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#welcome to TERF Island

spaceyqueer · 2 years

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I don't generally talk about politics in the UK, but as a UK resident and trans person the hatred of trans people has escalated things to a new level here, particularly in England.

With the closure of Tavistock, which was the only NHS branch that treated trans children and young people, the 'intention' is to eventually shift the former Tavistock patients to other services, but due to the extreme wait times and the ever growing fears around trans children, they're now talking about changing the interim service. These potential changes include:

1. Adding more mental health and neurodivergency professionals to the service, which sounds like a positive except the document on the proposed changes has NOT outlined whether they will be trained in dealing with trans children and young people, and considering the current articles circulating on all sides of the political sphere about trans children potentially being just 'confused' or being trans 'because of autism' this is a questionable move.

2. Adding additional criteria that makes getting a referral to trans-specific healthcare services for a trans child that much harder, such as making it so only a doctor can make a referral (currently, counsellors, teachers, etc can also make referrals). The criteria these doctors follow to determine if a child is actually trans has not been laid out, and is very open to abuse of that power. They also haven't provided any information on how one might appeal that decision if your or your child's doctor decided they're not trans enough to get a referral.

3. The document also outlines pathologising social transition, making it so social transition be allowed only on recommendation from a doctor, meaning children who have asked their schools to change their name/pronouns because their parents aren't safe are at risk. This also means parents who allow their children to socially transition without consulting a doctor (or against recommendation) could be reported to the local authorities for child abuse. Yes, this is real.

There are many more I haven't mentioned here - a few are positive, but most aren't. There is also a failure in this document to outline how trans people of colour or disabled trans people are going to be affected, and the document has cited the Cass Report (led by a paedetrician who was assigned to assess whether or not the NHS services for trans children are suitable... warning if you read the report and/or their twitter page it is very often blatantly transphobic).

This has serious consequences not just for trans children and their families in the UK, but also for trans adults and is a foot in the door to passing more legislation that puts us at risk. So, as a UK trans person I am BEGGING my fellow UK trans folks to have a look at the NHS survey about these proposed changes (see here: the survey for the changes) and fill it out - unfortunately the survey closes on Sunday 04/12/22, so please do it ASAP! Gendered Intelligence has a whole guide on how to fill it out if you need any help. To those not in the UK, just sharing this everywhere you can would be enough. TERF Island might be a joke to you but it's our reality, and it's getting ever worse.

#trans #trans rights #transgender #transgender rights #non-binary #nonbinary #non binary #UK politics #UK #Britain #British politics #NHS #transphobia #welcome to TERF Island #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+#lgbtqia+#lgb with the t

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probablyasocialecologist · 1 year

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In 2018, then-PM Theresa May published an LGBT action plan that included the protection and expansion of transgender rights. “We can be proud that the UK is a world leader in advancing LGBT rights,” she said, as she promised to make the gender recognition process less intrusive, acknowledged the existence of non-binary people and condemned transphobic bullying in schools. “Everyone in this country should feel safe and happy to be who they are,” added Penny Mordaunt, the equalities minister at the time, “and to love who they love, without judgement or fear.”

Just four years later, their action plan reads like something from a parallel universe.

[...]

One survey in 2022 showed that two-thirds of Brits simply don’t pay any attention to trans issues, with only 35% actually showing any interest. Those who show more interest in trans issues are far more likely to hold favourable views of trans people. Meanwhile, those who pay no attention more often hold negative views. It seems clear, therefore, that the hardening in public opinion against trans rights has been driven almost entirely by people with no real knowledge or interest in trans issues.

As with so many issues, the split is also stratified by age. Among older voters, only 24% actually pay attention to trans rights; among younger voters, this figure is as high as 50%.

We know that older people are far more likely to get their news from newspapers and broadcast media. Their opinions, therefore, are more likely to be influenced by the mainstream media than by, say, personal experience or social media.

Research by trans rights activist MimmyMum suggests that UK media has published an average of 154 articles on trans issues every single month over the past seven years. That’s a total of 13,500 articles focusing on a minority group that makes up just 0.1% of the population.

Britain’s most-read newspaper, the Daily Mail, has certainly dramatically increased its coverage over the past few years. Comparing the first month of each year shows a rise from six articles in January 2013 to a jaw-dropping 115 articles in January 2023 (+1817%).

#uk politics #lgbt #transgender #transphobia #media

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venus-haze · 5 days

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Power in the Blood (Father Paul Hill x Nun!Reader)

Summary: There’s power in the blood. Father Paul knows this. Soon, you will, too.

Note: Female reader who's only referred to as "Sister," but no other descriptors are used. Also, the newspaper clipping isn't on the wall in this, for obvious reasons. I’ve been working on this fic in one way or another for about a year, but watching The Devils (1971) and Immaculate (2024) earlier this year as well as encouragement from my amazing friend @zaras-really-dreamless finally gave me the push I needed to finish it. Major visual inspiration from this scene in particular. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Major canon divergence. Angst, yearning, and unrequited feelings. Elements of Catholic mysticism. Sexually explicit content which involves dubious consent by way of religious manipulation, members of the clergy engaging in sexual acts, oral sex (f. receiving, but it's related to the stigmata and vampirism), blood play.

In retrospect, Crockett Island was the only place it could have happened. Desolation hung over the remote fishing village like fog in the early mornings, when you’d take your walks before the Monsignor awoke, and you heard the woes of the fishermen as they prepared to sail out for the day—oil spills, restrictive fishing laws, better paying jobs on the mainland but leaving everything they knew behind in exchange. Despite coming from the mainland yourself and otherwise alien to the ways of the dying village, your being a woman of the cloth on the largely Catholic (though predominantly non-practicing) island made the islanders trust you, consider you one of their own a bit more than they otherwise would have as you took on the burden of buoying their spirituality as the Monsignor’s health continued failing, and he could no longer fulfill the task himself.

You’d begged the diocese for help, hardly considered yourself equipped to care for the ailing priest and run a parish, however small, essentially on your own. But for a parish as small as St. Patrick’s, you were all the help the diocese would care to send. The letter you received in response to your detailing all of the things Crockett Island’s parishioners desperately needed boiled down to “wait until the old man kicks it.”

You supposed it was a miracle the diocese even sent you there in the first place. Though most of the islanders took the arrival of a young nun like yourself as a breath of fresh air, Beverly Keane didn’t seem all too pleased to have her self-appointed position as number two at St. Patrick’s knocked down to number three. She seemed to settle down when it became clear you had no interest in engaging in petty politics in a church that barely counted three dozen people for regular Sunday mass attendance.

The island’s social life, small as it was, interested you more. People were more open to receiving you as a friend than as a representative of the church, undoubtedly put off by Beverly Keane’s self-righteous fanaticism that veered into cruelty. You got to know the regular parishioners, like Erin Greene, who’d grown up on the island, left for some time, and returned pregnant yet eager to become a mother to her unborn baby. She taught at the island’s small school with Beverly, who encouraged you to take up teaching there, obviously hoping to bring a religious curriculum to the tax-payer funded public school. You declined.

Besides Erin, and to your chagrin Beverly, who was convinced the two of you were compatriots of some kind despite how often you clashed, you found yourself spending increasing amounts of time with Sheriff Hassan. Despite dutifully filling an essential role in the community, he hardly seemed any closer to gaining acceptance despite a year on Crockett Island.

The day he and Ali moved onto the island, you had a cold, and thus weren’t part of the unofficial welcoming committee. Your head pounded from the sinus pressure when Beverly brought the Monsignor back to the rectory afterward, and you barely heard what she said. You met Sheriff Hassan a few days later, when you were feeling well enough to shop for yourself and the Monsignor for the week. Among your expectations about Hassan Shabazz, his being handsome enough to make your breath hitch for just a moment before introducing yourself wasn’t on the list. But he was understandably weary of you, expecting the same horrendous treatment he undoubtedly received from Beverly.

Over time, he found you were only interested in buying groceries and not in underhandedly converting him or Ali. You were both lonely outsiders to the island and found some solace in regular conversations about the mainland, or observations about the islanders, occasionally broaching the topic of religion, which had a comfortable place in the space you two shared in the general store, sometimes over a cup of coffee he’d brew for you.

You admired him. His dedication to his son, the efficacy with which he performed his thankless job, and the unwavering faith he had in his religion, while yours had long lost its luster since you’d become Monsignor Pruitt’s live-in nurse in all but name.

But the days became your own when the Monsignor made his trip to the Holy Land, ill-advised considering his health. When you voiced your concerns to the parish, your outsider status was paraded through the discussion by Beverly, who insisted you had no way to understand how much the trip meant to the Monsignor, and by extension, every good, practicing Catholic on the island. At the time, to your frustration, she had won.

Besides, even if he were there, you weren’t sure a man on death’s door himself would have been able to give Mildred Gunning Last Rites. Torrential rain pounded against the rectory when you could barely hear the phone ring.

You had picked up with a hesitant, “Hello?”

“Sister, it’s—it’s my mom. I think she’s—”

“Sarah, do you want me to come over and see her?”

“Yeah, she’d want that. Just be careful with the rain.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

Grabbing a flashlight, you had only half pulled on your raincoat when you hurried outside, in a near sprint to the Gunning house. You almost slipped and fell on the way there, and then you wouldn’t have been any good to anybody, and the last thing Dr. Sarah Gunning needed was to tend to a broken leg while her mother was on her deathbed.

The door was unlocked when you arrived, the house quiet and dark save for a few lamps left on.

“Sarah?” you called out.

She emerged from her mother’s room, eyes red. “I thought I was ready for this a long time ago, but being face-to-face with it…”

“Are you sure this is it?”

“As sure as I can be. She hasn’t been eating. There’s only so much I can do,” Sarah said, her voice breaking in despair. “Sister, I—she’d want you to be here. Even though she didn’t know you very much, I could tell she liked you.”

“Of course,” you whispered, giving her a hug before approaching Mildred’s bedside.

Despite her labored breathing, she managed a kind smile when you took her weathered hand in yours and prayed the Our Father with as steady of a voice as you could manage. Then, you knelt, pulled the rosary from your raincoat pocket, and prayed until your knees ached and you nearly passed out from exhaustion at staying up so late. You almost thought you had dreamed it, the way she went, as peacefully as drifting off to sleep. It was only the cry of her daughter that pierced through your haze, and you struggled to your feet as you allowed Sarah privacy and called Sheriff Hassan over to certify the death, as was necessary for the burial Mildred would have undoubtedly wanted as a Catholic.

When the Sheriff arrived, about fifteen minutes after you called, you’d become acutely aware your nightgown had soaked through in the rain, and pulled your raincoat more closely over your body, ashamed you’d even forgotten such a detail in your haste.

“I should head back now,” you said. “I’m so sorry again, Sarah. You’ll be in my prayers. I’ll contact the diocese first thing in the morning."

She nodded. "Thank you, Sister."

“Do you need a ride back to the church?” Hassan asked. “This shouldn’t take long.”

You smiled, tempted by his offer, the prospect of spending more time alone with him. Instead, you shook your head. “Thank you, Sheriff. I think I can manage.”

Crockett Island was quiet the following day, when Annie’s son Riley arrived home for the first time in over a decade, following his four year prison sentence. You could tell through his polite greeting he had no interest in speaking with you further than his mother’s introductions. Fair enough.

Monsignor Pruitt was supposed to return that evening, but you had been calling the diocese to try to get confirmation that they could send a priest over to perform the funeral mass if needed. As usual, you got answering machines or the run around of being told to call different offices, none of which could apparently help you.

When you returned to the rectory after visiting with Sarah Gunning, you noticed the light on in the distance. Beverly had planned to meet the Monsignor at the ferry and bring him home. In all honesty, you couldn’t believe he survived the trip, both there and back.

“Monsignor, it’s me!” you called out. “How was your trip? I’d love to hear about—” You froze when you came face to face with a priest. A priest who wasn’t the Monsignor. Younger, handsome, absolutely unexpected. “Hello. I–I’m sorry, who are you? Father—”

“I’m Father Paul, Paul Hill,” he said kindly. “The diocese sent me.”

“That was quick. I thought they’d been ignoring my messages.”

“Yes, I’m afraid the Monsignor became ill on his trip, and I’m here until he recovers. I hope you don’t mind, I went ahead and brought my things into what I assumed was his room.”

“Please, make yourself at home.” You hastily made a sign of the cross. “But the Monsignor…I don’t think the islanders could take another loss. I’m so sorry, you come here and your first mass is a funeral.”

“Funeral? For who?”

“Mildred Gunning, an elderly parishioner who had been ill with dementia for a few years, I believe. She passed away two nights ago,” you said. “That’s why I’ve been calling the diocese all day. We need someone to perform the funeral mass.”

His deep, brown eyes widened with all the terror of a deer being chased through the woods. “Are–are you sure?”

“Of course I am. I was there when she passed.”

“Did she suffer?”

“No, it was like she had fallen asleep,” you said softly, watching in wonder as tears fell from his eyes. “Father?”

“I’m sorry, Sister. These things affect me deeply.”

You put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Can I make you coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please,” he said, his voice empty, an almost far away sound to it.

“While that’s brewing, I’ll call Dr. Gunning, Mildred’s daughter, and let her know you’re here. I don’t think she’d want any deviation from the typical funeral rites. Her mother was quite devout.”

“Yes, I know.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What was that?”

“Yes, I–I figured.”

He retreated into the Monsignor’s room. When you brought the coffee to him, he requested you leave it outside the door, which you found odd. Even more strange was having to tell Beverly that she missed the Monsignor’s arrival because he wasn’t arriving in the first place, and the diocese forgot to tell you that he’d become ill on his trip and Father Paul was serving as his replacement until he recovered. You privately figured the assignment would be more permanent, as yours had unexpectedly become.

Mildred Gunning’s funeral was held in St. Patrick’s Church less than a day later. A simple, solemn affair that saw the church nearly packed for the first time outside of Christmas or Easter. Mildred had lived and died on Crockett Island, everyone knew her in one way or another. Father Paul conducted the funeral mass as if mourning the Pope himself, and you were particularly struck by his grief, the way he nearly fell apart while giving the homily.

He fared no better at the wake that followed the funeral mass, held in the community center. Father Paul was utterly disinterested in speaking with any of the parishioners who tried to introduce themselves to him or sought solace and spiritual guidance in his presence. Thus, the burden once again fell on your shoulders, and you almost thought the diocese would have been better off ignoring your calls after all.

You sighed. You couldn’t let your cynicism get the best of you. It’d be entirely inappropriate for Father Paul to treat Mildred’s wake as a social hour. Besides, people with such deep empathy for others, especially someone they’d never met, were rare, as reminded to you by Beverly, who made her way over to you with a plate of cheese and crackers and a slight sneer on her face.

“I suppose it’s nice and all, but it’s not like he knew the woman,” Beverly muttered.

“He needs time to adjust,” you said. “This isn’t the best way to start out his tenure here.”

“Yes, well, let’s just hope he gets his act together soon.”

You could swear the diocese had you on some kind of blacklist, the way your calls to them went unanswered, letters returned with vague instructions and empty assurances. Father Paul had no idea how long they intended for him to stay on Crockett Island or the condition of Monsignor Pruitt.

Your living in the rectory made sense when you were caring for the Monsignor, but with Father Paul fully capable of taking care of himself, you wanted to know if you’d be staying on the island, and if so, if separate arrangements would be made for your own housing. The island was too small, too chatty, for you and Father Paul to be living alone for too long before it was turned into something it wasn’t.

The bitter taste of married life settled on your tongue as you took up most of the responsibilities around the rectory while Father Paul moped . The old man could hardly help with cleaning, and you didn’t want him anywhere near the kitchen, but your new roommate was an able-bodied man who could spare to pick up some slack, couldn’t he?

“I made dinner, if you’re hungry,” you said, emerging from the kitchen and into the living room where he sat on the couch. “Just spaghetti and meatballs. The jar sauce from the store isn’t too bad. I usually add—”

“Red wine and oregano to it. I know.”

“Oh,” you said, taken aback by his statement. “I guess Bev told you. Not much of a secret recipe.”

“You’re pretty young for a nun,” he said, turning to you. “What made you want to give up a normal life for this?”

“It’s my vocation. For as long as I can remember, I knew this was what God called me to do. I never wanted another life.” You sat down next to him, sparing a glance around the room. “This is it for me.”

“Crockett Island?”

You conceded a small smile. “I was hoping for somewhere a little more exciting, but I think there’s a chance for something amazing to happen here.”

He shook his head. “That time’s long passed. Look around you, Sister. People are leaving in droves, and the ones who’ve stayed…it’s just too late.”

“Please, Father, I know this island may seem like it’s dying, and presiding over a funeral as your first mass here doesn’t help that, but the people still need guidance,” you pleaded, taking his hands in yours. You couldn’t contend with the diocese sending you to rot with the rest of the island. It couldn’t be for nothing. “The Monsignor is no longer well enough to fill that need, and I couldn’t do it on my own, but together, I think we can do something great if we try. This might be the island’s last chance to have life breathed into it again.”

“Sister—”

“I agree that Crockett Island is hardly a place anymore, but it’s somewhere to start, isn’t it? We couldn’t have been sent here without a reason.”

He swallowed roughly, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You’re right, Sister. I—Thank you.”

You smiled, relief washing over you at his words, at his assurance you wouldn't have to bring revival to Crockett Island on your own.

Following your conversation with Father Paul, his attitude completely shifted. He was friendlier with the parishioners, taking extra time to spend with Leeza, offering to hold Riley’s AA meetings in the community center to save him a trip to the mainland, and, inexplicably, he liked Beverly, who’d changed her mind about Father Paul since the wake and warmed up to him. The only time he wavered was when he visited with Sarah Gunning, still grieving the loss of her mother and considering moving her practice off of the island.

He’d return to the rectory on those evenings quiet, morose, seeking the comfort you selflessly offered him. A warm embrace in which he’d bury his face in the crook of your neck. A hand to hold and squeeze in his own, intertwining his fingers with yours. Teetering on the brink of an intimacy you’d made vows against, you weren’t quite sure how to bring it up to him, not when he needed you, and you, him, to fill the hunger in your heart for a man you knew you could never have.

You allowed the beast to live in you. Fed it. Nurtured it. Cared for it. Guarded it with a shameful protectiveness, shielding it from your regular confessions with Father Paul, in which uttering its name would make it real, and thus ripped away from you and destroyed.

Ash Wednesday and the first week of Lent were resigned to a haze in your memory, hardly able to think of the beginning of the holiest time of the liturgical year without feeling sick. Not after the potluck. You were sure it had been Beverly, Sheriff Hassan was, too. You knew she was cruel, but to harm an animal, something so innocent…You couldn’t stand to be in her presence for long after that, and silently resented Father Paul for keeping her so close. But you supposed everyone had their vices.

Yours came to a head in a dream, one that felt all too real, that you could hardly remember when you awoke apart from burning hands on your skin, lips pressed to yours, you and Sheriff Hassan in throes of passion. You laid in bed with a lump in your throat and aching between your legs. You hadn’t experienced a dream like that in…you couldn’t even remember.

The entire time you sat through mass, you thought you were going to be sick. You couldn’t concentrate on the readings or the homily. Taking the Eucharist felt wrong, and your hand shook when you brought the communion wafer to your lips when Father Paul handed it to you. Finally, when mass ended, and you were sure the church was empty, you approached him with trepidation.

“Father, I have something I need to confess.”

“Would you like to go to the confessional?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to hide behind it. I need to be transparent and held accountable.”

He nodded. The two of you sat in a pew, facing each other as you crossed yourselves.

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

“Three days,” you answered.

“What is it, Sister?”

“I’ve been having lustful thoughts, Father, about someone incredibly close to me, who I care deeply for. Instead of asking the Lord to take these feelings from me, I’ve been indulging in them, and last night I—I had a dream about him. A sexual one that I experienced physical pleasure from.” You were in tears, guilt wracking your body as you spoke. “I’m so ashamed. I should have been stronger. I’ve been sinning against God, exploiting this man in my heart when he’s done nothing to deserve such disrespect. Sheriff Hassan is—”

“Sheriff Hassan?” Father Paul’s gaze darkened ever so slightly, and you leapt to the sheriff’s defense in his absence.

“He didn’t do anything, Father. Nothing more than friendly smiles and kind words, never anything inappropriate. It was me, letting my lustful thoughts ferment instead of nipping them in the bud right away. He committed no sin. It was me.” Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

“Why him?”

You were silent for a moment. “He’s a good man.” Better than most you’d come across. Kind, selfless, just—the virtues that were few and far between among the men of the cloth you had met. Above all else, even when it was difficult, Hassan Shabazz was good. “I love him.”

“You don’t love him, Sister. Lust after him, yes, but you don’t know him, not enough to love him the way you think you do.”

With a shaky, reluctant sigh, you nodded. “Will you help me, Father?”

He took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Of course, it’s the least I can do after you helped me through the trial God set out for me when I first arrived here.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll get through this together, Sister. Let us pray.”

The following Sunday, you tried to match the enthusiasm he had for ten o’clock mass that morning. You had gotten used to it by then, the way he always seemed to know something you didn’t or was aware of details about the islanders you weren’t keen to even after living there for two years. He was easy to trust, you supposed.

Sitting in the wooden pew, you focused on following along with mass until the homily following the reading from the Gospel. Father Paul’s homilies were always a bit odd, cryptic, even. You assumed his faith was influenced by mysticism, and sought out books by the likes of St. John of the Cross and St. Francis in an attempt to better understand him. The way he spoke that day unsettled you, a fantastical fanaticism that felt out of place on Crockett Island.

Then, when it was time to receive the Eucharist, there was a solid minute where you were sure you had never hated anyone more in your entire life than you hated him. Telling Leeza Scaroborough to walk, goading the poor girl to step out of her wheelchair in an act of cruelty you couldn’t abide by. You got up from the pew, en route to smack him across the face when she did it. Leeza stood up from her wheelchair, and with tentative steps forward and tears of disbelief and hope in her eyes, she walked up to Father Paul and received the Eucharist.

Everything that followed was a blur, but you knew you were one of the few in attendance who hadn’t broken out into frenzied celebration. Something just wasn’t right. You found yourself hesitant to make eye contact with him when you took communion, and remained quiet even as mass ended, the cacophony of elated voices almost background noise to you.

“I’m sorry, everyone, but I need to speak to our dear Sister in confidence. I’m sure you all understand,” he said, murmurs of affirmation from the congregants who had crowded around him, except for Bev, who had a puss on her face at being excluded.

Father Paul ushered you into the sacristy, closing the door behind you.

“Is something wrong, Sister?” he asked.

“How can anything be wrong? Leeza Scarborough can walk again.”

“Yes, a miracle occurred in this very parish, right before our eyes, yet you seem…hesitant.”

You chewed on your lip before murmuring, “Seeing isn’t always believing.”

“You were the one who told me this island needed life brought back to it, who said we could achieve great things together. Now I’ve done that, by the grace of God Himself, and you have cold feet?”

“It’s not that.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“You know I do,” you said, trying to ignore the lump in your throat. “Maybe my faith is still weak—I’m still weak. I’m sorry, Father.”

“You’re not weak, Sister.”

“I think I’m going to get some air,” you said.

He nodded, distressed by your continued lack of enthusiasm. “Alright.”

Leaving St. Patrick’s through the side door in the sacristy, you tried to muster up the joy and faith you were supposed to feel, but found yourself coming up disappointingly empty. You had seen it with your very own eyes, and had been standing right there when Leeza walked for the first time in years. It couldn’t have been a trick, not orchestrated or premeditated, not by her. But Father Paul seemed so certain. Was his faith that much stronger than yours? Strong enough that he could be a true miracle worker, a vessel of God Himself on Crockett Island of all places?

Even the more skeptical congregants present, like Erin and Riley, had bared witness to it. Could attest to what had happened just as everyone else had, as you could. As a nun, you were undoubtedly expected to believe, be among the most fervent of Father Paul’s advocates. Beverly wasted no time in declaring the act a miracle worthy of the Vatican’s attention. Your faith still wavered despite what should have been undeniable proof.

You’d lost track of how long you’d been walking around the island, but the sun was beginning to set and you realized you were tired and hungry. The general store wasn’t much farther of a walk from where you ended up while mindlessly wandering, and so you made the trek into town, telling yourself you were getting a few groceries for yourself and Father Paul. Really, the only person you knew you could speak to without judgment would be in there.

When you entered, Hassan greeted you with an emotional distance you expected. He probably figured you’d be among the dozens of people eager to relay Leeza’s miracle to him, underhandedly attempting to invalidate his own faith.

Grabbing a jar of sauce and a box of pasta, you brought them up to the counter. Your mouth was dry while he rang up the groceries, but you couldn’t help asking, “Have–um–have you seen Leeza recently?”

He nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Walked right in here and bought a Twinkie earlier.”

“Amazing, how it happened.”

“I know about what happened to Leeza. I don’t believe what happened to Leeza.”

“Neither do I.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

“It doesn’t sit right with me,” you said. “It felt more like a show was being put on than a miracle. I don’t think she had anything to do with what happened, but he had to have done something. He was so sure she would walk, and I just felt angry, betrayed that he’d make a spectacle in mass. In all honesty, Sheriff, my faith has been wavering for a while, but this didn’t make it any stronger.”

“It makes me feel a little more sane to hear you say that.”

“Well, if anyone can get to the bottom of this, I’m sure it’s you.” You smiled, taking the bags of groceries from the counter. “Have a good night, Sheriff.”

“You too, Sister.”

Walking back to the rectory, you wondered if anything would be able to make you change your mind about actually bearing witness to a miracle.

Father Paul hugged you as soon as you walked through the door. “I was about to send out a search party for you.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you, Father. I just needed time to think.”

He looked at the grocery bag in your hand. “And to see the Sheriff.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Sister, something incredible is happening here. I need to know you’re on my side,” he said, his urgency striking you like lightning.

“I am. I want to be. Please just be patient with me. This is—it’s a lot to process.”

“I can’t do this without you,” he said softly, caressing your cheek. “I need you.” His gaze fell to your lips.

“I should start on dinner,” you whispered, pulling away from him.

“Let me, you cook enough for me already,” he said, taking the bag from you. He pulled out the jar of sauce. “Red wine and oregano, right?”

You nodded. “That’s right.”

“Make yourself comfortable out here. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

The following half hour or so was unbearably tense, and you could hardly focus on the book sitting in your lap, The Dialogue of Divine Providence, while he cooked. The two of you ate in near silence, and you retired to your room early, falling asleep almost as soon as you changed into your nightgown and crawled into bed.

Burning pain seared your limbs when you awoke in the middle of the night, the pungent scent of iron assaulting your nose, and for a moment, you thought you were dying. You reached over to the lamp on your nightstand, your arm heavy as you moved it. With trepidation, you pulled the cord, a phantom sensation in your hand as you did so.

Soft, white light from the bulb illuminated your beside. Lifting your hands to your face, you let out a panicked whimper at the gaping wounds in your palms, gently bleeding crimson and flowing down your arms to your nightgown. The fabric around your torso was blotched with blood, each tinge of pink becoming red with every ragged breath you took. You tried kicking at the covers, but found it excruciatingly difficult, and to your horror, discovered identical wounds to the ones in your hands through both of your feet.

Your hands shook as you screwed your eyes shut, telling yourself it was a dream, and that when you opened your eyes, the blood would be gone, the wounds healed. Except the pain was all too real, pulsing in your wounds, tears stinging your eyes as you choked out a sob. Your simple bedroom, with little more than a bookshelf, desk, chair, and crucifix on the wall, threatened to suffocate you as your panic set in.

A groan pulled from your lips as you pushed yourself out of bed, your legs nearly giving out beneath you. The strange sensation of your bare feet on the wooden floorboards made you feel dizzy, or maybe it was blood loss. Each step forward was more agonizing than the last, but you needed help. You needed someone else to see you, a witness to what was happening.

“Father Paul!” you cried out from the doorway, your voice hoarse and low, barely carrying across the hallway. “Father, wake up!” Mustering what strength you could, you threw yourself against his bedroom door, your closed, bleeding fist erratically banging against it. “Father, please!”

“Sister, what’s going—”

As soon as he opened the door, you collapsed into his arms, sending him stumbling backward with the sudden burden of your body on his. He looked at you, gaping at the blood that covered you—and him.

“Father?”

“I should call Dr. Gunning.”

You shook your head frantically. “Don’t! Not yet.”

“What happened?”

“I woke up, and I was like this.” Your bleeding hands clenched around the hem of your nightgown, keeping it at your thighs. “I’m too afraid to look.”

“May I?” he asked, his own hands shaking as his fingers brushed the blood-drenched fabric.

Staring at him for a moment, reckoning with the further vulnerability you were about to display to him, you breathed a soft, “Yes.”

He pulled your nightgown up, the fabric sticking to your skin from the congealed blood. You stared at the ceiling as he lifted the garment over your head, too embarrassed and mortified to acknowledge your body bare before him. His fingertips brushed your torso, and you moaned. In your horror, you looked down to see deep, fresh wounds on your sides.

“Oh my God.”

“Do you know what this is, Sister?”

Tears blurred your vision as you shook your head. “It can’t be stigmata. I’m not pure enough, not devout enough. He’d never—”

“Of course He would. He saw you needed faith, a reminder of His love for you, and look at you now,” Father Paul said with hushed fervor as he took in the state of you. “You’re beautiful.” He kissed your forehead, then pressed his lips to each of your weeping palms, and then your feet.

Desire twisted in your gut at the sight of him beneath you. He kissed your feet again, a terrifying hunger in his gaze as he brought his lips higher up your legs, his hands brushing your skin with a reverence you felt unworthy of receiving.

You watched as he dipped his fingers into one of your side wounds and then brought the digits to his mouth, tasting your blood from them. With a ragged breath, he brought his face to your torso. His tongue plunged in the valley of your wound, lapping up the blood that gently flowed from it. A moan tore from your throat, pleasure rolling across your skin as if you truly were a vessel for the divine. Surely it was the same sensation that inspired St. Teresa of Avila’s eroticism, a mystical ecstasy that saw her driven out of villages and cloister herself in search of the purest, incorporeal love.

Except before you knelt a man of God whom you could reach out and touch, eagerly devouring your flesh as if able to find salvation in your blood. His teeth grazed your skin, eliciting a shudder that echoed through you like a worn-out hymn. Words failed you, the pleasure you received from his ravenous consumption of you overtaking the pain from your wounds.

Holding his head against your side wound, you wanted more, the feeling of him indulging in you. Taste and eat. Everything you felt and saw was in shades of violently blossoming red, deeper and deeper with each curl of his tongue and brush of his fingertips, his unadulterated worship, his veneration for you, serving as the flowing cup of God’s grace and mercy.

Rapturous bliss hummed through you like an ecstatic prayer, pulsing in your wounds on your hands, feet, and sides. You felt like he was part of you, a mystical union between yourself and him.

But just as high as he’d taken you, you quickly came down. The gravity of the situation, of what he’d done, what you’d let him do, weighed on your conscience more heavily than any illicit feeling you’d ever harbored toward Sheriff Hassan.

Father Paul took your face in his hands, eyes glistening with a joyous faith you no longer envied. “Your own miracle, Sister. Do you see it now?”

“You did this to me?” you asked in distressed horror. “You—Who are you?”

“Not me, Sister,” he said. “Here, let me show you. You’ll understand everything. I think you’re ready.”

He held out his hand, and despite everything in you screaming otherwise, you took it.

#father paul x reader #father paul hill x reader #father paul hill #monsignor pruitt #midnight mass #midnight mass fanfiction #midnight mass fanfic #slasher x reader #<- for my own blog organization

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dumbass-duo-showdown · 11 months

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Do you know two people who together share one braincell? Then this is the bracket for you!

Welcome to

Dumbass Duo Showdown!

This bracket is to figure out which dumbass duo is the best one. Now one can be smarter than the other. But together they need to be silly.

Extra things you may want to know

Reminder we’re talking dumbasses (affectionate) not dumbasses (derogatory). So if they’re well known for being a duo of two bullies. They’re banned and will be sent to the Wii party board game island volcano

Real people are allowed. I’ve gotten buzzfeed unsolved and game grumps. AND THE FUCKING BRO DUET

No Harry Potter characters please.

Is your duo just two good friends or a couple? Go ahead, both works!

The character must’ve interacted with each other in canon. So if your duo are two minor characters who have had some conversations between each other that just shows how stupid they are, they’re allowed!

Stay CIVIL!

A duo already added is Josuke Higashikata & Okuyasu Nijimura from JoJo’s bizarre adventure, So you can still submit them. But they’re still guaranteed an entry!

I’m the former owner of best dad battle and the current owner of @gentle-giant-swag and @splatoonpolls! So check those out too!

Trios are allowed but they need to get 6 submissions and then go through a special preliminary

Don’t spam our your precious blorbos will be banned! I’m not kidding!

Also if you’re a terf please leave. Also if you’re just a bigot in general

Here is the form!

The form will be open until the 12th of August

@the-robot-bracket @look-how-they-massacred-them @most-datable-datable-bracket @dumbass-character-showdown @the-blue-battle

Also sup @tournamentdirectory

#tournament #dumbass duo showdown #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #bracket #total drama #fire emblem #monster high #no straight roads

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magmaburgersss · 3 months

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Hi welcome to magmaburgersss, I'm Shy Guy and I like Mario games! He/him, interacts from hoodie-prince-kid, divider by me. Requests open, SFW only, and please read the DNI before interacting!

Taking requests for:

Edits- moodboards, icons, dividers, banners

Source- music, sound effects, PNGs

Headcanons- general, scenarios, ships, reader insert

Currently can't write SMRPG or any Mario & Luigi games beyond Superstar Saga.

Favorites:

Games- Paper Mario series (esp. Color Splash), Luigi's Mansion trilogy, Mario Kart, Sunshine, Odyssey, Super Princess Peach, Yoshi's Island

Companions- Admiral Bobbery, Huey, Olivia, Cappy, Perry, Bobby, Twink

NPCs- Prince Peasley, Nastasia, Birdo, Pauline

Bosses- Bowser and Jr, King Boo, the Legion of Stationery, Dimentio, Count Bleck, Olly

Songs- Enter Bowser Jr, Story Music Box, The Ultimate Show, A Thousand Miles Away, Port Prisma

Locations- Surfshine Harbor, Port Prisma, Shooting Star Summit, Castle Bleck, Delfino Isle, Tostarena Town, New Donk City

DNI:

TERFs, NSFW blogs, under 16, exclus, proship/profic/anti-antis.

I don't like having to set DNIs, so just be kind and we won't have a problem, okay? ❤️

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the-inkstained-witch · 8 months

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ about me ｡･:*˚:✧｡

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

➸ Em

➸ 16

➸ any pronouns

➸ queer (lesbian ?)

➸ white multiracial settler on Turtle Island

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

➸ agnostic polytheist / pagan

➸ hearth witch

➸ veiled

➸ 3.5 years into practicing (practiced on and off)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

➸ interests include

↳ veiling

↳ sabbats

↳ sigilcraft

↳ moon magic

↳ kitchen witchcraft

↳ protection magic

↳ folk magic

↳ practical magic

↳ elemental magic

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

➸ SFW interactions only

➸ DNI if you

↳ post swerf / anti sw, terf, "gender critical," uncritical tradfem / tradwife, islamophobic, antisemitic, zionist/pro israeli state, or anti neopronoun / anti xenogender / anti bi lesbian content

↳ believe that witchcraft is apolitical, believe men/amab folks can't practice witchcraft, don't take cultural appropriation seriously, or are an Aleister Crowley supporter

↳ are only going to ask surface-level questions (ily baby witches, but there are hundreds of posts that can tell you how to get started in witchcraft, and I do not have the energy to give the same answers every time)

➸ I will block as I see fit

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

➸ welcome if you're coming from @thatwitchykittenblog

➸ I'm still learning, and I'll be very grateful if you take the time to correct me when I'm wrong

➸ expect inconsistent posts and you won't be disappointed

➸ asks are very open! come say hi! I'm very excited to be active again on witchblr, so reach out if you think we'd make good friends

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rainbowgod666 · 5 months

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Welcome to the Multiverse

Colors sendable (the first image is from @sizzlingcandyjellyfishhh while thesecond image is from @gaybichon)

The rules are simple: you want to send an ask? Its either me or some blorbo of yours. Its my Multiverse but there are so many fandoms in it. Holy Shit. If you engage in RP with me specifically rember that my entire "thing" is being The Author. I sill have to figure out of what tho (you would think the Foundation would know that. Well guess fucking what.)

To let you get started, here are some of my best posts. Remember that the Ourple ones are KINDA mandatory if you want ANY background on wtf is this blog.

List of my powers / Its the end of the world as you know it (and i did it on purpose) / an admin kicked me off the island lmao / Mental Health Time / You Absolute Buffoons / The Numeron Game / Well thats a thing that happened! / Out of touch: leap yeap / 🅱️usiness / Magnus did nothing wrong, except its steven universe / welcome to the internet, SCP edition / #HALLOLLAH# / AMERICA IS FASCIST HEAVEN BECAUSE FUNNY / Lost Childhoods / please save those poor gay americans / Free Disco Elysco / Bone to the bad / Priting Wrojects / the True Range of my abilities / the fuck's an apocalypse knight anyway? / @punkitt-is-here fucked Geronimo Stilton and i think its a good thing / Alex goes batshit insane and forces everyone to do as he says... again 🙄 / Screaming in a Pattern. / wizardposting: because powerscaling needed fuckign Zeno Dragonballsuper apparently / BEN 10 BUT LANCER? FUCK YEAH! / So i went batshit insane again / High Geology / fantasy settings on tumblr are really fucking cool actually / RIFLE. IS. FINE. BUT YOU FUCK UP DESIGN YOU UROD. / i technically claimed ownership of Dr. Bright and Betty from glitchtale do you seriously think im NOT gonna do that for homestuck? / XenasOuch / SCP-8000 contest, OR: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUC- / LEMMINO but like, 8 years ago / Hazbin Hotel: a necessary... something i guess. / research attempt: the wizardposting wine aunt /

Below is who i am, and also the tags you can (and should) search for

Hi, name's Alex.

Born on the first ever day of 2005 and also having aspergers, i am a guy from italy trying to make it impossible for anyone to spend a day without knowing who i am. Also i literally trascend powerscaling so hard the only things that can even put a DENT on me are... decided by me. Welcome to the multiverse i guess.

DNI: people who support genocide, people who tolerate corporate bullshit, racists, and terfs.

The following list is ALL THE TAGS USED TO NAVIGATE THIS BLOG. Seriously. This masterpost is an explaiantion for the "portal hub" i placed in the search bar

Lore Post: sometimes the lore of the multiverse, sometimes my personal life.

Welcome to the multiverse: sometimes MASSIVE textpost telling everyone "oh yeah right, this dude has autism", usually me existing. tHE MAIN TAG.

Alex's Answering Machine: literally my asks

The magical workshop: turns out the wizards of tumblr are the reason the phrase "some of y'all have gotten too comfortable saying stuff without getting punched for it" exist. And its up to my autistic, protagonism-fueled low self-esteem high self-awareness ass to... fix shit up.

Belowstory: undertale but REALLY FUCKED UP: so basically frisk falls down and is greeted by a feminine voice that calls itself chara (it becomes slightly visible after getting out of the ruins) and like the good boi undertale character he is he proceeds to save the world. This entire thing exists because one time I was like "how fucked up OP can a sans be before its My Immortal levels of wtf?" And uh yeah here we are uuuuuuh sans greets you by pointing a .44 magnum at you so thank the head of the guards (papyrus) for saving you. Everyone here is broken and just wants A Fucking Break. Also you gain levels in pacifist because LOVE is Level Of VirtuE. Fuck you lmao

Undertale.exe: so I looked at Camilla Cuevas being an awful person. Then i looked at the beautiful anime that is @jakei95's underverse... then i smushed it all toghether to basically create the perfect AU. Frisk is a pansexual fuccboi that Has Game, Chara is THICC and powerful, Betty is built like a ballerina and is 1000 years old, and Asriel is a Streemur. All of them live in this house far away from the city thats literally a larger version of sans' house. All charachters can legally drink (prepare for Drunk Chara shenanigans where its Betty Glitchtale the drunk one instead) and the only one who (probably) isnt gay is Asriel (even though frisk covets the Dreemur Dong) (one day soldier, one day...). Many chatachters from many AUs sometimes come to visit cause, you know. Its a nice place.

Curseworld: massive writing project of mine which is just "adventure time shaped mass of autism". The world is cursed and fucked over, and everything is colorful. Its also part Owl House because fuck you the magic system is FUCKED here.

Internet friends: basically internet stereotype-shaped people. We have a furry thats normal, a reddit/discord mod that just wants to work in peace, and the protagonist is Just A Guy but a-ha! He has both an xbox an...d ps5 thus fucking over any CAD reference. The last sketch i made was a mr.monopoly shaped guy who really wants youngsters to actually AFFORD shit who is married to a very obvious reference to Meru the succubus. Also i 100% intend to put a gag about mr beast living in an ATM when he isnt making videos

Im looking respectfully: look. Back then tumblr was basically Rule 34 with twitter users. Now its way better at the cost of a fraction of their value. Have fun looking at attactive women!

TOH:NEXT GENERATION: not even @moringmark's comics are safe! Enjoy the adventures of ayzee commented by me... telling everyone that shes STRONG strong. Like holy shit girl inherited will much?

Warhammer 50k: listen. This is just me looking at games workshop and fucking emperors tts and going "fuck that. Heres mine". This is a project where my "shard" assegned to this universe basically copies the imperium because, and im not joking, "the emperor is kind of a baka, but then again tzeentch is a thing so...". Also btw TTS is canon as SHIT. Like fr its all canon. Yes even the shadowsun fling, let kitten rest.

Pluripotent Impotence: an scp canon of mine thats basically "the foundation is so cold and clinical they MASSIVELY misunderstood shit". 6140, 6500, 5500 and 7000 are canon. 2718 and 5000 are in the files but they basically might as well not exist. 3812 is living tech support. 166 is in her early 20s and 239 is 19 and they fuck nasty (theyre also childhood friends. Girl Love i guess~) because fuck you clef love wins especially yuri go snort telekill dust. 2317 loves humans and thins theyre cute and squishy and when its seventh child turned out to be fucking JoyBoy? Yeah get this: he DID condemn the fortune teller that was like "dude your sevent child is one of those prophecy children that are so in vogue these days" but also messed with fate so that her death ended up being the coolest and most inspiring shit ever because he was like "considering the average Evil King story, i might as well just... let this happen! Maybe i can convince my literal offspring to spare me!" And it fucking worked. Also a bunch of shit is canon. @i-am-dado looks like a Kpop star and is somft. Dr Jack bright is my character and mine alone and also elias shaw is there i guess. My OC bangs the first one of these 2 amulet boys on a regular basis and the second one occasionally, dont ask why is there a gay polycule when im straight, there are some things that escape my mind. I have been in SCP for a long time and regardless of me making my account 6/1/2024 (LA BEFANAH) i have been here longer than you believe in. From my perspective it took a year before a 5000 contest was announced, so fcuk yoyu

Earth-ℵ₀: the best way to take care of the DC and Marvel universes is... let an autistic dude fix damages done by money-hungry idiots in hollywood. The joker is unimportant. Dr.Manhattan is Done With This Shit. I made a squad with random charachters i like. Lmao suck on uranium rods UwU

ytposting: (Funkdela Catalogue: Encounter starts playing)

Omni-shit: ben 10 is actually a good series guys, and the reboot is an interesting way of showing what would Ben 10 Classic look like if it was made Now

1% enhancement: basically i look at something and go like "hey what if the charachters were basically part me but not in a Knights of the Apocalypse way"

Tumblr italia: aò sono italiano che cos'altro vi aspettate

components: basically i use tumblr as image hosting. LoL.

Items: images turned undertale items. For reference, i have 2³¹-1 HP and my stats are ATK 100000 and DEF 65535. Yes the attack is a yugioh zexal reference. NOSTALGIA IS PTSD BUT GOOD.

Mungeon Deshi: dunmeshi is a good anime and marcille is italian

Full Nelson Analchemist: if FMA exists in my presence im going to give the 20k mg weed gummy to Truth

Evangelion 4.0: look, hideki anno has gone insane. Every time he makes evangelion as the most brain damaging version of telling someone to go touch grass people inevitably miss the point. I take it upon myself to give the @jakei95 treatment to the poor creatures (also fun fact: KAWOSHIN CANON. THEY KISS ON SCREEN. FUCK YOU AMERICA.)

The hoes are stuck: homestuck. What you thought they were safe from my grasp? 人間 you havent seen sheiße.

FeeF the BeeB: minecraft mod bullsheiße

[[Nothing Is Worth The Risk]]: lets just say that sometimes, the multiverse isnt that "cool and good"

Ultimate Sonic: i have a Sonic AU where... uhm... just. If i have a post about that. Just look at it. LoL.

Side effects of reading this blog can vary between true insight into the inner workings of the universe and self-defenestration from the top of the burj khalifa.

Multiverse Polls: i make tHEM-

Autistic and Artistic: (draws happily)

Anyways welcome to the multiverse

Do yourself a favour and dont go out without a loaded gun.

#Lore Post #welcome to the multiverse

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themalhambird · 3 days

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Welcome To Terf Island.

Certain Authors, celebrities; the tabloids and press; Politicians from both the right and the left; All rallying ‘round the same insistent drumbeat Declaring over and over every single week: Women are frightened! Women are frightened! Women are frightened! Well, I’m a woman, as they would define it: No dick or beard, but a great pair of tits I issue large gametes, or so I assume, From the monthly eviction of blood from my womb. And they’re right, I am frightened! The love of my life Has been harassed, could be beaten- could be killed with a knife By a person, or people, who feel under threat When a five o’clock shadow is paired with a dress. I’m lucky. I’ve not been attacked in a loo- Unlike a short haired cis-het girl that I know who Was cussed out and spat at by some woman who seemed To see some kind of danger in a girl wearing jeans. But I’ve ended dates early so we can get home For my girlfriend to piss in the toilet we own Rather than working out which risks more hurt- Potential bigots in The Ladies’, vs The Gents’ in a skirt? And we’ve more than one friend who’s had their bones broken For daring to be who they are in the open. And friends of friends finding they have to decide: Stay in the closet, or become unemployed? And everyone knows the health service is fucked, But need it whilst trans? You’re doubly stuck. And every time there’s some fresh public attack, It’s labelled “debate”, and if you talk back You’re “silencing women”- it’s a verbal assault. You’re a pervert. A weirdo. You’re hurt? That’s your fault. They just have some concerns- hypothetical risks That may come to pass if we let you exist. Women are frightened. Yeah, there’s this one thing I’m scared of— I’m terrified the trans-girl I love will be murdered.

mermaids is a charity that supports trans and non-binary kids

Transaid Cymru is a mutual aid organisation for trans, non binary and intersex people across Wales

#my poetry #The Tories Are At It Again (and so is everyone else probably I haven't brought myself to look)#transphobia tw #queer poetry #I'm a queer woman; an asexual dyke; and a feral little creature with a trans partner and a non-binary partner in law and I'm fucking fed up #anyway linked to a couple of charities in case anyone either needs the resources or is able to donate but no pressure on that score #Happy Pride Month I guess

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catboymoments · 1 year

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ohh wht are ur hcs on the tenmikoangies .. (either th pairing Itself or individuals i Do Not Mind :3)

Tenko

- she’s very very feminine and loves girly things and people forget that!!! She loves ruffles and painting her nails and doing her hair and she’s a very big feminist. Girl

- I’m a much bigger fan of the original Japanese “horrible boys” catchphrase instead of the terfy “degenerate male” we get in the translation. Speaking of which people joke about Tenko being a terf which I absolutely hate. She would not be a terf. She would welcome anyone who wanted to become a girl!!! Being a trans woman is amazing and awesome!! I think I’m a modern/hpa/nondespair au she would follow a lot of transfem creators like Dylan Mulvaney and Kim Petras, and she would LOVE chihiro. If Angie and Himiko didn’t stop her she would be out protesting for LGBT rights in front of the Japanese parliament every day.

- Although I do think she has some internal biases about transmascs because “why would you not want to be a girl and be a horrible boy?” But she’s working on it and trying to understand. She’s unlearning a lot of harmful biases her old master instilled in her- she doesn’t have a hateful bone in her body and loves her friends no matter what!

- I think she loves having long hair, but it definitely gets in the way doing martial arts, so she does a lot of elaborate and pretty braids and hairstyles with cute accessories like bandannas and scrunchies! She likes doing Himiko and Angie’s hair when she can too- she especially loves Angie’s curls.

Himiko

- Himiko loves close up magic we all know this, but I think she would also really love stuff like tarot, crystals and palm reading. She’s autistic and magic of all kinds is her special interest!

- she loves big cozy cardigans (cloaks) and fabrics with celestial patterns… I think she would be a fan of the olden town lmao

- in the nondespair au she has a black cat and a tabby cat named Midnight and Tiger

- she loves collecting shiny little trinkets, her room is cluttered but not in a messy way… it’s like howl’s bedroom

Angie

- fuck danganronpa canon I’m the boss now. Angie has curly hair I think. She’s so much more than the “crazy island girl” stereotype… augh

- she loves to go thrifting and go shopping at craft stores! You have to be careful with her because she can and will spend all of her money in one trip.

- she likes to cook! She makes traditional Polynesian food for her gfs!! Food is just another form of art after all!

- she doesn’t have a lot of issues with nudity because her culture she was raised in is just different, and while Japan has some non Eurocentric standards as well with communal bathing in hot springs and such, she can be a bit out there. Like she tends to walk around without shirts on at the house and if someone comes over she doesn’t think to cover up, she doesn’t wear bras, if she’s hot the clothes are coming off, etc. nudity isn’t sexual to her and that is okay!

- I need to do more research on different Polynesian cultures and decide which specific indigenous group she is, but I think it would be cool if she had traditional tattoos? It would mean she wouldn’t be able to use most public baths in Japan, but her culture is more important to her.

#danganronpa headcanons

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koduflower2000 · 7 months

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"It's time to think outside the box 🤔🧐"

Hi! I'm Kevin, but you can also call me Kodu, if you prefer. I'm the actual guy from Twitter (X).

Pronouns: He/Him/They/Them (any of these is fine)

Age: 18 years

Nationality: Sri Lankan

Timezone: Indian Standard Time (IST) (GMT+5:30)

A straight guy who supports the LGBTQ+ community (more specifically, I'm a straight cisgender ally)

A silly child at heart

Open talker (yes, you can be friends with me if you want)

Draws art just by using a mouse.

Speed variation of me drawing is frequent (sometimes I draw faster, other times I draw slowly)

I'm currently learning Russian BTW. Я не знаю что я делаю. 😔

Also I'm learning Spanish, and a little bit of German and French for entertainment. I hope to learn Ukrainian, Arabic and Danish any time soon.

I do music (it's actually one of my favorite things to do)

I do programming sometimes (I haven't uploaded a single cool project in here at all, as I remember) (another one of my favorites to do)

I mostly don't swear, except when I feel intense emotions. (if you're comfortable with reading my posts with swear words, go ahead. I won't judge)

I reblog a lot, so if you really wanna see what I've been working on, here are some tags in which you can look around.

#koduflower2000 art - art by me

#koduflower2000 projects - will be a tag in which i present my art and music projects.

#koduflower2000 talks - mostly something i wanna say

#koduflower2000 answers - a tag in which i answer to tumblr asks in my ask box

Interests

BFDI:TPOT (Battle For Dream Island: The Power Of Two)

BFB (Battle for BFDI)

BFDI (Battle For Dream Island)

III (Inanimate Insanity Invitational)

AvA (Animation vs Animator) series

AvM (Animation vs Minecraft) series

Bluey series from ABC Australia

Chickn Nuggit (i'm sorry i didn't tell you earlier)

Minecraft

Saw and Gaty (totally okay with those ships actually)

Airy and Popcorn from HFJONE (totally okay with those ships as well)

Fanfictions (started writing one btw)

Rhythm Games

Gaming

Computers

Linux

Information and Communication Technology

Language and Culture Learning

Science

Technology

Sports

DNI list:

Basic (you already know it)

Ableists

Anti-semitic people

Racists

Homophobic people (basically homophobes)

Pedophiles (basically MAPs)

Sexists

Xenophobic people (including islamophobes)

Transphobic people (basically transphobes)

TERFs (Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminists, in other words, transphobic people who spread their gender opinions which are considered to be uncomfortable to trans people)

Advanced

Extreme NSFW accounts (a.k.a. the accounts with >=90% of the posts which are NSFW)

Pro-Israel people (I support Palestine, and no one can stop me)

People neutral with Palestine and the Palestinian people (Palestinian people are the best and they're considered innocent. Period.)

Zionists (If you try to interact with my account, I would like to fight you and block you.)

Proshippers

Comshippers

People who spread misinformation against me

People who go against my boundaries

Groomers (it's fine if you vent to me in DMs, but if you talk about uncomfortable sexual stuff in the end, you'll end up getting blocked) (sounds petty but i need my space)

Boundaries (not the actual boundaries but certain things that can give you an idea how i should be treated): - you can treat me as your friend or someone you don't know, but you CANNOT treat me as a slave - you cannot tell me which group of people I can only interact (except for groups which seem bad to me) (please teach me more about groups and fandoms that exist here) - do NOT insult me (constructive criticisms and pieces of advice are always welcome)

On thin ice

People who harass me or any of my moots.

People who think they're superior than everyone for no reason. (the only reason why i put it there is because i want people to talk with me instead of harassing me, because i already had a lot of traumatic experiences on twitter)

Blog Landmarks

tee hee moot rose! ^ ^

me too (a tribute to all my previous moots who have been disappeared from the internet)

kinda the reason why i don't interact in here as much as i wanna

elements of the intro are subject to changes which occur periodically

#koduflower2000 art #koduflower2000 projects #koduflower2000 talks #koduflower2000 answers

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homosexuhauls · 1 year

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Give me a movie about a lesbian going into a coma in 2010 and waking up in 2023. As she gets settled into her new life she feels lonely and decides to head to Lesbian Bar. The Lesbian Bar is closed. And it looks like it has been for along time.

She has no idea where to find the lesbians now so she goes online to find them only to discover every lesbian community is full of men pretending to be lesbians talking about their girl dicks and getting mad lesbians don’t want their girl dicks . When in total confusions she says women don’t like dicks they type back KYS TERF. She feels like she’s going crazy. Since when have lesbians liked penis?? How is everyone so homophobic?

She tries her dating app only to discover all the lesbians are white men in party city wigs calling themselves lesbians. She goes onto tumblr and writes about her crazy experiences and doesn’t understand why all these men are in lesbian spaces. What is going on? She asks. All the tumblr users screech KYS TERF in mindless droves. STFU TERF they screech and wail.

Then a radfem explains to her that only ten years into gay marriage and men edited lesbian sexuality to include men. Trans women are real women, society has been brainwashed to repeat the lie and defend it at all costs. Lesbians either like biological males or they are bigoted transphobes who should die.

Lesbians, the radfem sadly informs her, are no longer same sex attracted females. Lesbians must be open to sex with the same and opposite sex. She warns her to be careful as trans women are incels with male aggression and rage and lose it when lesbians say they don’t like penis.

The radfem explains lesbians are banned from their spaces and chased out for being lesbians. We meet in secret now. The radfem tells her.

The world is homophobic now. Welcome to hell.

But TERF island is growing. They’re winning the battle. But we will win the war.

I'm definitely picturing our heroic lesbian protagonist stumbling through the homophobic wastelands of 21st century Soho (or your equivalent gay urban area) like that one scene in 28 Days Later

It's so true though, can you imagine saying any of this homophobic bullshit to an out and proud lesbian or gay man from the ACT UP era, or even just from 15 years ago, during the fight for marriage equality. You would've been laughed out of the room for suggesting men could be lesbians. How did we lose so much ground?

#asks #anonymous #radfem safe

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chiropteranhyde · 2 months

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Blog Introduction

18+ WARNING • ASKS & DMs ALWAYS OPEN • TERFS BEGONE

Hello. You may know me as the anon that submitted the confessions about a vintage medical kink vampire autopsy and vampires mouth feeding each other blood during sex to the Monster Fucker Confessions blog. If so, you will know that I have recently realised that I am a transgender man and I cannot come out or transition for the moment in my everyday life since it isn’t 100% safe for me and I am not comfortable telling anyone in my life for right now. Therefore, this side blog is a way for me to vent about, interact with, or share things that I couldn’t do on my main blog since I have family that may see it.

I would like to go by the alias “Hyde” and I am for the moment experimenting with He/They/It pronouns. I am mostly attracted to masculine people of all genders, but I do have a preference for men. I am also a kinky asexual; my kinks include:

Forced Masculinisation.

Hierophilia (Priest kink).

Medical kink, especially if it involves vintage or antique medical equipment and aesthetics.

Teratophilia (monsterfucking), especially vampires, ghosts, Frankenstein’s monster and minotaurs, although I like all kinds of monsters. Aliens and robots are included under this.

Blood Kink (a given, since I’m also into vampires and med kinks).

I’m not sure what it’s called but I enjoy historical settings and clothing, usually the Victorian era.

I enjoy the feel/look of certain fabrics/materials such as velvet, corduroy, wool, linen or leather.

Asks are always open but I cannot guarantee a reply. Any advice on how to navigate being transgender while unable to come out/transition is always warmly welcomed.

TERFS GO AWAY. YOU CANNOT “SAVE” ME FROM TRANSMASCULINITY. YOU WILL JUST BE BLOCKED. IT’S ALREADY BAD ENOUGH THAT I AM TRAPPED ON TERF ISLAND.

#intro post #introduction #blog intro #transgender #transmasc #trans man #trans ftm #monsterfucker #forcemasc #forced masculinization #teratophillia #terato #trans mlm #asexual

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hamsamwich23 · 2 months

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Hello and welcome, Silly Critters

About me

My name is Sam and/or Mort, I'm 19 years old. I identify as pan + demiromantic-asexual, and my pronouns are he/they/it/xe. I am also polyamorous and have one partner (whom I love very much💛).

My hobbies include writing (mostly fanfiction), playing video games, role play, photography, and more. I am currently working on two AU's, which will be mentioned later. (After my DNI)

My interests include: Hello Puppets, Doki Doki Literature Club, 1nv4d3r Z1m, Adventure Time, Hollow Knight, Cult Of The Lamb, Don't Hug Me Im Scared, Milk inside a bag of milk +Milk outside a bag of milk, Amanda The Adventurer, Welcome Home, Smile For Me, Happy Game, Slime ranchers, Among Us, Minecraft, Fall Guys, GHOST and pals music, Vane Lily music, R.I.P music, Limbo, Inside, Bojack Horseman, Yo Kai Watch (1st and 2nd Games), Nexo Knights, Night In The Woods, Deltarune, Undertale, Undertale Yellow, The Dog Island, The backrooms, Liminal Space, Tomodachi Life, That's Not My Neighbor (Bolded interests are my current special interests and main focuses)

My DMs are always open, and I'm always up for making friends! However I would like to mention that I am neurodivergent, I have AuDHD and struggle with OCD and heavy mental health problems. I simply ask that you be patient with me. As I may misunderstand things at times, as well as go offline or isolate myself at times.

❗Writing Commissions and trades are currently: CLOSED

❗Requests for Unreality Au one shots are OPEN

❗Hello Puppets Infected Au will be continued in 2025.

🍉This Blog Stands With The People Of Palestine🍉

DNI

I'm aware that people don't Technically have to follow DNI's, but I would still like to state my boundaries. I block freely and often, and will block you if you make me uncomfortable and/or treat people like shit, or for any personal reason that I feel the need to block.

That being said, as I mentioned before I have heavy paranoia issues and OCD that interfere with my every day life, including life on the Internet. If anything at all feels off to me I just block. I understand this is somewhat irrational and I apologize in advance if I end up blocking you for seemingly no reason. This is the easiest way I can explain the issue.

I would prefer if you didn't interact with me if you're any of the following or if any of the following applies to you:

Prosh1p/Comsh1p/Prof1c/ECT, shipping discourse blogs, against oc x canon/self shippers, if you engage in lgbtq+ discourse and/or are a lgbtq discourse blog, support the boyfriends webtoon, hardcore DSMP fans, k1nk/f3tish blogs that are not run by people i personally know, support either or both fox_an_draw and/or scatteredkitbrainzzz/kitruckus, hardcore stranger things fans

Please do not talk to me about: Ship discourse, Lgbtq+ discourse, TheWaltenFiles (unless we're mutuals but even then I would prefer not too), IZfandom discourse, The Amazing Digital Circus.

You will be blocked immediately if: you are bigoted in any way at all (TERFS/radfems, rad-exclus, abliest, pro-isreal/Zionist, antisemitic/Nazi's, conservative/republican, anti-lgbtq+, sexist, anti-choice, ECT), L0Li/Sh0t4c0n, Pro-harassment, Antishippers who tell pr0shippers to hurt themselves/k1ll themselves/to relive their trauma, people who harass others over shipping in general, ai "artists", people who support the use of AI to steal from content creators, people who believe "blackwashing" is a thing and/or defend whitewashing, If you support any of the following people: JKRowling*, Viziepop*, proshippersaretheproblem, thelocalvampyre, inky/Spencer/snax/grey(IZ), Dream/DreamWasTaken, mr-saturnnn, Vqler, Fluffyphobias, kittensneeze, izzydrawsforfun, lunasol, refrainbow.

(*Fans of Harry Potter and HH/HB who are critical and don't support the actions of the creators are okay to interact)

This list can and probably will be updated at any time

Socials/Other blogs

My other blogs on Tumblr:

@unreality-au-content-hoard - A blog for my Unreality Au, A crossover/multifandom AU inspired by weirdcore, horror, and Liminal Space themes. (Includes characters from Hello Puppets, Doki Doki Literature Club, Inv4d3r Z1m, Undertale +UT yellow (recent addition), Hatsune Miku(/hj), and OCs!! (All content warnings are in the pinned post. Fan content for this au is OKAY with me!!)

@morts-infected-au - A Hello Puppets AU inspired by the MLP infection Aus!! (this blog is still under construction and this Au contains heavy elements of horror and gore)

Discord: hamsamwich23

Instagram: hamsamwich23

Wattpad: judgment23

SquidgeWorld: hamsamwich23

Thank you for reading

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rottenbutrecovering · 11 months

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Heyo this is your very unfriendly reminder for TERFs and all other transphobes to stay the fuck away from me and my blog! I do not care if you are neurodivergent or a survivor, fuck off!

I may be forced to live on TERF island (aka the UK) but this is my blog and you're not welcome here and never will be! And this isn't Twitter, either, so just know you are not as welcome on this website as you are in Musk's dying hellscape.

#terf m #donnie speaks #to everyone else who isnt a piece of shit: if i ever unknowignly reblog from a terf (and it would only be unknowingly) please let me know!!

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