#THE DYSPHORIA HAS BEEN REPLACED

[puppypilled-sheep-wife]

Blog name change!

dysphoric-sheep-wife > puppypilled-sheep-wife

[reasonsforhope]

Good Trans News Roundup! July 8, 2025

"North Carolina Gov. Josh Stein (D) has vetoed several anti-diversity bills, including one that would ban gender-affirming care for transgender inmates in the state prison system.

The bill is H.B. 805, which bans the state from paying for gender-affirming hormone replacement therapy and surgeries for transgender inmates. It would have also required the state to keep a copy of a transgender person’s original birth certificate if they have the gender marker on it updated, and it included language saying that there are only two genders, male and female...

The other three bills that Stein vetoed on Thursday [July 3, 2025] were related to diversity measures. One of the bills would have cut funding to schools that engage in diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives. Another bill would have banned diversity training and staff positions at state agencies, and it also would have banned state funds from being used for diversity initiatives at those agencies."

-via LGBTQ Nation, July 7, 2025

--

"A three-judge panel for the Ohio Tenth District Court of Appeals ruled that gender-affirming care for minors constitutes an essential medical treatment for trans youth and that the ban on gender-affirming care is in violation of a state constitutional amendment. Originally passed by Republicans to undermine Obamacare, the amendment is now being used to prevent federal or state intervention in denying any form of essential healthcare...

In a smart move, the plaintiffs argued that gender-affirming treatment be considered essential medical treatment, pointing to the numerous medical studies proving its effectiveness in treating gender dysphoria and improving the mental health and well-being of transgender adolescents. For that reason, they argued, it should protected under Ohio’s Health Care Freedom Amendment.

...In [passing the constitutional amendment], they inadvertently gave Ohioans broader constitutional protections around healthcare because the amendment prohibits any law from banning “the purchase or sale of health care or health insurance” or even imposing a fine on such purchases."

-via LGBTQ Nation, March 19, 2025

--

"Arizona Gov. Katie Hobbs (D) vetoed three anti-transgender bills passed by her state’s Republican legislators. Though the bills passed largely along party lines, Republicans are unlikely to override Hobbs’ veto since their numbers in the state House and Senate fall short of the required two-thirds majority votes needed to do so. Arizona is largely considered a red state...

Of the three bills, H.B. 2438 would have prevented any gender marker changes on people’s birth certificates (even if they underwent gender-affirming surgeries), S.B. 1694 would have denied funding to any college or university teaching about “gender identity,” and H.B. 2062 would have ended all legal recognition of trans people in the state...

Transgender journalist Erin Reed noted that, in 2023, Hobbs signed executive orders requiring state employee healthcare plans to cover trans-related gender affirming surgeries, extending LGBTQ+ anti-discrimination protections to state employees and contractors, and banning conversion therapy, the widely debunked pseudoscientific practice of attempting to change someone’s gender identity or sexual orientation. Republicans threatened to sue her over the anti-discrimination protections..."

-via LGBTQ Nation, May 6, 2025

--

"An anti-trans measure in US president Donald Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act has been dropped at the last minute in a small victory for the LGBTQ+ community. 

The legislation struck the ban on Medicaid coverage for gender-affirming care after the Senate parliamentarian found it did not comply with the Byrd Rule.

Named after Senator Robert Byrd, the Byrd Rule aims to prevent irrelevant matters from being included in budget reconciliation legislation...

In earlier drafts, the so-called “Big, Beautiful Bill” included a provision that would have ended Medicaid payments for “gender transition procedures” for people of all ages, and introduced narrowly rigid definitions of “sex,” “female,” and “male” that some experts believe would have far-reaching implications, beyond access to healthcare. However, amid a flurry of revisions and amendments, the controversial ban on gender-affirming care was removed shortly before Senate Republicans voted to pass the legislation on Tuesday. 

Though there are many other aspects of the bill that will severely limit millions of Americans’ access to healthcare, trans rights advocates see the removal of the ban on Medicaid coverage of gender-affirming care as a win. [Note: Over 20% of trans people are on Medicaid Source]

-via Rolling Stone, July 1, 2025

--

"Billie Butler, a transgender woman who ran for the New Hampshire House of Representatives as a Democrat, defeated her opponent, Republican Ken Hilton, in a special election held this past Tuesday. Butler won with 964 votes to Hilton’s 774. Butler will be representing the Strafford 12 district.

Strafford 12 is a multi-member district in Strafford County, consisting of two towns: Rollinsfield and Somersworth. Of the registered voters in the districts, 33% identify as Democrats, 27% identify as Republicans, and 41% are unaffiliated...

According to this map created by independent journalist Erin Reed, New Hampshire is a high-risk state for legislation that could harm transgender people... For this reason, Butler’s win is considered a step towards increased trans representation in politics."

-via LGBTQ Nation, June 26, 2025

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"Delaware’s Democratic governor on Friday signed an executive order protecting recipients and providers of gender-affirming care in the state.

The order, signed by Gov. Matt Meyer at an LGBTQ+ community center in Rehoboth, makes Delaware a “shield state” for trans people and bans state agencies from providing “medical records, data or billing information, or utilizing state resources” that could help any criminal or civil investigation against someone receiving or providing gender-affirming care.

California, New York, and 12 other states, and Washington, DC, have similar protections for trans people and their medical providers. Residents, along with patients traveling to shield states, can receive care without fear of retribution.

“In Delaware, we cherish privacy, dignity and the right to make personal medical decisions,” Meyer said at the signing ceremony. “Everyone deserves the freedom to access healthcare rooted in science and compassion.”"

-via LGBTQ Nation, June 24, 2025

--

"The number of out LGBTQ+ elected representatives in the U.S. rose in the last year, continuing a steady upward trend that has lasted through the Trump era, according to a new report.

On Tuesday, the LGBTQ+ Victory Institute released its annual Out for America report, which tracks the number of out LGBTQ+ elected representatives nationwide and at all levels of government. This year’s report showed an overall 2.4% increase in out LGBTQ+ representation between June 2024 and May 2025 and a 198% increase since the organization, which provides training and support for out candidates, first launched the report in 2017 (during President Donald Trump’s first term in office).  

“This year’s Out for America report shows the resilience of our LGBTQ+ elected leaders,” LGBTQ+ Victory Institute President and CEO Evan Low said in a statement. “Despite hateful rhetoric plaguing the 2024 election cycle, LGBTQ+ elected officials won at the ballot box and made history.” ...

According to the 2025 report, the number of out LGBTQ+ elected officials of color rose by nearly 7% since last year. The number of out Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) elected officials grew the most (32.6%), while the number of multiracial officials increased by 28.6%, and the number of Black representatives grew by just over 4%. LGBTQ+ Latinx representatives remain the largest non-white group of out elected officials, holding steady at 193, the same as last year’s total..."

-via LGBTQ Nation, June 25, 2025

--

"The Food and Drug Administration (FDA) has approved Yeztugo (aka. lenacapavir or LEN), a twice-a-year injection that stops HIV from replicating inside cells, thereby reducing the risk of transmitting the virus to other people by 96%. HIV advocates hope it will help reduce national transmission rates because the medication is easier to take than the many current once-a-day medications.

“This is the single best opportunity in 44 years of HIV prevention,” said Mitchell Warren, executive director of the AIDS Vaccine Advocacy Coalition (AVAC), an HIV advocacy nonprofit group, according to NBC News. The FDA approved the drug after Gilead Sciences, the drug’s developer, found it to be overwhelmingly successful early into Phase 3 clinical trials last September.

“The approval of LEN is a much-needed boost for HIV prevention, given the strength of the science and the simultaneous disruption in HIV programs globally,” Warren added."

-via LGBTQ Nation, June 18, 2025

[freakurodani]

amna has gone off the deep end

[siilkmoth]

dysphoria sucks ass but idk how i feel about it being replaced with "you look like lord farquaad" in my mind

[krakensdottir]

One other really WILD take I've been seeing here lately is an idea that Mensah is going to go off on Gurathin or has 'finally had it' with what he's doing. I don't want to blame it on Mensah being a female character and therefore obligated to babysit everyone, but I think that might play a part. Either way, I don't think so, fam.

For one thing, Ayda Mensah has WAY too much common sense to get in the middle of whatever the fuck is happening with those two. If she goes off, it'll be at both of them, because they're both being shitheads. But I think it's way more likely that she'll stay out of it. They don't need lectures on morality. She's not their mother. They need to figure their own shit out.

(Also, Gurathin has rejection-sensitive dysphoria and is halfway to feeling replaced already. The last thing you want to do to someone in that situation and that state of mind is yell at them.)

But the biggest point, and one I think we need to face here, is that Gurathin is doing exactly what Mensah wants him to do.

Look at them. They've been friends for six years. Mensah agreed to him coming on the mission, and says she's glad he's here, and you know what, I believe her. David has described their relationship as codependent in interviews. Codependence means you're both using each other for something, even if it's not malicious, right? Gurathin uses Mensah for comfort, and as a moral compass. We already know this. What does Mensah use Gurathin for?

Well, what's the one thing Mensah isn't great at doing? Being an asshole. Being harsh and uncompromising. Being suspicious of other people's goodwill.

Gurathin, in all his paranoia and belligerence, is doing his job. Going too far in some cases, and she almost certainly wishes he'd chill out a bit, for his own sake as well as Murderbot's. But there is a reason she listens to him, and it's not because she feels sorry for him or has no backbone (she's told people off when she needed to, a few times now) or he's some kind of Wormtongue influencing her thoughts. Honey, no. She listens to him because he might be right and because she knows her own weaknesses. She's too trusting, sometimes straying into naive. And he is there to balance that out. There's the bunch of hippies, and Gurathin. The designated bastard. The ruthless sonofabitch who will make damn sure they don't get killed by their own kindness.

And despite stress and jealousy and spite sometimes compromising his judgment, he's still right more often than he's wrong, and some of the things he's wrong about haven't been proven yet. So his usefulness continues. Of course it does. He's from the Company, usefulness is all he thinks he has to offer. She knows he'll continue to be useful until his last breath if needed. She can count on that, in a way that she can't count on Murderbot (yet).

Mensah, god help her, wants Gurathin exactly the way he is. Otherwise she'd have done something about it by now. It'd be easy to write him off as a blind spot in her judgment, but no. She knows he's Like That, and that's the whole point.

[mechanical-sunchild]

Theriform [Official Coining Post]

Theriform

Adjective (can be applied as a noun in certain phrasing, see examples)

From θηρίον (thēríon) [diminutive of θήρ thḗr, “wild beast”] and μορφή (morphe) ["shape"/"figure"/"look"].

Definition:

A theriform animal is one which was born into a body that is typical/expected of it's species and observable as such by everyone, with species-typical levels of sapience/intelligence and whose behaviour etc is unaltered by being born into a human body/raised in a form perceived as human*. All components must be present to count.

It is not the 'opposite' of therian despite similar etymology but is instead to be viewed as a complimentary term to therian, nonhuman, alterhuman, otherkin etc as it exists to specify certain details of a species whilst not invalidating the identities of those who are not theriform. It is made to replace potentially invalidating phrases like 'bio(logical) animal' or 'real animal'.

It is not an identity label and therefore has no flag or symbol and does not need one. Do not create these things please, or use the term to describe yourself on a personal level.

Alternative versions for non-animals could include: floraform, nat(ur)form, technoform, fictoform*, feyform, voidform, starform, divineform etc

FAQ HERE

Examples:

"Lol it's so funny being a cat and having a theriform cat as a pet we're both just kitties vibing but with different body shapes."

"Just because they're the same species as you does not mean you are able to take care of wild theriforms."

"The fact that there aren't that many theriforms of my species is so saddening."

"I wanna do quads alongside a pack of theriform wolves so bad!"

"I am transspecies, here is what I do/what I want to do to look more theriform."

"I wonder if theriforms get species dysphoria?"

*in the case of fictional humans, should you want to apply it there, assume this to mean 'in this world' as in the fictoform has not been a physical human in this world and thus had their behaviour influenced by existing here.

[williceunleashed]

I've been having major autism on an AU version of Dardanne so I think it's time I share it here !

Basically, the AU is about Ghetsis never finding N and looking for a replacement for years. He ends up setting his sight on a vulnerable but compassionate kid, whom he calls Miséricorde, and makes them the replacement spear head of Plasma. N grows up amongst Pokémon, until he is found by Alder a few years later. N has a happy childhood, and becomes the protagonist of BW1.

AU will be tagged as #miséricorde au ! The AU version of Dardanne, called Miséricorde, will be tagged as #oc: miséricorde !

TW : Abuse, violence, cult stuff (Plasma Classic™), dysphoria

More infos under the cut !

TW : Abuse, violence, Cult stuff, dysphoria, Ghetsis in general

For this summary, Miséricorde is gendered as she/her before BW1, during BW1 and BW2, and is gendered as he/him post BW2, following his own development and experience with gender.

Early life :

Same as Canon Dardanne. She was born in a rather wealthy family. Her father was the Kalos water Gym Leader, but got dismissed after the League learned of his treatment of his Pokémon and family. Their family moved to Unova after that.

Ghetsis sees that as a great opportunity to find a replacement for the "child who talks to Pokémon" he never found. He becomes a family friend by helping the father become Unova's water Gym Leader thanks to his connections. He witnesses the unhealthy dynamics in the family, and quickly concludes that the middle child would be the best option for his plan, being the direct descendant of an excellent battler and having great compassion for Pokémon.

One day, said middle child goes missing. Her parents look for her, worried as she left without even taking a Pokémon or a bag with her. Ghetsis comforts the family.

Ghetsis returns to his home, in which he has taken in the daughter, saving her from her abusive home life. For better or worse.

Plasma Time :

Quickly after Ghetsis rescued the girl (This is literal kidnapping, don't let Ghetsis fool you), he starts to put his plan into motion. He realizes how hard it's going to be for the girl to have a special bond with Pokémon, but he manages to find a solution. He tells the girl that she might be worthy of a great destiny, but they need to test this hypothesis. If the girl lets a previously abused Pokémon attack her without trying to retreat or fight back, she'd prove her special bond to Pokémon and her compassion to them.

Girl passes the test. Ghetsis quickly persuades her of her special bond with Pokémon, and renames her Miséricorde. Her title becomes Martyr, as her bond is based on shared suffering with Pokémon. Ghetsis would never let her be a Queen, because in his opinion she isn't even half of what N is.

In general, Ghetsis has some very sexist biases and educates all his daughters (Miséricorde, Anthea and Concordia) to be nurturing, kind and gentle. He is upset that the spear head of Plasma isn't male.

Miséricorde grows to dislike her body and the way it changes as she grows up. She envies the men around her, but her concerns about her body and gender are quickly shut down.

Miséricorde goes through a lot of academic classes, like Natural does in canon, under the supervision of the Sages. She considers Ghetsis like her adoptive father and refers to him as "Father".

Several more "tests" happen. Ghetsis calls them "purity tests", and they are meant to ensure that Miséricorde still doesn't fight back or retreat when she gets attacked by Pokémon, showing her "compassion and love for Pokémon". This process ensures that Miséricorde is pure of heart enough to awake and wield Zekrom.

Her scars are hidden by makeup whenever she exits her room.

When Miséricorde is around 16, Ghetsis feels like she has been brainwashed enough to start training her properly in battling so she can take down the League and Alder.

BW1 journey :

At 20, Miséricorde is let back out into the world to gather the badges. Her face scars are hidden by makeup.

In Accumula Town, she finds a now adult Natural, and challenges him. Natural wins, and she feels confused at this outcome. She still acts friendly towards him. Natural hears Miséricorde's Pokémon, and is confused at how weary of humans they are.

She meets Natural again in Nacrene City. She challenges him, and he wins. She doesn't seem that surprised at the outcome, and congratulates Natural, saying she can't wait to battle him again and win next time. She leaves without more explanations.

Next encounter is in Nimbasa City. When Natural runs after the grunts who were bothering the Day Care owner, Miséricorde intercepts him and starts a conversation. At this point, Natural is worried about Plasma and knows something is off with Miséricorde. He drags her in the ferris wheel and demands answers. Miséricorde is honest and tells him about her being Plasma's Martyr, and that her end goal is to separate Pokémon from mankind with the help of Zekrom, to ensure Pokémon safety and well-being. Natural is shocked to hear that, having probably never encountered abused Pokémon before. He tries to persuade her to put an end to her plans, but she politely refuses. She battles him to allow the grunts to escape, and Natural wins.

Natural meets Miséricorde in Chargestone Cave. They have a short heart to heart conversation, talking about their mutual life goals. They battle, and despite Miséricorde having the upper hand for a good part of the battle, Natural wins. Miséricorde thinks of Natural as her best opponent yet, congratulates him, and leaves.

They have another encounter in Mistralton City. Miséricorde meets Natural when he exits the Gym. She tells him she is sorry that her plans are going to separate him from his team, but that it is for the best of everyone involved. It rains, and the water damages Miséricorde's makeup, allowing some of her face scars to show.

In Dragonspiral Tower, Miséricorde awakes Zekrom and takes control of him. When Natural arrives, too late, she still gives him the opportunity to challenge her later by sending him to find Reshiram, giving him a chance to battle her fairly one last time.

When Natural arrives to the league after finding the White Stone, Miséricorde has already beaten Alder. She summons the Castle, which raises out of the ground and boxes in the League.

While the Gym leaders, trainers and Alder fight the grunts, Natural manages to infiltrate the Castle. He finds Miséricorde in the throne room and challenges her. Miséricorde seems happy to have one last fair fight against Natural.

Natural wins, and despite knowing that his victory is shattering all her plans and endangering the liberation of Pokémon, she still congratulates him through her tears.

Ghetsis is enraged. He berates Miséricorde. When he realizes Natural is the "child who talks to Pokémon", he tries to have him join Plasma to replace Miséricorde. Natural refuses and battles Ghetsis, winning.

Miséricorde flees with Zekrom and her team. Natural leaves Unova in search for her.

BW1/BW2 time gap / BW2 :

Miséricorde heads back to Kalos, where she originally came from. She settles in the Pokémon Village. She sometimes goes to Snowbelle City to retrieve items. Wulfric takes pity on her and often brings her what she needs for free.

Natural manages to find Miséricorde after years of searching. Despite the bond they created in BW1, she refuses to follow him back to Unova for a long time.

After a few months of debating, Miséricorde accepts to go back to Unova with Natural. They don't really settle for long, as quickly enough, they both realize they have to stop Ghetsis. They save Nate/Rosa from Kyurem, but Miséricorde's Zekrom is fused to Kyurem. Natural battles Black Kyurem, then Ghetsis, and wins.

Post BW2 :

With Ghetsis and Plasma defeated for good, Miséricorde is left with no life goals and no identity. She struggles with her gender for a long time, before finally coming out as a trans man.

Miséricorde doesn't want to join the Safe House, feeling uncomfortable with the grunts' devotion to him. He joins Alder and Natural's household.

Miséricorde attempts to release his Pokémon, but they stay by his side. Zekrom is more of a free spirit and can leave for days, but always comes back home.

Natural and Miséricorde finally officially get together, despite having what can be considered a romantic relationship beforehand👍

Fun facts :

"Miséricorde" is French for mercy, compassion, forgiveness.

Miséricorde retains almost exactly all of Dardanne's canon personality !

Miséricorde daydreams a lot and rarely gets out of his fantasy world as a coping mechanism to protect himself from the damages done to him in Plasma. It can be hard to grab his attention sometimes.

Miséricorde doesn't nickname his Pokémon, feeling this would be disrespectful to them.

Pokémon Team :

Archeops : Miséricorde's main Pokémon partner. He was given to him as an little Archen when Miséricorde became Plasma's Martyr to keep him company. Archeops as a special signification, being a fossilmon, his existence is possible only due to human interference, just like how Miséricorde was made into the Martyr by Ghetsis.

Zekrom : The legendary dragon of Ideals. Miséricorde has a tendency to cuddle him and pet him a lot, which makes Zekrom feel a bit embarrassed. He secretly enjoys the affection.

Gastrodon : Another Pokémon gifted by Ghetsis. He is a quiet and calm Pokémon, but really well trained and a great battle pokémon. He is very sweet and loving !

Cincinno : She was also given to Miséricorde as a mincinno by Ghetsis. It's very likely she was abused in the past. She doesn't like humans outside of a very few.

Liepard : One of Miséricorde's first pokémon with Archeops and Galvantula, she was given to him by Ghetsis at the start of his journey in BW1. Liepard is mischievous but good-hearted.

Galvantula : He had been used as little Joltik for one of Miséricorde's purity tests. Miséricorde had insisted to see the Pokémon again, and ended up bonding with him. Joltik seemed to regret having harmed Miséricorde and started trusting him. Ghetsis allowed Joltik to join Miséricorde's team.

[nyoomerr]

I hope you have a nice week of vacation!!!

For a prompt request perhaps something with a more monstrous or demonic Binghe? Potentially dealing with self hatred/insecurity or dysphoria because of this but with a shen Yuan being VERY into monstrous features actually.

(only if that strikes your fancy though. Have a good one either way!)

combining these two prompts together to present you both with some cursed dragon!binghe and a sqq that has very little issues with what that means for him, lmao.

---

Admittedly, when a disciple had burst into the lecture hall to very frantically inform Shen Qingqiu that something was wrong with Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu hadn’t thought much of it.

On Cang Qiong, ‘something wrong with Luo Binghe’ could be anything from Luo Binghe outright attacking Liu Qingge to something as small as Luo Binghe having disturbed the dirt beneath his feet as he walked. Luo Binghe’s very presence here was something that even occasionally was reported to Shen Qingqiu as ‘something wrong,’ because Shen Qingqiu still hadn’t quite managed to strike down the rule barring Luo Binghe from entry to the sect.

So Shen Qingqiu had sighed, given the interrupting disciple his most withering ‘don’t you know better than to barge in like that!’ glare, and exited the classroom with very little urgency. 

It was only on the walk back to the bamboo house that some of Shen Qingqiu’s irritation began to be replaced with concern. 

Disciples and hall masters from Qing Jing and Qian Cao alike were running about like chickens that had lost their heads - most of them looking as if they’re just running around to be a part of the action and gossip rather than to actually be useful, but running around nonetheless. The Qian Cao disciples in particular seem to be very dedicated to scouring the ground for what appear to be crystalized… feathers? Scales? Whatever they are, they glint a deep red in the sun despite looking near black in the shade.

Alarmingly, many of them seem to be quite bloody.

Shen Qingqiu picks up the pace a bit. Then, when he gets near enough the bamboo house that he can hear the commotion of fighting and the wretched sound of a beast in pain, he abandons his pride and starts running.

“Liu-Shidi!” Shen Qingqiu calls as he approaches, watching with horror as Liu Qingge stabs Cheng Luan through a window to poke at something in the bamboo house. “What on earth is going on?!”

Liu Qingge looks up at the sound of his name, and then promptly gets thrown across the clearing that the bamboo house sits in when a thick tail whips out of the window to knock into him.

Shen Qingqiu looks at Liu Qingge - already standing back up, although looking significantly more irritated - and then back at the bamboo house. He does some quick mental math. 

“...Binghe?” He calls tentatively. 

The awful noises from inside the bamboo house stop. The creature’s tail freezes where it had been slowly slithering back in through the window that it had whacked Liu Qingge through. 

“Oh, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu sighs, taking that as all the confirmation he needs. “What did you get yourself into this time?”

“Back off,” Liu Qingge grunts, sliding between Shen Qingqiu and the house. “If that’s really your disciple in there, he has even less sense than usual.”

“Nonsense,” Shen Qingqiu says. Hadn’t he clearly displayed a sense of shame just now, when Shen Qingqiu had caught him throwing Liu Qingge about? Actually, isn’t the fact that he attacked Liu Qingge in such a way proof in itself that it’s still his troublesome disciple in there?

“He sent three of your disciples to Qian Cao before I got here,” Liu Qingge says, and Shen Qingqiu winces.

Luo Binghe may not try very hard to maintain good relations with Shen Qingqiu’s fellow peak lords, but he does try to be civil with everyone on Qing Jing. 

Well. Everyone except Ming Fan, usually. Poor Ming Fan.

Still, Shen Qingqiu is quite convinced that the beast inside his house is Luo Binghe. He’d been away for the last week quelling a rebellion in the southern demon lands, fighting against a race of demons known for their particularly potent curses.

The mental math Shen Qingqiu had done adds up: it’s been nearly a full month since the last wife plot he’d had to fend off with his husband. Naturally, the beast inside his home must be a Luo Binghe that’s been cursed in some awful way that will require a truly heinous amount of freaky papapa!

Shen Qingqiu takes a determined step towards the bamboo house. 

Liu Qingge mirrors the step, remaining firmly in the away. 

“...Liu-Shidi, if you don’t mind,” Shen Qingqiu says, pointedly taking another step to try and get around him.

Liu Qingge mirrors the step once more. “He’s attacking indiscriminately,” he says, scowling. “That beast has hurt you enough as it is, no need to -”

Whatever Liu Qingge had been about to say, it’s cut off by the sound of Luo Binghe making another wretched noise, followed by something shattering inside the bamboo house, and then complete silence once more.

Shen Qingqiu sighs. Of all the casualties of this world’s nonsense, the sheer number of fine tea sets that he’s lost to plotlines deciding that something shattering would add some good drama is truly the worst!!

“Try to stay still for now, Binghe,” he calls over Liu Qingge’s shoulder. “This master will help you get untangled once I get in there.”

“Don’t let him out,” Liu Qingge says, blocking Shen Qingqiu’s way with Cheng Luan. 

Shen Qingqiu eyes him distrustfully. “Shidi was the one who locked him in my house?”

Liu Qingge sends a pointed glare around the clearing. The clearing which, in all fairness, is quite a bit messier than it usually is: whole swaths of bamboo have been trampled, and deep claw marks dig ugly rows in the ground everywhere Shen Qingqiu looks. The little garden that Luo Binghe has been tending recently is completely lost; Shen Qingqiu tuts as he thinks about how irritated Luo Binghe will be to have lost his favorite source of fresh vegetables. 

“He’s out of control,” Liu Qingge says. “Containing him in a small space was the most immediate method of getting your disciples out of danger.”

Shen Qingqiu sighs, bringing a hand up to rub at his temples.

“Just to be clear,” he says, “Liu -Shidi heard reports of a beast on a violent rampage on Qing Jing, showed up and saw a creature wreaking havoc, and decided that the best course of action was to corral the beast into my house?”

“...” Liu Qingge says.

“Thanking Liu-Shidi for his assistance,” Shen Qingqiu says with very little real gratitude. “Now shoo; go scare the Qian Cao disciples off my peak if you’re not done playing guard dog. They’re trying to collect Binghe’s blood again, I think.”

Liu Qingge’s expression twists. If Shen Qingqiu feels disturbed watching little baby medics trying to scrape Luo Binghe’s blood up off the ground to research, Liu Qingge undoubtedly detests the idea of their righteous sect collecting that “dirty” blood even more.

Eventually, Liu Qingge huffs, sheathing Cheng Luan and turning away from Shen Qingqiu in one movement.

“Fine,” he grunts. “But when he lashes out at you, too -”

“He won’t,” Shen Qingqiu interrupts, and finally manages to push past Liu Qingge and into the bamboo house.

Although, once he’s inside, he realizes very quickly that there’s very little room for him to go from there. 

Luo Binghe’s current form takes up most of the entire main room of the bamboo house, even with his body curled up tight in one spot to try and avoid knocking into the walls. Every breath Luo Binghe takes seems to move the whole space for how powerful it feels, and Shen Qingqiu can barely make out the crushed remains of the table beneath one massive paw.

A western dragon, Shen Qingqiu thinks, taking in the sight with no small amount of awe. 

Of course, he makes sure to feel an appropriate amount of irritation towards Shang Qinghua about it too.

Still though, Luo Binghe as he is now is truly a sight to behold. A handsome and proud snout with giant curving fangs peeking out from his mouth sits below a pair of reptilian eyes that shine with the same pretty shade of red that Luo Binghe’s eyes normally do when he gets irritated. Large red horns sprout from the sides of his head and curve and twist in front of his forehead in an approximation of his demonic huadian. His whole body ripples in the light, covered in those beautiful crystalline scales - though Shen Qingqiu notes with some regret that he can quite clearly see the bloodied patches where some of those scales have been ripped out. 

He doesn’t seem to have wings, but Shen Qingqiu easily spots the long tail that had knocked into Liu Qingge - as Shen Qingqiu examines Luo Binghe, the tail starts to thump rhythmically against the ground, like a dog sheepishly wagging its tail. Ah, that’s really… really too cute!!

“Welcome back, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu greets. The rhythmic thumping of Luo Binghe’s tail gets a bit quicker. “Can you speak like this?”

Luo Binghe’s tail stills, and Shen Qingqiu instantly feels some regret at the loss. Still, he supposes that answers that, then.

“That’s fine,” Shen Qingqiu says. “Just - ah, make some sort of noise if I do anything that hurts. I’m just going to examine you real quick, alright?”

Slowly, Shen Qingqiu approaches, ducking under Luo Binghe’s massive head to reach his flank. This close, he can get a better idea of what hurt Luo Binghe.

…He almost wishes he hadn’t looked. The bloodied areas missing scales look very much like they’d been inflicted with a giant mouth rather than a sword glare.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu sighs. “One tail wag for ‘yes,’ two for ‘no’: did you rip some of these scales out yourself?”

Luo Binghe stubbornly keeps his tail perfectly still. Frustrated, Shen Qingqiu reaches out to rap his knuckles across an undamaged part of Luo Binghe’s flank in scolding. 

“Your healing abilities may be beyond anything a cultivator could imagine, but you can not heal a curse by trying to rip apart the cursed bits and hope they heal properly, you foolish disciple!”

Luo Binghe’s tail thumps twice against the ground defiantly. Shen Qingqiu can practically hear the retort: It worked the time with the Frost Bees, Shizun!

“The Frost Bees do not count,” Shen Qingqiu sniffs. “Nor does the time with the Crowned Pit Viper Clan: they used cursed objects, which spread the curse from the object to the wearer. Lopping off your arm worked because it stopped the spread from the bracelets, not because you were tearing off an affected piece and letting it heal back to an uncursed state.”

Luo Binghe already knows this, of course. Shen Qingqiu had scolded him quite enough at the times it had happened. Regardless of the fact that it worked, there are better ways to do these things!!

Shen Qingqiu sighs again, suddenly feeling very exhausted, and leans his weight on Luo Binghe’s flank. It’s very warm. Luo Binghe bends the long length of his neck to snuffle worriedly at Shen Qingqiu, and Shen Qingqiu pets at his giant snout reassuringly. 

Slowly, he starts to feed Luo Binghe some of his qi, directing it to the spots that were damaged. They’ve already healed, of course - despite Luo Binghe’s continued reckless abandon for his own wellbeing, he has stopped trying to keep his injuries around for Shen Qingqiu to dote on after realizing just how much it distressed Shen Qingqiu - but Shen Qingqiu offers his healing qi all the same.

It gives him something to focus on, to distract him from just how much he does not want to have this conversation.

“This master… it isn’t a bother to help resolve any curses that may be inflicted upon you.”

That is - if it’s to help out Luo Binghe, it isn’t a bother to cure things in the way traditional to Proud Immortal Demon Way. Er, that is - 

Well, of course Shen Qingqiu is referring to papapa!

Luo Binghe is still for a moment, and then noses at Shen Qingqiu insistently. Shen Qingqiu huffs.

“Well, if you don’t like not being able to be a part of this conversation, maybe you shouldn’t have done anything foolish to prompt it!” He scolds. “If you’d just come to get me normally, instead of tearing at your scales and scaring the disciples and somehow getting Liu-Shidi involved -!”

Luo Binghe noses at him some more. 

“Yes, yes, it’s fine, I sent him away. Honestly, though, I don’t know why you didn’t just come get me! We could have had this all sorted by now, no Liu-Shidi needed to begin with!”

Luo Binghe makes a pathetic noise, shoving his snout into Shen Qingqiu hard enough it knocks the breath out of him.

“Aiya, I get it, I get it, no mentioning other people when we’re about to -” Shen Qingqiu breaks off, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

Luo Binghe does not stop his ugly sounding whines. Finally, Shen Qingqiu is forced to realize that Luo Binghe’s concerns may be different than he’d been assuming.

“...Is there a reason you didn’t come get me, then? Outside of your pride?” 

Luo Binghe only stares at Shen Qingqiu unblinkingly. If Shen Qingqiu were to assign a human emotion to the reptilian face, he’d say it was one of disbelief. 

Slowly, Luo Binghe looks down at his massive paws, and the deadly claws on the ends of them. Shen Qingqiu notes with interest that the shape of them is more like a cat’s than a lizard’s, and he wonders idly if the claws extend and retract in the same way that a cat’s does. How much force would he have to use to push Luo Binghe’s claws into their extended state? Are his toes webbed like a cat’s, as well?

Then Shen Qingqiu blinks, remembering that he was trying to have a cross-species conversation here, not that this input from Luo Binghe makes any sense in the current conversation.

“The house is already a mess,” Shen Qingqiu dismisses. “The bed will surely not be any more damaged by your claws now than it already has been.”

Luo Binghe blinks slowly at Shen Qingqiu; one - two pairs of eyelids! Fascinating! Then he turns once more, this dipping his head to look down and back at -

Ah. Belatedly, Shen Qingqiu understands, and then feels a rush of embarrassment at the fact that he had to be directed to look at Luo Binghe’s transformed heavenly pillar - pillars? There’s two of them down there?!! - to get it at all. Right. Of course Luo Binghe would assume that dual cultivation may not be an option in this form. 

…For being the former protagonist of a stallion novel, Luo Binghe is really, painfully vanilla at times! 

Shen Qingqiu coughs, his face warming.

“That - that’s also not an issue. For me.”

There’s a twitch at the bottom half of Luo Binghe’s body. 

…There really are two of them down there, ah!!

Shen Qingqiu flushes darker.

“It’s really no problem,” he says again. “It’s this master’s job to help when you need it. And -”

Shen Qingqiu cuts off, clears his throat, then clears it again.

“Well,” he eventually says. “Binghe was gone a long time.”

Slowly, Luo Binghe’s tail starts to wag again. 

“...It was far longer than three days,” Shen Qingqiu says, speaking mostly to the ground. “So, mathematically, it makes sense if perhaps what is done tonight is done in ‘double’ than usual, to make up for double the time -”

Gingerly, Luo Binghe catches the back of Shen Qingqiu’s robes between his teeth, picks up up, and carries him back to the bedroom.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi! last anon here again. i won't go over all your advice here, and there's some i disagree with, but i have found it helpful and insightful as a whole, so thank you. i don't know if you actually wanted clarification on these things, but i figured it would be worth providing in case you genuinely wanted it.

straps as female disidentification - i do see it as different from other sex aids; it's partially about not imposing man/woman sex dynamics on sex between women, and also that as part of recovering from trans identity i've been encouraged to disengage with any practices, thoughts, or self-beliefs that represent false consciousness/male identification, and that includes a desire to have a penis/penetrate women/take the male role, and replace that with meditation and mindfulness. unfortunately i suck at meditation so i haven't gotten anywhere. i see it more as a behavioural problem than an object problem; it's unhealthy because it's a maladaptive coping mechanism about reality; i don't have a penis and can never have one and pretending i do during intimacy is hurting a theoretical sex partner.

female infantilization - this is about the bush thing; attraction to shaved vulvas is dysfunctional and unnatural.

being put off women's bodies - again this is a dysphoria thing mostly. i like how pretty much all women's bodies look, particularly femmes, and before radfem stuff i mostly just felt horny seeing nude women, but being in an environment that's very focused on the importance of reproductive organs and secondary sex characteristics to female identity has involuntarily caused me to fixate on this; when i see a woman naked i end up thinking about her uterus and the size of her breasts and her hips in relation to passing; i know that things like testosterone/hysterectomies/double masectomies/binding are really unhealthy for you physically and psychologically now, so seeing a woman's body makes me uncomfortable now because i just feel a kind of despair that if she has big breasts or big hips she'll never be able to pass for male without hurting herself and if she has small breasts or hips she got lucky with natural androgyny and she's wasting it, either way neither her or me have any way out of this and we're female forever. which is not very arousing.

once again, thank you for your advice. it's definitely given me a lot to think about (and read). i appreciate you hearing me out.

I'm actually stoked for a response, because these clarifications are very illuminating and genuinely so saddening to read.

that entire paragraph about disavowing the strap is genuinely tragic to me, as an advocate that people should just fuck however they want to fuck. you'd think if womanhood was such an innate and unchangeable thing then a fake dong wouldn't have the power to somehow impose manhood in a relationship between women, but I guess the strap is more powerful than I realized. I would love to know if this applies to fingering, given that you can't really argue that fingers are specific to any gender, or women who use straps to peg their male partners.

being told to meditate instead of want to fuck women is so funny, it's really giving 15th century nunnery.

you may not have been born with a penis but it is just literally a factual reality that you could have on if you wanted; regardless of what radfems think of it, phalloplasty is a very real surgery that can in fact produce a sexually functional penis that many people are extremely satisfied with.

okay sure super normal to fixate on someone's uterus.

I do actually very seriously need to correct this part: testosterone/hysterectomies/double mastectomies/binding are not unhealthy. they're healthcare, and the people who benefit from them - which, reminder, is not only trans people - tend to experience tremendous boosts to their physical and mental health because of it. there's nothing radical at all about opposing people's rights to determine what they do with their own bodies, and between that and the hyperfixation on reproductive organs you sound /this/ close to explaining why women shouldn't be allowed to get abortions.

in the politest way possible if looking at women makes you sad because it reminds you of your own dysphoria, you need to get out of radfem spaces and start hanging with some trans people who can help you figure some stuff out and help you envision a future where you don't fear your own body and sexuality.

[wordy-little-witch]

Thinking about Buggy, and the Cross Guild specifically.

Like. The fanfkcs are good. But I have yet to find some that touch on some generalized headcanons and the byproducts thereof.

Autistic Mihawk? YES!! But give me Mihawk who has more autistic traits than just the generalized blank stare and monotone voice. Give me Mihawk who, when actually invested in something, struggles with volume control. Give me Mihawk who can and WILL info dump when given a chance - about the history of swordsmanship, maybe even gardening, give him hyperfixations. Give him some textures he will just touch and touch and touch, and some which he'll quite literally shrivel up and die if he has to touch.

Crocodile has all his Bananwanis and maybe even breeds them? Yes! But give me Crocodile being a Reptile Dad. Give me Croc who loves on and trains the 'Wanis, who is adamant on their care and knowledgeable about them. Give me Crocodile who is trans and occasionally has moments of dysphoria even after Ivankov's miracle hormone treatment. He passes as Cis, sure, but sometimes the KNOWING is the worst. Give me Crocodile whose safe space is with his pets, who loves them and is loved by them in turn.

Buggy being smarter than he lets on is always peak. But people often boil it down to selective intelligence, and give him no other skill sets. Give me Buggy who is sensory seeking, autistic and whose special interests are in chemistry, explosives, circuses, and the like. Buggy who LOVES bright, clashing colors because it makes his eyes happy, who stims using his Devil Fruit, and who is actually a very good cook - he thinks of it as chemistry and art. He's had a LOT of practice as well.

Now let's mix them. Give me kinesthetic stimming Buggy and Mihawk. Give me them sharing their favorite stims and finding new ones. Give me them sharing in stimming, give me Buggy dragging Mihawk to the aerial equipment and teaching him to use it. Give me them just finding a niche and enjoying themselves. Give me Buggy and Mihawk finding a new common ground that neither expected but they are so so so happy for.

Give me Crocodile learning their likes and dislikes. Giving me him throwing out one waist coat without hesitation bc Buggy huggy him once, snuggled close and gagged when it touched his skin. Give me him replacing all the velvet in his room because this one kind is bad for Mihawk, but this other one is absolutely bewitching to the swordsman. Give me him just wordlessly putting up these multicolored fairy lights and not saying anything when Buggy asks him why, just pushes the clown down into the bed, clicks them on, and says "you need to calm down, you've been up since yesterday."

Give me Mihawk and Buggy in turn Recognizing when Croc had bad days and learning to help massage his stump. Give me Buggy experimenting with herbs and lotions until he makes one himself that will help with the pain and fits all the sensory needs of everyone involved.

Just. Yes. Cross Guild Poly. But give me the behind the scenes domestic stuff because THAT is where the dopamine is.

[skyahri]

Remember Part Two |SatoSugu X Reader| HC

Part One - Part Three Masterlist Ko-fi

Summary: It's hard bouncing back twelve years.

Warnings: none? Pretty fluffy.

- - - - -

You pat around the bed, but can't seem to find what you're looking for. You push yourself up onto your hands, your waist awkwardly trapped in Satoru's tight hold.

You look around, still weary about, well, everything that's gone on. The jet lag-like dysphoria combined with the surrealism of the situation is muddling your mind.

You're still in Geto's room, that much is obvious based on his dark sheets and clean desk, but there's no Geto.

"Suguru?"

You can't feel his residuals anywhere. You try to settle your worries by reminding yourself that he often suppressed his cursed energy, that the ball hadn't started rolling yet, but the pit in your stomach was persistent.

Before you can panic any more, he's sliding his door open and closed behind him. You let out a breath and forced your way out of Satoru's grip. You hear him whine, but don't pay much mind to him.

You sit on the edge of the bed and rub your hand over your face. It's easier to calm down now than it was last night, the initial shock having worn off and the lack of exhaustion make things much easier to process.

"You can't just leave, Suguru."

"I was just," he paused, "Nevermind. I'm sorry."

He takes a seat next to you and you rest your head on his shoulder.

It's silent, but not uncomfortable. You can feel him trying to pick you apart with his eyes, wanting information but not wanting to ask. You chose to let him wonder and just basque in his presence. It's warm, almost like a hug.

You eventually convince yourself to get up from his bed and start your day. Gojo complains, something about you getting up means he has to as well. You can no longer be used as an excuse to lounge around all day.

It's difficult to get back into the groove of your old life. You're quickly realizing how much a person can change when given enough time.

Your hair is longer than you'd recently kept it and your ears hadn't been pierced yet. Seeing a face you didn't recognize as your own in the mirror was a trip in and of itself. Second puberty is a very real thing, the lack of adult maturity in your features being proof of it.

You haven't used a single product in your bathroom in over a decade. Satoru had long replaced your cheap body care products with an expensive perfume and matching lotions. There was no trinket dish holding your prized jewelry, solely because you just hadn't been gifted any of it yet. Your closet was severely dated, only containing uniforms and outfits you had outgrown years ago.

None of this stuff mattered in the grand scheme of things. Everything would eventually fall into place, and you'd have all of these things back, but that didn't stop it from hurting. They're just objects, but most of them held much more significant meaning. Milestones, holidays, memories with people you care for. It's sad not to have the visual reminder.

You make your way through the halls of Jujutsu High, acknowledging the faces of all your old classmates. Once you get past the eerie presence of a select few you haven't seen since their untimely deaths, it's refreshing. As of right now, there's no war or depression. Nothing stopping you from actively enjoying the present time with your friends.

That is, except for the expiration date practically stamped on their foreheads.

You head through a myriad of hallways and tunnels that eventually lead to an elevator. You know you shouldn't be down here, Yaga would surely have your head, but you don't really see any other options.

You're surprised when you easily pass through the barrier. He was most likely expecting your company. Word travels fast, especially when it involves everyone assuming their battle position at three in the morning.

His base is creepy, to say the least. The vibe is ominous, almost like you're entering certain death. You're certain that this is a stupid idea, but your feet keep moving nonetheless, and soon your eye to eye with the one person who can protect the future.

"Tengen."

"Oh? I hope this doesn't have anything to do with my upcoming assimilation, does it?"

"You don't even know the half of it."

- - - - -

After your impromptu meeting with Tengen, you decided not to bother with the rest of your classes. Instead, you made a trip off campus for some essentials.

The errand is short, just a stop at the nearest bookstore for some new journals and the convenience store for a more... indulgent treat. It isn't long before you're back in the confines of your bedroom.

There's writing supplies strewn across your desk, your feet awkwardly forced onto the narrow cushion of your seat as you uncomfortably hunched over. The ashtray to your left is packed full of butts, the pack halfway gone as you've chain smoked through the whole ordeal.

You always hated the task of actually writing out the events of your dreams. It's tedious and requires an ungodly amount of focus to remember every detail. It's been damn near four hours, and you're only three years into the endeavor. Granted, all of the more relevant things happen in that time, making it drag out a bit more in word form, but that's besides the point.

You're so entranced in the activity, you don't even notice Geto slide open your door. He walks up behind you, resting both hands on your shoulders and startling you out of your daze. You swiftly close the notebook and relax into his touch, reveling in the way he digs his thumbs into your sore shoulders.

"Never thought I'd catch you smoking after all the grief you give us."

"I needed to unwind," you pause, glancing at the half empty pack, "I suppose I did get a bit carried away, though."

It's quiet while he continues his ministrations. You take one last drag of your cigarette before snuffing it out in the tray. You relax, allowing your body to melt into a less chaotic position in your chair.

You're having a hard time recalling the specific relationship dynamics you once held with the people around you in high school.

As time went on, you found comfort in Gojo's advances. He was a rock in an otherwise changing environment, even after Geto's defection. He had left a hole in everyone's hearts, and no matter how much you tried to move past it, there was always that lingering darkness. Having Satoru and not Suguru was like having the moon and not the sun, and it stunted both of you for years to come.

Your future relationships and mature understandings of life were blurring your memories of the current ones. Had you and Gojo romanticized the past version of Geto? Was the way you're feeling right now just a symptom of that? Or was there always something there?

"What are you thinking about?"

You shrug. You don't really feel like lying right now, so it's better to just not say anything.

"I came in here to ask if you'd like to go to Splendid Sushi with us? Satoru's treat of course."

You tilt your head back to peer up at him. You touch his hand and strain your arm so you can drag your fingers up his arm, finally finding a place to rest on his bicep.

He looks new. There are no bags under his eyes and he still has that sparkle of hope. It finally sinks in that this is your Suguru. The guy who argues about morals with Satoru and dreams about protecting the weak. It's a warm feeling, one that gives you the strength to venture forward.

"I have to keep working, Sugu. You guys go on without me."

"How about you come with us, and I'll keep you company afterwards."

You hum, feigning contemplation for a moment before dramatically sighing and agreeing to his proposal.

You forgot how good it felt to be worry free. To sit in a restaurant with your three favorite people, talking about nonsense and just enjoying the night. Eating a sickening amount of sushi and being loud enough to bother other patrons.

But your thoughts started to drift to the one thing you'd been trying to avoid; your kids.

When Megumi and Tsumiki were younger, family dinners weren't an issue. You could easily wrangle everyone in and play peacekeeper long enough to have a nice meal. But kids eventually become teens and things became a little harder to manage with the newfound angst. Then Tsumiki got sick and it felt wrong to enjoy the weekly gatherings altogether.

In all honesty, neither had ever really needed you, but you'd like to think they enjoyed having you and Satoru as some kind of pseudo-parents. Megumi has always been independent and Tsumiki has always been a fighter, but they're little right now, about three and four years old, probably fending for themselves while Toji and his girlfriend are off doing God knows what.

You've completely tuned out the others' conversation about, what even was it? Animals they could take in a fight? They're talking amongst themselves while you begin to worry about their place in your future.

Would Satoru still seek them out? With Geto around, will he feel the need to raise two kids? And what about the two girls Geto saves from that village? Should you intervene in the town beforehand, or set things up so he still takes them? Is there even a way to do so without igniting that anti-monkey flame?

You rub your hand down your face as the onset of headache approaches. Only a half-hour into dinner and you've already managed to ruin it for yourself.

You quietly excuse yourself from the table and exit the building. You hear them whisper amongst themselves before Shoko jogs to catch up with you outside. She leans against the side wall with you, surprised when you hand her one of two lit cigarettes between your lips.

"You good?"

You don't answer at first. What are you supposed to tell her? That you miss the teenagers you raised after having a hand in killing their dad?

"Just stressed."

"Feel like sharing?"

"Wish I could. You have no idea."

Shoko has always been your favorite confidant. She's well-rounded and more predictable than Gojo, even now. You sigh, tilting your head back and forth in thought with a groan.

"I'm having trouble adjusting."

"Don't you always?"

"Not like this. I've never seen so far forward before. I feel like I'm in a haze."

"It'll fade. It always does, just gotta give it time, y'know?"

You jab the filter against the bricks and toss it in the trash, Shoko following suit. Despite it being a very dry conversation, you do feel a bit better. Maybe just forcing yourself into a more familiar place within the group was helping.

You make your way back to the table, sitting beside Satoru this time and allowing him to pull you into his side with an arm around your shoulder. He leans his head down so he can whisper in your ear.

"You're too pretty to be worrying so much. Try and relax, alright?"

The next second he's laughing, joking with Suguru about how easy it is to piss off Nanami and arguing with Shoko about who gets to open the prize capsule.

You smile, thankful for the wonderful distraction that is your friends. You pull the bit out of Shoko's hand and call dibs. They pout, but don't fight you. You pop it open and pull out a Badtz-Maru keychain. You can't help but be reminded of Megumi, its black spikey top and sour expression are damn near uncanny.

Satoru uses the arm around your shoulder to pluck the prize out of your hand.

"Awe, I was hoping for Hello Kitty."

You take it back and shove it in your pocket.

"Good thing it's not yours then, huh?"

[wouldtheybecomeafearavatar]

What are Avatars and Entities Anyway?

Since there's been some questioning from the non-TMA side of fandoms, here are the basic definitions of Avatars, Fear Entities, and each specific one.

There are 15 Fear Entities in The Magnus Archive (Podcast). They are supernatural beings that feed on fear of specific kind. The division is a little arbitrary and there are overlaps between them, but this is the system used in the universe, so we are going with it!

Each has Avatars, manifestations and artefacts that cause that fear in living beings (yes, not only humans, if very heavily humans). Artefacts are just that, objects that cause creepy and supernatural things to happen. Manifestations are living counterparts to artefacts that were never anything but. We are not concerned with them.

Avatars are people who used to be human, but through choice of circumstance came to represent, serve, and/or cause specific type of fear. The choice needs to be there, but not necessarily be informed or enthusiastic.

Each of the Fears has obvious interpretations associated with them, but often cover metaphorical fears too. And, some fears can be a part of multiple. (eg. the fear of insignificance can be an element of The Vast, or the Lonely)

The Buried. The fear of small, enclosed spaces, of suffocation, and being trapped. Often associated with drowning, being buried alive, being overwhelmed.

The Corruption. The fear of corruption, disease, and disgust. Often associated with insects, decay, illness, and unhealthy love.

The Dark. The fear of being unable to see, of unseen, of the dark itself. Often associated with literal dark spaces, blindness, hiding monsters, and unknown.

The Desolation. The fear of pain and loss, destruction, and senseless devastation. Often associated with fire, war*, and destroyed potential.

The End. The fear of death - most straightforward of them all. Often associated with remains and undead creatures.

The Extinction. The fear of a large scale catastrophe, death, replacement. Often associated with alarmist rhetoric and of destruction of humankind by our own hands. But, it does not has to be a complete destruction of an entire species. (eg. A disappearing culture can fall under extinction too. Or an apocalyptic, but not barren future.)

The Eye. A fear of being watched, known, and exposed. Often associated with curiosity, stalking, and surveillance.

The Flesh. The fear of being seen as meat, of realisation that you are meat, of your flesh being wrong. Often associated with animals, with the meat-packing industry, and with body dysmorphia and dysphoria.

The Hunt. The fear of being chased and hunted. Often associated with instincts, animals, and monsters.

The Lonely. The fear of isolation, abandonment, and disconnection. Often associated with fog, empty spaces, (faceless) crowds*, and suburbs.

The Slaughter. The fear of senseless violence and pain; unlike the Desolation is concerned directly with the living, not objects or possibility. Often associated with murder, and war*.

The Spiral. The fear of one's own mind, of madness, and of deception. Often associated with fractals, illusions, and neurodiversity of all kinds.

The Stranger. The fear of unfamiliar and uncanny. Often associated with uncanny valley (dolls, mannequins, taxidermy), circuses and performances, and faceless crowds*.

The Vast. The fear of space and insignificance. Often associated with heights, large open spaces (ocean, sky, space), and losing oneself*.

The Web. The fear of being manipulated, controlled, and trapped*, of having no free will. Often associated with spiders and puppets*.

*might be a part of multiple Fears depending on circumstances

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

Celia's outfit ended up exactly halfway between P3 Jotaro and Risotto. Literally went this looks to much like Jotaro lemme belt the trench bc belted jackets are cool and boom. Jester guy. Not sure of I can be fucked to redesign it or just go fuck it who cares if it looks vaugely like two other charecter designs.

After reading what's out so far of Jojolands my brain has decided that I need to make Muro & Co proper jojoesq outfits for when they are teenagers instead of just putting them in boring ones. Watch out world I'm giving Elena and Celia modified hockey sticks for weapons, they are gonna be fucking up soooo many ppls legs

[dueling-jesters]

If they knew each other before they were spies and transitioned, how long did it take them to recognize each other after the fact? Did it take several fights before they realized "wait, this spy seems familiar..." or was it as soon as they saw each other?

Due to the memory damage obtained via training, both could only vaguely remember their "lost" lover.

There would have definitely been some underlying sense of recognition (and attraction!) upon their first interaction as spies, but in a "this man seems awfully familiar but I swear I've never met him before" sort of way.

Starting medical transition after separation, neither spy looks exactly as he had prior.

Despite their memories becoming severely blurred, little details stand out to them as something they distinctly recall about their "dead" partners. e.g. certain mannerisms, phrases, and subtle physical features. This would include things they picked up from each other, that not many others would know about

They both would certainly take note of every time they get a feeling of familiarity. The thought of him actually being his partner, who miraculously survived, would cross each of their minds often, but they would try to shrug it off as impossible...

How could it be that the man who was killed by the enemy faction was not only still alive but, in fact, working for said faction??

This only intensifies once they finally become romantically/intimately involved again. They remind each other of their dead lover more than they thought they could even remember.

It would probably get to a point at which the potential of their lover's survival has a stronger liklihood than for everything to just be coinicidental. They'd find themselves faced with the chocie to either continue living in denial or confront the other about it.

After their realization, each recognize that the other looks more like himself than ever before... They've grown into themselves, but the feelings of inadequacy and gender dysphoria have been replaced with their current situation on opposing sides of a war.

They would be left questioning themselves... one of the driving factors for joining their respective factions... was built on a defunct assumption. Biases shaped by being fed propaganda and brainwashing aside, they would feel... stuck. Talks of mutual defection would begin to arise.

[wil-acid]

Take a Chance on Me (Chance x Transmasc reader fluff/smut)

Summary: Trans male reader DMs for Chance, including a villain that tends to flirt and intimidate at the same time. Things get a bit too steamy for Chance, leaving the reader/player wondering what went wrong. Little do they know-It wasn't that anything was bad, but rather that they did too good of a job...

I haven't posted a lot on this account, but I'm very proud of this fanfic I wrote! It was posted to AO3 with positive reception, so I figured I should share it here? Also I'm taking requests/collecting ideas for those interested--especially for more transmasc readers. Hope you enjoy! First time writing fanfic in 8 years, first time properly writing smut ever.

Featuring some narration from my actual D&D campaign Fully a self insert, as a trans DM who absolutely fell for Chance (despite being a BLeeM supremacy guy (I like Parker too don't worry)) Reader is post-top surgery, no bottom surgery (or dysphoria), and several years on HRT Words used for genitals: sex, cunt, dick, slit

Title & opening are from Take a Chance on Me by ABBA

So much that I wanna do, when I dream I'm alone with you; It's magic

“The woods are quiet this night, and the air grows chill. Your fire supporters as a low mist gathers around the edges of your camp, growing closer as the night wears on. By morning, the fog hangs thick in the air, turning the trees around you into grey ghosts. Then you notice these aren’t the same trees that surrounded you the night before.”

You’ve been GMing for several years at this point. Many players have come and gone, a revolving door of storytelling. It is, however, an interesting scenario you find yourself in–GMing for your own D20. Despite this, you’re not concerned about not rising to his expectations. Why? Well… You glance up from behind your GM screen. Chance sits a couple feet away, enraptured. His eyes are wide behind his glasses, and focused entirely on you. It’s hard to hold your flush back when he looks at you like that. Like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. You clear your throat and continue.

“The moss has disappeared from beneath your feet, replaced with rough gravel. As you look around in fear and awe, the fog seeps through our vision, whisking us away from this scene. We follow a raven’s flight, a literal birds-eye view of the path below. Passing over the hamlet that lies on the road ahead of you, through a town farther down, over a large treeline with branches reaching up like grasping hands. Suddenly, it is ripped from its flight path.”

A gasp makes you look up from your writing, and you see Chance slap a hand over his mouth. When he sees you looking, he lets it fall, moving his other hand to scratch at his neck. He gives you an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m really excited.” 

You chuckle. “It’s ok. I appreciate the enthusiasm,” you say, sending him a grin back. Then you begin to narrate once more. “The raven falls into the dark, unforgiving forest, no trace remaining. In its place, a large bat continues on its path, its shadow looming across the ground as it screams past. It makes its way past the foliage, revealing a giant, imposing, gothic castle, large peaks piercing the horizon. The bat makes its way to one of the top windows of this castle, tapping on the window with an oversized claw. A pale hand, fingernails like claws, undoes the window and the bat hops inside. As it does so, we cut back to you–troubadour Theobald Goodsong. The mists are closing in on you, brushing against your heels. What would you like to do?”

“Hmmm…” Chance intones. “You said there was a road in front of you, leading to civilization?” You nod. “Let’s go there, then!” He grins expectantly at you. Gods, it’s infectious. It’s quite hard to stay stoic and in character when that 20 megawatt smile is shone directly at you.

“The gravel road leads to a small hamlet, its tall houses dark as tombstones. Nestled among these solemn dwellings are a handful of closed-up shops. There is, however, a tavern. The lights are dim and flickering within the dust-ridden windows, but they are there.” Chance nods thoughtfully.

“Any other signs of life in the hamlet?” He asks. You hesitate, looking at your notes.

“Perception check. DC 13.” He nods. As he shakes his dice to roll, he sticks his tongue out, an adorable quirk that you’ve begun to notice more and more. In fact, you’ve started to notice more about Chance’s mouth in general. But that line of thinking should be shut down before you say or do something stupid.

“Ah, 11.” You shake your head.

“Not gonna cut it, sorry.”

“Damn. Well, I’ll head inside the tavern then.”

“Entering, you can hear the crackling of a fireplace before you see it. The warm light fills most of the wooden building, but the shadows in the unlit corners are long and cold. A large man stands as barkeep. He cleans glasses, one after the other. He has tanned skin, a large build, and sepia-toned clothes. He pays you no mind as you walk in. There are many tables and chairs littered around the room, but no bodies to inhabit them. The hearth warms your bones, but you still feel shivers.”

Chance narrows his eyes, rubbing his chin with hand. “I’d like to call out to the barkeep from the doorstep, not moving closer to him. ‘Hail, sir!’” 

You grin, and lower your voice a half octave as you speak in the barkeep’s voice. “‘Hello, traveler,’ he replies, not taking his eyes off of the class he’s cleaning. ‘To who do I owe the pleasure of serving?’”

Your player’s eyes narrow further. “‘Not attempting some fae trickery, are we?’ Theo asks.” You can’t hold back the small burst of laughter at Chance’s caution. Is it misplaced? No, but it’s entertaining nonetheless.

“‘No, no. Just want to know the fine man who’s drinks I’ll be serving tonight.’ You watch as the bartender’s eyes lids fall half open, his sweet words clearly meant with certain intent.” As opposed to the character you’re narrating, Chance’s eyes are wide.

“Oh! Um.” He clears his throat. “Goodsong walks over to the bar, taking a seat. ‘A charmer, eh?’”

“‘I do my best.’” You smirk.

“‘Well, you’ll have to do better than that if you want a proper tip.’” Despite the confident words, Chance looks quite flustered. He may be in character, but he’s clearly not unaffected. You pause and look to him.

“You okay? Sorry, didn’t mean to spring that on you.” You smile weakly at him. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, and I don’t know how you feel about this kind of thing. Sorry, should’ve checked in with you beforehand.” He looks startled at that, waving his hands in front of him.

“Nonono, it’s fine!” That bright grin is back, though it doesn’t hide the flush across his cheeks. “I just wasn’t expecting it from a random bartender, I suppose? But yes, it’s okay!” You smile.

“Ok, good. Continuing on, the bartender smirks at you. ‘A proper tip? My dear traveler, I believe it will be you who would like that. Do not think you hold the power at this time.’”

“I-uh, ‘A beer, please!’” Then, softer, under his breath, “...Holy crit.” The flush on Chance’s face has spread to his ears at this point. You’d like to see how far down it goes. Shit, no, no, no. You’re flirting as this character, you’re not flirting with him. You don’t know if he likes you like that. You only met him a couple days ago, for gods’ sake. One good G&G game with some light flirting doesn’t mean you can just jump his bones. Wait, does he have bones? You shut that line of thinking down, not wanting to get into the biology and ethics of the weird ass situation you’ve been in since those dateviators got dropped off at your house. Back in character.

“‘Of course, traveler.’ He pours you a drink and stirs it behind the bar.” An obvious hook towards a poisoning, but he’d been hoping that Cha-Theo would be too flustered to notice. In character. Stay in character.

“Can I make a perception check to know if he put something in my drink?” Chance asks, dice already in hand. You nod.

“Actually, insight check. DC is 10.” Oh dear gods, the tongue is back.

“Gods dammit! 4.” Chance looks so disappointed, and you smile sympathetically at him. When he catches your smile, he beams back. Good, you were worried for a sec.

“You’re not entirely sure. The drinks here could need to be mixed due to sitting for so long, or it could be something dropped in. The barkeep plops down the mug in front of you. The drink smells warm and heady, a thick dark liquid.” Chance nods thoughtfully.

“Okay. Theo will slowly sip it. Does something taste off?” You tilt your head for a second, thinking.

“Perception or medicine check, your choice. No in-game difference, just mechanical. DC is 15.”

Chance rolls, then whoops, his hands in the air. “YES! 17!” You laugh and clap.

“Huzzah! Yes, you taste something off, something darker and more… venomous in the drink than a usual dark stout would have.” The D20 nods, a sly grin on his face. He looks akin to a cat that caught the canary.

“Theo carefully puts the mug down, drumming his fingers on the wooden bar–casual and nonchalant.” You stifle a giggle at that. “‘My good sir, did you happen to… put something in my drink?’ Theo asks.” You cough a little and straighten your back, getting back into character.

“‘Now, why would I do that?’ The barkeep smirks.” The corner of Chance’s mouth twitches. (Gods, you have to stop looking at his mouth!)

“‘I’m not sure. After all, I don’t even know your name.’”

“‘Nor I, yours. We are on equal footing traveler.’ He says with a mock innocence.”

“‘Who are you, really? A barkeep with no patrons to tend to? Why are you here? What are you cleaning from your glasses but cobwebs and dust?’”

“At that, the barkeep’s smirk twists with disdain, if only for a second. Then it’s right back to an amused facade. It is only now that you realize that the barkeep has been sitting on a small stool this whole time. You realize this, of course, when he begins to stand up. His shoulders, which were at the same height as yours before, begin to tower over your. His shadow envelops you and he leans over the counter, his hands settling on the wooden bar. You cannot help but feel almost trapped by his presence.” A small gasp emerges from Chance. You can’t help a small smile creeping onto your face as you look back at your notes.

“‘My dear traveler.’” The endearment rolls off your tongue. And although it’s meant to be patronizing and make your player feel small, you cannot help the dark warmth it exudes. “‘Do not think that a pretty face will save you from my temper.’ He reaches out and hooks a finger under your chin, tiling your face up to stare directly at him.” As you describe it, you act it out–albeit not on Chance’s actual face, but the air in front of you. Nonetheless, you do not miss the way that his head twitches upwards, as if in response. You do, however, miss the shaky exhale that releases a shudder through the man in front of you. “‘I am not one to be trifled with, charlatan.’”

“Theo grits his teeth, but doesn’t pull away from the hand. ‘Who are you?’”

“‘My name is not important, jester. Address me as ‘Sir’. I believe that should meet your needs, hm?’ He grips your chin at this point, hands more tender than his rough voice. You can feel his callouses, hands rough but gentle.” After a couple seconds of silence, you look up from your notes. Chance’s face is flushed pink, and he’s fiddling with the dice on his bracelets. When he meets your gaze, he gives you a small smile, turning more red than you thought possible.

“I-I’m ok,” he reassures. You relax a little at that. “Just need a second to collect my thoughts.” You cock you head at that, a little confused–he’s usually so quick to respond. Hell, sometimes it throws you off your game as you struggle to put together a response in-character. Nevertheless, after a couple seconds of waiting, he takes a long breath in and responds as troubadour Goodsong once more.

“‘I beg to differ.’”

“The large man’s grin is sharp, cutting.‘Then beg, bard. I shall make you sing for me, one way or another.’”

“‘If you would like me to perform a song, all you had to do was ask.’”

“‘Oh, I think you misunderstand me.’ His grip on your face turns rough, fingers clenching upon your chin. ‘I do not intend for you to read notes on a page.’”

“‘A-Ah, I can improv if you’d like?’” Chance’s voice is breathless. You wonder if you can ask him to teach you how to do a voice like that for a different character, it seems like it’d come in handy.

“‘Do not play coy, little songbird.’ He leans close enough to where you can feel his warm breath on your face. ‘I think I’d like to see if I can make you scream until you can’t make any noises besides singing my praises.’”

“IHAVETOGOTHISWASGREATOKBYE!!” You startle, looking up just in time to see Chance scrambling to leave the room. Your heart sinks into your stomach. Shit, did you push it too far? You should’ve checked in with him more. It’s your job as a GM to make sure your players are comfortable. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You look down wearily towards your supplies. You start cleaning up, trying to brainstorm how you can alter this character to make him less flirty with his evilness. All you can think about, however, is Chance’s beet-red face. Fuck, you thought he was just flustered by it. Was he uncomfortable? Shit. You sigh. You should check in with him tomorrow.

–

You didn’t sleep very well. It wasn’t because Nightmare visited you–no, that would’ve at least been confirmation of some sort of rest. You tossed and turned, unable to sleep, replaying the session with Chance over and over in your mind. 

There were so many feelings that kept swelling as you skimmed through it in your mind. Guilt was the first, the most powerful. You should’ve checked in with him more. You should’ve asked beforehand. Given a consent sheet, gods–why didn’t you give him a consent sheet?! Perhaps it was because whenever you played characters like this with others, they would laugh it off. You’re not sure why he didn’t, but perhaps it’s because he’s the actual dice? You don’t know. There’s so many things it could be. But that didn’t excuse your behavior. Fuck. You really should’ve checked in with him more.

The second feeling that keeps popping up was a weird sense of pride. There’s always a weird sort of power complex that comes with being a DM, or just a storyteller in general. Knowing that you can alter how your players actually emotionally react is sometimes a high. To be able to affect Chance, a storyteller himself, that much felt like an accomplishment. Of course, after thinking about this pride for longer than 2 seconds, you immediately went back to guilt.

The last feeling is a bit more complicated. You can’t help but imagine the scenario going differently. Not as your characters, but as you. And more importantly, as Chance. You imagine yourself towering over him, holding his chin in that same firm way. And then you remember that he’s a good 4 inches taller than you, and the scene switches. For you to look down upon him, he’d have to be on his knees. And now you’re thinking about him on his knees. Fuck.

That final feeling, as much as you hate to put a name to it, is 100% lust. Gods, what you wouldn’t give to see him there. Kneeling in front of you, hair a mess, that same shocked expression as before… Eyes wide, pupils dilated, staring directly at you. You, as the object of his affections. You would run a hand through his hair, call him a good boy, he’d call you sir… Shit. You really need to stop thinking about this.

You end up taking a cold shower after that particular train of thought, and end up checking in with Johnny Splash afterwards.

“Hoo, mama! What’s got you hot and bothered?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry?” He flushes and looks away.

“I mean, the water was practically evaporating into steam! Is there a certain someone who’s on your mind? Is he keeping you warm?” Your other eyebrow joins the already raised one at the top of your forehead.

“He?”

 Johnny yelps. “I’ve said too much! Gotta go clean the grout!”

You frown. The hell was that? Oh well. Might as well check in with some others before… Are you stalling? Yep, you’re stalling for sure. Acknowledged it, still gonna do it anyways. Besides, it doesn’t hurt to maybe get some advice from others. Hm. Who should you talk to?

Abel always has good ideas, and he’s always checking in on different parts of the house. Besides, it’s always nice to check in on him. It’s not like he’ll check on himself, after all.

You pull on the dateviators, and head upstairs. While technically nowhere in the house is exactly empty, the bedroom always feels like it has a sense of privacy. You awaken the bedside table, smiling as the large cowboy appears.

“Well, howdy there. How’re ya doing?” You smile at his warm voice. Always a comfort.

“I’m doing good. How about yourself?”

“Quite alright, just dandy. What can I help ya with?” You pause, pursing your lips. Before you can speak, Abel chuckles. “Oh, boy troubles?” You frown.

“How do you know?” 

“You always make that face when you wanna talk to me about a cute new buddy you found. Whosit this time?” Abel smiles sympathetically at your responding sigh.

“Well, no one new. I think I may have messed things up with Chance yesterday.” The table raises an eyebrow at you expectantly. “We were playing some G&G and I was roleplaying as this villainous character who kind of threatens in a flirty way, and I think I made him uncomfortable. Halfway through the session he kinda just… ran off. I feel really bad about it.” You look up at Abel. His expression mixes both amusement and sympathy, and he pats you with a strong hand on the back.

“Oh bud. You’ve just solved a mystery for me.”

Huh? “Huh?”

“Well, yesterday I was just sitting in the foyer. Having myself a nice, relaxing sunset. Chatting it up with Stella and Dorian. Then suddenly, Chance comes bursting through the office door. He’s red as a poppyfield, and we’re all wondering if he’s okay. Dorian’s worried for him, asks him what’s wrong in that ‘I’ll kill whoever did this to you’ voice he does.” You nod. You know that voice. “Chance can’t properly form a sentence, just splutters something out about needing some ‘alone time’. Dorian asks if he should grab you, cause you tend to help us out whenever something’s botherin’ us.” You smile, and Abel grins back at you.

“Aww, that’s sweet of you guys.”

“Shucks, bud, you’ve done so much for us. ‘Course we’d assume you’d wanna help us anyway you could–not to mention, we all know how much you love G&G. Anyways, Dorian asks if he wants you, and–kid you not–Chance goes even more red! Didn’t think it was possible, full honeycrisp apple red at this point. Doesn’t even finish his thought, just goes runnin’ off again.” Your stomach sinks.

“Dammit. I was hoping he just didn’t feel good or something. I hate that it was me who made him feel bad.” Abel blinks at you.

“Are ya serious?”

“...What?”

“He wasn’t uncomfortable with it. At least, from what I saw, it looked like the opposite!”

“What do you mean?” Abel grins at you, nudging your side with his elbow.

“I mean, he seemed rather enchanted with you.” You feel lightheaded, dizzy.

“You can’t be serious, Abel.”

“Why would I lie to ya ‘bout this?” You don’t have a proper response to that. “Look, if you’re not gonna take my word for it, why don’t ya ask someone who was in the room with you? Someone who saw from the outside? Or if ya don’t wanna do that, you can always ask Dorian.”

“That’s smart. I’ll ask Dasha.” You watch with a smirk as Abel flushes at the mention of the office desk.

“Y-you do that!”

With a laugh, you head into the office, as you do, you check and see that your D20 is nowhere to be found. You frown. Even after Abel’s… idea, you can’t help but feel guilt and anxiety in the pit of your stomach. Sighing, you awaken your desk.

“I can see why you didn’t want me to join your session last night,” Dasha snarks at you. You roll your eyes, failing to suppress a smile.

“Hi, Dasha.”

“Quite steamy, дa?” She grins. You sigh.

“I don’t know. I don’t think Chance was comfortable with it, and I feel real bad about it.”

“Ah, I would not worry about that, my friend.”

“Why’s that?”

“Let’s just say… There was not a dagger in his pocket.”

“...Huh?”

“Like the saying. ‘Is there something in your pocket, or are you-”

“HUH?”

“Yes, not a dagger in his pocket. Not a pencil either. Definitely his pe-”

“OK THAT’S ENOUGH OF THAT!”

“Don’t believe me, just ask Hector. He told me he had to watch the aftermath, after Chance ran away to jerk o-”

“BYE DASHA SEE YOU LATER!”

“Go get him! Remember what I taught you!”

“YEP OK BYE!”

You are flushed bright red when you finally open your eyes again. Ok. So. There are two possibilities here.

The first is that everyone is pranking you, and Chance just feels embarrassed. That would suck ass, and you’d never put on the dateviators again.

The second possibility though…

Fuck it. You groan. Time to talk to Chance.

–

When you find your D20, you see it’s rolled on top of your bedside table. It seems like it’s probably been rolling around the whole day, considering it wasn’t here when you awakened Abel earlier. You take a deep breath. Then you awaken Chance.

“H-hi! Salutations! How are you?” He’s got his hood up, not meeting your eyes. He stands a couple feet away, leaning slightly on the table you awakened him from.

“Hey Chance. I’m okay, how are you?”

“Oh, I’m good! I’m good, yep! How are you? Nope, already asked that. Haha! Ha…” He laughs nervously. Your heart twinges.

“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday.” Chance sucks in a breath. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I should’ve checked in with you more, or… something. But yeah. I’m sorry.” You sigh, closing your eyes for a second. When you open them again, you see him holding his hood, slowly bringing it down, the sparse dying rays of sunset hitting his face.

“Oh. I… Crit, I’m sorry.” You blink.

“Whatever for?” He gives you an apologetic smile, eyes not quite meeting yours.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable. I’m sorry you thought it was your fault, I promise it wasn’t.”

“But you…”

“I, um. Look, I…” Chance meets your eyes at this point, the brown of his iris tinted extra red with both the sun and his glasses. He hesitantly gets closer to you. Step by step, like trying not to spook a stray cat. You let him, can’t help but yearn for anything he’ll give you. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. I was, um…” His face is flushed red, and you can tell it’s not just the lighting. He slowly reaches a hand out, tenderly touching yours, waiting to gauge your reaction. After you don’t move away, he takes your hand in his, clasping it warmly. Then, ever so slowly, he leans down and softly places a kiss on your knuckles. Your mouth falls open and you gape at him. He flushes even more, but still holds your gaze. “I want to court you properly. Not… in a game, not just a oneshot. A campaign with no end.” He coughs, dropping your hand. “I left because I was worried I’d do something I’d regret if I kept hearing you say such… salacious things.” Chance looks to you, those eyes wide and hopeful.

“Uh.” His face falls. “I uh.”

“It’s ok if you don’t wa-”

“I want that too.” There it is again, that 20 megawatt smile. Only for you. Forever, if you both want.

“Oh, Crit, really? Oh this is wonderful! I’m so happy!” He laughs, taking your hands in his once more. You smile at him. “Can I…?” You nod and lean towards him, taking one of your hands back to cup his neck. When your lips meet, it’s soft. Warm and tender. When you pull apart, Chance’s face is bright red. “Crit charisma check on me. Oh my stars.”

“You’re such a dork,” you tease. His grin doesn’t cease.

“Yeah, but I’m your dork.” You chuckle.

“That you are.”

–

After a couple days of enjoying your newfound love for one another, you find Chance on your bedside table late in the evening. When he appears, he’s sitting on the bedside table, a shaky smile on his face.

“Hi,” you greet.

“Hey. I, um.” He turns his face to the side, breaking your eye contact.

“What’s up?” Though you can’t see his face much anymore, you can see when the pink tint flushes over his ears.

“Remember that game you were GMing?” You nod. “Could we um… continue the scene?” After a second of recalling, you chuckle.

“Oh, I see. Yes, of course, Chance. Do you want me to call you Theo?” He shakes his head.

“I liked, um… the other names in the scene.”

“Oh? What names are those?” You know what they are, you just want to hear him say them. Chance looks up at you, frowning.

“Did you not write them down, or–oh.” He stops when he sees the smirk on your face at his confusion. “Ah.”

“Why don’t you remind me, hm?”

“Um, uh… traveler was the first one.”

“Do you want me to call you that?”

“...Not really?”

“Hm. Which ones do you want me to call you, then? No need to name the ones we won’t use, after all.”

“I, um, uh… songbirdanddearwerereallygood”

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that?” You tease.

“Songbird and dear were really good!!”

“There it is. Well, if those are what you want me to call you. But in exchange…” You watch the bob of his adams apple as he swallows, hard. “You should call me what your character did, yes? It’s only fair.”

“Ok, barkeep.” You laugh as the jab catches you off guard. He grins at you, that cat-eat-canary face back once more.

“Alright, well you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, yeah. Ok, sir.” Just like that, the teasing vibe in the room is gone. The honorific is drawn out more than intended, weighty and low. You wet your lips, and watch as his eyes follow the movement. You step forward, following Chance as he steps back, until the backs of his thighs hit the bedside table. “Should, um–” Chance’s mouth shutters closed as you lean over, placing a hand on the table, boxing him in. You nudge his knees apart with one of your own, settling it between his. Finally able to make it a reality, your other hand cradles his strong chin. You smile sweetly at him.

“Is this alright, dear?” He gulps and nods rapidly. You move your hand from his chin to his cheek. “What’s your safeword?”

“T-Tiamat.” You chuckle.

“Fuckin’ nerd.” He pulls up a hand and pokes your stomach. “Hey!”

“Pot-kettle, since you knew who that is.” You both share a warm smile. “Ok, I’m ready.” You nod, then move your hand back to his chin to grasp it once more. When you speak, you lower your voice back to that register that the barkeep spoke in.

“Songbird.” The gasp that Chance lets past his lips is music to you. You grind your thigh into his, savoring every little exhale and choke he lets out. You press your lips to his, as if trying to swallow every sound he produces. After a minute or two, he jerks back. You look to him, concerned, but he just shakes his head and looks away, flushed bright red. It’s then that you realize that he’s been absolutely rock hard this whole time.

“I, um. Crit. If you keep going I’ll fail my Con save.” Gods, what a dork. It’s surprisingly hot. You move back, enjoying the way that the D20 tries to follow you.

“I’m going to get onto the bed, dear. You stay on the floor. Take off your shoes and anything that could break.” He nods rapidly. As you move to sit on the bed, you begin to take off your socks (no shoes in the house). By the time you’re properly sat, Chance’s glasses, bracelets, and hoodie/vest/cloak(?) are set safely to the side. He looks at you with large eyes. You smile at him. “Good boy.” The effect is instant. His face goes bright red as he rubs his legs together. “Kneel.” Near-instantly, he’s at your feet. It’s almost just as you pictured, but now it’s solid. Real. It’s so much better than whatever your imagination could have conjured up. You take a second to shimmy out of your pants, the man watching you, enraptured, the whole time. He looks at you like each patch of skin is another portion of a battle map, each containing something special, crafted for pleasure. When they’re finally off, you run a hand through his hair, enjoying as he leans into the touch. “You’ve been a good boy.” He shudders in your hand. “What would you like to do, songbird?” He shifts his head to move his lips to your palm, kissing the skin with reverence.

“Can I taste you?” He looks back up to you and your breath catches as your gaze catches on his. He looks debauched, and you want nothing more. “Sir?” You bite back a groan at that. You’ve never really wanted bottom surgery, but right now you want nothing more than to be able to fuck this man raw. However, he did ask, and he shall receive. You nod.

“Of course, dear.” He smiles, standing up slightly to put his hands on your waist.

“Can I…” He hesitates as one of his hands slip under your shirt. You nod, then gasp as his warm hands touch the skin on your stomach. Gods, they’re soft. And large. Shit, each finger would… Pay attention! He carefully pulls your shirt over your head, stepping back to fold it carefully. The tender care he puts into it makes your heart ache. When he comes back, he rakes his eyes over your form. You’re not very self conscious–at least, not since HRT started doing its job–but that doesn’t mean you don’t want him to like how you look. He places his hands ever-so-softly onto your stomach, sliding up little by little until he reaches your chest, gently tracing your top scars. He smiles at them, saccharine sweet, before placing a tender kiss on each line of sewn flesh. “They’re beautiful.” Your heart catches in your throat. Then the moment is over and he’s tracing his hands down toward your navel, following the smatterings of hair to your boxers. “Crit. Please?” He looks to you, pleading.

“Yes, yes please.” You breathe.

His hands pull them down and off of your legs, taking the same care as before to set them aside. When Chance comes back, he sharply inhales, just looking at you. “Oh Gods. Oh Crit. Okay.” You place a hand on his cheek.

“You doing okay, songbird?” He nods, smiling.

“Yes, just wanted this for a long while.” Lust, strong and heady, spins in your mind. And that’s before he’s kneeling again, strong hands on each of your upper legs. He leans and begins to press kisses into the insides of your thighs. Slow and closer to your knees at first. Each touch of his lips to your skin feels pious, each shift in the grip of his fingers on your body a psalm. By the time he finally reaches your sex, you’re practically dripping wet. Before diving in, he looks to you.

“A-ah, please, Chance…” At the sound of you moaning his name, he moves his mouth to your cunt. You gasp as his tongue presses against your dick, stimulating the bundle of nerves that have been overcharged from testosterone. The D20 teases you there for a bit, seemingly content to watch you writhe, until he moves to finally penetrate your slit with his tongue, muscle pressing against muscle. You whine as he pushes inside, moving to cover your mouth with the hand that isn’t tangled in the man’s dark hair. But his passive perception must be better than you thought, because he effortlessly moves one of his hands from your thigh to grab your moving arm. He emerges from your sex, mouth shiny and eyes dilated so far they look black. He’s panting a bit. Before he speaks, Chance licks his lips, swallowing down any of your slick remaining there. Shit, it’s almost like he’s trying to kill you.

“I wanna hear you,” he speaks, almost a whisper–a prayer. “Please?” Holy shit he for sure is trying to kill you. You nod, pulling your tangled fingers through his hair. It catches on a knot, tugging, and Chance moans into your pelvis. Fucking hell. When he returns to his task, it is with the urgency of a dying man. He laps at your cunt like it is the eucharist, his hands mapping your body by touch as if to memorize its peaks and valleys, as if it will graph like Faerûn. Once you’re sure he could recreate your body by touch alone, he moves back to catch his breath, only to replace his tongue with his fingers. You gasp as one slowly enters your body, so damn thick, so warm. After you acclimate, he begins to move, as if attempting to use somatic components to cast a spell inside you. Then he presses on something, and you gasp, your back arching. When you stop seeing stars, you glance down to see Chance staring up at you, a smug grin on his face.

“Sleight of hand crit, yeah?” In revenge, you tug on his hair again and he groans.

“Shit… Chance,” you pant. “Do… that again?” He smiles and nods, before leaning back down.

With his full attention, it’s not difficult to find yourself falling apart quickly. First the finger goes back in, then swiftly joined by a second one. Almost like manipulating the Weave, the D20 finds that spot once more, softly rubbing and jabbing at it, pulling you apart piece by piece. When a third of those thick fingers joins, you groan out. “F-fuck. Not gonna last.” It’s then, of course, near your peak, that his sneak attack comes. While pumping three fingers in and out, Chance leans in and begins to lap at your clit. You gasp, quivering, until you finally reach your peak, moaning his name. 

After a couple minutes, you begin to recover. You’re fully in the bed now, covers pulled up as Chance is walking towards you, disposing of a tissue in a nearby trash can. He smiles softly at you. As you motion for him to lie next to you, he speaks.

“So… Successful charisma check?” You chuckle.

“Yeah, I’d say so.” Then you pause, thinking for a second. “Do you need me to…” As you look to his pants, you notice that he’s in just his boxers (which are patterned with different types of dice– d4s to d20s. Cute.), which have a mostly-dried but still noticeable stain in the front. He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yes, I, um.”

“Failed that Con save after all, huh?”

[doberbutts]

i know people rag on gc2b but. i don't really get why? i have like 5 underworks binders of various size and model and none of them bind well on me and roll up constantly. gc2b requires adjustment every now and then but that's normal for any garment. but binders with a stiffened front panel are binding, all stretch with no solid panel just acts like a shitty sports bra. i don't get it. half convinced people just say shit because they got One with mid stitching and decided all of their product must be just like that, and that underworks must have superior binding because they make things for cis men. which i don't think is true for comfort or binding.

I don't honestly know either- I haven't bought a binder for about 3 years and before that for another 3 or 4, so I can only say that it was a recent development that I see people complaining about the quality of gc2b. They've always worked for me but yes, they do fall apart after a while. When I started binding, it was a known thing that you would be replacing your binder yearly, and maybe if you took very good care of your binder you could get away with every 2-3, with specific care notes on how to make your binders last longer. It does make me wonder if somewhere we lost track of that.

I do know some of the people complaining about gc2b are well outside of the sizes the company makes their clothes in. This is a fair complaint in my mind because I am not a particularly big person (and my doctor called me obese at my last weight check due to BMI) and I am already in the XXL/XXXL range. I do think that a restructuring of sizing and also offering larger sizing should happen. And I again wonder if that is part of the problem- people squeezing themselves into a binder that is inherently too small for them is absolutely going to wear that binder out way quicker.

Another complaint I've seen is that they don't bind well enough for the particularly well endowed. I have fairly medium sized breasts myself so I can't speak to that on personal experience, but I do have a friend who is at the top end of gc2b's range who has breasts that are both larger and saggier than mine and he is quite satisfied with his binding experience. That being said, anyone larger than him would be SOL, so again, it does sound like there is a significant sizing problem.

I do have a friend who prefers the old style of underworks which had a binding front panel the full length of the garment, which has since been deemed unsafe and discontinued en mass for most binder companies. He had a dysphoria related panic attack meltdown the first time he put on a gc2b because the front panel being only chest-length felt far too much like a bra to him. He has fairly significant chest dysphoria and he also has been binding since he started growing breasts during puberty, and is significantly older than me, so I've long chalked that up to different world and dysphoria. He has since gotten used to the gc2b style and still wears them, but it was quite startling for him.

If I weren't having top surgery hopefully soon, I would still be buying gc2b, and when I buy binders for trans guys starting out I buy from that company unless they tell me a different company preference. Like I offered to buy someone a shapeshifters a few months ago because he was saying that he wouldn't fit a gc2b and wanted to bind and had a specific binder in mind. But otherwise if someone who I know fits in their size range asks, I still refer people to that company, because I and my friends have not had problems.