#and picked the incorrect pronouns instead of like.. asking

[queer-ecopunk]

Laughing in the bathroom at my doctor's when I looked at the sample cup

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Oh my.

* the community label is incorrect, there are no dirty themes in this *

Happy belated Hallowtide, y’all.  Here’s another chapter, slowpokes :)

When - right after A cause for concern. You’re still at the table with Hershel and your glass of activated charcoal. S02 episodes Cherokee Rose + setup for Chupacabra.

What - Hershel just asked you if your brother Shane “is a cause for concern.” Turns out, Daryl walked in and heard. You also keep meaning to talk to Lori but there have been a lot of interruptions...

Relationships - slow cooker Daryl x You is in the works, of course. Right now y’all are at the cooking stage where Daryl just wants to hang out with his only friend :( but you keep being otherwise occupied. You even defend him to Hershel tonight. As for you and the gang, we got casual brotherly/sisterly affection between yourself, Shane, Rick, and Lori.

Perspective - still stuck in 2nd person You + 3rd person “one who often carries the crossbow”

TWs - some language and some alcohol use (Dary-bear)

Pronouns - they/them, feminine implied at times

Word count - it won’t irk you this time

Masterlist - capital idea considering all the references! Checking out the four chapters chronologically before this one (What were your nightmares about?, Better with a friend, Picking a flower = saving the day, and A cause for concern) as well as Too much thinking before bed, Part 2 is recommended.

Him

That old man is sharp. At least somebody else is seeing it.

Really, it’s as if Daryl could literally smell the bullshit during Shane’s little speech at the funeral.

Though, the other old man might see it, too. Dale. It was about a month ago he’d noticed that Dale stopped being chummy with Shane the way he was with everyone else, even to Daryl himself.

And Lori has seemed real uncomfortable around Shane, too, come to think of it.

Maybe he’s not as alone in seeing that guy’s hiding something as he first figured.

It just sucks that Y/N is having to admit that about their own family, if just to themself. And Daryl knows all about what it’s like to admit that shit about a brother, if just to himself.

Speak of the devil, Lori is now walking by him, quietly whispering, “How are you, Daryl?” as she scoots out the front door.

Dr. Farmer (his bad, he doesn’t remember Dr. Farmer’s actual name) tells his friend something about a ‘solution’ (?) and Y/N picks up the glass with black stuff in it and—ew, start to sip it through a straw. The hell is in there?

But before he can get a word out and ask, a high, small voice from behind him scares the shit out of him as it squeaks, “Why are you in here?”

He jumps, turns—and holding a choose-your-own-adventure book is the teenage girl, frowning at him and probably freaked out as fuck. Just look at her eyes, all wide and scared like a bush baby’s.

In a way that sounds kinda like she’s accusing him of something, she next questions, “Do you, um, n-need help findin’ Carl’s room?”

“Nah.”

...

...fuck, this is awkward.

Eyes still so wide they’ll probably fall out, her high little voice again squeaks, “What do you want, then?”

Lucky for him, saving his ass is Y/N’s voice. “Daryl? Hey.”

He takes a few steps toward the table, thinking to himself that it sounded like Y/N’s throat was tight but feeling relieved that he isn’t gonna have to talk to Baby Spice anymore/ever again.

“You here to tell Carl about the Cherokee roses, too?” they ask him with a teensy little smile.

No, I don’t know why I came in here but you’re my only goddamn friend and I knew you were in here. “Yeah.”

“Do you remember which room he’s in?”

I actually have to walk in there and talk to the kid now. “Yeah, s’the one with the little boy in it, right?”

Instead of finding that funny, they make a face that reads as annoyed and tired.

Psht. Getting annoyed himself, he marches down the hallway to the room where the kid is recovering while Y/N, dunno, probably keeps drinking that black sludge and gets interrogated by the old man more.

You

All Mr. Greene asked was if Shane would be ‘a cause for concern.’ That’s it. All you had to say that is that he’s going through a rough time, what is wrong with you?

You need to say something to explain why you couldn’t answer and you gotta figure out where the doctor was coming from in the first place.

“I ain’t cer — I am uncertain as to what your question meant, sir,” you say by way of asking for clarification.

“Simply if you feel that there is a cause for concern regarding him.”

“In what way?” croaks from your throat not much more substantially than a whisper.

But now Beth is joining you and her father at the table so nothing more is said.

She thanks you for the flour and tries to make polite conversation, you try to stay upbeat and friendly.

You’re grateful that her voice is soft, because the ringing in your ears is making sounds louder. Plus, her and Maggie’s accents are twangier like yours, so it makes you feel less self-conscious around her father.

You gulp the drink as fast as you can through the straw. That Mr. Greene mixed the charcoal with Tang and gave you a straw is helping to make it less gross.

And when you notice Beth’s holding a choose-your-own-adventure book, you and she start to have a normal, easy moment—until you feel Mr. Greene’s eyes on you and figure he wants you o-u-t.

So, you excuse yourself, thank him again, and stand up to go wash your glass and straw while hoping your dizziness isn’t too obvious in the way you walk as to upset Beth.

But the doctor stops you. (?)

“I was hopin’ to ask you a favor. Or enlist you, rather.”

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of your cup, you can sit back down,” Beth murmurs to you, and takes it from your hands.

You swallow and find your seat again. “What d’you need help with, Mr. Greene?”

He clasps his hands together on the table. “I gather you’re likely planning on searching for the missing child first thing tomorrow morning?”

“Yes.”

“Is it your intention to remain out for the entirety of the day?”

“No.” Oh my God, why did you just—“I meant, I don’t think it’ll, the, um—” please formulate a coherent sentence. “W-we’ll have re-combed the whole grid and further by the afternoon,” you stammer. “And with seven or, um, however many of us will be out again, I can come back. I ain’t writing Sophia off, doctor, I just know that my duties also lie elsewhere. We all have jobs to do.” Good enough. “Do you need me to stay with Carl?”

You thought you felt his stare burning holes in your face, but when you actually look at him, he’s got his eyes on the table, lost in thought.

“That your group has searched so thoroughly and for successive days, it likely means one thing — and you understand that, I can see it. But it doesn’t discredit the other entirely; perhaps that tomorrow the whole area will have been re-swept means you’ll finally recover her. Sophia.”

You have to cover your face with a hand and turn away. How many times are you gonna get close to tears, this is getting old.

Swallowing the latest lump in your throat, you dab your eye with the corner of your sleeve and nod. “We were going to,” sniff, “check the road off the trail tomorrow, then he — that’s Daryl — he mentioned going to the top of a ridge someplace near to get a high view.”

Mr. Greene looks so much less impatient and unwelcoming than he did before but you aren’t certain the reason. Even his body language has changed.

“There are no infected individuals in any of the houses on that road, I can tell you that,” he informs you. “Otis went by that way more than a few times. There’s one home, however — it’s the one closest to the connecting road, northside. The family boarded it up because of that proximity, I would imagine.” He sighs. “No one answered Otis when he called from outside. It may be because they were newer to the area or perhaps there was somewhat of a language barrier, but the house is boarded securely and Otis never received any responses.” Scratching his eyelid, he finishes, “We decided to assume the Bardales left for a safe zone or perhaps a relative’s.”

“But the family might could still be inside,” you state more than ask. In what manner the family could be in, you neither state nor ask.

“There’s the potential,” he confirms. It seems as if he’s intending to say more but is having trouble doing so.

You wait.

He finishes slowly, “We aren’t certain if they caught the illness.”

Beth is coming back to the table with a snack-sized bag of barbecue chips. She offers to share, so you take one despite your newly discovered taste aversion. Chew. Swallow. Think of Amy and Jim and the Morales family.

“What I wanted to ask you was to help me give Carl a transfusion tomorrow. Now, I don’t know…” He stops talking entirely. “I don’t know if it’s an advisable thing. As we are aware, I am not a medical doctor—”

“—For humans,” you interrupt. He is a medical doctor and he saved your Carl’s life.

He unclasps his hands and holds his palms up. “I am a veterinarian and walking a fine line. Now: I know in some circumstances, anticoagulants are prescribed to postoperative patients who are at an increased risk of clotting. Carl, with his injury in that spot,” he shakes his head, “I cannot get it out of my head that he is at risk.”

His daughter loops her arm through his and rests her head on his shoulder as he takes a deep breathe. “And after the miracle we had in saving him, and the sacrifice it cost,” his tone sharpens when he says that part. You bow your head.

Then he exhales heavily and controlled. “My blood type matches his. Before his surgery, while he was still bleeding out, a transfusion from me would have killed him because I still take a daily anticoagulant. It’s a very low dose, but even that would have been too much for him. Now, however…”

“What risks would there be?” That Carl is alive is what’s keeping you sane and grounded.

“I do not believe he would be at risk of bleeding out with just one pint from me. We know that the stitch has held, and I have been restricting him from moving his core in order to maintain that, and I will insist upon it for a few more days.”

“What did Lori and Rick say?”

“I haven’t spoken to them yet. I suppose one could argue I was practicing the proposal with you.” Mr. Greene rubs the spot on his forehead in between his eyebrows. “If his parents agree, I would like both Patricia’s and your hands on deck. You take direction well, and have much more experience with human medical cases than Margaret.”

You must look as overwhelmed and unconvinced as you feel, because he shakes his head at you and goes on to say, “I’m telling you this in earnest. You did an extraordinary job getting that child’s vein on the first try, at a time when he was profoundly hypovolemic, not considering the emotional trial you were undergoing during the event and the two injuries you sustained in its onset that could have interfered.”

“There’s no need to butter me up, I’ll be there for him,” you mumble. Why is he suddenly being so generous with the compliments?

He appears to sigh again, and next turns to his daughter. “Beth, sweetheart, would you mind putting the tea kettle on for me? I want to ensure privacy while Y/N and I discuss some matters a bit further.”

That tiny seed of dread is still firmly rooted in your gut.

When you see in your side-vision that Beth is off in the kitchen, you state the prepared phrase quickly and quietly. “About your question earlier: Shane is a good and decent man, he simply hasn’t been himself.” There.

Mr. Greene gets that serious, discerning look on his face again. “Has he spoken to you about what happened that night? It must be weighing on him heavily.”

Your posture slumps and you can’t meet his gaze. “He ain’t even talked to Rick about it.”

The front door opens again.

Lori’s back from wherever she had gone. She looks like she’s close to passing out. You even begin to stand because she really doesn’t look well. “Lore, are you feelin’ alright?”

“Just feeling extra tired, honey,” is what she tells you as she walks blindly to the hallway, then stops and heads toward the kitchen. You sit down when you hear the faucet turn on.

“One last question for now, and I thank you for allowing me to do so. The man who walked into my house before, the one who often carries the crossbow?”

“Daryl,” you confirm, somewhat cautious.

“Will he be a problem?”

Your head is shaking ‘no’ before he’s finished asking. “He can come across as…” You shrug, unable to think of a word. “But he’s proven himself to be remarkably…good. My mama would call him a work-in-progress.”

But Mr. Greene’s response is completely justified. “I cannot help but somewhat wonder against your statement when I and my family all noticed the schutstaffel symbol on his motorcycle.”

Holding up your hands as if trying to prove your innocence, you explain, “It was his brother’s, he’s no longer with us. And we all hate it, too.” You grimace in disgust and mutter, “I don’t think Daryl even knows what it means.” With a peek at the doctor’s unreadable expression, you unhelpfully mention, “Glenn and I are keepin’ an eye out for black spray paint to fix it.”

Lori’s footsteps sound back down the hallway. The door to Carl’s room opens and closes.

“Do you feel safe around the man, Y/N?”

“Yes, oddly enough.”

“Why ‘oddly enough?’” he counters.

Is there a bright interrogation lamp over your head? “He comes across as otherwise, and he can be a hot-head,” you concede, shrugging one shoulder. “But he never leered at the women, and the kids didn’t feel uncomfortable or unsafe around him. He hunts for us, is teaching me how,” you go on, then feel testy enough to meet his gaze head-on. “And he’s spent more time out there searchin’ for Sophia than any of us.”

“He never made, um, I’ll call them ‘advances,’ toward you? I don’t know his inclinations, but Margaret is about your age, my Beth is even younger, and I likewise worry about Jimmy’s safety in that way. Their—” he cuts off as the front door opens yet again.

It’s Rick this time. He greets the two of you, pecks a kiss on your head, and goes down the hall.

Mr. Greene takes a moment as if he’s collecting his patience. “Their safety is paramount. And as you can imagine, having strange, angry, armed men tramping around my house and property feels like a very risky game.”

“He’s made none at all to me, and I-I don’t think to others, neither.” No way, y’all would have discussed that. Andrea would’ve been very outspoken about it if he’d ever stared at her chest, for one. “We would have discussed that.”

But whatever the thoughts in his head are, you can’t quite to read them in his expression. And he changes the subject.

“Thank you for your honesty,” he repeats, sighing. “Now, with your permission, I would like to reexamine your shoulder before sending you on your way.”

Him

He told the boy about the flower, all about the search, and even about having been lost for nine days when he was a kid. He sanitized it for Carl’s sake, obviously, made it seem like an adventure.

Sophia is his friend, he’d needed to hear it. At this point, everyone should know so they won’t write that little girl off as a goner.

Weird thing was, the teenage girl—sorry, ‘Beth’— had walked in there partway through and sat herself down as if she didn’t trust him to be alone with the boy.

He ignored her and kept telling Carl stories.

Now the kid’s asleep, still with his dad’s giant deputy hat on.

At one point, Carl fake-complained that “After this, it’ll be forever until they let me go hunting with you guys.”

So, he reminded him, “I told ya: be this tall or when your voice changes, then you can come with.”

Beth is reading her book, still sitting kinda stiff as if she’s nervous.

As for he himself, he’s just listening to a clock ticking and thinking that he wants a smoke and another beer and to not be around someone who doesn’t like him, even if it was just Baby Spice.

When Lori came back into the room with a glass of water, she looked paler than her kid, and that’s saying something. Carl’s about as tan as a sheep.

He didn’t think he should leave, to be honest, she looked so drained. So, he sat there.

Waited.

Wondered what the hell to do and felt awkward as fuck.

It can’t have been more than three minutes when Rick quietly steps into the room.

Relieved, Daryl stands up, grunts “Night,” before zooming out.

Trying not to stomp too loud, he walks out of the hall to find Dr. Farmer doing stuff with Y/N’s arm.

The old man straightens it. Positions it forward. Up. To the side. Up. Asks them to apply pressure from different angles. Has them twist their neck side to side, up and down.

Daryl leans against the wall and crosses his arms.

Sometimes it looks like it hurts them, sometimes not. They make eye contact with each other for a second. Y/N gives him a resigned look, he blankly offers a thumbs up in response.

Then he wonders what the hell he’s waiting for and to stop being creepy, and so stands back up and figures he’ll leave.

“It was mentioned before that your shoulder was previously injured?” the old man questions Y/N.

The door to Carl’s room clicks open again, Lori and Beth exit. Beth scurries away, Lori starts to make for the door.

“About a month-ish back,” Y/N replies.

“What was the mechanism of injury?”

“Um, we was tryin’—we were trying,” they rephrase it, less twangy than usual, “to escape from someplace with a…very shut door. We, um, the pain started after I rammed against it too hard.”

Lori stops where Y/N is sitting and lightly smooths some flyaways in their hair.

The old man makes a hm. “That was the original injury?”

And Lori cuts in, weirdly enough. “It was a slight twisting injury.” Softly, he can hear her murmur, “Honey, remember what happened a couple days before that?”

Y/N looks confused, then remember whatever it was. Their mouth opens, closes.

As he finally walks by and out the door, he ears them whisper all shy, “Th-that only bothered me for a few hours after.”

You

“A twisting injury makes much more sense for the other affected areas to which the pain is radiating, especially the neck and chest,” Mr. Greene affirms.

You didn’t even remember that your shoulder technically got hurt when you attacked Ed. After all, your jaw had been what was bothering you the most.

It’s still so wild to you that you’d gone so…wild.

“Lori, don’t let Carol know—oh, and Daryl, you neither,” you call in case he’s still in earshot. That woman can’t find out, she’ll blame herself.

“If you didn’t recall the initial injury as having been serious, consider it having been akin to small ding in a windshield. Minor impact or driving into a pothole in the road can lead to a bigger crack, and from there, much more serious damage at a moment’s notice. Likewise, having a small injury, even a barely noticeable tear, made the force against the, uh, door injure you more than it may have,” he explains, “which eventually, if the injury did not fully heal or heal properly, worsened still when you carried young Carl here.”

Lori kisses you on the head and places her hands on your shoulders, rubbing them gently.

“Now, I have just about zero knowledge of physical therapy, but Pat will remember the exercises Jimmy needed after a baseball injury last year to his shoulder. In fact, he went back outside to your group’s fire, you can ask him there. They may be helpful.” He stands. “Now, Lori, I’d please like to speak to you and Rick about something important.”

Him

When Y/N came out of the farmhouse, their brother sped over to them and helped them walk back. They ain’t even talking or nothing now, they’re just sitting quietly listening to the conversation and staring into the fire. By the looks of it, they’re dozing off a little against their brother’s shoulder.

Y/N had a silent, tiny cry soon after they first got back, too. Shane simply put his arm around them.

The basic way he’s noticed everybody handle that stuff was to just allow the person get the tears out in peace and not make a big deal about it. Maybe pat the person on the back or whatever but nothing dramatic. There are more reasons to cry these days, you know?

Anyway, Carol is warming up Y/N’s oatmeal.

As for himself, he’s just about to—wait a sec, only a few gulps left—ah, okay, yep, he’s done with his third beer of the night.

Except he doesn’t even have the spins yet, what bullshit. Why doesn’t he just go to bed?

It can’t be because he’s clinging, no way.

Aw, lil Darylina wants to feel like he belongs by clutching to his only friend like a little blankie.

Ugh, you know what? He could just have a fourth beer and shut up. Still got two left back at his tent, and he could crash after. He’ll need the full night’s rest if he’s gonna find Sophia tomorrow. Check out the road, check out the ridge, get that little girl back safe.

You

You must’ve fallen asleep because all you remember after you stopped sniffling was that suddenly Shane was tapping you so you’d sit up. He stood and quietly set off somewhere, passing Lori on his way.

Huh. Lori. You’d been dreaming that she was crying around the campfire. That must be because you had a cry and knew Lori wanted to talk—oh poop, you haven’t talked to her yet, have you?

As you blink a few times to clear the brain fog, Carol hands you a bowl of oatmeal. Smells yummy.

Lori sits by you. Carol hands her a bowl, too. She lifts her spoon but does nothing else. It’s as if she’s miles away as she stares at her boots.

“It’s true, my dad wore his Bulldogs jersey every Saturday,” you overhear Jimmy say. “I wish he could’ve, um…” He pauses when his voice cracks.

If this is where the conversation had been heading, it makes sense to you why your brother hurried off. The guilt from what happened with Otis. You brush away those horrible, heartless, stupid doubts in your head about what happened that night and pass Lori the unused glass by you that she’s gesturing to.

Lori holds out the glass and Carol pours him some of the Tang that Jimmy brought for you all in the pitcher. The kid takes a big gulp, and T-Dog  delicately taps Jimmy’s glass with his beer bottle in ‘cheers.’

“He would’ve been so excited to meet you, Mr. Douglas.”

“Nah, I ain’t nobody impressive, Jimmy. But your dad?” T-Dog’s serious expression warms into a grin. “The dude who volunteered on the regular to save lives? I woulda been honored to have met that man.”

Sniffing, Jimmy clears his throat and takes another few sips of his drink. Lori rubs his back a few times from where she’s kneeling, then gets up and sits back by you.

“His favorite game was the day after Thanksgiving, 1994. I was a baby so I can’t remember, but the way he retells the story every Thanksgiving makes me feel like I do.”

“That was a damn satisfying game, let me tell ya. Perfect way to finish the season.”

Cue Jimmy’s eyes to expand two times their normal size as T-Dog begins to chuckle.

“Were you…y-you were playing during that game? The Dawgs obliterated Georgia Tech, it was 48 to 10!”

“Hell yeah we did, kid.”

Him

The discussion morphed to video games and how the teenager’s never fired a gun “Other than in video games at my friend’s house.”

Proper farm boy, minus the part where he’d need to know his way around a rifle to deter hogs and all that. He had a BB gun, and “did skeet shooting with Dad’s shotgun a couple times? We used birdshot, so it was easy enough.”

That’s when Glenn and he hopped into a happy little discussion about…eh, Daryl isn’t sure. He needs to sleep.

Y/N is dosing again, otherwise they’d probably be just as excited to talk about whatever Glenn and farm boy are into. He’s still weirdly disappointed he didn’t get to talk with Y/N. Find out their big secret…or just hang and feel wanted.

Sweet baby Darylina, you getting all mopey? Are you PMSing, sugar?

Dale already excused himself to hit the sack, Lori looked like she was about to. That woman’s looked tired as fuck even before all that went down at the highway.

However, Y/N is accidentally using them as a pillow, and Lori has her head resting against Y/N’s with this look across her face like she’s having war flashbacks.

He closes his eyes for a moment as he stretches before standing up to just get back to his tent already.

…

…

…zzz...zzz…

You

“Honey,” softly whispered in your ear pulls you out of a similar dream to the one you woke from earlier, but this time, Lori was crying in the house and her older sister was with her. Mr. Greene was sitting at the table and frowning. Shane was trying to get inside. Mama was outside with him but had her hands covering her face.

Rick and you were by the door, but it was almost as if you were guarding it.

Dreams can be so creepy. And stupid, like, as soon as you saw Evie, you should’ve realized it wasn’t real life.

Back to the here and now, Glenn and Jimmy are really into whatever they’re talking about. Videogames? You’d probably be into it if you weren’t half-asleep.

Lori stands up. Hold up, are her eyes wet?

“You should head to bed, too, come on.” She holds her hand out to help you up. Taking it with your good arm, you hold on when you stand, and the two of you bid your goodnights to the group.

Aw, Daryl is asleep where he’s sitting, can you believe it?

Him

It’s when his head flops forward that he finds himself jolting awake.

Turns out, like his friend, he also fell asleep right there in front of the campfire.

Except now Y/N and Lori are gone.

…This night has been really annoying, just saying.

Actually standing up this time, he grunts what probably passes as a ‘goodnight’ and shuffles drowsily storms off to his tent, set apart from the others.

You

Ears still ringing, you walk slowly to your tent and wonder where Sophia’s sleeping. “I just had the funkiest dream, Lore. Evie was in it.”

The muscles in her arm tighten. “Evie?”

“She looked good. Had on civvies instead of a uniform.” You chuckle to keep it light. “She was hugging you.”

Lori runs her hand over her face. Once at your tent, she and wishes you a “Goodnight, Y/N,” and wraps her arms around you in an unusually tight embrace that she maintains.

“Did you wanna talk now?” you check. “We kept gettin’ interrupted.”

She avoids eye contact as she pulls back and assures you, “It-it’s okay, honey, it’s nothing.”

Memories of that strange night and morning at the CDC start replaying in the back of your mind. There’s a red flag waving with it, but maybe that’s due to your weird nap dream a few minutes ago.

Still, you offer, “I can talk about nothing, easy.”

She hesitates. Inhales.

But all she finally says, with a smile that doesn’t convince you, is, “I just need some sleep.”

White lie. You almost tell her she owes a quarter.

Her lip wobbles and she hugs you again, and you squeeze back as much as your shoulder will allow.

“I’ll see you at breakfast, honey, okay?”

“Make sure you sleep in, Miss Patricia mentioned that. G’night, Lori, love you.”

And as she pulls her button-down off her hips to put it back on, whatever was in her back pocket falls out.

Ha, why does she have a digital thermomet…oh.

Oh my.

Ohh my, okay. Okay.

That wasn’t a digital thermometer, a fact made clear by the way she scrambled to grab it when she realized it had fallen.

“Lori?”

You end up on the floor of your tent, sitting there dazed with your mouth open while the ringing in your ears seems to grow louder. She quickly crouches and pulls the door flap down.

She stops hiding the test and rests her hand in her lap as she sits beside you, her fingers gripping it tightly.

You stare at it.

Yep, it’s a pregnancy test.

It’s got the little plus sign, too.

Taglist (inbox if you are interested, friends)

@spenciepoo338 @its-freaking-bats​ @whistlesalot​

[just-a-queer-fanboy]

For my cis allies:

My chosen name IS my real name, whether I've changed it legally or not.

My genitals and sex life are none of your business. Don't ask about them.

I don't "identify as transgender". I am transgender. I identify as a problem.

Attack helicopter jokes are unoriginal and unfunny. At least come up with something original.

Tr***y is a slur. Don't use it.

I'm not transsexual. I don't identify as my sex. I identify as my gender.

Gender neutral language isn't hard. Just say person and use the word they. You don't have to say "guy or girl". Say person. Less syllables, less trouble.

It's okay to mess up on someone's pronouns. It's not okay to refuse to use the right ones.

Its okay to mess up on our chosen names. It's not okay to tell people "this is my friend, she used to be Alexis, but now she is Michael.".

DO NOT introduce us to random people as "my transgender friend". If you don't know if that person is trans inclusive, you are putting us in danger.

Nobody is putting litter boxes in schools. Nobody identifies as a cat (and to my knowledge, therianthropy is a spiritual belief, not an "I identify as this" type thing so either way, shut up).

Yes, we know what our biological sex is. It's that our gender and sex don't match up.

Neopronouns and xenogenders aren't that big a deal. They're a little goofy, but that's it. Cool your tits.

You support all of us, or you support none of us. Pick one.

Nobody is pretending to be trans to assault women, because you don't have to pretend to be trans to do that, because nobody gets justice. Instead of blaming all trans women, let's, I don't know, blame abusers. (Yes, trans women can be abusers, the problem arises when you pin it on them being trans)

It's okay to get your information wrong. What's not okay is to be a dick about it when someone points out that it's incorrect.

"Biological women" don't exist. Woman is a gendered term. Female typically refers to a biological sex.

On that note, some of us are made dysphoric by being referred to as "biological fe/males". If you want to be more inclusive than that, use AFAB or AMAB, or something like "person with a uterus" or "people with penises".

HUMAN AND MANKIND ARE NOT GENDERED TERMS. At the time human and mankind were coined, "man" simply meant a person. Although gender neutral language never hurt anyone, most people will find it pretty weird if you use the word "peoplekind" in conversation.

Nobody is giving surgeries or HRT to minors. The most minors can do to transition is wear new clothes, change names and pronouns, and maybe get a haircut.

I'm gonna do other versions for Allistic and straight allies, so stay tuned I guess.

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

name: mb or midnight (or duchess)

pronouns: she/her

fandoms:

kotlc (active)

pjo (semi-active)

grishaverse (not active)

miraculous ladybug (semi-active)

legend of zelda/linked universe (active)

mha (semi-active)

genshin impact (active)

rottmnt (semi-active)

about me: if you can’t already tell from literally everything: i love bunnies. this isn’t relevant to anything but i feel like that’s important to know, as i do not know what to put here. (just- just send me some asks if you want to know something. i’ll get around to answering them)

tags:

mb’s two am rambling - original post tag (not posts made at two am, that used to just be the only time i made original posts)

mb’s writing - my writing tag

mb’s memes - making memes for my fics is going to become a thing real soon

mb and [name] scream about hats - ask tag

mb plays a game - you have the misfortune to hear me talk about how bad i am at playing genshin impact or loz when this wild tag appears

fics:

start from scratch (again and again):

It’ll be a good idea, he said. It’ll be fun, he said. IT’S NOT. IT IS NOT FUN (mha, class 1a is in a time loop (unfortunately for aizawa’s sanity), ignore the long title)

and we cry into the night “what did we do to deserve this?” (time loop but sad and possibly the most serious thing i’ll write for this series)

i hope that you burrrrrrrrrrrn (shouto no) (direct sequel to It’ll be a good idea)

hawks's and dabi's guide to freaking out (direct sequel to i hope that you burrrrrrrrrrrn, wip)

Wars, Wind, and Time shenanigans:

wartime stories (lu, a collection of snippets about warriors, wind, and time/mask)

War of Eras? War of pranks (warriors and wind pick their prank war back up, unaware that mask is traveling with them)

time (does not) heal all wounds (time has a nightmare, and the chain finds out how he lost his eye) 

(no) wind in the sails (wind doesn't have the hero's spirit, but angst)

what’s in a name? (wind doesnt have the hero’s spirit, but funny this time)

half assed? he doesn't even have a whole one (wind and mask mock warriors's flat ass)

pajama-napped (wind joins the chain while in his pajamas)

oneshots:

Legends Are Told (pjo, songfic about how no one remembers them)

Girl on Fire (kotlc, read at your own risk, its terrible. if you read it do not tell me i will die of embarrassment-)

Whisper in the dark (of names once known) (pjo, percy keeps getting reincarnated with his memories)

Twists (kotlc, also terrible because i wrote it in twenty minutes. i will most likely just suffer a crippling wound from embarrassment instead of dying)

is it really a crime if you don't exist? (pjo, an older percy time travels to the past and decides to cause some chaos)

we will (never) break the chain:

(unrelated loz/lu fics)

how many heroes does it take to get a cat from a tree? (the chain reminisce on some of the weirder parts of their adventures while trying to rescue a cat)

shark to the system (the colors debate how smooth sharks are)

Plink Lonk, totally not the hero (prequel/sequel to what's in a name, what Legend’s legal name is)

first of the sword (sky sees the spirits of the people of the surface)

wings of shadow, let twilight fall ((based partially on the tp manga) after losing his arm and dying, link wakes up in the spring with a pair of wings)

memes:

incorrect lu, part two, part three, part four

other miscellaneous items:

36 easy shrines to get the master sword as quick as possible (under the assumption you have the lake tower and lake hylia shrine)

recently, i was known as duchessmb (far before that, midnightbunnyy. dark times), but now, i have evolved into @/three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat 

some of my very best friends are @/sameboats @/steppingonshatteredglass @/alienlamp @/jolieharkness @/if-only-wishes-were-answered @/when-wax-wings-melt @/aroace-dadwinstan @/stardustanddaffodils @/bllaaaaarrgh @/whatcouldpossiblyg0wr0ng @/howl-at--the-sun (if you’re a mutual know that i’m probably just too much of a coward to add you to the list)

if you send me a prompt i’ll eventually get around to writing it (sorry, beau)

piece together the timeline of my lu fics and you'll get a prize (there isnt one but if you can present a convincing argument i'll accept that)

i wrote a thing about the butterfly effect and i feel like it should be acknowledged

someone called me the official record keeper once and i find that funny 

my discord (for my writing)

[starlessea]

Ultimate Guide to Writing Accents and Dialogue

I recently saw an amazing post on how to keep your characters ‘in character,’  and I wanted to make my own about writing accents, dialects, and overall just creating dialogue that suits the people you are trying to portray.

I’m a language/linguistic student, so here are a few tips I think you should consider!

1) Standard Pronunciation: 

First you need to think about where your story is set, and what is the standard dialect of the majority of your characters compared to your main character. What I mean by this is, if your story is set in the South, and all of your characters therefore have that Southern drawl, then it becomes the STANDARD, and has nothing to contrast it unless you introduce something.

If your main character (your POV) has a different accent, then make it NOTICABLY different from the standard of your story. It’s good to have accent variety, otherwise all of your characters start to sound the same.

2) Constructing your Vocabulary: 

Next, you’ll want to consider the vocabulary of your character. Ask yourself questions about them: are they educated, what was their upbringing like, do they work in a field with specific vocabulary? You can strip it back even further than that - when you think of your character how would you describe them? Could you see a badass biker using long, sophisticated diction on a regular basis? Or an old woman swearing like a sailor?

Don’t get me wrong, these are very much stereotypes, and often the most interesting characters are created by subverting your expectations. But use these questions as a springboard for your characters. If you’re writing fanfiction, and know the characters well already from a movie / tv-show, then try to IMAGINE them saying your lines to see if they are something they would actually say. 

However, also note that the register of your characters is bound to change given the situation. Obviously, someone is more likely to use heightened vocabulary in a certain setting - e.g. within a classroom - and more casual language elsewhere - e.g. in a bar. See below for such a distinction:

Formal: Yes/No

Informal: Yeah/Nah

3) Orthography, Syntax and Morphology: 

Okay, so those words might look a little scary, but don’t worry. Orthography is just a fancy way of saying spelling (specifically, the standard spelling system of a time/place and how we might see a character deviate from it), syntax is word order, and morphology is how words are formed (such as grammar, inflections etc.). I’ll give some examples of what I mean.

Orthography: I’m going to use Daryl Dixon from TWD for reference (keywords: Southern drawl, redneck, country). For Daryl, some words he says I write phonetically (according to how he says them), so that the spelling matches the phonology. E.g.:

Standard: “Take care of yourself.”

Daryl: “Take care of yerself.” 

I tend to do this alot with pronouns, such as ‘you/ya,’ ‘your/yer.’ But I also use the long, standard forms for variety and emphasis - e.g. ‘you’re right.’

Syntax and Morphology:

Often, a character will use different syntax or morphological patterns that we aren’t used to. Often, non-native speakers are portrayed using types of English we often categorise as ‘incorrect’ - but are just non-standard. You can find good examples of this within Creole literature.

For example, past-tense verbs are usually conjugated in the present-tense form:

‘we was / if I was you’ instead of ‘we were / if I were you’ 

“I go now.” 

“She gives it to me yesterday.” 

Unfortunately, a lot of these conventions are also stereotypically used to portray characters who are uneducated - think of Joe or young Pip from Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations, for example.

But, you also want to avoid STEREOTYPING your character too much, as that can come across as amateur or cliche. What I mean by this is don’t over-rely on certain patterns - don’t overuse them. It’s okay to have variety, even if its with the SAME character. Just do it in a way that fits your overall construction. You can even change these speech patterns DURING your story to represent the development of your character, or them picking up an accent, or being around different people.

4) Apostrophe and Negatives:

Apostrophe: These can be used to mark a number of things - such as abbreviations, contractions, possession etc. If your character has a certain accent, they might roll certain words into one another - not stressing specific consonants, for example. We can see this in ‘C’mon.’

Alot of abbreviations are now recognised slang words, too. For instance:

C’mon = Come on 

‘Cos = Because

Lil’ = Little

‘Ma = Mama / mother

Ol’ = Old

Think about whether certain abbreviations and slang matches the register of your character, as well as their location. For example, slang words like ‘cuppa’ (cup of tea) are usually expected in a British setting.

Also, remember that the apostrophe goes in the position of the letter/letters you are getting RID OF, which is not always necessarily in the place of the contraction. E.g:

‘Do not’ contracts to ‘donot’ which abbreviates to the standard ‘don’t.’

Going back to my Daryl Dixon example, other common abbreviations I use for him include the following:

‘Ing’ contraction - walking becomes walkin’.

 Anyone, anything - becomes ‘nyone, ‘nything

Pronoun contractions - her becomes ‘er.

Connective contractions - and becomes an’ or n’.

Other contractions don’t even need apostrophes - such as ‘gonna,’ ‘gotta,’ ‘sorta,’ ‘wanna.’

Negatives: 

Even though Standard English doesn’t use double negatives anymore, we can use them in our writing of characters as an indicator of their background or dialect. They can also be used for emphasis.

Coming back to Daryl, he tends to use a lot of double negative constructions:

“I ain’t nobody’s bitch.”

“Don’t want nothin’.”

“Ain’t go no reason to.”

If you want to get even more complex, you can have a proclitic negative (where the negative attaches itself to the verb - e.g. don’t), and contract it further so you get a multiple contraction. For example:

You (pronoun), Are (verb, form of ‘be’), Not (negative) = you ain’t = y’aint.

“Y’aint never done shit for me!”

Because this is a three way contraction, it becomes a bit confusing where to put the apostrophe - is it y’aint or y’ain’t? To be honest, it becomes mostly your choice after that (stylistic). 

5) Loanwords and Imposition:

Loanword: This is a word borrowed INTO the native language FROM another one. For example, think of an American speaker using a French word or phrase in a sentence.

“Thought we were all takin’ a laissez faire approach now?”

Think of how this changes the sentence, and the impact it is going for. French is still seen as a prestigious language, so it can be used to heighten register, or can be used to mock/patronise/be sarcastic in a certain context (as in this example).

Imposition: This is when a speaker uses a word FROM their native language in the context of a non-native language they are speaking. It has connotations of power and agency. 

For example, a French speaker might use a French term in a conversation, despite it having a perfectly good English counterpart. This might be in order to demonstrate that a character is trying to show off, or is reminding their peers of their background or status.

6) Non-verbal Indicators:

This is more on the border of style, but I thought it was worth mentioning. Sometimes, the descriptive words you use can reflect a character's dialect. An obvious example can be how ‘drawled’ is associated with a Southern accent.

Although it might sound cliche, you should think about the vocabulary you want to use in order to describe a certain accent. If we were to compare perhaps Scottish or Welsh with French, for instance, you would be able to hear the distinct sound differences. The former are more harsh, guttural, have a lot of sounds that come from the back of the throat, whilst the latter is nasal and flows more.

Use your descriptions to emphasise this. Look up synonyms that describe the WAY in which your characters are pronouncing the words. Are they guttural, harsh, gravelly, thick? Or are they soft, fluid, smooth?

Anyway, I’ve rambled enough. Good luck writing, everyone!

Disclaimer: Even though this post is long, it’s actually really basic on a linguistic level - so I hope no true linguists read this haha. These are just some personal observations, but I hope they help!

[desertofsnowflakes]

Incorrect Order Chapter 4 (Nessian AU)

A/N: I know I haven't been able to update as fast as you'd want me to but I'll try to fix that. Your comments and feedbacks are very much appreciated. Do inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: None really

1652words | Incorrect Order Masterlist | Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to do something they liked. That was the only way Cassian kept from spiraling. Since sending the woman to her own house, Cassian had more than a few moments when he wanted to repeatedly slam his head against a wall. That’s why he spent most of his time sparring with Azriel. He won’t admit he was simping for that woman in his free time too. Or maybe that was always.

Now, sprawled on a couch in front of the TV, with nothing to do but stare at a blank screen, Cassian led his thoughts to the box he kept all unwanted thoughts locked in. He thought about Tomas, her ex-boyfriend. Funny, he thought. I know her ex's name but not hers.

It took him a little too long the other day to realise they didn't exchange names. Again. He once thought that maybe she was purposely not giving him her name. That maybe, for her, he was just a random stranger who happened to save her life. He snorted. Surely anyone would know the name of the person they saved or was saved by— stranger or not. He supposed he'll have to make do with pronouns for now.

After she left his home, it took every scrap of self-restraint not to beat this Tomas dude to pulp and let him rot in the same alley he had the misfortune of meeting him in. He may or may not have been the cause for some extra injuries. Cassian appreciated the woman’s attempt at mercy. He, however, didn’t trust Tomas at all. He was dubious about just handing him over to the police. Who’s to know he won’t frame him and the woman for absurd things? Anyway, he left a note in Tomas’s house saying something like “Step out of line, lose your favourite part of anatomy. Name it and have it for your meal.” He made sure he printed so that no one would recognise his writing. Yet, all this didn’t calm his nerves one bit. He presumed he’ll have to stay on guard for some time now.

Now, back to the girl. He sighed. He didn’t dare change the sheets in his guest bedroom. He didn’t even let Mor use the room when she came over last weekend— which he could bet created suspicion. No, that room was only open when he craved her scent. He even realised one of his shirts was missing. He shrugged it off thinking he would've left it somewhere and just couldn't find it. Once she came to his house, he was constantly thinking about her. So much that now he started pinching himself often. It was the only way he could stop thinking about her— by creating physical pain.

Cassian glanced at the clock on the wall. 2.30 in the afternoon. He walked to the refrigerator and checked his freezer compartment. Huh. No ice-cream. He sighed, grabbed his jacket and keys and headed to the mall to get an ice-cream with a pout. He’ll have to leave for Rhys and Feyre’s first anniversary only around 5.30 to prepare everything. He has enough time to get an ice-cream and probably hang out for some time. Good enough to stop thinking about her. Or so he thought.

***

Nesta wasn’t sore anymore. Her headache was gone almost a week after the incident. Her nose didn’t hurt anymore. Okay, maybe a little bit. It didn’t hurt unless she bumped her nose against something. Today, her nose was dully throbbing because she hit her nose against a pillow yesterday. A very, very soft pillow and yet it hurt this much.

The man’s first-aid and medicines were really helpful.

It really wasn’t fair that he excelled at basic first aid too. It wasn’t fair that he looked so good. With black tattoos swirling over generously muscled arms and shoulder-length dark hair curling at the edges and gloriously tanned skin and hazel eyes with minute flecks of green and brown when taken a closer look at and dimples and—

A quiet “Who is it?” snapped Nesta out of her moping. She looked up to see Gwyn walking to her.

“Who is what?” she asked, feigning nonchalance. Gwyn's pursed lips and glare conveyed that her act wasn't enough.

“Who are you thinking about?” Gwyn clarified.

“What makes you think I'm thinking about someone?” Nesta retorted.

Gwyn sat on the chair next to her and started assisting with classifying the unceremonious heap of books on the table to be kept back in its correct positions on its own rack.

“Nesta,” Gwyn sighed, “Clotho assigned you this stack almost an hour ago. And you've barely finished a third of the stack. Normally, you'd finish stacks bigger than this in an hour. So there's clearly something.”

“It wasn't anyone,” Nesta mumbled.

As usual, Gwyn saw through her lie. “You were twirling your hair,” she said flatly.

Heat inched up her neck. “I was not!”

Gwyn murmured a “uh-huh” and they lapsed into an easy silence till they were almost over.

Gwyn's eyes lit up as it normally did whenever she got an idea. “Is it him? The guy you came with that day?”

Nesta scowled, “How do you know…” she broke off when she realised which 'that day' Gwyn was talking about. Nesta fought back a blush. “No, no, this isn't about him. We don't know each other. Much. Like, we've seen each other a number of times? That's it. Nothing else.” Cauldron, the first part was a complete lie. But at least the rest are true. Will Gwyn happen to know his name? Maybe I ought to ask her. Or maybe I shouldn't.

She should, she decided. She cleared her throat. “Uh, Gwyn? Do you happen to know his name?”

Gwyn frowned and asked, “He hasn't told you yet?”

Nesta shook her head and answered, “No, we, uh, forgot. I guess. We haven't really exchanged names.”

Gwyn nodded and smiled. “Well, he is—”

“Gwyn!” a voice called. “You can't expect me to come over to you and beg for you to help me. Help me only if you want to or don't work under me.”

Gwyn’s eyes widened. She abruptly stood up and mouthed, “Merrill. I gotta go. I’m so sorry.” She all but ran to Merrill, the very strict librarian Gwyn was working under.

Nesta sighed and continued her work. There wasn’t much left so she was able to finish fast. She picked her things and left the library with a word to Clotho, heading to the mall.

***

The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to also eat something they liked. So, ice-cream it was. After having his ice-cream, Cassian was aimlessly walking around the mall. Here, not more than a month ago, he met her for the first time. Almost a month ago. He huffed out a breath. The fact that he was pining for her this long blew his mind off. He—

“This is your fault— not mine. I’m not taking the blame for this,” he told her. They bumped into each other. Again.

Her lips quirked up. “It is kind of my fault. But blame this—,” she poked his chest, “— for making my nose hurt again.”

Just like that, his mood sobered. “How are you?” he asked.

She pointed at the cafe to her left. “Coffee?”

He nodded. Who was he to say no to her?

So they ordered coffee and talked about everything and nothing. He grinned and she laughed. He laughed and she smirked. He wouldn’t say he knew her well but he’d never seen her so carefree. Her laugh was like nectar for a starving man. Her eyes bright and welling up with tears from laughing.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed this much,” she said.

Cassian put a hand on his heart dramatically and said, “I know, I know. I’m very funny.”

Her lips kicked up a notch. She straightened as if she just realised something. He was about to ask when she drawled, “So I just realised that we still haven’t exchanged names.”

Oh. Right. Of course. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Usually, when people meet, they start with introductions but in our case we’ve literally bumped into each other three times and still we don’t know each other.” He shook his head and extended his hand. “Well, hello there. I’m—”

His phone rang in his pocket. Fuck. He was going to kill whoever was calling him now. He was so close to knowing her name. He pulled out his phone to see an incoming call from Azriel. He apologetically looked up at her and said, “I’m sorry. I wish I could choose not to take this call and instead kill this idiot but I can’t. Just give me a moment, okay?”

She nodded and he picked up his call.

“What do you want?” he hissed.

“It’s 5.30 already, you idiot. We’ve got to get the things ready for the party. Mor already went to get the cake and you’re not even at home. Where on all earth and hell are you?” came Az’s faint voice.

“15 minutes only? Mother above, I’m coming.” he said.

Az’s “make it fast” was the last thing he heard before hanging up. “I wish we could stay here and talk forever,” he said to her, “but I have something up in a short while and I totally didn’t realise time was passing this fast. I’m so sorry. It was nice talking to you. Really. And I wish we could meet again. Though without the bumping part.”

He grinned when she smiled and said, “Bye. Have a nice day.”

“You too,” he called back. He didn’t want to think he imagined the subtle look of disappointment on her face because hell, he was a walking epitome of disappointment right now.

taglist:

@shadowsinger07 @im-someone-i-guess @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele @heartless--aromantic @sv0430 @ddsworldofbooks @irenethaleia @sjm-things @dontgetsalmonella

[shoyouth]

Hey you’re writing is really cute and I saw your hcs for a mc with a girlfriend and I really loved it! Do you think you can do a ikevamp suitors react to a transgender mc? One who was born female but identifies as a man? Lgbqt otome fans don’t get enough love so I’d be super awesome if you could write something ❤️

Hello darling!! I’m so sorry this took me a month or so to get to, but I’m glad to be doing it now! I also had an ask for a non-binary!mc but since I feel like all the suitors would treat the two similarly, I’ll be trying my best to fit it into one/accommodate both here :) hope you enjoy, love! Please lmk if anything sounds sketchy/offensive, since I don’t have experience with this myself!

napoleon ; okay. You stare at him dumbstruck bc he’s not taken aback for a moment, he just shrugs and then asks if you want to spar. I feel like he’d treat you v similarly to issac and jean even if you are his lover, bc there’s a v specific respect and care he treats those two with, a way he looks out for them. Would never falter with your pronouns, and if anyone makes a comment he’s like?? Your point?? They’re obv a man/non-binary, idk how you’re seeing a woman. He would also never hesitate to draw out his sword if anyone dared to grow a little too bold/rude.

arthur ; handsome ol’ chap! absolutely slathers you in compliments to validate your identity and make you feel confident, you almost wonder if he likes the way calling you by your pronouns rolls off his tongue. Though he normally was into women, I don’t think he would be opposed to dating you at all, and would grow icy with others who made comments about your relationship. He’s be very vocally supportive, but his teasing compliments will take a softer, more sincere turn if you ever need him to remind you that you’re valid.

mozart ; I see him helping you fix up your appearance ngl? Like not spending a bunch like comte, but silently aiding you in how to appear/act manly/non-binary for the 1800s, such as fixing/trimming your hair into a more “fashionable” look for the times, or nonchalantly informing you that your sleeves should be a little longer. He doesn’t do this to invalidate you at all! He thinks it’s a more subtle way of helping you feel confident navigating their world in your own way. Never hesitates to inform you that you look rather dashing that evening, or to run his finger along your chin with a proud/loving gaze in his eyes.

leonardo ; he’s immortal, he’s heard many a things that haven’t been considered ‘the norm’ for the times. He just kind of nods and takes a step back to admire your face, saying that your features are beautifully androgynous/masculine. If you bind your chest, he’ll frown if you suggest using a kind of corset, and will instead get to work tinkering a more comfortable and safe binding for you to use. Always refers to you as your desires pronouns, and corrects anyone who uses incorrect ones nonchalantly. He likes that he can get away with certain things with you that normal het couples wouldn’t be able to.

vincent ; I think he’d be intrigued and easily adapt to your pronouns; he’d treat you with respect regardless. He’s probably heard of transgender/non-binary before, but I think he, like leo, would spend a lot of time admiring your face and the way you present yourself. Will constantly compliment you, but unlike arthur, it’s not to fluster you or subtly make you feel confident, but bc he keeps finding things about you to be in awe of. You’ll be a very common subject in his sketches and paintings because of the way you hold yourself.

theo ; His brows raise a bit, but they lower just as quickly and he accepts it. You almost think he doesn’t care/remember bc he always calls you a dog instead of your name/pronoun, but he instantly corrects anyone who uses the wrong one, and glares at anyone who gives you shit. If you ever get down on yourself for your appearance not matching your identity, he sternly sits you down and firmly lists everything about you he finds beautiful and fitting to what you want to be. And though it wasn’t his intention, you never fail to grow flustered bc of the little details he’s picked up on, due to the nature of his job rubbing off on his own perceptiveness.

issac ; A little flustered boy. Similar to jean, I think he’d have the right attitude but be a bit clumsy about it. He doesn’t want to offend you! Ofc being trans/a man/non-binary doesn’t matter, he just loves you, but he’s anxious and overthinks how he address you, how he acts around you. Should he not call you petnames? Are those considered feminine? Am I invalidating them by using them?? He just grows stiff and nervous and you have to remind him to breath: just use the correct pronouns and respect you, there’s not much else to it. After a while he relaxes and it comes easier, but he just doesn’t want to lose someone else he loves of his own doing.

dazai ; I will admit he’s a little hard to grasp for me, but I believe that elusiveness is a part of his character anyways lol. Nothing about how he perceives you changes. You’re still you, aren’t you? Doesn’t matter what gender you are, what name you go by, what appearance you have. Maybe his nickname for you will change, but that’s it. I feel like with him you may not even be aware of your gender/it’s impact, bc when you’re with him it doesn’t matter, so you feel light and free from having to think about/act like your identity. You’re just you.

jean ; I think he would be open-minded to it, albeit confused. If you took the time to explain to him what you identify as and what it means, he’ll accept it, not one for many questions. I personally believe he’d be awkward about it a bit?? But would never treat you wrong! I mean in the sense of those clumsy lgbtq+ supporters with the right attitude, if that makes sense lol? So unsurely asking if you’d like to spar...? Or constantly looking to you for confirmation on things you like, what you do, etc etc. Ik jean is supposed to be silent and intimidating, but I imagine him as a clumsy man whose seen too much and doesn’t know how to act bc he was robbed of a childhood, so yeah hopefully this makes sense!

comte ; he’s seen even more than leonardo bc he’s immortal and timetravels; it doesn’t phase him. Tbh he just beckons you to come shopping with him so he can find you the latest male/androgynous fashion, with charming suits and coats and hats. For binding, he’ll try his best to buy you a safe kind, or he may enlist Leonardo’s help or even go to the future to find you one—nothing is too much/expensive when it comes to you. Will always treat you right/like royalty, and remind you that you’re valid and anything you need to feel that way, he will make it so. Gets a v dangerous look in his eye if someone disrespects you.

sebastian ; he’s from the future, so nothing new. Honestly he may even be relieved?? Idk he’s just so formal and polite that I think he’d feel more relaxed with another masculine/non-binary individual from the future, bc he would be able to talk in a certain way he would feel wasn’t as “proper” with a woman, if I’m making sense? He’d have no problem refering to you as your identity, and will always find a way to make you feel comfortable/valid, even if he needs to try and sew his own version of a binder for you.

shakespeare ; okay I’m sorry for those who like shakespeare but I feel like he’d lowkey fetishize it oof. Just like how I think he’d use unrequited love of a lesbian!mc to fuel his plays, he’d think of you as interesting inspiration—at first, at least. He’d run his hand through your hair, down your lapels as he admires you, amused, and it’s only if you grew cross and forced him to see you as your identity/a person, that he may fix his unhealthy perception. After reading Vincent’s route, I’ve come to think that you really need to push against him to reach his actual feelings/past his unstable/dangerous side. Once he’s over that, he would love to cast you as male roles in his plays, bc you have even more conviction than the regular men tbh.

[vs-redemption]

HI ok if you have time can I request Goshiki Tsutomu and Kyoutani Kentarou with a trans (ftm) boyfriend headcanons? If you're uncomfortable writing it that's okay! Thanks 🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

From Cindy: Thank you for the request! I have to say I was a little nervous about this because I’ve never written for Goshiki or Kyotani before. It’s also my first time writing for a transgender reader. I did a bit of research before writing this, so hopefully it turned out all right.

⚠️If anything I’ve written is incorrect or unintentionally offensive, please kindly let me know so that I can learn from my mistake and fix it. ⚠️  

Goshiki and Kyotani with a Trans (ftm) partner -Headcanons 

Tsutomu Goshiki

Goshiki is just as zealous in relationships as he is in volleyball, and his love for you is absolute.

Knowing you’re transgender doesn’t change the way he feels about you at all, but he will take steps to make sure your experiences with him and in life are more comfortable.

Basically, he wants to be the best boyfriend he can be for you, so if there are ways for him to better support you, he will do it.

This means doing a lot of research both together and on his own.

He is more than willing to join a support group together if it seems necessary, and will look up grounding techniques to try when you are feeling uncomfortable in your body.

It is very important to him that you keep the lines of communication open so that both of you feel comfortable expressing feelings or asking questions.

He also wants to be kept involved and knowledgeable about your needs and goals.

Sit down and talk to him about what your transition process looks like. He’ll help in any way he can if you are looking into surgery or getting on testosterone.

Not only is he very conscious about the names and pronouns you prefer, he also takes care to compliment you using pet names and other adjectives that you’re comfortable with.

Let him know if he does something to make you uncomfortable and come up with alternative words or actions he can use instead.

He will feel bad when he makes mistakes, but his intentions are always to make you feel better about yourself, not worse.

It makes him happy if you include him when picking out a new wardrobe or choosing a new hairstyle if that’s something you decide to do.

His biggest goal is for you both to feel comfortable so that you can enjoy each other and the relationship freely and openly.

 Kentaro Kyoutani

You are the one who has to live in your body, and Kyoutani is a firm believer that you have the right to do what you need to in order to feel comfortable in your own skin.

He fell in love with the person you are, so whatever changes you need to make beyond that are fine by him.

Conversations on the subject might be a little one sided at first because he is really nervous about saying or doing the wrong thing.

His worst fear is accidentally making you feel offended or sad.

He a very good listener though and is very receptive to anything and everything you tell him.

Terminology, pronouns, name changes, and anything else along those lines only needs to be explained once. He will remember and adapt right away.

He’s not too bothered by surface changes to your clothes or hair. As long as you are happy with how you look, he’s content.

Physical changes from surgery or hormone therapy take him a little longer to adjust to, simply because he isn’t sure how it affects his role in the relationship.

Let him know what you want from him and be clear about the “do’s and don’ts” of your new body. He will feel a lot more confident about initiating affection.

The hardest part for both of you is probably when you’re experiencing any degree of gender dysphoria.

He can see how hard it is on you and it makes him upset to know you are hurting and having these kinds of difficulties.

Again, just letting him know what you need from him during these moments will lessen his feeling of helplessness so that he can be there for you as best as he can.

Overall, he’s going to adjust and support you as much as he can without making the fact that you’re transgender the focus point of your relationship.

[danger-xylophones]

Family Reunion (Darth Maul x Reader) Pt. 1: Wild and a Quest

I had this idea and I thought it was fucking interesting and I wanted to write it

This will be in multiple parts as I made this first installment hecka long. Maul will soon be more heavily featured but for now, I just had to establish some stuff. 

Story summary: Reader reunites with Maul for the first time in twelve years and...the ex-sith lord gets a strange surprise.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, slow start

Notes: Female pronouns, an OC child

Current read, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

.............................................................

The roar of the ship as it took off was deafening despite you being housed in the cockpit. Instinctively, you reached up to cover your ears and closed your eyes as gravity shifted. You couldn’t wait to be in the vacuum of space; at least then gravity wouldn’t even exist. A gentle pat on your forearm was enough to make you open your eyes and look to the side. To your right was Wild, an eleven-year-old zabrak-human hybrid, the last piece of evidence you had of your life before all this. He was the symbol of your union with him. Wild was your son. 

The carmine-colored, half-dathomirian, barely-tattooed boy was looking up at you with sympathetic saffron eyes, he knew of your deep-rooted hatred for liftoff. Gently, you smiled at the boy to ease his worry and offered a soft pat on his head, careful to avoid the tiny horns protruding from his skull. Wild didn’t return it and instead opted to grab your hand off of his head to hold it in his own before focusing on the viewport. You deflated at that as your heart suddenly ached. 

Wild was so much like his father that it hurt you sometimes, not only in looks though (although he was practically his carbon copy) but in personality; proud, serious, and protective with a cunning unrivaled by anyone else on the outside but a soft-spoken, gentle, curious and sometimes anxious boy inside. It was hard to remember that he was eleven sometimes-not the adult he pretended to be and not your little baby boy that used to cling to your leg all day. You just wanted him to be a little boy who was free to dream, explore, and play as he pleased but it seemed the force would not grant you your one wish. Instead, it took his father away from you before he had even got the chance to know of the remarkable gift he’d given you. You did suppose that Wild’s predisposed traits that bound him so tightly to the father he’d never known were a blessing in disguise. It had always served as reassurance that if anything ever happened to take you away from Wild, he’d be fine on his own.

...His own. It was a thought you never liked to dwell on. Wild was born at a delicate time in your life. You were 21 when you learned you were pregnant with the baby of a sith-lord and the news had been...startling to say the least. It had occurred to you one day while you were preparing to face the Trials that your cycle had been off. Deeming it odd enough to warrant a visit to the medbay, you sought out one of the healers. You’d instantly wished that you had chosen a droid instead as it was soon revealed that you were two months pregnant. You had to feign ignorance about knowing of a father at all. It had worked for a time as the issue was immediately brought before the council who were all in various states of shock. The worst reaction, you remembered, was that of your master. But, the council did not kick you out like you were certain they would have had they known of the baby’s heritage. Instead, the council believed your lie-that there was no father. Of course, they believed it. You were Ki-Adi-Mundi’s apprentice, chosen specifically by him due to your, as he phrased it, “natural and strong alignment with the light side”. You were a model padawan who would never even think of breaking the code, let alone to this extent. Your training was put on hold for the time being as the council awaited the birth of your baby, some Jedi even began to wonder if the child would be the prophesied ‘chosen one’ (though Qui-Gon, most notably, believed otherwise). It was then that you knew that your time with the Jedi was up. You formulated a plan. Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi, were being sent on a mission to Naboo to protect the queen. 

You begged your master to let you go with them as you had been cooped up in the temple for a whole month after the pregnancy announcement. Your master obliged, certain that no harm would come to you on the mission, and you were swift to join the grey Jedi and his stuck-up padawan. Your plan from there was to land on Naboo’s surface and disappear for a bit to get the Jedi off your back and to get in contact with him again. But, of course, that all went downhill and...you had seen your love be cut down by your fellow padawan. He wasn’t supposed to be there to your knowledge and now he was dead and you were still carrying his baby. Obi-Wan was swift to pick up on your anguish and even swifter to alert the council of your lies and treachery against the Order. You were ejected from the order and locked away in the temple prison to await the birth of your baby whereupon the Jedi would tear him away from you indefinitely. It would have been a fate worse than death for you. That is, had you not escaped and faked your death to get the Jedi off your back. 

Wild came soon after, being borne to a disgraced and presumed dead mother and a most definitely dead sith-lord father. Yet, you had done your very best to love him in every possible way as he had no other family besides you. 

It seemed that this was something your son was acutely aware of too as the young boy was fiercely protective of you just as you were protective of him. Case in point: the only other person in the room that could pose a threat-Wild’s own uncle, Saváge Opress. 

The seven-foot walking mountain of a zabrak had found you and your son on Tatooine whilst during one of your rare visits to the desert world. Your first meeting wasn’t pleasant. 

“You, woman, what is your name?” The low bass voice sounding from behind you would have been enough to make you run if not for the fact that your son was still in the store you had just left. Slowly, you moved your hand to one of your sabers concealed within the confines of your cloak before turning around. 

“Give me your name, dathomirian,” You spat at the goldenrod zabrak despite the fact he towered over you and could probably crush your skull with one hand, “and maybe I will give you mine.” 

He snarled, clearly displeased with the response but relented. “My name is Savage Opress.” 

You analyzed him for a moment, eyes raking up and down his form. He was big and strong and going by the saber hilt hooked on his belt, trained in the force. Was he a Jedi? Was he a sith? Had he been sent here to kill you? He was in for a surprise if he had. “Why are you speaking to me, Opress?” 

“You told me you would give me your name.” Savage growled, large hand landing on his saber. 

“No, I said that maybe I would.” You removed your lightsaber from your belt but ensured you kept it hidden from view. 

“I don’t have time for your games, woman.” 

“That makes two of us, good day, sir.” You hissed and turned to walk away, intent on looping around and meeting up with Wild to get off this miserable planet. However, that wouldn’t happen right now as your ears soon met with the distinctive sound of a lightsaber igniting. With an agitated sigh, you whipped out your own weapon and spun around just in time to meet your attacker; green blade clashing with red. Sith. Most likely his master’s new apprentice.

Savage was strong, physically, but you could feel that he was weaker in the force than you. That would be your only hope; let the force guide you while he relies on his own physical prowess. You met the male zabrak strike for strike, each one threatening to knock you off your feet with the force Savage fought with. The fight was grueling and you could feel the rustiness in each spin and block-you only ever used your lightsaber when training your son-and as it went on, one thought became abundantly clear; you weren’t going to win like this. You had to figure out a way to make the mountain stand still. Thinking on your feet, you fell back before taking a running start at Savage. You feinted to the right and used the wall to boost yourself over the behemoth of a man, twirling as you went until you landed behind him and shot a well-aimed kick to the back of one of his knees. The move was meant to bring Savage down to your level so you could cut his head off but when the blow landed, nothing happened. Startled, you froze which would prove fatal. 

Savage spun around and grabbed your ankle in one hand before roughly swinging you into the wall. The air was driven from your lungs as you felt your back connect with the sandstone of the building behind you. Savage released you, allowing you to crumple to the ground as you fought to breathe. You were granted little reprieve though as soon Savage was stooping down and roughly lifting you by your neck in one fist. Your feet kicked lamely at your attacker in your struggle for survival as your nails clawed at the back of Savage’s hand. 

“I’ll ask one more time, what is your name?” Savage growled low in his throat and tightened his grip. 

“Will you let me live?” You coughed out, looking Savage dead in the eyes which briefly reminded you of your son’s. Your son. You had to stay alive for him. 

“Maybe, if you are who I am looking for.” 

It seemed that that was as good a chance as any.

“Y/n, my name’s Y/n.” Savage’s necklace suddenly glowed an eerie blue and you were prompted to ask your next question. “Wha-What do you want with me?” 

“I’m looking for someone-my brother. I was told that you knew him, jedi.” 

Electing to ignore the incorrect title, you continued to talk. Maybe, if you lowered his guard, you could still make it out of this alive. “I know a lot of people but not a lot of them are zabraks.” Savage’s eye ridge quirked up in questioning. “But...if it’s who I think you’re looking for-he’s dead. Killed by Obi-Wan on Naboo twelve years ago.” 

“That’s what I was told too-but I have cause to believe he is still alive and I was told that you would be the one to help me find him.” 

No...impossible. “You’re....you’re a liar!” You screamed at the zabrak. “I watched him die! He’s dead-he won’t come back-he can’t come back no matter how much I-” 

“Mom?!”  A familiar pre-pubescent yet soft voice cut you off. Immediately your attention, as well as Savage’s, were on Wild who stood at the mouth of the alley with saffron eyes that blazed like molten lava. He had never looked more like his father than in that moment.

Savage looked at you, confusion and something else (regret maybe?) all over his goldenrod face. “Mo-?”

“Wild, run!” You cut Savage off and gathered enough strength to curl in on yourself and strike Savage in the face with both feet. The zabrak released you at once and you fell to the ground unceremoniously before summoning your lightsaber to you. Not wasting time, you ignited it and dove at Savage, ready to make him pay for his filthy lies. Savage was quick, though, and managed to block your blow with his own sword. However, what neither of you expected was for a second contender to join the match in the form of Savage’s nephew and your son wielding your old blue lightsaber. “Wild, I told you to run!”

“You also told me to never run from a fight!” The little boy shot back, pressing down with all the strength he had. Stubbornness. That was another trait inherited from his father and enhanced by your own strong will. With a roar, Savage launched both of you back, sending you to the ground and your son flying. You watched as his little body collided with the same wall you had been smacked against minutes ago and nearly lost it. Channeling all your anger, you reared on Savage and pushed him back with the strongest force push you could muster before immediately running over to your son. He had sat up and was clutching at the back of his head where you noticed a small cut. You were going to kill Savage; brother-in-law or not. 

“Wild, when I tell you to ‘run’, think of it as a tactical retreat. And for the record, I told you to know when to run from a fight.” You reprimanded quickly as you picked your son up and ushered him behind you. The two of you began to back away as Savage struggled to his feet. The two of you were almost to the entrance of the alley when the zabrak got a hold of his senses. 

“Y/n, wait, please.” Savage began, sheathing his lightsaber and holding out a hand to you in surrender. His yellow eyes flickered between your son and yourself, guilt prominent in his features. You found yourself pausing. “I know you do not believe me-”

“No, I don’t and frankly, you have given me no reason to. If...if Maul was alive, I would have found him.” You spat in anger at the arrogance of this zabrak. Did he think that you hadn’t searched? Did he think that you hadn’t cared for him? Did he not see the disproof standing behind you? 

“But you did not have the magicks of Mother Talzin.” Savage’s voice was soft now as he tapped the talisman around his neck. 

You were struck silent at that. He was of course correct-you hadn’t had the aid of his people. With a heavy sigh, you rose out of your defensive position and sheathed your lightsaber, much to the surprise of the two males. “Wild.” Your voice was soft, caring, and you could feel your progeny’s confusion as if it was your own. “Take everything to the ship. I’ll be there in a minute.” Wild hesitated for a moment and you expected to get some attitude later but for now, he just softly handed your second lightsaber to you and stalked off after sending a final glare at Savage. 

“Alright, you have my attention, Savage. What do you need?” You asked in a steely voice. 

“Everything you knew about my brother.” 

From there, the three of you had begun your search. Savage had explained his story and you had explained yours (he was almost overjoyed to know that he had a nephew). However, you both agreed that, for now, you wouldn’t tell Wild who Maul actually was in relation to him. This meant that Wild didn’t know that Savage was his uncle which led to the current distrust you were witnessing now. You hated not telling Wild but you didn’t want to give him hope that his father was alive to then rip it away from him when Savage’s wild goose chase proved to be just that. Now, you were riding in a cargo ship on your way to the trash planet, Lotho Minor.

You had landed a few minutes ago after Savage took control of the ship and were now faced with a dilemma. Did you go with Savage or stay in the ship with your son?

“Wild,” Savage’s booming voice called the young boy’s attention to him, however resentfully, “Stay with the ship. Your mother and I will explore.” 

“No.” Wild snapped immediately with a glare as his hand tightened around your own till his sharp nails started to dig into your skin. You sighed softly and turned to your son. 

“Wild, I’ll be fine. Savage won’t hurt me. Protect the ship, sweetheart, we’ll be right back.” You placed a soothing hand on the side of his face. His little red face grew more grave. He didn’t trust Savage, plain and simple. You wrinkled your nose at him before placing a peck on his forehead and pulling him into a smothering hug. “You worry too much, little man.” The boy protested at the display and loosely pushed you away but you had done your job as Wild seemed much more on board with the idea. “We’ll be right back. Don’t let anyone else on board, got it?” 

Wild sighed with an eye roll. “Yes, mother.” His tone was annoyed but, having raised the boy, you knew he was only exaggerating his feelings. You placed yet another peck on your son’s forehead and gently pinched his carmine cheek before striding over to Savage who had watched the whole interaction. Neither of you spoke until you were outside. 

“You’re good with him.” Savage piped up suddenly, his low bass a welcomed contrast to the wind whipping through the heaps of garbage. 

You were taken aback. For all the times Wild had been brought up in conversation with the older zabrak, your skill in parenting was never mentioned let alone complimented. “I should hope that I would be,” you began, uncertain where you were going with this, “I am his mother.” 

Savage made a funny noise in the back of his throat that prompted you to look up at him. “I-I just meant that…you’re...different than the nightsisters. They...they didn’t care if they had a boy.” Ah, the nightsisters. The infamous clan of witches that had bought and traded your unofficial husband long ago and continued to do with Savage. You prompted Savage to elaborate as you two began to walk. “They cared if they had a girl as she would stay with their clan but...if it was a boy, he was sent to us to be subjected to the same fate as so many men before us.” Savage’s eyes were clouded in thought as he relieved what was probably some awful memory. “It’s strange to see a boy be cared for is all.” 

“Dathomir sounds...awful. I can’t imagine what you went through, Savage.” You dared to lay a hand on his forearm, making the zabrak halt in his tracks. “But...but if Maul isn’t...but if Maul isn’t here to be found, you could have a place with us.” You smiled gently. “You are family, Savage. I see it and I’m sure Wild will see it as well.” 

Savage’s other hand came up to rest on the hand on his arm. There was a genuine smile on his face, for once. “Thank you, Y/n.” With a dip of your head, you resumed your walk. “Y/n?” Only to be stopped by the questioning lilt in Savage’s voice. “I never asked, how did you and Maul ever meet?” 

A wistful smile dared to dash across your face as your mind’s eye immediately conjured up the image of the stunning ruby red zabrak you’d come to love so dearly. “That, my dear brother, is quite the story...”

....………………………………

Next ->

[knifefather]

KnifeFather’s Kinktober 2020, 18+ NSFW ➼ Day 17: Gun play or bukkake ➼ Pairing: Guido Mista/Reader ➼ Word count: 1.9k ➼ Reader is AFAB and gender neutral pronouns are used. ➼ Also available on Ao3. ➼ Warning: The content below involves impromptu gunplay. If lack of talk/preparation bothers you, I would proceed with caution when reading this fic.

This is my rifle, this is my gun...

*Author’s note: Disclaimer. I know a little bit about firearms, but I do not have extended knowledge on them, so I apologize if I get any terminology incorrect. Also for the clean freaks out there--yes Mista cleaned it before he got home, you can relax. In this fic, everyone lives and Giorno is the don.

Today was one of those days. It was the kind of day where Mista had dealt with enough shit in 8 hours to last him a whole lifetime. As Don Giovanna's personal bodyguard, sometimes the job got a little boring. Some days he would be sitting around with the don surrounded by a bunch of big-wigs he didn’t know, gazing at his fingernails to pass the time. Other days, though, he would be getting shot at every couple of minutes, not giving the Pistols so much as a pause to have lunch. It was one of the latter days for Mista, and he looked forward to relaxing at the end of the day with you. He was agitated, sure, but you always did wonders to help him feel better. You made the work he did easier, and his life much less complicated.

You greeted him as usual when he came home. You smiled your special, honeyed smile and practically dove into his arms. He accepted you gratefully, breathing the soft scent of your hair in deeply as he buried his face into the crown of your head. You had had a busy day yourself, and you shared the same kind of relief in seeing Mista. While your head was buried in his chest, you gave him a little sniff before pulling away. “You smell like gunpowder,” you observed, giving him a look. “I always smell like gunpowder, babe,” he responded sassily, giving you a kiss on the top of the head. “Is everyone okay? Nobody got hurt today, right?” you followed up, narrowing your eyes. You had gotten pretty close to the rest of Mista’s friends, and you always concerned yourself with their well-being. In response, Mista waved his hand dismissively. “Everyone is fine, I promise,” he confirmed. An expression crossed your face that he couldn’t quite place, but gave him another kiss before he could think too hard about it. He chuckled against your lips, holding you by the waist. Already, he felt himself destressing. Mista let himself melt into your body, the both of you sliding your hands over each other. You moved yours up his tan back, cradling all the tense muscles and stress knots that resided there. He moved his hands down to your hips, feeling them appreciatively. Cheekily, he grabbed your ass as you kissed, causing you to squeal against his lips.

“M-Mista,” you said playfully, feigning anger.

“You know I can’t resist you,” he said before diving back to kiss you more, instead kissing up and down your neck now. He cupped your ass now with more gusto, dipping his fingers between your thighs as a way to tease you. You moaned and pushed your hands up his crop top in response. You raked your fingernails down his back, leaving thin red lines on his skin, giving it right back to him. The gunslinger shivered under your touch and gave a low, flirtatious sound in the back of his throat before running his hands up your back and to your hair. He loosely gripped your locks and pulled you away from his face.  Mista’s warm, deep brown eyes were darker while he looked you over with a little smirk on his face. “Babe?”

“Yeah?” you responded breathlessly, your expression dreamy as you gazed at him You were acutely aware of the hardness in front of his pants pressing against you, but you weren’t sure if that was him or his gun.

“Are you up for something a little different?” he asked you. You cocked your eyebrow at him and tilted your head in thought.

“What do you have in mind?”

Mista narrowed his eyes to his waistline. Carefully, he pulled out his signature purple revolver from the front of his trousers, and your eyes widened when he brought it to your face, but not pointed at you. Fear already burrowed itself in your stomach, but you couldn’t deny the arousal partnered with it, too. You always thought Mista’s ability with a gun was quite impressive. You had never seen anyone handle a firearm better.

“What do you say?” he asked lowly, watching you with uncertainty. “I’ll be careful.”

“There’s no safety lock on that,” you observed, biting your lip. That fact turned to a tingly, electric pleasure before traveling down below, making your sex throb in between your legs. Mista stayed quiet and made a face that confirmed that, yes, there was indeed no safety on the revolver, and that you would just have to trust him if you wanted to engage in that kind of play. Slowly, you grabbed his wrist as he held out the gun, making him point the tool of destruction right at you. The involuntary tremble in your legs from being face-to-face with the barrel of a gun made the slow, teasing drag of your tongue against the weapon all the more erotic. Mista let out a shaky breath as you did so, your gazes locking. “Baby… I’m going to ruin you,” he promised, his eyes still trained on you. You pulled away a bit and gave him a teasing smirk. “In here or in the bedroom?” you asked coyly.

“I fucking love you,” Mista proclaimed enthusiastically. How did he get so lucky? “In here. Show me a little more how you use that mouth of yours.”

You sucked in a breath but nodded in response. Usually, you thought of him as someone that was sweet and goofy, but in moments like these, he was more serious and sexy. It was the best of both worlds, and you felt just as lucky as he did. He led you over to the sofa, where he took a seat and guided you between his legs. You felt a bit nervous but reminded yourself of Mista's abilities. He would never hurt you, ever, and that made you feel more at ease. Again, he pointed the gun to your face, and you felt the same tremble wrack your whole body as you did before.

“Go on, it won’t bite,” the gunslinger said, chuckling at his own joke. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but did as he encouraged. You picked up from where you left off, giving kitten licks to the cold metal as you looked up at Mista. It began slow and sensual, hinting at the promise of something more. You showed him, sucking on the end of the revolver like you would suck on his cock. His olive-toned face burned with a blush but the way he gazed at you was sure and study.

“Shit,” is all he could come up with as he watched you suck on it, your saliva beginning to soak the weapon. His cock strained against his red and black patterned pants obviously, but you ignored it in favor of fellating his gun instead. “Don’t tease,” he whined, pulling your head away from it.

Before you could give him a witty comeback, he was already setting his revolver to the side and pulling you up onto the couch by your armpits. You let him guide you into his arms, your back to his chest. He gave an eager little growl in the back of his throat as he began to strip you of your pants, his calloused hands moving across you with purpose. After a moment, your bottoms were lost on the floor, and he was trailing the rough pads of his fingertips over the delicate fabric of your underwear. You shivered in his grasp, pushing yourself back against him in a way to encourage him to touch more.

Mista obliged you, pushing your panties aside to rub along your sensitive slit. He gave a little huff under his breath that could be taken for laughter as he felt your slick coat his fingers. He skillfully trailed up your lips before dipping in further to rub your clitoris in small, tantalizing circles. You moaned and reached back to rip his beanie off as he teased you. His messy, dark curls spilled from under the accessory and they tickled your neck pleasantly as he dipped his head down to kiss it. He fingered your sensitive bud until he felt your legs twitch against his. Mista reached over for the revolver, holding it with care.

He pressed the muzzle of the firearm to your cunt gently, as a question. You wordlessly responded by shoving your hips against the tip, and the gangster took the hint. Slowly, he pressed the tip of the weapon into your entrance. The riskiness of the action made you clench around it. You gushed more slick against it, and Mista began to thrust it gently in and out of you with cautious movements of his hand. You were spilling sounds of pleasure, unable to keep your fearful but aroused whimpers held back.

“You like it okay, amore?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, barely audible over the wet sounds of his gun penetrating you. Your brain took a minute to catch up with what you heard, but you mewled softly before responding.

“Y-Yes, please don’t stop… I’m close,” you warned, bucking your hips against the revolver, Mista still twisting it inside you.

“Oh?”

You heard a clicking sound below you.

You whined, high and needy, before narrowing your eyes. Mista’s thumb was on the hammer, alluding to him cocking the gun inside you. You came instantly, powerful but short, grabbing Mista’s arm for support. He let out an amused, wolfish sound before carefully pulling the muzzle out of your sopping entrance. You reluctantly released it, your cunt fluttering around nothing as it became empty.

Once again, Mista moved the weapon out of the way and rolled you off his lap and onto the couch. He pinned you beneath him with his hips, his arms planted on either side of you. He gave you a nice, hard look while you were under him; your cheeks were adorably pink, your pupils blown from lust, and your legs were already parting below you. His warm, dark gaze consumed you, and he leaned down to give you a passionate, open-mouthed kiss. The heat rolling off of him was almost unbearable, but the hot feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on you was making you feel like you were ascending.

“I love you,” he mumbled before leaning back to pull off his shirt. He made a show of it for you, running his hand down his chiseled stomach and back up to the hem of his shirt. Mista watched you stare at him, and he gave a little flex of his muscles. This time, you did roll your eyes at him, but you followed it up with a smile. His pants and shoes were next. After he kicked off his boots, he sensually dragged down his outrageously patterned bottoms off his waist. You openly ogled at him when his member bobbed out of his pants. You weren’t surprised to see he went commando. That’s Guido for you.

“Yeah, you like that?” he said, turning himself to the side so you could see just how girthy his member was. You promptly told him to shut up and get inside you, and he chuckled before pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance. The gunslinger moaned at the feeling of your warmth engulfing him. Stretching you out with the revolver made incredibly wet, your hole ready and open for him. As he began fucking into you, he noted to use more in the future, his bad day completely forgotten about.

[safebubblebycyg]

trans! sirius and nonbinary! regulus because screw jkr:

☆ they definitely both have pins with their pronouns on them

☆ regulus didnt come out to their parents but sirius did

☆ "i mean, they already hate me, im not all too worried"

☆ reg helped sirius pick his name

☆ sirius tells people he's named after a star because he is one

☆ regulus constantly has to deal with professors telling them that they/them is plural and that its incorrect

☆ regulus often threatens people who deadname sirius

☆ sirius does the same, except...its not really threats...more actions.....

☆ "DID YOU JUST CALL MY LITTLE SIBLING A BOY? MY PRECIOUS NONBINARY SIBLING? JAMES, HELP ME HEX A LAD REAL QUICK"

☆ sirius has had his fair share of detentions for that reason

☆ regulus has hexed a couple kids, but doesnt really get caught

☆ james calls regulus "baby black" instead of his previous "baby bro black" after regulus came out

☆ james being an absolute simp for reg

☆ "good godric, if anymore drool comes out of your mouth while staring at reg, youll have an entire ocean on your desk"

☆ james asked them out in his 6th year

☆ sirius lost a fat bet to remus, banking on regulus working up the guts to fess up to james first

☆ regulus couldnt figure out for the life of them why sirius wasnt talking to them or remus, but would gladly talk to james

☆ sirius did help regulus win a bet though

☆ you see...the black's are all bottom bitch babies™

☆ so regulus bet james 20 galleons (yEs 20 whole galleons), that remus would ask out sirius first

☆ because the two were madly in love with each other, despite the things that made them a little different

☆ and you bet your biscuits that remus asked first

☆ james was so pissed, he didnt talk to sirius for a month and refused to kiss regulus for that same month

☆ sirius ran away after fifth year, leaving baby reg at home, which he hated

☆ "dear sirius, YOU ABSOLUTE BITCH, COME BACK, IF I HEAR THE WORD HE USED FOR ME ONE MORE TIME IM GOING TO ASK KREACHER TO BRING ME POISON"

☆ in regulus' fifth year (sirius' seventh), they spent every holiday, even the summer!, with the potters

☆ they could have cried

☆ "JAMES CAN WE GET MARRIED RIGHT NOW SO YOUR MOM CAN BE MY MOM AND CALL ME BY MY PRONOUNS ALL THE TIME AND I NEVER HAVE TO LEAVE"

☆ at one point, sirius asked regulus to actually not go home

☆ "you're so much happier here, please reg"

☆ regulus denied, knowing their parents would go bonkers

☆ BUT BOY, WAS THAT CHRISTMAS A BLAST

☆ regulus and sirius had both accidentally gotten each other the same gift, a sweater that said "gender? we dont know her"

☆ james almost peed himself when the two opened their gifts at the same time

☆ remus had to resist the urge to make them take a picture together

☆ james gave sirius a binder and he cried, and he gave regulus a locket that said "i am valid", they cried too

☆ remus gave sirius a leather jacket that had the words "trans and you can catch these hands painted on the back" to which sirius let out a high pitched squeal, and then gave regulus a pair of vans that was in the same colours of the nonbinary flag, reg started crying when they put them on

☆ james' parents got the four boys pride flags: james got a pan flag, sirius got a trans flag, regulus got a nonbinary flag, and remus got a bi flag

☆ NONE OF THEM CAN DENY THE TEARS ON THIS ONE

☆ and regulus and sirius were just some happy kids with boyfriends can you really be mad?

☆ oh, and professor mcgonagall was their #1 supporter, she gifted the brothers each with a custom 'coupon'; sirius had a get out of detention free card and regulus got a get out of being late to class because i was 'busy' free card

SORRY IF THIS WAS CHAOTIC BUT LIKE- I HAVENT SLEPT AND I THOUGHT IT WAS KINDA CUTE, OKAY THATS ALL BYE

[anxious-logic]

Expectations

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 21: Pick your favorites (1 or more) and combine them! 

Ship: LAMP (Roman/Patton/Logan/Virgil)

Roman’s first words to all of them, Logan’s first touch on all of them, all of their eyes match Patton’s hair, compass pointing to Virgil. 

Warnings: Virgil panics a little, I think that’s it.

Word count: 1563

Summary: Roman, Patton, Virgil, and Logan have an... interesting first class of tenth grade.

Roman traced the handprint clutched around his right forearm. He’d had it since he was fifteen; marks could appear anytime after the age of twelve. One day he’d woken up to a handprint on his right forearm, a compass in his left palm, and yellow eyes with flecks of light blue. Apparently, he had three soulmates; of course, it was a possibility that he had another indicator that he wasn’t aware of, but it was unlikely. There weren’t many soulbonds with more than three or four people, so his current estimate of three soulmates seemed accurate.

He quickly threw on a jacket, grabbing his backpack from where it was sitting by the foot of his bed.

He had a good feeling about today.

***

Virgil tugged his hoodie sleeves down over his arms, hiding his soulmarks. He had two marks on his arms: a blob of black on his left upper arm – probably someone bumping into him or brushing past him (just his luck to have one of the easiest-to-miss soulmarks) – and a phrase with the words “well good morning, hot topic” on the inside of his right upper arm. Not great placement, but at least it was relatively easy to hide.

As he looked in the mirror to apply his makeup, he wrinkled his nose at his eyes. They had a base of yellow, but the flecks in them had changed over the years – light blue, pastel pink, even a red at one point. It clashed with his aesthetic, but he supposed that for a soulmark, it wasn’t too bad. Much better than losing a whole color or sense.

He took a deep breath as he glanced in the mirror, fixing his hair one last time. He could make it through the day. Maybe it’d even be a good one.

***

Patton stuck his tongue out a tiny bit as he applied the last bit of eyeliner. He didn’t usually wear this much makeup, but sometimes he just wanted to feel pretty. He tried to match his makeup to his hair if he’d just re-dyed it (which he had), so he had on a more natural look to match the brown streaks in his hair.

He was starting at a new school today, so he was just hoping he’d do well. He brushed his fingers over his soulmarks – a compass in his left palm, a black handprint on his left shoulder, and the phrase “you must be Patton. I’m Roman.” On his right side. He was one of the lucky ones, who had his soulmate’s name written on him. He knew the other two people were still a little iffy, but at least he knew one name, right?

Normally, he’d be nervous to be starting at a new school. But for some reason, today… today he wasn’t. And he was thinking that was a good thing.

***

Logan frowned as he glanced at himself in the mirror. It appeared that one of his soulmates had dyed their hair – his eyes were now scattered with brown flecks, instead of a faded green.

He gently brushed his hands over his other two soulmarks – a compass in the palm of his left hand, and a phrase on his right ankle. “Hey, nerd. Any thoughts for this?” It was a relatively benign soulphrase – no swearing or names, nothing that would particularly single Logan out. At the same time, though, it was unique enough that it was unlikely that anyone except his soulmate would say the words directly to him.

Today felt… different, for some reason. A good different. He was interested in seeing how it would turn out.

***

“You’ll be in small groups to get to know each other,” the teacher said. “I’ve predetermined your groups already. You get to think up an activity to know each other – maybe it’s a memory game, maybe it’s just talking to each other, maybe it’s Never Have I Ever. I don’t really care – I just want you to talk to each other and maybe make new friends.” The room groaned, and the teacher rolled her eyes teasingly. “I know, I know, friends, yuck, you’re tenth graders, you already have your cliques.” There was a pause, then the teacher grinned wickedly. “But I don’t care, you’re going to deal with it. Groups and where you should meet in the classroom are on the next slide, ready?” There was a general mumble of agreement from the classroom. “Great. Three, two, one, go.”

Roman looked at the slide to see that three other people would be meeting with him in the corner of the classroom by the bookshelf. He didn’t know any of the other people in his group; as he saw three other people coming to his corner of the room, he vaguely recognized two of them. One, who was wearing incredibly perfect eye makeup, was someone he wasn’t familiar with at all.

“Hi,” the first one muttered as they arrived in the corner. They were wearing all-black, with emo eyeshadow and bangs covering their eyes.

“Well good morning, hot topic,” Roman said jokingly. The other person jerked their head up, their eyes meeting his. They looked… shocked at something.

“Hello,” a new voice interrupted, brushing past the emo. The person in black froze, their hand coming up to their upper arm.

“Hey, nerd. Any ideas for this?”

The nerd’s hand shot out to Roman’s forearm – right over Roman’s soulmark. As their eyes met, Roman realized that they looked exactly the same as his – yellow, with brown flecks throughout.

“Hey, everyone, what’s going on?” another voice introduced. Roman and the other two turned toward the last voice, the nerd withdrawing their hand. It was the person wearing makeup. Their hair was a bright blonde, almost yellow, with brown streaks-

Wait.

Roman glanced down at his palm. Yes, the needle of the compass was pointing straight at the emo.

“I think we need to have some introductions,” he said. His voice only shook a little bit.

“My name’s Virgil,” the emo introduced. “He/him pronouns.”

The nerd nodded. “Logan. He/him.”

Roman jumped in, facing the last person. “You must be Patton. I’m Roman.”

The other’s eyes widened. “Oh, my goodness. Yes, my name’s Patton, he/him pronouns. Um-” He glanced down to his palm, letting out a little gasp as he looked up to Virgil, who was looking very pale.

Logan turned to him. “Are you… feeling adequate?” he asked. The question only seemed to make Virgil feel worse, as he started to breathe very quickly. Patton started forward, but Logan put a hand to his shoulder to stop him. “Give him a bit,” he said. “Virgil, can I touch you?” The hoodie-clad boy nodded frantically. “Okay,” Logan said, gently taking his hand and placing it to his own chest. “Can you breathe with me?”

There was a pause of a few minutes as Logan brought Virgil back down.

“Thank you,” he muttered quietly.

“Of course,” Logan said, gently sitting back in his own chair and disconnecting him and Virgil. “It seemed appropriate, considering we are soulmates.”

Patton sucked in a breath. “All of us?”

Logan smiled slightly. “Well, all of our eyes match your hair. Roman’s first words to me are tattooed on my arm, and I have a compass on my palm pointing straight at Virgil.”

Virgil nodded, slouching into his chair. “Yeah. What Roman said to me is on me too. And where Logan touched me first is there too.”

Roman sat forward, trying not to be too intense. “Yes. I also have Logan’s first touch, we already established that my eyes match Patton’s hair, and I too have the compass pointing to Virgil.”

Patton’s cheeks turned red. “Oh, gee, so all of the colors I’ve dyed my hair changed your eyes? I’m sorry, I didn’t know about that-”

“Don’t apologize,” Virgil cut him off. “We’ve gotten used to it, and we’re not going to tell you to stop doing something that you obviously like to do.”

“Your makeup is incredible, by the way,” Roman interjected. “Speaking of things that you like to do.”

Patton giggled, his hands coming up to fan his face. “You are just too sweet, thank you so much. I just like to look pretty sometimes.”

Logan gave a small smile. “I understand the sentiment.”

Roman turned to Logan, surprised. “Really?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “What, you think that just because he looks like a stereotypical nerd he can’t like makeup and looking pretty sometimes?”

Roman shook his head quickly. “No, I just- I- well.” He paused, pursing his lips. “I suppose my first impressions were based off of an incorrect stereotype. I… apologize.”

Logan shook his head, a small half-smile on his face. “No harm done,” he said.

They were interrupted by the teacher calling time.

“I want one person from each group to say one thing they learned about each of their groupmates,” she said. “Let’s start with the group with Patton, Roman, Logan, and Virgil?”

Roman grinned happily. “We’re soulmates,” he said. The class went silent.

“Congratulations,” the teacher said, her voice surprised. “Um… Any other groups want to volunteer?”

Nobody said anything.

“You know, that wasn’t really a suggestion,” the teacher said. “How about Maisie, from the group by the window?”

Roman tuned out what everyone else was saying, staring at his soulmates.

He knew that today would be a good day.

[pan-inc]

SDR2 Boys +Chiaki Figuring Out Their S/O Is FtM

  Blank (Aka Mod Rantaro) was working on part SDR2 and DRV3 of the boys when they have a crush on you, but she dislocated her wrist part way of writing them and insisted she finish them herself, so I decided to do some work and write this with some ideas from Blank since I’m not too good at making ideas ;;

  I don’t think I was too specific on whether or not they’re FtM or MtF, so go ahead and change the pronouns if you need!

  (I myself am not transgender and don’t know anyone who is, so I’m very sorry if I get some incorrect information on you guys)   Non-Despair AU

  Y/N- Your Name   D/N- Dead Name

-Mod Chihiro

Spoilers under the cut

  (Warning, there is a tiny bit of dead naming in this but not in a ‘them trying to be transphobic or rude’  way, just them not knowing your actual name yet.)

Hajime Hinata

  Not even gonna hide it, I headcannon Hajime as FtM as well, so let’s just go with he hasn’t told you about how he’s trans either.

  “YOU’RE TRANS?! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME BEFORE WE EVEN STARTED DATING D/N?!”

  Him calling you by your now dead name made you flinch slightly, “I-Im sorry! I knew that you would be grossed out and stuff, so I-”

  “Grossed out? Why the hell would I be grossed out by you being trans?”

  “Y-You just got mad... Mad at me? And... A-And......” You are very confused, his mood switch from yelling to being concerned was a bit too much to deal with over the heart-pounding anxiety of coming out to him.

  Your anxiety dies down a little and confusion rises through the roof once Hajime hugs you as tightly as he can, “I wasn’t mad at you being who you really are, I was just... A little upset that you didn’t trust me with this information earlier in our relationship, but I guess I have no room to talk.”

  You hug him back while not processing the last part of his explanation, snuggling your face into his neck instead. “I also have something to tell you.” “Hm?”

  “I’m also trans,,,,”

  So after you two coming out to each other he takes a little bit to get used to your new name, and he promises to himself that he’ll buy you literally anything you need from The Store™ to feel comfortable once he gets a hang of your name.

  If you feel ~dysphoria~ before then, he will not hesitate to let you borrow some of his baggier clothes and possibly even a binder if your body hates you enough.

Nagito Komeada

  You wanted to talk to him about your transition, but he just started rambling on and on about hope. You were getting a little upset (so was Hajime, but a lot more than just a little upset.) but your anxiety about him not accepting you forced you to stay quiet and just let him ramble.

  “God Nagito, if you’re not going to shut up for me at least do it to hear what D/N has to say.” Hajime snaps, shutting up Nagito.

  “Y/N...” You whisper softly in an attempt to correct Hajime, but he doesn’t hear.

  “Okay, what do you need D/N?” He seems slightly upset that Hajime interrupted his preaching, but lightened up when he started talking to you.

  “Please call me Y/N!” You accidentally shout, quickly covering your mouth, “Sorry for yelling...”

  Hajime, despite not knowing how to spell without help, clicked it in his brain what you were trying to say to Nagito, so he quickly excused himself and walks away.

  “I’m sorry Y/N, what do you need?”

  “I, uhm... You’re bisexual right? So, that means my transition won’t be too hard on you right?”

  Nagito tilts his head to the side, but then quickly picks you up and hugs you.

  “My wonderful Y/N is so amazing, don’t be filled with so much despair just because you want to come out to me!”

  Honestly, what else would you expect. He’s insanely supportive of your transition and thinks of you as an even more special hope that he isn’t deserving of. 

  You might have to reassure him a bit more than you usually did, but it’s 100% worth it in the end.

  Will totally lend you his jacket.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

  To be honest, you came out to Peko before getting anywhere close to coming out to Fuyuhiko. You knew he loved you with all of his heart, but you were worried about if that would change if you transitioned.

  Peko was really supportive, but she had let it slip a few times to Fuyuhiko.

  Thank God Peko is smart enough to make a smooth recovery to make sure Fuyuhiko doesn’t find out before you’re comfortable with him knowing.

  After a bit of encouraging and planning from Peko, you finally decided it was time to come out to him.

  You walk up to Fuyuhiko, who was talking to Peko, and pull on his suit sleeve as gently as you could while still gaining his attention. “Huh? Yeah D/N?” “Can we talk about something?” You respond, trying to not sound too serious to try to not scare him.

  Fuyuhiko looks at Peko, back at you, then back to Peko, as if asking for permission to leave the conversation.

  “Go ahead Young Master. Our conversation can wait.” She smiles and walks away, leaving you panicking to yourself and a confused Fuyuhiko.

  “U-Uhm... Does the Kuzuryu Clan support same sex relationships?”

  “Huh? The hell? Why do you want to know that?”

  “Because I am now the second leader of the Kuzuryu Clan, Y-Y/N! A-And now your.... Your b-boyfriend?”

  “Well fuck, they better support gays and transgenders or they’re getting kicked out and fucking murdered.”

  Peko smiles in strong Ally.

Kazuichi Soda

  Big think.

  Was he into guys? Before he got to know you, a gal (Sos if you aren’t), better he was enamored by Sonia, also a gal.

  From what you know, he’s never liked any guys, so what if he wasn’t okay with dating you when you transitioned?

  (Spoiler for later in this scenario, he’s bi-curious uvu)

  You decided to come out to him using your knowledge that he taught you about making electronic stuff.

  It was hard to hide that you were making something from him. but with a quick “I’m making a gift for you, you’re going to be so proud of me!” He (reluctantly) leaves you be to create whatever your creating.

  After a long bit of working, you had finally finished.

  Two little doll-like items (Kinda like Mini Maru) that looked like Kazuichi and the real you. The Mini Y/N was holding a trans flag and Mini Kazu had a blank flag that can be changed at a later time, and the two Minis had their arms intertwined.

  “Kazu~! Look look, I’m done with my project!”

  He turns and looks at your invention. “Oh, what is this D/N? Is that me? Who’s that?”

  “It’s me and you of course!”

  After a bit of his confusion, he understands and supports you greatly. Like a simp 

Gundham Tanaka

  After thinking about the pros and cons of every possible way to come out to  G U N D H A M  T A N A K A , you just decided to come out to him in a more straight-forward way after brainstorming with Sonia.

  You run up behind the slightly embarrassed G U N D H A M  T A N A K A who was being complimented by Sonia and jump onto him, almost making him fall over onto poor Sonia. After giving her the signal she excuses herself and makes her escape.

  After getting off G U N D H A M  T A N A K A ‘s back and calming him down from his extremely blushy state, you start panicking over what to do again.

  ‘What if he doesn’t like me because I’m a guy? What if he’s transphobic? Love isn’t the purpose of life, but he’s been such a huge part of me that I don’t even know how I’d be if he was gone. You’d be so lost without him-’

  “Fallen Angel, are you alright? My skin didn’t poison you, did it?” He asks, obvious concern in his voice.

  “Oh, no, it’s not that.” You take a deep breath, look up at him, and push your anxiety as far down as it can go.

  “I-I don’t want to be your Queen a-anymore!”

  “You... Don’t want to be my Queen?” There was a lot of pain in his voice and you realize what you said.

  “T-That’s not what I meant! I want to be your Queen of the Underworld and Overworld, b-but I would...” You take a deep breath, “I would rather be your K-King!”

  He pulls you into his arms and hugs you as tightly as he can, burying his face into your neck.

  You hug him back, “Also, please call me Y/N.”

  “Anything for my King. I will tell my Devas of this news so they do not make you uncomfortable.”

  Sonia is very happy about the energy she has created in the studio today.

Nekomaru Nedai

  I’m not very good at writing for Nekomaru so I’m gonna have to skip the coming out part, I’m very sorry if you wanted to read you coming out to him TvT

  But anyways~

  He isn’t the brightest light bulb, so he does his research.

  If you wear chest binders he’ll panic quite a bit but after asking you and gaining more knowledge, he goes less hard on you when it comes to exercising.

  Your binder is giving you troubles? Fucking take a break, take it off, B R E A T H E.

  Oh, you want muscles to look more ‘manly’ like him? First, he will let you know that you don’t have to look ‘manly’ to be who you are. If you still insist then he will help with your want.

Teruteru Hanamura

  Before you officially got together he would flirt with practically everyone no matter their gender, so you were pretty confident about him not leaving you because he’s ‘NoT gAy’.   So uh

  I’m horrible at writing him

  So just know he’s supportive and doesn’t really mind that you transition.

Chiaki Nanami

  “Hey Chiaki? Can I talk to you about something?” You walk into her room with your beautiful flag in your arms.

  “Yes D/N?” Chiaki hums, not looking away from the screen of whatever she was playing.

  You drape your flag over your arms and then wrap them around Chiaki’s neck in an attempt to hug her from behind, “Please call me Y/N.”

  She looks over at the flag and after a bit of the wheels in her brain turning, it clicks in her brain what you mean. “Okay. Is there anything else you need, Y/N?” You smile at your names coming from her and sit next to her properly and nuzzle into her hair while using your flag as a blanket, “Just your support.”

  She smiles softly, “You already have that bunny, you should know that already. Also, tell me if my nicknames make you feel uncomfortable.”

  Very supportive, will get into the head of anyone who says anything mean to you about you being transgender.

  But besides that she doesn’t really make a big deal of you being trans. A gud gorl.

Ultimate Imposter

  He’s someone who can and will be the impostor of anyone no matter their gender (’Cuz that’s his whole ultimate) So he absolutely wouldn’t judge you for changing genders, right?

  So I’ve rewritten this like 4 times, even with the help of Mod Rantaro, and neither of us know his personality very well so sorry about this.

  Either way, he’d be very supportive and buy you everything you need to feel comfortable in your body.

Izuru Kamakura

  Hm.

  Oh, you’re trans?

  Oh cool.

  So who are we giving despair to today?

[jungkooks-left-tiddie]

In Conclusion; it do be like that sometimes.

You can Find the Wattpad version here :)) 

Warnings: Mentions of an arranged marriage, Alcohol use, A nosey man, People constantly misgendering others, Inability to understand personal boundaries.

Words:  4.7k, (An apology for posting this so late)  

Hadi

August 28th, 2020; 3:17 pm

Beirut, Lebanon.

"Golfing? Seriously?" To say that Hadi was having a bad day was the understatement of the century. She overestimated her ability to wake up on time, which then led to her running around the house, trying to finish some pending work, when she got the memo that her father wanted her to join him at an investor's private golf club.

"Yes, and you best hope I see you here in the next 30 minutes," Her father threatened. Hadi shook her head.

"I don't have any choice do I?" She cut the call, tossing her phone on her bed and rummaged through the wardrobe to try and find the right outfit. Pulling out a rather plain beige checkered sweater, she scrunched her nose in disgust. Golf outfits were so incredibly plain; I mean, where was the ✨✨pizzazz✨✨?

"Ugh, boring-ass outfits, no fashion sense at all," She was about to apply her perfume and concealer, but she decided against it. God knows how her father and the other men would react.

Double checking her belongings again, she fed her kitten and played with him for a while. Glancing at her watch again she sighed loudly. Blu-- her kitten-- as if he could sense her reluctance meowed loudly and purred; almost as if he was telling her to not go.

"I know sweetie, I don't want to go either. But I have to," Hadi picked up Blu and put him back in his small bed. "Behave well for me, ok?" Blu just meowed in response.

Hadi grabbed her keys and entered the elevator. She made her way to the building's parking lot and buckled herself up, groaning when her phone-- that was connected to the car's bluetooth-- rang loudly.

"Yes, Hassan?" She sighed audibly. Her day was bad enough already, and she didn't need another person who made it worse.

"My man Hadi!" She winced at the use of the incorrect pronoun. "You still up for drinks tonight?"

"I'm sorry, Hassan. I have to attend to some incomplete work today," Hadi lied. Was she sorry about it? Not at all! Any time away from people was worth lying for.

"Aw! Well, its your loss," She rolled her eyes, "Everyone's going to be there, you sure you don't want to come?"

"I'm sure, Hassan." She cut the call, not particularly in the mood to talk to him for longer.

Hadi was not even 20 minutes into her drive when she got a notification about a meeting she was supposed to attend in a few hours. She was kidding about having to attend a meeting, but since when did things go her way anyways? And usually she would groan at the mere mention of a meeting, but this time, Hadi was actually excited for it. I know, I can't believe it either.

Taking a sharp turn, Hadi saw the isolated roads ahead of her and she suspected that she was nearing the location her father had given her.

"This isn't that far away from home," She noted, pausing for a moment and drove her car to the parking lot. The security, as if knowing who Hadi was, immediately let her in.

Hadi parked in the designated place and went to the reception.

"Hi sir, how may I help you?" The receptionist looked up from her computer screen with a polite smile.

"I was wondering where I could find Mr Kanoo?" The gut feeling of being extremely out of place never left her.

"Oh, Mr Kanoo and his daughter are waiting for you in course number 17," She smiled and gestured the way to the course. Hadi gave her a swift smile and began walking; only to pause suddenly.

"Actually I was wondering if I could you could do me a favour," She walked to the receptionist's desk yet again.

"Of course, sir."

"I know this sounds really odd," Hadi gave a sheepish smile, "But could you get me a locker in the men's dressing room? I have to attend a meeting after this and I have no time to change," She explained, handing out her card for them to swipe. To her surprise the receptionist just smiled and pushed the card back towards him.

"Mr Kanoo will be taking care of all your expenses," She smiled and showed Hadi the way to the locker rooms.

Hadi quickly ran back out, grabbed the suit hanger from her car and hurried towards the direction of the locker room. Twisting the knob to its combination, she gently folded her suit so that it won't catch any wrinkles, put it inside and twisted the knob again.

A quick glance at her watch told her that if she didn't start running, she'd be executed.There was absolutely no way she would make it in one piece if she ran, so she opted for walking briskly instead, following the arrows that made it easier to navigate the huge club.

Hadi sat down on one of the benches, crossing her long legs. She spotted her father, Mr Kanoo and a woman who seemed like his daughter from a distance and frowned.  

'Why's she here?' Usually, Hadi wouldn't worry about petty things like someone's daughter playing golf, but judging by the way Mr Kanoo's daughter was laughing at something that Hadi's father said, she was concerned.

Hadi's father never cracked jokes. Heck, he wasn't even remotely funny. Convinced she was just being paranoid, she consulted the council of wise turtles.

Another quick look at her father told her that he was still in a deep conversation with the other man. So she did what she always does best: Hadi scrolled through her social media to see what was up. 

She quickly switched her phone off when she heard the voices of approaching footsteps and loud laughter.

"Hadi my boy! It's absolutely wonderful to see you again!" Hadi stood up.

"I could say the same thing, mr Kanoo," She gave a curt smile and brought her hand out to shake the older man's, hoping she looked polite enough.

"Sit down, sit down!" Mr Kanoo gestured one of the waiters to come over, "Right, take down the order," He looked at Hadi and her father.

"Any preferences?"

"Yes," Hadi turned towards the waiter, "I'd like a Mai Tai and a grilled lentil panini," Excited at the prospect of proper food, Hadi wondered that maybe coming here wasn't a bad decision after all and only zoned back in when she heard the waiter coming back with his order.

'Damn, good food and fast delivery? I need to come to this place often.' She found herself thinking as she took a bite of her panini, almost moaning at its exquisite taste.  

She drowned out the loud voices of her father and the other man, who now began talking about investments and shares.

"So tell me Hadi," Mr Kanoo turned to him with a devious smile and Hadi knew, that no matter what question she was asked, she had to be careful while answering.

"This new project your father was telling me about," He swirled his glass, "May I know the profit margin that you're expecting?" Hadi sipped her drink.

"I guess father forgot to mention that this was a non-profit project," She avoided her father's glance, "It is meant to provide for children who are in need of food and shelter," Mr Kanoo held a contemplating gaze.

"And say, how do you plan on funding the project in the future?" All of a sudden, all eyes on the table were on her.

"Well," Hadi sipped her drink yet again, "We've set up a trust fund for starters," She set her almost-empty glass down, "And the final details for the project will be discussed today," She smiled at the older man again,

"But it's the generous businessmen like you who really make a difference," A BIG LIE. While Ahmed Kanoo did give away money for charity often, Hadi couldn't really say the same for other businessmen and their companies. She just hoped that Mr Kanoo would buy her compliments and agree to fund this project alongside her.

And once she saw the satisfied look that Mr Kanoo now wore, Hadi finished up the delicious panini and her drink.

"Do we have a deal then?" Her father prompted, setting his glass of scotch down and looking expectantly at Mr Kanoo.

"I believe we do!" They laughed and shook hands, which-- if Hadi's mental guide for corporate body language was right, meant that they had another ulterior move. There was no way in hell that they would laugh if they weren't the closest of friends (in this case, they really were not).

"So Hadi, when are you planning on settling down?" Hadi shifted uncomfortably.

'Well, Fuck. Time to dissolve.' Hadi was ready to yeet herself off a cliff.

"S-settle down..?" Of course Hadi knew what they meant by 'settle down', she just didn't know how to tell them that she was in fact, ✨✨gay✨✨.

"About time, don't you think? The company needs an heir, and judging by your success, I don't think it would be hard to find you a good wife," Hadi gave a polite smile, and laughed lightly, the kind of laugh that oozed discomfort. She stopped laughing after her father gave her a pointed look.

"W-wait you're serious?" Was it too late to run away? This has to be the worst thing her father has done after supplying her mom with his sperm, (which meant she had to be born), and assuming her gender and sexuality.

Hadi's head was spinning. She had no idea what her father and that other dude were planning, but whatever it was, it didn't seem too good.

"Of course daddy's serious," Hadi stiffened at the sudden contact of-- was it an arm?-- with her thigh, "And of course, he was referring to me," Ok, this lady was beginning to get on Hadi's nerves. She was silent the whole time, why open her mouth now? And what exactly did she want from Hadi?

"Excuse me?" The lady continued looking at Hadi in a predatory way, "What exactly do you mean?" She just wanted answers, goddamnit!

"Daddy always got me what I wanted," She drawled, leaning in towards Hadi's stiff body, "And when I told him that I wanted you; well, of course he complied!" The creepy lady whispered in his ear.

To anybody else, it would've looked like they were two best friends who were sharing secrets. And perhaps for that very reason Mr Kanoo and Hadi's father had assumed something else out of a situation that was now excruciating for Hadi to continue pretending that she was ok with.

"We should leave them to talk amongst themselves," Hadi whipped her head and looked at her father with pleading eyes. When it was clear he wasn't going to do anything, she had to take matters into her own hands.

"NO!" The chair on which she was sitting on scraped loudly against the rough asphalt of the ground.

"I mean," Hadi cleared her throat as her father and Mr Kanoo's scrutinising gaze pierced through her, "I have a meeting to attend and I really should get going," She quickly stood up, dusting off the ridiculous sweater she was wearing in the name of golf.

"I hope you don't mind me leaving so suddenly," Hadi smiled and tried to use all the charm she could, hoping that they fall for it.

"Of course, of course!" Mr Kanoo laughed heartily, "You have a company to run, I understand," She shook hands with the older man one more time and briskly walked, (it was more of a run, really), back to the locker room and changed out of her atrocious outfit in record time, from where she made her way to the parking lot again and drove out of this club as fast as the speed limit would let her.

She breathed out out in relief-- a breath she didn't even know she was holding-- as she slowly reached the familiar traffic in the main road. The experience at the golf club was something she never thought she'd live and she vowed never to go back to that place again; which was a shame because the food was amazing.

Hadi sighed, what would she have done if the meeting for discussing the project wasn't scheduled today? She shook her head and dismissed those thoughts. Groaning again, she leaned against the steering wheel when it was evident that this traffic was not going to ease up anytime soon.

This is exactly why she never left home.

It took Hadi almost an hour and a half for her to finally reach her office. If she hadn't left the club at the time she did, she'd probably have missed her meeting.

Hadi entered the lobby, greeting the workers as she made her way to the meeting room. This project was something she needed to do. This was singlehandedly, the most important project that Hadi has worked on, and she wondered if there was something that could top its importance.

"Chairman sir! you're here!" Hadi smiled and took her seat at the far end of the room and picked up one of the files lying on the table.

She read over every detail with outmost precision, being careful not to miss even the tiniest of details.

"I think we should tweak up the decor a bit," Everyone in the room analysed the papers that lay spread on the conference table.

"You know, make it a little more homely," Hadi glanced at the interior designers she'd hired for this project, looking for their approval.

"I suppose we could stray from the whole 'high society' vibe we had going on," At their approval, Hadi breathed a sigh of relief.

The next hour was spent on finalising the interior of the shelter, to make it as welcoming as possible. Every small thing, from the colour of the lights, to the accessibility of the furniture was addressed.

Eventually came the time for the the finance department  to propose a solution for the funding issue; and the CFO, Khalid Yusuf and his team did not disappoint.

"We thought of something like this," He looked at Hadi and brought the plans, "There are lots of investors who've given the go, right?" Hadi nodded and Khalid continued, "So we can make use of the trust fund we set up, and also hold fundraisers and donations," Hadi was smiling now.

"I like that idea. We should hold an event once every 3 months," She nodded to herself, "And it can be something that people enjoy," The Event management team took this as their cue to formulate ideas.

"Sir, I think we could do something different for every fundraiser we hold," A meek voice suggested from the back of the room, going silent when their superior was glaring at them.

"Sorry sir, I told him not to interrupt but--"

"No," Hadi raised her palm to stop the employee from glaring at the poor intern, who now looked terrified.

"Go on," She urged the intern to continue what they were saying. The intern glanced at their superior once again, and Hadi sighed.

"Ignore them and continue," The intern paled and nodded.

"If we could conduct a different event for each fundraiser, it would not only be more fun, but will also increase participation," The intern grew a little more confident at their boss's nod.  

"And increased participation means--"

"--More funds generated." Hadi was impressed. "What do you suggest we do for the first fundraiser then?" The intern looked at her in disbelief.

"Wait you're actually serious?" She frowned, what part of her looked like she was joking?

"Of course I am, why would I joke about this," She looked at the bundle of nerves in front of her. The intern was so happy, his face was almost ready to split in half.  

"Thank you so much sir, I promise I won't disappoint!" To everyone's surprise, the intern-- whose name Hadi later learned was Tyrone Booker-- presented an amazing idea that everyone thought was extremely fun to both plan and partake in, and personally speaking, Hadi couldn't wait until this plan was put in action.

Now the usual drill would be to schedule a meeting sometime in the coming weeks, but seeing as they were already behind schedule, Hadi decided it would be more productive if they stayed and finished the discussion today, so she could not only enjoy her vacation, but also that the preparation for the event itself would have more time and they wouldn't have to rush into anything.

"I know you all are probably tired, but I think we may have to spend the night finagling our plans for the fundraiser," Hadi was quick to notice the annoyance that bubbled in the room, "Let's do one thing," She glanced at her watch, "It's 9:30 now, so let's take a break for an hour, to eat or plan, whatever you want, and we'll get back to our discussion at 10:30. Sound's good?" Everyone agreed, although reluctant, they understood that it was either they spent another 3 hours here today, or they had to rush in with all the plans in the last minute.

The heads of department and their respective teams all went to their own places all over the office building. A few in the library, a few down in the lobby and some even went to the rooftop. But everyone in the building, including Hadi herself, had ordered themselves a hot meal that was coming their way too, and perhaps that was what kept them going.

Hadi pondered how she would use her time. She knew she couldn't waste much just thinking about what to do, so she just caught up with some of her friends on social media.

Hadi only stopped texting when she got her food, some good ol' Spicy Ramen. Just the smell of the Ramen itself was enough to brighten anyone's mood and today, she felt her mood instantly lift up one she had a bite of her food.

I'm forgetting something, aren't I?' Hadi paused the intense inhaling of her food and wondered why she suddenly thought she was forgetting something. She eventually attempted to brush it off thinking that she was just being anxious.

Key word: attempted.

Because no matter how much she tried to convince herself that she wasn't forgetting anything, a small voice in the back of her head kept telling her to remember. But Hadi could not, for the love of her life, remember what it was that she had forgotten to do, when it suddenly hit her like a truck, she promised her friend Meghana that she'd call her father.

Mentally cursing herself, she texted Meghana and asked her if it went too late for her to call Meghana's dad. Luckily she wasn't and she talked to Meghana's father, who-- to Hadi's surprise-- wasn't as bad as she thought he would be.

She answered all of his questions like, 'Will there be alcohol,' 'What all are you planning to do,' 'How long is the trip,' and 'Please don't let Meghana do stupid things.' The last one was more of a request, but Hadi complied nonetheless, there was no way Meghana could do such stupid things, right? Unbeknownst to her, she was actually underestimating how much of a chaos that girl really was.

But Meghana's father ended the call stating that he's willing to send Meghana on the trip, so I guess that was a success? Hadi doubted her socialising skills, but they weren't that bad!

After that whole fiasco, Hadi finished up her dessert for the night, and chatted with her (friends? She really didn't know at this point) for some more time,

Only when the team members started coming back in did Hadi realise that she's been chatting with her friends for almost 45 minutes.

They resumed the meeting with a little more vigour compared to when they left an hour ago, and Hadi was happy to see the progress they'd made in the short time they'd been allotted.

"So I thought that maybe going with a little more laid-back, casual style for the venue would be great, seeing that many of our guests are either going to be businessmen or just normal people out there for a good time," Tyrone explained, turning to face the people in front of him,

"The casual vibe will also help the employees and people have a great time in general, and will also lighten up the environment as opposed to a more professional one," Hadi felt that this particular reasoning was weak, but made no comment on it and instead waited for him to continue.

"A causal theme is also beneficial for our company as it boosts the overall company image and the relationship between the employees. Its also a great networking opportunity for people who're looking forward to socialising, and in fact, I would say that the whole atmosphere promotes creativity and improves motivation,"

"And lastly," Tyrone smiled sheepishly, "Although I feel like this is out of my place to say this, the environment is especially great if you have a lot of pent up stress and you're looking for a way to release it. No offence to anyone here, but some employees could really use the stress relief; and I am not even talking about our main event, I feel like the overall mood is very uplifting," He concluded, looking at Hadi for confirmation.

"I think the casual theme world be a great idea," Hadi deduced, the reason-- although it was presented as a lengthy one-- was very simple. People needed to enjoy what they payed the money for.

"And the main event is also very fitting for this theme, in my opinion." Elissa-- one of the interior designers she'd hired-- remarked.

"I agree, you can't have a bowling alley with a professional theme," Yazra, the head of the Marketing team added.

As the majority of people agreed with the casual theme, they decided that it would be the final theme. It took them another 3 hours to finalise the venue, the food and most importantly, the cost of entry. But finally, they were done!

Hadi was so tired, she could literally fall asleep on the conference table. But unfortunately, she didn't have that privilege. She thanked everyone for their immense help, time and contribution and eventually drove back home.

The streets, to her bad luck were filled with heavy traffic and Hadi was almost ready to cry. This day had already tested her patience and will to live enough; so why on Earth was this day just getting worse at it progressed? She hoped--prayed even-- that Blu did not trash the entire house by the time she got back. She was in no way, mentally (or physically) capable of dealing with his destructive tendencies.

'Finally' Hadi thought as the traffic started to clear out and she could drive back to her apartment and s l e e p. The feel of her bed and the comfort it brought was so close, Hadi could f e e l it in her bones.

15 more minutes. Just 15 more minutes and she'd be in the comfort of her home, with the warmth of her duvet and her smol kitten.

She entered the building with a newfound determination, greeting the security who was on his night-shift, and then made her way to the elevator and went up to the 25th floor; her floor. Technically she was the only habitant of the apartment of that floor, so there really was no harm in calling it 'her' floor.  

Hadi realised just how tired she was after she punched in the passcode to her flat and swiftly made her way inside. She barely had the energy to move, let alone change her clothes, but she managed to gather all the energy she could and changed into her night clothes. A quick check on her cat told her that Blu-- like her-- was getting ready for bedtime, curling his tiny body in the small bed that Hadi got for him; and Hadi was overjoyed to find out that Blu hadn't trashed anything today. She guessed that even the most destructive of animals get tired of breaking stuff every once in a while.

Without any other distractions, Hadi plopped on her bed and drifted to sleep as soon as her face hit the pillow.

And so she slept, without a care in the world, because starting tomorrow, she was on vacation; and this time, she will make sure that she enjoys every single minute of it.

______________

A/N:

So,,,,, uhm,,,,, *shuffles and looks at cue cards* *Ducks under the table because of the rotten tomatoes being thrown*

I know I was supposed to post this earlier but I honestly have no excuses this time,,, I was suddenly hit with writers block and I was trying so hard to finish this piece, but it was so hard because I know literally nothing about the corporate world or how its run for that matter. I managed to evade it in the first chapter but I needed that info this time,,,,

So a big thanks and shoutout to my mom for sitting wit me and explaining business terms and answering my useless questions lmao. I hope you enjoyed this, and also let me take the time to remind you to be nice, and USE THE PREFERRED PRONOUNS OF PEOPLE WHO ASK YOU TO USE THEM. Unless they've told you otherwise,,,,

Anyways, I promise the next chapter will be up sooner than this one,,,

Signing off like always,,

Meg❤️.

[preyed-llama]

Why, Patton?

Summary: He walked over to the fantasy isle and looked around. “Why are you always smiling, even when you’re sad?” Logan asked, his hand was playing with his glasses, despite him not needing to fix them anyway. Patton glanced at him and pulled his lower lip into his teeth.

He hesitated before he responded. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Now Patton had a habit of playing dumb when anyone asked a question that he didn’t feel like answering.

Ship: Logicality (can be read however)

Genre: hurt/comfort

Authors note: I found it in my word document which was written ages ago, figured I’d post it.

Warnings: argument, scifi body modification  (let me know if I missed anything)

-

Patton was… well the school kids when he was younger called him a cyborg. You see he had this… robotic thing in his head that took the form of a male who aged up with him. He had called the AI Logan and it seemed happy to oblige. Really it wasn’t until he was twenty that the AI really mattered to him. When he was lost and confused with his life Logan had guided him and stayed with him, even when he was sobbing, although the electronic didn’t particularly know how to handle emotions.

Patton walked into another store, Roman had just left for his job and Patton was considering getting a new top for opening night of Roman’s play. Really, he was in love with the button up behind the window with cats and dogs in lines running across. He took it to the counter and smiled at the clerk behind the counter.

“Patton, are you sure about spending so much on a shirt? It may be more optimal to save up for a new couch or keep it for a rainy day, you have plenty of shirts as is.” Logan said, he was standing in his peripherals his solid looking form standing perfectly straight, his perfect black hair and cold brown eyes. He had a confused frown on his lips and wore glasses similar to Patton’s at the man’s request.

Patton handed over the money before turning to look at Logan. He opened his mouth to speak before the women extended the change. ‘Well…’ Patton thought. ‘I like the shirt, and besides Roman’s the lead, I can’t show up in a polo.’

“Roman has seen you in the same clothes for the past 7 years, I don’t see how buying a shirt would affect him being the lead in any way.” Patton rolled his eyes fondly and picked up the clothes bag. He walked out of the store and glanced around, Logan walking at his side, occasionally overlapping passing people.

Patton smiled as he skipped through the store and across to the bookstore. Logan wasn’t meant to be so inquisitive, but he had always asked too many questions for his own good. Patton didn’t mind, he would always answer them to the best of his ability. Although a five-year-old trying to explain to a supercomputer why his relative Stacy was being called Sam and using they/them pronouns didn’t end up going to well. It ended with the decision that Sam was actually a wizard who used magic to be them.

He walked over to the fantasy isle and looked around. “Why are you always smiling, even when you’re sad?” Logan asked, his hand was playing with his glasses, despite him not needing to fix them anyway. Patton glanced at him and pulled his lower lip into his teeth.

He hesitated before he responded. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Now Patton had a habit of playing dumb when anyone asked a question that he didn’t feel like answering.

Apparently, Logan hadn’t realised because he had taken to explaining it. “Well smiling is a sign of happiness in people although you smile even when you aren’t happy, which is the incorrect response to such an emotion.”

“Logan… please…”

“Really you should be frowning pretty often but instead you are smiling whenever in public. You have no issues frowning in private so why-.”

‘I don’t want to let them down.’ He thought sharply. Logan seemed to think for several moments, a strange action from a supercomputer. Really Patton had been wondering why he had developing human reactions, but this action wasn’t enough for the anger to bubble down.

“Virgil is always frowning, that means he is letting you down and yet you are still talking to him. In fact, he never seems to let himself smile.” Logan continued blindly.

“Logan.”

“Unless of course it doesn’t apply to him although that just seems ludicrous-.”

“Logan! Stop! Of course, you don’t understand, you’re just a stupid AI, now stop! Please!” He must have said it aloud because the two people down the aisle were watching him with nervous but fascinated looks.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I was merely stating-.” He genuinely looked upset, his posture and look not as perfect as usual.

“Please, just stop.” He whispered, his gaze dropping to the book in his hands that barely seemed real.

Logan looked down at the ground. “Alright, going into sleep mode.” He stated. And then he was gone. No scanning. No presence in his head or the world around him. No Logan.

Patton put the book back and turned on his heels. He needed to get out before he started to cry. He forced a smile, the biggest and most genuine looking smile he could. He walked quickly, the bag bouncing off his leg. It seemed to be forever before he made it out of the shopping complex and an eternity before he reached his car. He sunk into the seat and wrapped his arms around himself to stop the shaking.

The drive back home was painful. Every flicker in the corner of his vision made the guilt grow. He shouldn’t have shouted at Logan. He knew he shouldn’t have and when Logan returned, he’d apologise to him and try to make it up to him.

Hanging the new shirt amongst his old shirts and pulling on his cat onesie felt like the hardest thing in the world. He collapsed onto the couch and stayed there, even when the clock hit dinner time. He couldn’t bring himself to watch anything and he was startled when he heard a voice next to him.

Logan was sitting at the table his fingers fiddling with a rubix cube he summoned. “Logan-.” “Patton-.” They said in unison. Patton’s lip quirked slightly into a small smile before he stood up and walked towards the dinner table. Logan was looking at him with what Patton could only describe as sadness and fear. He smiled more, his eyes welling with tears.

“I’m so sorry.” Patton whispered as he wrapped his arms around Logan. Realistically one was aware he wasn’t actually hugging something, but the thing with having it in his brain is it could register and simulate the touch. He closed his eyes and held him tighter.

Logan hugged him back. “I was going to say that, but it appears you beat me to it.” Logan muttered, his head on Patton’s shoulder. “You have nothing to apologise for. I should’ve stopped when you told me to the first time.”

“I shouldn’t have insulted you.” Patton said, the tears dripping down his cheeks.

Logan seemed taken aback by the comment, pulling away, his body phasing through Patton’s arms and his hands resting on Patton’s shoulders. “You were stating fact. I am just a machine. I am coding unable to feel emotions or comprehend the nuances of human behaviour.”

He shook his head. “No. You aren’t just a machine. You’re Logan and you’ve never been just a machine to me.” Logan seemed totally stunned. He just stared and Patton could practically see the cogs turning in his head. Patton cupped his cheek and Logan turned his head over so slightly to rest in it.

Patton, in a moment of forgetfulness, lunged to wrap Logan in a hug. Unfortunately, since Logan was not in fact a physical being, Patton fell through and caught himself on the ground. He turned around to look up at a worried Logan. “I tried to hug you.” Patton explained.

Logan laid down on top of him, his head on Patton’s chest and his arm wrapped around his middle. “Is this good enough?” Logan asked. Patton grinned and nodded.

Logan smiled slightly before it quickly fell from his face. “Why won’t you smile? Aren’t you happy?” Patton teased. Logan blinked.

“Of course, I am quite content in this situation. I am just an AI who shouldn’t experience such emotions.” It took a couple of moments for it to dawn on him. “You always smile because you do not want people to know you have sadness… I see.”

Patton looked up at the ceiling, even with the lights off he could see the roof. “You’re my best friend, Lo.” Patton whispered.

“Thank you, I am quite fond of you as well.” Patton grinned and closed his eyes. His face felt like it was going to split in two from the force of his smile.

[tearlessrain]

on the one hand, society should have more of a grip when it comes to lgbt acceptance by now, we’re all tired, and the argument that it shouldn’t be our job to constantly educate the straights isn’t an incorrect one.

on the other hand, it really behooves us to be patient with people who are just saying/doing the wrong thing out of ignorance and remember that they don’t have the context to understand let alone appreciate the constant hyperbolic snark that comes out of the community, and a lot of them are older people with minimal meme/internet literacy in general. and that we shouldn’t expect them to be instantly fluent in the language we created amongst ourselves and frequently can’t even agree on.

all I’m saying is if some 70 year old lady on facebook refers to me as “a transgender” but she’s doing so in the context of being supportive/trying to learn/still making an effort to use the right name and pronouns if I ask, I’m not about to jump down her throat about it. for all I know she just doesn’t know any other term and picked it up from her older/more conservative peers. hell, she may have picked it up from doing actual research and looking at lgbt forums, considering we jokingly refer to ourselves as “a trans” all the time and there’s no reason a bystander would instinctively know it’s not actually the right term. the point is her heart is in the right place and she’s doing virtually zero actual damage. I might gently PM her later to let her know what the actual accepted terminology is now, but I absolutely would not call her out publicly and derail her point.

hell even if some nazi refers to me as “a transgender” and he’s doing it in the context of saying we don’t deserve rights and attack people in bathrooms, it’s still pointless to engage him on minutiae because he’ll be nothing but delighted if people start arguing over linguistics in the comments instead of ignoring him or addressing the actual much larger shitty points he’s making.

we should also maybe stop being so goddamn snarky to people asking genuine questions just so we can get internet points out of it when the screenshot goes viral on tumblr/lgbt meme subreddits, because that person most likely genuinely does not understand why they would illicit that reaction and just thinks you’re an asshole, and might just write us all off because of it.

I get that it’s cathartic but the means are not justifying the ends if it ultimately loses us allies.