifying with any gender is okay.

Making a new term for your gender because you can’t find anything to describe it is okay, and it doesn’t make you a special snowflake.

Not putting a label on your gender or using a non-specific umbrella term like nonbinary or genderqueer is also okay.

However you identify is 100% valid and 100% okay and you don’t have to justify it to anyone.

this is important

Hey, you don’t have to prove to anyone that you’re non binary. However you look, or like to dress, whether you’re skinny or not, long or short hair. You are however you identify, and how you look or dress doesn’t change that. And might I say you look wonderful and to keep being your wonderful selves.

Missing Person Part 2 (Jughead)

Summary: Part two of a Jughead series I’m writing.

Word count: 1781

Requested? No

Warnings: Torture, drug use, implied panic attack

Prompts: None

A/n: None

Part 1


 Often when growing up teens feel alone and scared, specifically regarding the future. But at this moment nothing could compare to the fear and dread you was now exhibiting. You tried to distract yourself from the unfortunate scenario but the dulling drugs forced you to stay dormant and only think about the thoughts you couldn’t avoid, Jughead. Not a bad deal I guess.

Your arms recoiled in ache as your legs vibrated, shaking from the cold and terror. This shaking was the full extent of your movement as your arms were bound and your leg was painfully clamped to a chain of some sort, you couldn’t look around due to the coverage around your eyes. So instead, it was your mind that did the wandering. You clung onto the idea that one day soon you would see your friends, friend again. Your father too. You could only imagine how he’d be holding up, with the PTSD and all. These thoughts were more painful than then the whips and beatings you endured, you froze and sweat, fell unconscious and felt your eyes stinging from fatigue, and you hoped and wished for death.

A creaking door echoed thought the cabin, you could only assume it was a cabin. Fearfully, you tried in vain to shuffle back as far as you could as if it would prevent the literal torture. Your hysteria was only answered by a sickly ‘shhh.’ It was calm and unfazed as if nothing about the situation made them uncomfortable. That silencing response was the first thing you had heard out of the hooded devil’s mouth, if they spoke maybe you could tell who they were. It was as if identifying them would make any of this easier.

“Why?” You whimpered as tears spilled over. Not ‘why me?” or ‘why now?’ or ‘what do you want?’ Just ‘why?’ Once again you were answered with drumming silence, it was driving you insane. “SAY SOMETHING!” You screamed, or you would have if you could have.


*Jughead*

The clicking and clacking of a keyboard echoed through Pop’s. The, luckily for him, twenty-four hour diner was practically empty short of a few couples getting a midnight milkshake. It was just them and the woeful writer. His eyes scanned over his monitor double checking the words critiquing them as he did. He was sure to have every word perfect, every one fitting into a place. It was this compulsive certainty that distracted him from current events. In his mind, if he uncovered layers of Jason Blossom’s murder, he could solve your disappearance. Anyone who knew you two knew how close you were and how much you needed each other.

Jughead knew that he was no detective but he was losing sleep and he had to do something, anything.


You woke up once again to the only sight you had seen for three days, darkness. Only this time something was different, you were more coherent as the drugs began to wear off, you noticed the sound of light breathing, had you still been drugged you would have thought it was you but what scared you was the lack of feeling alone. You were suddenly aware of the lack of restraints, you could move your arms, they cramped as they did but it still felt like freedom despite having your leg still painfully immobilized. Contrasting the joy of having the gift of consciousness, you were also completely aware of all the pain you had been experiencing, that alone was enough to still you. Regardless, you slowly raised your hand to remove the blindfold that was tightly secured around your head. Once it had fallen down to your neck you slowly opened your eyes only to jump back and scream when met directly with the covered face of your punisher. Once the scream left your lips they were met roughly with a hand shutting you up which led you to believe that you were near a possible rescue. Even after your scream was silenced the hand was not removed, instead, the face came closer. Their visible eyes burned a memory into your head. Uncontrollably, you sobbed wanting to close your eyes and never see those shadowed irises ever again. On the other hand however this was the only chance you had at identifying this monster. If only they backed up into the minuscule of dim light, maybe you could see something helpful about their features, likely not. In case you’re hopeful, they didn’t, instead they pressed forward pushing you back making you shuffle away, closer to the wall from your place on the floor. You thought back to your psychology class, what you were experiencing was traumatic shock, a state in which the victim is abused or manipulated to a point where they are so terrified that they are immobile in the presence of the abuser, this state is common in sleep paralysis. But this wasn’t a dream, it was real and so was the hand lifting and extending your right arm. Far too distracted by the possibility of death you didn’t even notice the elastic band being wrapped around your arm until it began to cut the circulation of blood. It made you sick that they didn’t even need the drugs to keep you under their control. However, when a familiar syringe was revealed you shivered. Like a light switch you were in hysterics, flailing and fighting, holding back screams in fear of that monster placing their hands on her again. Your arm was still stretched out, you assumed it would be roofie but as you’d soon discover it was an abandoned addiction, an old ‘habit’ that died hard, or hardly died.

“NO! Nononononono! Please!” You screeched, your begging was ignored. “Please! I’ve been clean for-“ Your please were interrupted by unsteady breathing, you were in complete panic as the needle’s tip touched your skin.

A breathy squeak escaped your lips as the tip pierced your skin, it was humiliatingly pathetic. When the liquid reached your veins you felt a short burst of euphoria, though you’d forever deny it. That was all, a small ripple before a wave of denial and a tsunami of shame. You resisted the urge to show any signs of enjoyment, instead you shut your eyes as every part of your body cringed.


*Jughead*

Jughead lay in bed, eyed closed searching for sleep but finding nothing but terrifying thoughts of your whereabouts. Every thought more disturbing than the last. ‘Alive? Not? Okay? Not? Hurt? Not? Did she run away? Had she abandoned him?’

Later in the night sleep took over giving him nightmares, only for him to wake with the same thoughts.


*Sheriff Keller*

By duty of the law and common decency Sheriff Keller searched for any evidence of the missing teen hoping to find nothing. In his mind the only outcomes were to either find nothing meaning she had skipped town and was safe and sound or he finds a body, cold and rotting. You see, Jason Blossom was killed five-six days after his last sighting and it was only logical to apply the same rules here. Today was day five. To his great surprise, he found neither. Instead he found a camera. He bent down and acquired it after slipping his hands into latex gloves. It was old and had a notebook belonging to (Your full name) and a waterproof pouch attached to it containing multiple pictures, some of Sweet Water River, the forest, the town, there was even one of the Blossom twins in pure white riding in a red car. On closer inspection it was clear that the camera was broken, the closest thing he had to a lead, the only evidence, was a broken camera. Aggravated with what this meant the Sheriff stood and stalked away a few paces to radio in his findings.

“Yeah, it’s me. Look I may have found something relating to the (Your full name) case.”

“Sir, that’s not a case.”

“It is now.”


For the whole day and the on following, there were search parties looking for a missing girl, ones that Jughead signed up for the second it was announced. But that night the real sorrow came when the department sent all the civilians home and it was just a federal search, a search for a body not a person. It was that night however, when the real relief came.


 Night had fallen and the Sheriff had lost all hope. Minutes before he was about to give up and turn away Sheriff Keller let his eyes scan over Sweet Water River in sadness. It was quite calm at this time of night, or at least it should have been. Near the shore there was a violent disturbance. Immediately Sheriff Keller sprinted down to the distress. Upon seeing a struggling body being held under the water he instantly calls it in, “I need an ambulance! I found the kid! Alive!” Or at least she would be if he could get to her in time. In his detailed observation it was clear that the figure holding the victim down was cloaked and anonymous. They bolted upon hearing his booming voice, but not before pushing the distressed teen in further.


Suddenly the pressure left your head and back but the water was still filling your throat like relief soon would. You didn’t scream out of fear of a quicker death, you couldn’t help it when a hand reattached to your shoulder. Strong hands yanked you onto the shore. You fought and coughed violently as your vision clouded, the world still sounded like it was underwater. Eventually you had no choice but to stop fighting to recover by coughing up the contents of your lungs. Tears welled up in your eyes from the pain of the week prior, mental, physical and emotional.

“Y/n?” A husky voice asked when your coughing ceased and the only sounds were your sobs and the flowing of Sweet Water Creek. Upon hearing your name you knew it wasn’t your silent attacker but instead the voice of the Sheriff, the harsh voice of authority that turned soft the moment you told him you were lost on your fourth grade school excursion to the police station or the time he broke the news to you about your mother. It was a voice you trusted and a man you could lean on like a father figure, which is exactly what you did. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder before sliding off his jacket and wrapping it around you. Your sobs echoed through the woods accompanying the sweet ‘shhh’ from the Sheriff. You could only hope the monster you escaped from chocked on your safety.


Tag List:

@i-love-thetragicallybeautiful @x-error

Jughead & Me

I just want to say something about our Juggie boy.

I’m probably older than most of you in the tag. I was reading Archies in the very early 90s - my Mom was into them, too. I inherited some of her old comics.

Always loved Betty, she looked like me and she was “good” or “pure” as you kids like to say. I didn’t really understand her obsession with Archie, but I always felt empathy for her.

Jug was my other favorite. He remained my favorite throughout the years, and there was a big reason why: he made me feel ok about not being obsessed with love.

I was a late bloomer. Boys terrified me. I wanted to beat my time on Super Mario Bros. 3 and watch Disney Afternoon. I didn’t go to dances, I didn’t participate in any of it. It made me nervous, and with everything else going on during adolescence, I chose to do the things that were carefree and enjoyable to me.

We effectively see 2 years of Jughead’s life. Sophomore and Junior year. During that time, he doesn’t want anything to do with girls or romance - and, with boys, that was me, too.

Things changed for me as I got older. Now I’m married.

It just bothers me when I read “you can’t have Jughead” in regards to shipping him with Betty. What? Who says?

I cherish my books because the characters I love grew there and live there. Don’t tell me or anyone else how to feel about a character, especially one whose history is long and complex and shouldn’t be completely negated by one writer and a couple of arcs. I won’t tell you how to feel, either. If this character makes you feel confident in however you identify, then I am so happy for you. Storytelling is supposed to do good - so please don’t attempt to rob me of its benefits, too.

I really wasn’t planning on commenting on any of this, but, man, fandom brings out the ugly.

To close, let me also say that this is in defense of MY personal relationship with these characters. Individually, they’ve meant a lot to me, and together, they do, too.

In the end, it’s fiction. We’re all gonna be ok, lol. I just feel like the light and joy gets sucked out of things so quickly because people disagree on something. Just leave it be.

Betty is a sweet knucklehead and Jughead just wants to hang out and be carefree. Then they’ll grow older and be OTP.

Starry

It’s worth remembering that while sapphic and wlw work well for describing our entire community of women/woman aligned individuals who like women, these things can also be your individual identity.

It’s fine if you describe your sexuality as “sapphic” or “woman loving woman” (AKA wlw) or simply “I like girls” because…

  • You’re using it as a placeholder as you find your more specific identity
  • Your specific identity is fluid/changes a lot, but you know you like girls
  • It’s too stressful for you to find a more specific identity
  • You’d rather your identity focuses specifically on your love of women
  • etc.

If you do eventually want to find a more specific identity, I hope you eventually find a term that resonates with you and feels like home. However, there’s nothing wrong with identifying with more broad terms! You have just as much of a place in this community as someone who has a more specific identity. Even if it takes you a while to find your more specific label, or you never do, your identity is yours and it’s lovely!

Nightingale (Part 2) [Slade’s Daughter!Reader x Damian Wayne]

(Y/N)- YOUR NAME, (Y/F/N)- YOUR FIRST NAME, (Y/L/N)- YOUR LAST NAME, (Y/E/C)- YOUR EYE COLOR, (Y/H/C)- YOUR HAIR COLOR, (Y/S/C)- YOUR SKIN COLOR, (W/Y/L)- WHERE YOU LIVE, (Y/M/N)- YOUR MOTHER’S NAME 


Damian slashed the dummy before him in two; grunting and panting as he jabbed his sword through its head before kicking it back, sending it flying into the wall as he instantly unleashed his rage onto the next dummy. He’d been training for hours since he’d woken earlier around three that morning, somewhat suggestive dreams waking him in a frenzy and forcing him to stay awake to wash his sheets.

He’d been in this state for two days; panicking and practicing extra due to his recent decline in combat whenever he was on patrol with Bruce, and frustration overtaking him because of this.

He cursed under his breath in his mother tongue, something along the lines of “Fuck” in Arabic, one hand gripping his forehead as his other hand plunged his sword through the dummy’s chest. He was planning to pull the sword from the dummy’s chest and use it to slice off its foam head, but he stopped. His eyes were fixed on the dummy’s head as his mind blanked; pausing and closing his eyes as he stood quietly.

Sparkling (Y/E/C) eyes plagued his memories; the thought of pink, plump, soft lips numbing him as every fiber of his being tried to shake the thoughts. That girl. That girl from the warehouse, with her flaming fists and big (Y/E/C) eyes, her warm (Y/S/C) complexion and petite frame, the messy wisps of (Y/H/C) hair that fell on her face, the rest of her hair loosely collected into long braid that swayed as she fought…

He realized how long he’d been standing there thinking about you, grunting in frustration before pulling his sword from the dummy’s chest to then plunge it through the dummy’s head.

It had been two days since you’d kissed him, two days that you’d been unconscious in the bat infirmary, and two days since his thinking was clear and coherent…

“Stupid harlot and her dumb promiscuous approach” He muttered out as he pulled his sword from the dummy’s head.

“Mind still fixed on the girl?” A mocking voice he recognized as Dick said from the corner of the training room.

Damian whipped around to see Dick, Jason and Tim standing not far behind him in the training room, face burning as he realized he’d been heard.

“Perhaps that’s the reason your sheets are in the washer?” Jason mocked before having a laughing fit.

“THEY WERE DIRTY! THEY- THEY HADN’T BEEN WASHED IN AWHILE… THAT’S ALL!” he protested in rage, his face brighter that the color red itself.

“Not as dirty as your thoughts recently…” Tim managed to choke out between hysterical laughter joining in.

“Enough! All three of you had the same problem when you were Damian’s age. He’s seventeen; he’s already going through enough without you three pouncing on him.” A stern voice said as Damian jumped back to realize his father had joined in.

With his face still red he looked down; slapping his hand onto his forehead with a loud grunt before yelling at all of them.

“What are all of you even doing up here?! I thought you were all investigating Slade’s files in the cave?” He questioned as Dick walked over to stand beside Bruce.

“Bruce asked us to check to make sure you didn’t sneak out again, but to our surprise you were just training to err… Clear your thoughts…” Dick said trying to be serious as Tim and Jason continued laughing, Bruce walking up to stand in front of his youngest son who was now the same height as him.

“Did you find anything on Slade? Or perhaps on the girl?” Damian asked trying to change the conversation for his own sake.

“Quite a few things actually.” Bruce stated, tapping his watch and sliding through the holographic files as his four protégé’s gathered around him.

Bruce began swiping through her files downloaded from the bat computer; Dick looking up at Damian and wiggling his brows mockingly before Damian gave him a hard punch to the shoulder.

“Owww” He huffed out rubbing the now black and blued spot.

“I swear to god I run a nursery.” Bruce sighed while shaking his head, his adopted sons and biological son discontinuing their shenanigans for the time being.

“Her name is (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), a sixteen year old girl from east Gotham. She was born in (W/Y/L) but moved to Gotham with her mother when she was eight. Her mother was (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), a federal agent and rumored first class assassin. She passed away when (Y/N) was nine; there is no documentation of (Y/N)’s father, he is documented as “unknown” in her birth certificate. She was abandoned on an Orphanage doorstep in Gotham as a child; Santa Maria’s home for girls, currently the worst group home in the state. Her files show numerous attempts for adoption, but every family ended up bringing her back… without comment…”

Bruce was silent; tapping his watch turning it off wondering what was so awful about you that forced every family to bring you back. And even so, why would Slade want anything to do with you?

“Perhaps she wasn’t a good kid?” Dick questioned

“Not so, her grades are high honors, she’s an exceptional student in school and in the Gotham Academy orchestra, she has a crystal clean criminal record and no affiliation with crime whatsoever… She appears to be a good kid…” Bruce’s voice faded in confusion before Damian suddenly remembered what you’d told him before fainting back in the warehouse two days ago.

“Back when we found her, she told me something on the lines of her being a monster… Perhaps her abilities with fire cause others to think of her this way?” Damian asked.

They all turned to him in silence; surprised by the fact that Damian was even interested in your case, let alone having concern for how others “felt about you”

“I- I suppose that’s a valid motive.” Bruce stated.

“Well when is she leaving?” Damian questioned as he crossed his arms in annoyance.

There he is, there’s the jerk son I know. Bruce thought

“She can’t go back to her group home with Slade already knowing where she resides, and she’d pose as a threat if she went back to Gotham Academy, putting not only herself but others in danger as well… ” Bruce grabbed a small remote from his pant pocket and pressed the button on it and calling Alfred through its speaker.

“Alfred have you called Santa Maria’s director yet?” Bruce asked into the remote.

“Indeed master Wayne, the home’s director was practically pleading that we take the girl, arrangements have been made to pick up her belongings in the morning sir” Alfred stated through the remote speaker before Bruce confirmed and hung up.

“Wow you all are really tall… ” said a feminine voice coming from the back of the room; causing them all to turn around at once in shock to see the girl they hadn’t expected to be awake yet.

You stood against the training room back wall; your arms crossed as you looked on at them with curiosity in your eyes. You were freezing cold in the medical nightgown that only went down to your mid thighs; unaware of your somewhat provoking attire while looking up at the men that towered over you like giants.

You scanned the dropped jaws of the room, recognizing two as the batman and robin from two nights ago except without their masks, however the other three men you couldn’t identify. Meanwhile Damian was frozen; with a stare fixated on every inch of you as he felt his heart beating in his throat. Jason was the first to notice this and snickered as Tim tapped Dick on the shoulder pointing and laughing at the gawking boy. Once Dick was brought to the attention of Damian’s staring, he slapped Damian on the back causing him to realize he was staring; loathing himself immensely for it.

Damian growled in anger as he crossed his arms grudgingly; his father and brothers looking on as he huffed out towards you angrily.

“You!” He spat out at you.

“You stupid little girl and your pathetic harlotry and your god awful STUPID… FACE!” Damian yelled in frustration as Bruce barked at him, causing his brothers to watch on in amusement. You stepped back somewhat dumbfounded, your eyes narrowing as she felt your fists grow hotter; making sure to restrain yourself by keeping them at your sides.

Listen you disreputable, arrogant, bloodthirsty little- wait… what? Harlot? As in like, whore?” You took a confused step back; fists no longer hot as your head tilted while raising a brow in confusion. Bruce’s eyes widened preparing his mind for the burning destruction that would probably come as Dick, Jason, and Tim stepped back from you; knowing very well how explosive this could turn due to their own bad experiences with women. The only person to stand close to you was Damian, refusing to back away, yet still preparing for an outburst from you any moment as you stood with your head slightly tilted.

You really don’t know me bird boy. I have the sex appeal of a moldy potato; I’ve never kissed anyone, let alone had intimate relations with anyone… So I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You replied in all honesty as Damian scoffed before stepping closer to you.

“Really Liar? Never kissed anyone? That wasn’t the case back at the warehouse when you kissed me!” Damian spat back at you; watching the blood completely drain from your face as your eyes widened like a deer in headlights.

“I did what?!“ 

@leslie2898

anonymous asked:

Hi Joan. Let me say, I think you're really cool and it's nice to know that there's some non binary visibility out there. I just wanted to ask, is it okay if it's hard to explain why I choose to identify as non binary? I'm amab but identify as a demiguy. I identify partially as male, but I really feel some part not. I don't hate the idea of masculinity, but there's a part of me that wants to be able to better express myself and my gender identity. Thanks for hearing me out, and have a good day.

Yeah, that’s fine. It doesn’t make sense to demand an explanation when someone is gay– you just get it– you should be able to identify however you’re going to without having to explain yourself (I mean, people are also allowed to explain their identities if they want to, but nobody should HAVE to… unless you identify as a nazi or some shit, but there’s no real explanation that would excuse that– you’re just a shithead).

Sorry, I have trouble answering questions concisely.

Devil’s Advocate - Chanyeol X Reader AU Series - Chapter 3

Vampire!Chanyeol X Angel!Reader

Genre: Action, fluff, angst

Warnings: Violence, blood, language

Word Count: 3,575

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter




You couldn’t sleep that night. Not that you did on a normal basis. The only means of telling whether the sun had risen or fallen was the fist-sized vent in the ceiling of the massive, garage-like room you resided in.


So Chanyeol is his name.


Not that you had any interest in identifying your captor, however, he was a vague, violence-ridden mystery to you. Being from another realm, you had the ability to feel a person’s intentions and emotions after interacting with them rather strongly. A type of emotional radar. Chanyeol, however, was a different story. You were bombarded with a blinding overdose of sensations every time you tried to figure him out, and it frustrated you beyond belief.


So you sat there, hugging your knees on the creaky scaffold of a bed, compromising the perfect plan of escape.


I just have to get these weak-minded people to trust me.


After countless hours left in your own thoughts, you drifted into a tentative state of exhaustion.




Dawn eventually came, and your eyes were met with a burning sensation due to your resistance of sleep. You swung your legs around, earning a milk squeak from the rust-covered bed, and dusted off your white smock. The sound of a door unlocking jerked your attention to the main door of Chanyeol’s room. The cocky vampire himself appeared not long after the lock was broken and sauntered into the room, wearing a simple gray cargo jacket and worn brown jeans.. He didn’t so much as glance in your cage’s direction as he walked over to his large, king-sized bed and placed the large duffel that hung around his shoulder upon it. He continued to unzip the bag and the clinking of metal objects brushing against one another heightened your attention as he drew from it various items. All of them sent alarm bells ringing in your head.


A handgun.


A pair of metal cuffs.


And a chain.


He sniffed nonchalantly before grabbing the assortment of threatening objects and turning in the direction of your confinement. As he began to mess with the lock on the cage gate, you immediately flung yourself off of the bed and darted to the furthest side of its iron walls.


“Easy there, tiger,” Chanyeol placed the items on bed, “I want to take you somewhere outside of this dingy rust bucket for a bit.”


“And what if I respectfully decline?” You kept your eyes trained on the gun that had been thrown on the mattress.


“Then I’ll have to not-so-respectfully use other means to get you there regardless,” He smirked before his face fell, “Now come here.”


You didn’t budge, hands clutching the metal bars behind your back.


“Don’t make me do this the hard way, Angel-cakes.” Chanyeol’s voice lowered threateningly.


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I want to say something about sex.

Yeah, I know, I’m the (mostly) genfic writer who’s always talking about how sex scenes make me blush. But, listen.

I just read yet another book in which characters who have just met fall into bed together and then into a relationship. It happens with two sets of characters and each relationship is almost 100% gratuitous to the story. I honestly don’t know why the writer put them in.

And that made me think…

Here on Tumblr I’ve been watching what, to me, is a fascinating trend of young people identifying with very specific sexualities. As always, more power to you all, you have the right to identify however you want and to own your identity in whatever way is meaningful to you.

But I’ve been struck, in particular, with how people who identify as demi or asexual have described what they consider mainstream. In setting themselves apart from this mainstream way of being, they speak of not being attracted to every member of the opposite sex. Of wanting to be physically intimate with only very specific people, or with no one. As though we “regular” folks do just fall into bed with… whoever.

I consider myself a sexual being. Always have. I have also always been very, very particular about who I’m physically intimate with. And I think, having talked deeply about sex and relationships with many people, although I may be at one extreme of this, being particular is not uncommon.

And I have wondered, where are young people getting the idea that sex with random people is what’s “normal,” and if you don’t do that, you must be something “other?”

So lately I’ve been watching for it, and I’m seeing: All these books with relationships that start five minutes after two people meet, usually for no apparent reason than that the protagonist is a man and the woman is stereotypically “hot.” All those forced relationships in action movies that end with a “romantic” kiss between the male and female leads.

I’ve also become more sensitive to the ubiquity of parents and friends who say, “Why don’t you give him a chance? Maybe you just need to give it time.” As though those of us who say “no thank you” to people we’re not physically (or emotionally) attracted to have somehow got it wrong.

Is this what we have taught our children is normal? Is this what all of these new labels are reacting against?

Because if so, I guess I want to say to all of those folks who are just figuring out this sexuality thing and struggling with it and getting shit for whatever category you’ve decided is the one you fit into… I’ve made it 40+ years on this earth being whatever-the-hell-my-sexuality-is, and it’s fine. I have known people along the whole spectrum from “dates anyone who shows an interest” to “hasn’t had a date in years and so what.”

All those books and movies that pretend that sexual relationships are automatic and inevitable? They’re crazy.

YOU are not.

shoutout to all the common kintypes. to those who are regularly called wolfaboos. those who are put down because they have ‘beginner’ theriotypes. those who doubt their legitimacy because they aren’t 'real’.
your kintype is real and valid. no matter what anybody else says. you know who you are and nobody can change that.
you are a beautiful wolf, fox, cat, dog. however you identify. just know that at the end of the day you know what you are.
i love each and every one of you.

Stars in the Night: Chapter 12

Note to self: never watch most popular girls in school while writing a multi chapter fic. It lowers the quality and concentration by like 80%. Lol. I hope you guys still enjoy <3 This chapter was just hard to write for some reason??? Lol. The struggles of a writer.

Anyway, plot twists are cool. Don’t worry, it only get’s crazier from here. We’re nearing the end too. *gasp!* 

Word count: 1,828

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All of Noctis’s happiness and feelings off comfort vanished from within Stella the moment they left the safety of their hotel room. They had to continue their quest… no matter the consequences. It seemed as if all of hell had already broken loose. What else could go wrong?

The train to Tenebrae was moderately empty. The group of five practically had an entire cart to themselves. Only a small family of three occupied the back of the cart, a mother and father sharing idle conversation with their young child.

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tips for people with periods:

- take advil before you sleep
- use organic sanitary products if available to prevent skin irritations
- wear comfortable clothes
- get lots of sleep
- think about using more environmentally friendly products like cloth pads or menstrual cups to save money and the earth
- don’t be afraid to cry a little
- drink water
- do yoga!
- heating pads are your best friends
- when you watch the blood drip down your legs in the shower it’s okay to feel like a powerful warrior
- it’s also okay to run out of the shower like a banshee when you finish so you don’t bleed all over your bath rugs and your clean legs
- be kind to yourself
- remember that you’re beautiful
- and good enough
- and yeah, eat that ice cream with no shame!