#as well as being nb in any shape or form at all

[flickerintwilights]

shared some of my writing in a workshop and someone commented on the mention of a female background character having a wife and son “I love the LGBTQIA+ representation here” and uh, I literally have a nonbinary major character using they/she pronouns in the light of day but okay lesbians I guess

[vannahfanfics]

Hi hi! I go by Sunny online, I use they/them, I'm 5'7, I have decently long brown hair (I'm growing it out as my years of peace and if someone provokes me to anger I'll cut it off and leave it on their doorstep as a cute reference to emperors in ancient China <3) I'm chaotic in nature, I've been described as the literal personification of a d&d bard. Which I'd say is decently true, I'm charismatic and flirty, I'm great and convincing people and I'm the hype person! My go to words/phrases are, "Slay king/queen live your truth" "Have my babies" "Naur/Hyelleur" "I'm gonna beat you up *pretend beats them up* are you dead yet?" All with a funny tone and my excellent autistic timing. I also like to do bits, and one of them includes saying no to a task that's asked of me, then proceeding to do said task. I also like to make hearts with my hands in various ways and poke my tongue out briefly at people like a frog.

This is my left eye for reference :)

I have an oval face shape with some baby fat, but not too much :P

Also I'm proven to be totally chill and super smooth around people that I find very attractive. I may get a little nervous but no one can tell until after said attractive person leaves. I'm demiromantic and demisexual so it means I don't experience those kinds of attractions without a deep bond. I don't care for gender but women and nb people tend to befriend me and get close so that skews the results some heh.

Good luck with the comissions! I hope I didn't out too little/much information, and buh-byeeeee <3333

Ahh, Sunny, I apologize for how long it took me to get to this! Between medical school shenanigans, writer's block/my ADHD squirrel-braining, and all that mess, I've just been on a rollercoaster of poor time management over here. TT.TT But, hopefully, you'll find it as having been well worth the wait! Thanks again for commissioning <3

P.S. I also do the thing where I say "no" when someone asks me to do something while immediately moving to perform said task XD

I match you with...

Ling Yao from FullMetal Alchemist!

Okay, full disclosure, I'm a little biased because Ling was one of my first great manga/anime loves... However, your personal blurb just screamed Ling to me, so I'm going with him anyways! I just think you two would be total peas in a pod—the best or worst chaotic duo, depending on who you ask, muahaha! Here's a few reasons why I think you two would be really compatible:

I think being demiromantic and demisexual works in your favor when it comes to Ling! After all, he's a guy who forms very deep and powerful bonds himself, and his devotion to those he cares about not only influences a lot of his personality but serves as the core of his motivations. I think he'd totally vibe with the idea of needing a strong, meaningful relationship in place already before any feelings beyond friendship develop. He can play at being friends with everyone and seeming like he doesn't form serious attachments, but we know that he does, and those are the relationships he puts the most value in. That being said, he is entirely personable; it would be easy to become friends with him and go from there! He's a lot like you in his extroversion, after all. People are where the party's at, and you are certainly a party people that he'd invite into his life! :)

When it comes to Ling, I feel like physical appearance is something that may be an element of catching his initial interest and cause him to take notice of someone (such as a "hot senator," wink-wink, nudge-nudge) but isn't necessarily the key factor in his decision to pursue somebody. That being said, it's not something he totally ignores, either; the more he falls for you, the more things he falls in love with about you, and that includes appearance. He'll begin to just randomly think about how luscious your hair is, how gorgeous your eyes are, how you look lovely whether you're dressed comfy or to the nines... And if you ask him why he's got a dreamy look on his face while staring at you, he's certainly not shy in telling you exactly what's on his mind! But he'd be unable to pick a favorite part about you because he just adores all of you so much, inside and outside, physical and not. And he'll tell you that, too!

Now, you did mention that you're not really keen on words of affirmation as a love language. It's not Ling's primary love language, but he's not the type to withhold compliments or be shy about his feelings, as I mentioned before. Bear in mind that, to him, they aren't words of affirmation; it's just the truth! He never says things that he doesn't genuinely believe, so it might be hard for him to stifle those urges in the beginning of navigating a relationship with you. But he will try, simply because he doesn't want to upset you or come off as disingenuous. Don't hold it against him if things slip out here and there, though! And he will more than make up for it through his primary love language, which is acts of service. I mean, we've seen what lengths Ling will go to for those he cares about and/or feels responsible for. If you asked this man to pluck the moon out of the sky for you, he'd be searching for the nearest rocketship to commandeer. He'll always try to do things to make you smile, make your day better, make your life easier... Whatever you need at the time and whatever makes you happy! Finally, he's also a lot like you when it comes to physical affection. His desire for it grows as his feelings grow; if it's a serious relationship, he can be a real cuddle monster! He won't want to go two minutes without hugging or kissing or touching you or some way. He isn't even ashamed about admitting that he's a little needy, LOL. He just adores you oh so much! If you're willing to give, why should he be shy about asking? Of course, if you're not in the mood, he can easily pick up on that and won't overstep your boundaries. He'll definitely be a little sad about it, though, and will be a little bit more of a menace when you're ready to accept physical affection from him again! >:)

A lot of the reason that I think you guys work together, as I've alluded to a bit, is that your personalities are so similar! Sometimes, this can actually be a recipe for not being able to enter a relationship with a person, but I don't that'd be the case for you and Ling. I think you two would 100% fuel each other's madness. I mean, tell me that Ling would not also cut off his hair and leave it on the doorstep of someone who provoked him. That is peak petty Ling vibes right there. To further cite your personal blurb, Ling definitely has bard energy—charismatic, shrewd, humorous, free-spirited... A lot of qualities that you also have! I can only imagine the shenanigans that the two of you would get up to. You two will definitely come up with all the chaotic/hilarious bits, witticisms, and the like. The same can be said about your sense of justice and loyalty. Those are values that Ling holds in high regard himself and immensely respects in a person. His ass will be right there with you in the jail cell. And, hello, your love of food? It totally resonates with Ling! So the fact that you like food is your ticket straight to his heart, LMAO! He loves having a good time over a nice meal, and he gets to see you super happy while he's at it? Win-win, baby! And, let's be honest, Ling can be swayed by the dollar signs... so he will definitely respect your dreams of rolling in the dough, haha!

Ling is highly observant, so if you've caught his attention in a way that makes him want to court you, then he's going to make sure to make all the right moves to win your heart <3 So, I figured I'd expound a bit on the kind of things Ling does when he finds out the things that make you happy!:

Ling, 90% of the time, does not do planned dates. This dude just calls and sometimes even shows up out of the blue hoping that you are free so he can spirit you off on an adventure, LOL! He just can't help it; the instant that he wants to talk to your or see you, he just has to, right then and there! Not only that, this guy lives his life by the rule of spontaneity; it's no fun if you plan every second of your day!

Honestly, he'll probably pick up on the fact that you like food during your first meeting. A lot of your friendship will involve food, whether it's you guys going out to eat together or ordering in or just talking about your shared gourmet interests, LOL. But once he gets it in his head that he wants to date you? Man, he kicks it into high gear.

You mention a new restaurant you wanna try? Dress up, love, because he'll be picking you up at seven. Your favorite snacks? He has them on hand anytime the situation could call for it just because he wants to see your face light up. You mention you have nothing to do this weekend? Knock-knock, here's Ling with some take-out and some movies or videogames, ready to waste the night away with you.

At first, Ling's not a guy who cooks. He's got people to do that for him, LMAO. But this man would 100% learn to cook for you. The notion of you enjoying something that he made just for you... Ah! It makes his heart go doki-doki! Like, literally, he might shed a tear of joy the first time because it makes him that happy to know you liked his food.

And if you do the same for him? First it will blow his mind, then he'll get stupid excited because food, and then he'll get all choked up because you did this just for him! It could honestly be burnt or salty or straight up inedible, but this guy will lick the plate clean because you made it and that makes it a five-star meal in his book :)

Real talk, he knows you don't like dishonesty, so he'll be tactfully honest if it wasn't good. But if you try to get him not to eat it, you'll just end up chasing him around the house while he's shoveling food in his mouth. Sometimes his principles overrule his brain, and he would rather die than waste a single bit of a meal you made for him!

Needless to say, eating with you is his favorite activity. He gets to eat some yummy food, whether one or both of your made it or it's from a restaurant, and enjoy quality time with you. And it makes you just as happy! Seriously, what's not to enjoy?

And, last but not least, here is the little drabble that comes as part of the Tier III match-up! I am kind of passionate about Ling just being a spontaneous gremlin that somehow is just so sickeningly sweet and heart-throbbing, so, here, have some super cliché and chaotic fluff!:

You should have known better than to talk to Ling about romantic clichés.

It was a trap. Of course it was a trap! You've known the guy forever, and yet he still managed to trick you right into the conversation with that silver tongue of his. You'd only been dating a month, so him bringing up the topic of cliché romantic gestures should have been the biggest warning flag ever. When you managed to miss that, you should have been tipped off by the even more obvious probing about which gestures you found too cheesy and which ones kind of got your heart fluttering. But the bastard was too damn smooth and navigated that conversation leaving you none the wiser.

So, here you are, staring out of your bedroom window with an expression that is a mixture of embarrassment and endearment. Why? Because Ling was sitting in your yard, singing a very off-key rendition of your favorite song while playing an acoustic guitar more terribly than you thought a person could.

Well, as they say: hindsight is 20/20. Still, you don't know how you missed that.

"Ling!" You're laughing as you open your window and lean out to call to him. He had started off looking all seductive-like at you, but very soon he started really feeling himself and now had his head thrown back, yowling to the moon like some deranged cat. In fact, you can hear several cats in the distance responding to his call. He doesn't hear them, nor does he hear you, not with him singing at a pitch that borders on one only dogs can hear. So, after a small fit of giggles, you shout louder, "Ling!"

"Eh?" he cuts off to stare owlishly at you. He then plasters a big, cheesy grin on your face that is so full of enthusiasm and adoration that you can't help but let your heart melt a little.

"Oh, hey! Whatcha think?" Before you can answer, he cocks a brow and flashes you a suggestive smirk. "You're looking a little off-balance there. Did I sweep ya off your feet?"

"I'm off-balance, all right, but only because your singing is so bad that it's given me vertigo!" you rib. "What the hell were you thinking? I bet the neighbors are on the phone with animal control telling them that there's a band of raccoons tearing each other to pieces over here!"

As always, Ling takes your teasing in stride, just offering you a sheepish smile and a little shrug.

"Well, at least I can say I tried. I should have gone for something else, though. I know I can't sing for shit. But I've always wanted to try it, you know? Those guys in the movies make it seem so swoon-worthy." He wastes no time in discarding the guitar in the grass to retrieve later. He walks over to a plastic bag sitting nearby, and when he hefts it up, you recognize the logo of one of your favorite takeout places. "It's a good thing I brought a contingency plan."

"You should have started with that," you laugh as he approaches the window. Dextrous and limber, it's no trouble for him to clamber his way up and perch himself in it, straddling the sill and smiling warmly while he holds out the bag of delicious-smelling food to you.

"Come on. Admit it; you liked it," he goads, playfully yanking the to-go bag out of your reach just when you go to take it. When you pout at him, he wiggles his brows and presses, "Come on. You're telling me that you didn't swoon just the teeniest, tiniest bit?"

You debate lying to him just to do it, but you can't bring yourself to. Underneath his playful expression is genuine eagerness. So, after releasing a little sigh of relent, you admit, "Okay. I did swoon." When his face lights up with happiness, you hastily add, "Just the teeniest, tiniest bit, though."

"Whatever, I'll take it," he chirps and deposits the bag of food in your waiting hands.

You waste no time in tearing it open to get at the boxes of scrumptious goodies within. Like you've often done, you eat there at the window using some nearby furniture as a makeshift table, Ling perched in the window and you in a chair next to him. You melt as soon as you take the first bite, and immediately, Ling's face softens.

"What?" you ask around your mouthful of food.

"Mmm, I'm just glad that at least one of my romantic gestures made you happy," he answers nonchalantly. You roll your eyes, but that hot flush of happiness and nervousness is rushing through you despite your cool-as-a-cucumber outward appearance. And Ling has known you long enough to see right through it, prompting him to add, "Don't care how I do it, as long as I can make you smile."

"You're such a simp," you mumble despite the fact that a stupidly happy smile is growing on your face.

"Ah, but this simp is sitting in your window, so what does that make you?" he challenges. You respond with a playful shove to his shoulder, knowing that he'll catch himself as he slips to the side. He does with a squawk, then responds with an affronted huff and a light shove to your head. "Fine! Next time I try to dazzle you with a romantic cliché, I won't bring takeout!" He even starts acting like he's climbing back out the window to leave.

"Noooooo! I'm sorry! Please don't!" you whine, throwing your arms around his middle even though you know it's an act. You feign that it's just the food you care about, but in reality, it makes you giddy that he likes you enough to embarrass himself with corny displays if only to see you smile. And he knows that, which is why he settles himself back in the window and smiles at you.

In hindsight, maybe talking with Ling about romantic clichés wasn't so bad after all.

Interested in a commission? Check out this post!

[selachiixiv]

A very album-cover-y aesthetic shot of my trans/nb characters for TDOV

since I have actual space in this text box, from the left,

Intercessor Androc Chionades - One of my Ascians, he was deeply closeted from even himself as a living Amaurotine (essential headcanon thought: yes, Ancient society/Amaurot were a-okay and good with gender, but if you don't even know how to ask yourself why your skin fits wrong...) and thus hyperfocused on rigidly following the rules and on both legal and botanical studies. When brought into the Ascian fold later on and figured out his gender, the Convocation member he serves, Halmarut, turned him and his direct peers into living roses to preserve their shapes for all of history. Having stumbled into the company of Hyacinthe in the pursuit of Hybris, he wound up meeting his beloved girlfriend, Shrike, and in the wake of the loss of Zodiark, he focuses his time primarily on memorizing laws across Etheirys, particularly Ishgardian property and tax laws because it entertains Shrike to watch him make nobles sweat very loudly.

Doctor Drujan Daemir - That's not his name, and while technically that's not his proper title, he is a former high-ranking medicus, so same difference. With both massive amounts of medical training and formal Hannish alchemy training, he is in the process of becoming a self-built man. An admirable goal, were he in possession of anything resembling a moral compass.

Annette Rivers - A tiny brick wall and formerly a single parent - no longer technically a single parent since she's tracked down her son's father and parenting their ten year old is now a shared responsibility between a small queer village - she is now able to fuck around and figure out what is even what with her gender. She doesn't know where she's going just yet, but she's shifted to she/sir and an attitude of "not sure how much I give a shit about having any gender". Born and raised in the Brume, she's got not an ounce of patience for most nobles, a quick mind for numbers, a quicker gun, and an even quicker snark.

Darry - Being a sayaad means all the accompanying shapeshifting capabilities, and she's entirely capable of any of them, but generally she defaults to tiny and femme with a decided lack of attachment to any one way. There's more important things to her life, like figuring out where she belongs culturally having left the one she was born to incredibly far behind her. When I'm not losing track of what I'm doing she's poking experimentally at Xaelic culture to see how well she can find a fit.

Oberon Bloodworth - A bit of a self-fulfillment/spite-fueled character in creation (finding out someone didn't view you as a man will do these things), Oberon is a model (both for artists and for fashion) and the son of Duskwight anarchists who work from the shadows to destabilize Gridanian government. When not busy with either of these he lives out in the middle of fuck-off nowhere, neighboured to a group of kobolds who fled their kin and tempering, together forming an aggressive body to any outsiders to their respective groups that find their way out, especially if they come in a uniform.

Favrielle - one of my longest-lasting characters, Favri's gender fuckery began internally probably a long time before they really thought about it, then WoW implemented those gender swap potions and they canonically began fucking around with those and the thought that it felt right to them to present as either began crystallizing, although they themselves maintained a primarily feminine presentation for some years until shortly after bearing their own child - an experience that also involved absorbing their selves from multiple alternate timelines and the associated power thereof - they shifted presentation drastically. When not ignoring the laws of man and physics alike, Favri parents their younger children, tries to grow ever-more-ridiculously-spicy peppers, leads kink seminars, parades their personal neon sign fiancé around, and sometimes lights people on fire for making exploitive contracts.

("gee Toby", you might say, "you sure do like giving your trans characters an outlaw streak if not an outright OP one or both", and you're right 🥰)

[sureuncertainty]

Honestly I feel less comfortable when people say, ladies and gentlemen and [insert some add on for nb folk here] than when they just say ladies and gentlemen and leave it at that. I'm sure that's a personal thing but still

[9tzuyu]

closest to me

prompt: coming out to natasha as nonbinary

note: totally meant to write this months ago, but whateverrrr. and yes, i am aware that not all nb people use they/them, this was just my own little work :p.

warnings: being scared to come out to ur sexy redhead russian of a gf :[

i’d tag but i also don’t want to somehow trigger someone :[

thank u moli for proofreading i love u to the moon and back.

. . .

you’d come out to two of your close friends, ones you knew wouldn’t judge you. they’d taken it just as expected, but that was no surprise when you’d known them your entire life. your shared opinions and thoughts were what brought you together in the first place. 

your friends immediately began using your correct pronouns, and you’d never felt more right in your life. it was refreshing to hear yourself being referred by they/them rather than she/her. their constant support made you feel normal again. after so much struggling, things were finally being put into place.

but there was one person, one very important person whom you hadn’t come out to yet, and that was your girlfriend.

natasha.

the thought of having the conversation alone with her was terrifying. granted, you knew she’d never be anything but supportive, but all the what if’s came flooding through with each attempt you made. 

your fingers trembled as you fiddled with the silver chain around your neck, a nervous habit you’d seemed to form over the years of wearing it. 

god you wanted to tell her so bad.

but as you stood in the kitchen, natasha’s hands around your waist, you began to panic all over again. the familiar fear of judgment wrapped around your throat. 

you didn’t know natasha the majority of your life like you did with friends, so you weren’t really sure what her exact opinions on different pronouns were. sure, she was part of the lgbt community, and of course she was supportive of trans people, but it still made you wonder how she’d feel about pronouns that weren’t he/him or she/her. 

“what’s on your mind, baby? i can practically hear the gears turning in your head.” 

you sighed. natasha always knew when you were lying, so you couldn’t make something up off the top of your head. she wouldn’t force you to talk either though. she’d give a push, but nothing more until you were certain you were ready — or in some cases, when she knew it was becoming too much to bear on your own. 

“just dumb stuff. i’ll get over it soon.” 

natasha nodded against your back, containing her concern for now. “you know i’m here.” she whispered, taking one of your hands away from your necklace.

“want to go downtown? we can look at some of the new shops that just opened up” 

you smiled, “sure.”

for the next few weeks, you weren’t seeming to find any relief though, and natasha picked up on it. she tried her best to make things easier for you, but none of it seemed to work. 

time and time again you reassured her that nothing was wrong, that things would clear up on their own, but another month down the road and natasha could still sense that something was eating away at you.

it’d gotten a little more obvious now. you didn’t go out as much with her when she was with her friends. the constant referral to you as something, or someone, you weren’t was a steady reminder of how outcast you’d originally felt when coming to terms with who you are. 

“she/her” felt like a slap in the face every time you heard it. the words were exhausting, damn near agonizing to hear. but day after day you tried to suck it up out of fear of being rejected by one of the very special people you loved most. 

it wasn’t until one sunday night when natasha came home to you crying in your shared bed when she’d finally had enough. her worry was through the roof and seeing you struggle so much pained her. 

she dropped her keys on the nightstand and crawled into bed behind you, securing her arms tightly around your figure. 

“talk to me. whatever it is, i want to hear about it.”

but that only made you cry harder. you couldn’t help but feel more alienated than you already felt. why were you crying over such a stupid little thing? you could already hear the false words slip from natasha’s lips.

“hey, baby. shh, shh, you’re okay.”

you turned your body to face natasha, teary eyes looking into hers. “you might hate me, or think i’m weird, or a freak, or that i’m just confused.” 

your girlfriend gently combed through your hair with her nails. “i could never think those things about you. please tell me what this is about because i have no idea and i just want to help.”

her steady hand movement rubbing your arm while the other twirled your hand between her fingertips eventually brought you to a more reasonable state. 

“you know how trans people typically go by their opposing pronouns?”

“mhm.”

“well... i don’t- i just- god this is so frustrating!” you frowned, unconsciously grasping at the chain around your neck.

“are you trying to tell me you’re trans?”

“no, no, it’s not that. well, i don’t think so, depends on who you talk to. some people like me consider themselves to be classified under the trans umbrella, but not everyone.” 

natasha hummed once more while tracing small shapes against your skin. 

“what do you think of nonbinary people? like, you know, those who don’t use she/her or he/him?” 

she shrugged, and your heart sank for a brief second before she spoke. “i don’t have a problem with it. why?”

“i don’t like being referred to as she/her. my pronouns are they/them. i’m not a man and i’m not a woman... will that ever bother you?”

a smile broke out across the redhead’s face. “doesn’t bother me one single bit. i love you for you, y/n. not for who you think you’re supposed to be.” 

relief was all you could feel. as cliche as it sounded, the weight of the world felt like it had been lifted from your shoulders. you didn’t have to worry anymore, not while natasha was around.

“is this what’s been bothering you for so long?”

you reached over and grabbed a loose red strand, it was your turn to play with her hair. ��yeah. i knew you wouldn’t judge, but-”

“what if.” she confirmed and you nodded. 

“does anyone else know?”

“just my two friends i grew up with.”

“no one else?” you shook your head, looping a red curl around your finger. “nope.”

“is that why you stopped hanging out with me, tony, clint and the rest of them? because everyone referred to you as she and her?”

“yeah, felt like a punch in the stomach every time i heard it. made me feel weird, not normal i guess.” you mumbled, almost embarrassed by the confession.

natasha placed a long kiss on the top of your head, rubbing your back for extra support. “they would never judge you, i’d cut them off in a heartbeat if they did. if it helps any, i can ask how they feel about it? poke around some and let you know what they say? then when they don’t have a problem with it, which they won’t, you can come out when you’re ready, yeah?”

you nodded again, although it was slightly hesitant. “sounds good.”

“forgive me if i mess up a couple of times. i’ll try not to make a big deal out of it and just correct myself.” another kiss was delivered to your head.

“oh! last question. promise.”

“yes?”

“when im around other people and you’re not with me do you want me to use they/them? i don’t want to out you when you’re not ready.”

“i swear you’re perfect,” you giggled. “but you can use they/them both when im with you and when i’m not. just try to keep it casual? please?”

“anything for you, sweetheart.”

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

new team - shoyo hinata

shoyo hinata x fem!reader

summary: you teach hinata some skills in middle school and to pay you back, he guarantees you a spot on the karasuno volleyball team.

warnings: NONE VERY FLUFFY

word count: 1,737

notes: i rlly rlly liked writing this bc i love my boy hinata and this just flowed so naturally and i’m rlly proud of it :’)

i also usually write gender neutral reader bc i’m nb and i wanna cater to as many ppl as possible and make them feel valid, but it was kinda necessary to the story for reader to be fem in this one

********************

after setting a ball to your friend, you noticed a short boy by himself in the corner of the gym with bright orange hair, setting and receiving against the wall. you made your way over to him, observing that he actually wasn’t too bad.

“oi, redhead,” you called out playfully. he turned around with a look of confusion on his face, as if to say ‘me?’ “yeah you. i couldn’t help but notice you’re playing all by your lonesome over here. any particular reason for that?”

his cheeks tinged pink at the callout, but he responded nonetheless. “w-well there’s not enough boys for the school to create a boys volleyball club, so i’m trying to get as many hours of practice in at school as i can.”

you nodded in recognition of his situation. “well, sorry to say you won’t get very far if the wall is your only opponent. but you’re certainly welcome to practice with me when my practice is over. if you’re interested, of course.”

“woah, really? you’d do that for me?” he asked in astonishment, eyes going wide as saucers.

“of course i would. i may not know much about you, but i can tell you have a passion for the sport, and it’d be a real shame for that to fizzle out,” you smiled genuinely. “i’ll help you practice...”

it took him a moment to realize you were waiting for his name. “oh! hinata! shoyo hinata.” he introduced.

“well shoyo hinata, i’m y/n l/n and i look forward to practicing with you.” you grinned. a whistle blew behind you, pulling you from your conversation with the boy. “sorry, i’ll see you later!”

sure enough, you found him waiting out by the baseball field, spinning a volleyball in his palm. after a short while of practicing, you realized you had underestimated this kid and the power he can pack in his spikes. it was clear he needed to improve in his receives, but he was in remarkably good shape for playing against a wall every week.

the two of you quickly became good friends, shoyo becoming your number one supporter - aside from your parents, of course. he attended all your games, cheering obnoxiously loud when it was your turn to serve.

over the summer from 8th to 9th grade however, the two of you didn’t see each other nearly as often as you used to. you had to admit it made you sad; the sweet redheaded boy had carved a special spot in your heart and you missed him dearly.

you attended karasuno high school, hoping to join the girls volleyball club and make some new friends. upon examining the club applications, much to your dismay, it appeared that such a club didn’t exist.

volleyball was your passion, and it hurt that you had no way of pursuing it anymore.

hanging your head in defeat and crumpling up the paper, you heard footsteps approaching rapidly from in front of you. before you could look up, a body suddenly collided with you, nearly knocking you over with the momentum they had built up.

“y/n!” a familiar voice cried out. you quickly realized the voice belonged to hinata, who’s arms were currently wrapped around you.

“hinata! i can’t believe you go to school here! i’ve missed you so much!” you squealed, hugging him back.

he pulled away, a look of surprise on his face. “are you kidding? i can’t believe you go to school here! you oughta be wherever the best girls volleyball club is! speaking of that, have you joined yet?”

you glanced down to the crumpled paper that still pressed against your palm. “well that’s the thing, it’s not even a choice on the club application form. unfortunately, i don’t think karasuno has one.”

shoyo gasped dramatically, jaw falling open in shock. “so what are you gonna do? you can’t just not play anymore, you’re so good!”

you smiled at the compliment from the boy, but your expression grew sadder. “thanks, shoyo, but i’m not sure what i can do. this seems like it’s out of my hands.”

a look of determination painted his features as he grabbed you by the shoulders. “no, i’m not gonna let this happen to you. don’t worry, y/n, i’ll find a way for you to play.”

he ran off, leaving you alone with your thoughts in the deserted hallway.

despite having absolutely no idea what he was planning, you trusted the boy. you knew he had your best interests at heart and would do anything to help you succeed, and you adored him for that. you just hoped whatever method he had to allow you to play wasn’t too embarrassing for you; you weren’t too keen on begging some team to let you play for them, but you had a feeling hinata’s plan wouldn’t involve that.

——————————

“please?” hinata begged.

“a girl? join the team? i don’t know hinata, you’d have to run it by the coach.” daichi uttered hesitantly.

“but you’re the captain, daichi, you have the final say!” he reminded him.

daichi sighed. “yeah, you’re right. what’s so special about this girl?”

he watched as hinata’s eyes lit up in excitement when he spoke about her. “well she was the setter in middle school, but that was only because no one else was good enough to play that position. she’s really versatile and she taught me practically everything i know about spiking! she’s also got some mean overhand serving skills; she’d be a great addition to the team! please, daichi, pretty please?”

he looked down at the boy to see him glancing up with a pair of puppy eyes, intent on winning him over. daichi felt he was powerless to do anything but give in, though his description of you did sound pretty great if he was being honest.

“alright, i’ll talk to the coach and see what he thinks. bring her to our next practice and introduce her to everyone.” he said, not missing the bright grin that donned the redhead’s face at his words.

“thank you so much, sir! you won’t regret it, i promise!” he ran back towards the basket of balls to practice serving once more.

——————————

“where are you taking me, shoyo?” you muttered. “can you take your hands off yet?”

he had cornered you back in the main building, insisting you accompany him to some unknown destination he had in mind. since then, he had been walking directly behind you, his hands covering your eyes.

“i’ll show you...” he waited until you took a few more steps. “now!”

you blinked your eyes open to find yourself outside of the gym building. “the gym? what are we doing here, hinata?”

you turned to him and he grinned. “volleyball practice is about to start.”

“volleyball - as in boys volleyball? what am i doing here? am i here to watch you practice?”

he donned a soft smile at your confusion. “no, you’re gonna practice.”

your eyes widened. “i am? i don’t even have any athletic clothes, shoyo, i just have my uniform!”

“i wouldn’t worry too much about that today,” he pushed you towards the doors. “i’ll just be introducing you to everyone today.”

“introducing...? what is going on here, hinata?” you questioned. he pushed the door open to reveal a large group of mostly tall boys, all staring down at you.

most of them looked friendly and approachable, but several of them looked rather intimidating. “everyone, this is y/n. y/n, this is your new team.” shoyo announced.

you gasped, turning towards hinata. “m-my new team? you got me a spot on the team?”

the look of gratitude in your eyes had him blushing a bright pink and he scratched the back of his head nervously. “it was nothing, really. y-”

he was cut off as you hugged him tightly, thanking him for allowing you to continue the sport you loved. “you don’t have to thank me, it’s not a huge deal or anything.”

“are you kidding? it’s a huge deal! i can’t believe you did this for me!” your smile nearly reached your ears.

he walked you around the gym, introducing you to his teammates. sugawara and asahi were incredibly sweet, even offering to set you a few balls to test your spiking abilities, though you declined since you were still wearing a skirt.

the intimidating one you saw earlier - tsukkishima, you had learned - was not as sweet as the others you had met and seemed rather distant, though you hoped that would fade as you got to know him.

tanaka and nishinoya were full of energy and practically gushing over you even though they hadn’t yet witnessed your abilities.

the one shoyo introduced as kageyama shot you a nasty glare. “what position did you play?”

“setter,” you murmured, slightly on edge from the look of intensity in his eyes. that intensity morphed into fury after your words, intimidating you further.

you quickly remembered this was the incredible setter hinata had mentioned several times before. “o-oh! don’t worry, i don’t plan on taking your spot or anything, i’m sure you’re far better than i am!”

“good.” you smiled at him nervously. “if you’re good enough, maybe i’ll send you a couple sets.”

and of course you met daichi, the captain to whom you owed your spot on this team. he was very friendly and personable and you suspected he was the type to give inspirational speeches before games.

kageyama pulled hinata aside, practicing quick attacks with him, leaving you with daichi.

“hinata talks about you quite a bit, y’know,” daichi murmured, catching your attention.

“he does?” you queried. “all good things, i hope.”

the captain smiled down at you. “he speaks very highly about you and your skills. i think he’s got a bit of a bias since you taught him what he knows, but i don’t doubt you’ll really prove yourself on the court.”

your eyes went wide at the faith he already had in you, despite never seeing you play. “thank you, daichi, that really means a lot.”

the boys divided themselves into teams, starting a practice match as you and daichi observed from the sidelines. your eyes found hinata in the back row, who gave you a wide grin and a wave.

you waved back, your heart warming at the gesture. you had only just met the boys, but you couldn’t wait for the next practice.

********************

i might make this a series? maybe?? maybe not?? idk but let me know what u think :D

tags: @aestosia​ @elysianslove​

not working: @akaashis-keiji @bloodydestiney 

[justmenoworries]

Not Up For Interpretation - An Essay On Nonbinary - Erasure

(Trigger Warning: Misgendering, Transphobia, Nonbinary-phobia)

If you’ve been following me for a while, you probably know this was a long time coming. I’ve made several posts about my frustrations concerning this topic and how much it hurt me just how socially accepted erasing an entire identity still is. While representation marches on and things have become better for nonbinary people as a whole, we still battle with a lot of prejudice - both intentional and unintentional.

In this essay, I want to discuss just how our identities are being erased almost daily, why that is harmful and hurtful and what we all can do to change that.

Chapters:

What does Non-binary mean?

Nonbinary- representation in media

So what’s the problem?

How do we fix it?

1. What Does Non-binary Mean?

Non-binary is actually an umbrella term. It includes pretty much every gender-identity that’s neither one or the other so to speak, for example, agender.

Agender means feeling detachment from the gender spectrum in general. If you’re agender, you most likely feel a distance to the concept of gender as a whole, that it doesn’t define you as a person.

There are many identities that classify under non-binary: There’s gender-fluid (you feel you have a gender, but it’s not one gender specifically and can change), demi-gender (identifying as a gender partially, but not completely) and many others.

Sometimes, multiple non-binary identities can mix and match.

Most non-binary people use they/them pronouns, but like with so many things, it varies.

Some nonbinary-people (like me) go by two pairs of pronouns. I go by both she/her and they/them, because it’s what feels most comfortable at the moment. But who knows, maybe in the future I’ll switch to they/them exclusively or expand to he/him.

There is no one defining non-binary experience. Nb-people are just as varied and different as binary people, who go by one specific gender.

There are non-binary people who choose to go solely by she/her or he/him and that’s okay too. It doesn’t make them any more or less non-binary and their identity is still valid.

If your head’s buzzing a bit by now: That’s okay. It’s a complicated topic and no one expects you to understand all of it in one chapter of one essay.

Just know this: If a person identifies as non-binary, you should respect their decision and use the pronouns they go with.

It’s extremely hurtful to refer to someone who already told you that they use they/them pronouns with she/her or he/him, or use they/them to refer to a person who uses she/her.

Think about it like using a trans-person’s deadname: It’s rude, it’s harmful and it shows complete disrespect for the person.

Non-binary people have existed for a very long time. The concept isn’t new. The idea that there are only two genders, with every other identity being an aberration to the norm, is largely a western idea, spread through colonialism.

The Native American people use “Two-Spirit” to describe someone who identifies neither as a man nor a woman. The term itself is relatively new, but the concept of a third gender is deeply rooted in many Native American cultures.

(Author’s Note: If you are not Native American, please do not use it. That’s cultural appropriation.)

In India, the existence of a third gender has always been acknowledged and there are many terms specifically for people who don’t identify with the gender that was assigned to them at birth.

If you’re interested in learning more about non-binary history and non-binary identities around the world, I’d recommend visiting these websites:

https://nonbinary.wiki/wiki/History_of_nonbinary_gender

https://nonbinary.wiki/wiki/Gender-variant_identities_worldwide

https://thetempest.co/2020/02/01/history/the-history-of-nonbinary-genders-is-longer-than-you-think/

https://www.teenvogue.com/story/gender-variance-around-the-world

Also, maybe consider giving this book a try:

Nonbinary Gender Identities: History, Culture, Resources by Charlie Mcnabb

2. Non-binary Representation In Media

The representation of non-binary people in mainstream media hasn’t been... great, to put it mildly.

Representation, as we all know, is important.

Not only does it give minorities a chance to see themselves in media and feel heard and acknowledged. It also normalizes them.

For example, seeing a black Disney-princess was a huge deal for many black little girls, because they could finally say there was someone there who looked like them. They could see that being white wasn’t a necessity to be a Disney princess.

Seeing a canonically LGBT+ character in a children’s show teaches kids that love is love, no matter what gender you’re attracted to. At the same time, older LGBT+ viewers will see themselves validated and heard in a movie that features on-screen LGBT+ heroes.

There’s been some huge steps in the right direction in the last few years representation-wise.

Not only do we have more LGBT+ protagonists and characters in general, we’ve also begun to question and call out harmful or bigoted portrayals of the community in media, such as “Bury Your Gays” or the “Depraved Homosexual”.

With that being said: Let’s take a look at how Non-binary representation holds up in comparison, shall we?

This is Double Trouble, from the children’s show “She-Ra And The Princesses Of Power”.

They identify as non-binary and use they/them pronouns. They’re also  a slimy, duplicitous lizard-person who can change their shape at will.

Um, yeah.

Thanks, but no thanks.

Did I mention they’re also the only non-binary character in the entire show? And that they’re working with a genocidal dictator in most of the episodes they’re in?

Yikes.

Let’s look at another example.

These three (in order of appearance) are Stevonnie, Smoky Quartz and Shep. Three characters appearing in the kid’s show “Steven Universe” and it’s epilogue series “Steven Universe: Future”.

All of them identify as non-binary and use they/them as pronouns.

Stevonnie and Smoky Quartz are the result of a boy and a girl being fused together through weird alien magic.

Shep is a regular human, but they only appeared in one episode. In an epilogue series that only hardcore fans actually watched.

Well, I mean...

One out of three isn’t that bad, right?

Maybe we should pick an example from a series for older viewers.

Say hello to Doppelganger, a non-binary superhuman who goes by they/them, from the Amazon-series “The Boys”.

They’re working for a corrupt superhero-agency and use their power of shape-shifting to trick people who pose a threat to said agency into having sex with them. And then blackmail those people with footage of said sex.

....

Do I even need to say it?

If you’ve paid attention during the listing of these examples, you might have noticed a theme.

Namely that characters canonically identifying as non-binary are either

supernatural in some way, shape or form,

barely have a presence in the piece of media they’re in,

both.

Blink-and-you-miss-it-manner of representation aside, the majority of these characters fall squarely under what we call “Othering”.

“Othering” describes the practice of portraying minorities as supernatural creatures or otherwise inhuman. Or to say it bluntly: As “The Other”.

“Othering” is a pretty heinous method. Not only does it portray minorities as inherently abnormal and “different in a bad way”. It also goes directly against what representation is actually for: Normalizing.

As a general rule of thumb: If your piece of media has humans in it, but the only representation of non-white, non-straight people are explicitly inhuman... yeah, that’s bad.

So is there absolutely no positive representation for us out there?

Not quite.

As rare as human non-binary characters in media are to find, they do exist.

Here we have Bloodhound! A non-binary human hunter who uses they/them pronouns, from the game “Apex Legends”.

It’s been confirmed by the devs and the voice actress that they’re non-binary.

Nice!

These are Frisk (bottom) and Chara (top) from the game “Undertale”. While their exact gender identity hasn’t been disclosed, they both canonically use they/them pronouns, so it’s somewhere on the non-binary spectrum.

Two human children who act as the protagonist (Frisk) and antagonist (Chara), depending on how you play the game. (Interpretations vary on the antagonist/protagonist-thing, to say the least.)

Cool!

......

And, yep, that’s it.

As my little demonstration here showed, non-binary representation in media is rare. Good non-binary representation is even rarer.

Which is why those small examples of genuinely good representation are so important to the Non-binary community!

It’s hard enough to have to prove you exist. It’s even harder to prove your existence is not abnormal or unnatural.

If you’d like to further educate yourself on representation, it’s impact on society and why it matters, perhaps take a second to read through these articles:

https://www.criticalhit.net/opinion/representation-media-matters/

https://www.pbs.org/newshour/arts/why-on-screen-representation-matters-according-to-these-teens

https://jperkel.github.io/sciwridiversity2020/

https://www.forbes.com/sites/quora/2019/05/22/why-is-equal-representation-in-media-important/?sh=25f2ccc92a84

https://www.theodysseyonline.com/why-representation-the-media-matters

3. So What’s The Problem?

The problem, as is the case with so many things in the world, is prejudice.

Actually, that’s not true.

There’s not a problem, there are multiple problems. And their names are prejudice, ignorance and bigotry.

Remember how I said human non-binary representation is rare?

Yeah, very often media-fans don’t help.

Let’s take for example, the aforementioned Frisk and Chara from “Undertale”.

Despite the game explicitly using they/them to refer to both characters multiple times, the majority of players somehow got it into their heads that Frisk’s and Chara’s gender was “up for interpretation”.

There is a huge amount of fan art straight-up misgendering both characters and portraying them as binary and using only he/him or she/her pronouns.

The most egregious examples are two massively popular fan-animated web shows: “Glitchtale”, by Camila Cuevas and “Underverse” by Jael Peñaloza.

Both series are very beloved by the Undertale-fanbase and even outside of it. Meaning for many people, those two shows might be their first introduction to “Undertale” and it’s two non-binary human characters.

Take a wild guess what both Camila and Jael did with Frisk and Chara.

Underverse, X-Tale IV:

(Transcript: “Frisk lied to me in the worst possible way... I... I will never forgive him.”)

Underverse, X-Tale V:

(Transcript: “I-It’s Chara... and it’s a BOY.”)

Glitchtale, My Promise:

(Transcript: (Referring to Frisk) “I’m not scared of an angry boy anymore.”)

Glitchtale, Game Over Part 1:

(Transcript: (Referring to Chara) “It’s ok little boy.”)

This... this isn’t okay.

Not only do both of these pieces of fan-art misgender two non-binary characters, the creators knew beforehand that Frisk and Chara use they/them-pronouns, but made the conscious choice to ignore that.

To be fair, in a video discussing “Underverse”, Jael said that only X-Tale Frisk and Chara, the characters you see in the Underverse-examples above, are male, while the characters Frisk and Chara from the main game remained non-binary and used they/them (time-stamp 10:34).

Still, that doesn’t erase the fact that Jael made up alternate versions of two non-binary characters specifically to turn them male. Or that, while addressing the issue, Jael was incredibly dismissive and even mocked the people who felt hurt by her turning two non-binary characters male. Jael also went on to make a fairly non-binary-phobic joke in the video, in which she equated gender identities beyond male and female to identifying as an object.

Jael (translated): “I don’t care if people say the original Frisk and Chara are male, female, helicopters, chairs, dogs or cats, buildings, clouds...”

That’s actually a very common joke among transphobes, if not to say the transphobe-joke:

“Oh, you identify as X? Well then I identify as an attack helicopter!”

If you’re trans, chances are you’ve heard this one, or a variation of it, a million times before.

I certainly have.

I didn’t laugh then and I’m not laughing now.

(Author’s note: I might be angry at both of them for what they did, but I do not, under any circumstances, support the harassment of creators. If you’re thinking about sending either Jael or Camila hate-mail - don’t. It won’t help.)

Jael’s reaction is sadly common in the Undertale fandom. Anyone speaking up against Chara’s and Frisk’s identity being erased is immediately bludgeoned with the “up for interpretation”-argument, despite that not once being the case in the game.

And even with people who do it right and portray Frisk and Chara as they/them, you’ll have dozens of commenters swarming the work with sentences among the lines of “Oh but I think Frisk is a boy/girl! And Chara is a girl/boy!”

By the way, this kind of thing only happens to Frisk and Chara.

Every other character in “Undertale” is referred to and portrayed with their proper pronouns of she/her or he/him.

But not the characters who go by they/them.

Their gender is “up for interpretation”.

Because obviously, their identity couldn’t possibly be canonically non-binary.

Sadly, Frisk and Chara are not alone in this.

Remember Bloodhound?

And how I said they’d been confirmed as non-binary and using they/them pronouns by both the creators and the voice actress?

It seems for many players, that too translated to “up for interpretation”.

(Transcript: “does it matter what they call him? He, her, it, they toaster oven, it doesn’t matter”)

(Transcript: “I’m like 90 % sure Bloodhound is a dude because he could just sound like a girl and by their age that I’m assuming looks around 10-12 because I’ve known many males who have sounded like a female when they were younger”)

(Transcript: “I don’t care it will always be a He. F*ck that non-binary bullsh*t.”)

(Transcript: “Bloodhound is clearly female.”)

(Transcript: “I’m not calling a video game character they/them”)

(Transcript: “exactly. The face was never fully shown neither was the gender so I’d say it means that the player is Bloodhound. So it’s your gender and you refer to “him” as yourself. It’s like a self insertion in my eyes.”)

So, let me get this straight:

If a character, even a player character, uses she/her or he/him, you can accept it, no questions asked.

But when a character uses they/them, suddenly their identity and gender are “up for interpretation”?

This attitude is also widely prevalent in real life.

Many languages only include pronouns for men and women, with no third option available. Non-binary people are often forced to make up their own terms, because their language doesn’t provide one.

Non-binary people often don’t fit within other people’s ideas of gender, so they get excluded altogether. Worse, non-binary people are often the victims of misgendering, denial of their identity or even straight-up violence when coming out.

People will often tell us that we look like a certain gender, so we should only use one set of gendered pronouns. Never mind that that’s not what we want. Never mind that that’s not who we are.

Non-binary people are also largely omitted from legal documentation and studies. We cannot identify as non-binary at our workplace, because using they/them pronouns is considered “unprofessional”. We don’t have our own bathrooms like men and women do. Our gender is seen as less valid than male and female, so even that basic thing is denied to us. I’ve had to use the women’s restroom my entire life, because if I go into a male restroom, I’ll be yelled at or made fun off or simply get told I took the wrong door. It’s extremely uncomfortable for me and I wish I didn’t have to do it.

And since non-binary people aren’t seen as “real transgender-people”, we often don’t receive the medical care we need. This often renders us unable to feel good within our bodies, because the treatment and help we get is wildly inadequate.

It’s especially horrible for intersex people (people who are born with sex characteristics that don’t fit solely into the male/female category) who are often forced to change their bodies to fit within the male/female gender binary.

And you better believe each of those problems is increased ten-fold for non-binary people of color.

We are ignored and dismissed as “confused”, because of who we are.

Representation is a way for Non-binary people to show the world they exist, that they’re here and that they too have stories to tell.

But how can we, when every character that represents us is either othered, barely there or gets taken away from us?

We are not “up for interpretation”.

Neither are the characters in media who share our identity.

And it’s time to stop pretending we ever were.

For more information about Non-Binary Erasure and how harmful it is, you can check out these articles:

https://everydayfeminism.com/2015/08/common-non-binary-erasure/

https://www.dailydot.com/irl/nonbinary-people-racism/

https://nonbinary.wiki/wiki/Nonbinary_erasure

https://traj.openlibhums.org/articles/10.16995/traj.422/

https://medium.com/an-injustice/everyday-acts-of-non-binary-erasure-49ee970654fb

https://medium.com/national-center-for-institutional-diversity/the-invisible-labor-of-liberating-non-binary-identities-in-higher-education-3f75315870ec

https://musingsofanacademicasexual.wordpress.com/2015/05/11/dear-sirmadam-a-commentary-on-non-binary-erasure/

4. How Do We Fix It?

Well, first things first: Stop acting like we don’t exist.

And kindly stop other people from doing it too.

We are a part of the LGBT+ community and we deserve to be acknowledged, no matter what our pronouns are.

Address non-binary people with the right pronouns. Don’t argue with them about their identity, don’t comment on how much you think they look like a boy or a girl. Just accept them and be respectful.

If a non-binary person tells you they have two sets of pronouns, for example he/him and they/them, don’t just use one set of pronouns. That can come off as disingenuous. Alternate between the pronouns, don’t leave one or the other out. It’ll probably be hard at first, but if you keep it up, you’ll get used to it pretty quickly.

If you’re witnessing someone harass a non-binary person over their identity, step in and help them.

And please, don’t partake in non-binary erasure in media fandoms.

Don’t misgender non-binary characters, don’t “speculate” on what you think their gender might be. You already know their gender and it’s non-binary. It costs exactly 0 $ to be a decent human being and accept that.

Support Non-Binary people by educating yourself about them and helping to normalize and integrate their identity.

In fact, here’s a list of petitions, organizations and articles who will help you do just that:

https://www.change.org/p/collegeboard-let-students-use-their-preferred-name-on-collegeboard-9abad81a-0fdf-435c-8fca-fe24a5df6cc7?source_location=topic_page

6 Ways to Support Your Non-Binary Child

7 Non-Negotiables for Supporting Trans & Non-Binary Students in Your Classroom

If Your Partner Just Came Out As Non-Binary, Here’s How To Support Them

How to Support Your Non-Binary Employees, Colleagues and Friends

Ko-fi page for the Nonbinary Wiki

The Sylvia Rivera Project, an organization who aims to give low-income and non-white transgender, intersex and non-binary people a voice

The Anti Violence Project “empowers lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, and HIV-affected communities and allies to end all forms of violence through organizing and education, and supports survivors through counseling and advocacy."

The Trans Lifeline, a hotline for transgender people by transgender people

Tl:DR: Non-Binary representation is important. Non-Binary people still suffer from society at large not acknowledging our existence and forcing us to conform. Don’t be part of that problem by taking away what little representation we have. Educate yourself and do better instead. We deserve to be seen and heard.

[dollymadness]

Hello. Shoto falling in love with a villian (with tragic back-story). At first he's very bothered by his feelings but later on he finds out their story and he understands the villian's side however villian hates his father and wants to murder shoto to avenge his family who were abandoned by endeavor during a house fire.

Pro hero Shoto x villain NB reader

hey loml !! sorry, this took me too long

Villain quirk: Fierce Snake - they can shapeshift into a full fierce snake or only incorporate the animal senses (which includes venom, highly sensitive skin, improved chemosensory...) on their human form.

You can choose the particularity of the snake that suits better on the situation.

The drawback is the short time you have on the full form, or when you are using more then one sense.

You are the ambicious type, with a indeed charming nature. A person that woudn't hesitate on sacrificing everything and yourself to reach the main goal.

But you are sure such extreme attitude won't be needed at all, due to your clever and logic brain. One thing, out of all that you are sure, is to overanalyse each move, every little step is calculated.

Shoto is a highly rated pro hero, on his prefered area. He isn't the biggest fan of the front line, the battle and the caos. Instead, he choose to live in the shadows, working successively suceed stealth missions.

Todoroki is the best type of spy, he is polite, cool-headed and extremely smart. The man is even more effective than Hawks was, he is changing this behalf of the heroe society to be more straight to the point, functional.

However, is not always that easy to find the needed information. After all those years, the company decided to try again an old strategy.

"All i have to do is go there and say i want to join? Sir, with all the respect, but-" Even being the CEO, Shoto is always respectful with his co-workers, even giving them power and space to desagree with him and openly point it out.

"Sir, i'm telling you that this will work. If you want, i can show the presentation again, and all the points to prove it's the best change we have."

There were rumors that the villains are planning something big against the top heroes, however they can't get even a small clew. All the pre-existing methods had failed on them and the team suggested to Shoto to infilter, alike his precursor.

It's a big and, on Shotos concepition, dumb step to make. The villains woudn't feel on the same trick two times, would they? "So many time has passed since then..." His co-worker argument was valid too. "You can easily scape if it goes wrong." Obviously he can. He would be the number one if wasn't for his area of action.

He is scared, but doesn't let it show on his expression when he agree. After all the discuss, they get out of the company with a well thought plan, step by step.

On the other side, the delinquents were also working on their main scheme. They wanted a war, as the LOV once did, but they needed a strong weapon to realize such, they wanted something better than the nomus, maybe an item to potentialize their individualitys. Still, they didn't have a clear direction.

Mei is the big brain, the scientist. Is she an inventor from the heroes side? Yes. Does she give a single fuck to the motivation besides just creating insane "babys"? No.

And she isn't getting anywhere with her "basic creations", in their masters word. All the villains can do by now is mess with hero society as much as possible and wait to their weapon to come to life.

Shoto is getting his job done. He putted himself into the ghettos and patiently waited. "Hey, hey, hey! What do we have here?" The elastic masquerade man curls on the walls next to Sho. "How can i serve you, your majesty?" He sneers, while the hero keep his face emotionless.

Todoroki then explains his will to join the villains, with the excuse of the hate of his on father and all the abuse he did to him, that part was not enterely a lie. He even managed to split out that he never wanted to be a hero, only doing for parental pressure.

The criminal listened with boredom filling his face, taking Shoto inside.

"Oh, if it's not our royal highness! Tell your dad i said hi." The Mastermind proceeds to talk by the moment Shoto walks in.

"Hello, sir." He started politely, lowering his head to show respect. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but i came here to offer my help to your crew."

Again, he gave the same excuse he'd gave minutes ago.

"I see. But don't think that i'm going to accept a filthy rat like you that easily... those who don't learn with the history are complete fools. You know are i'm talking about, don't you?" His voice was so low, barely audible and it send shivers on Shotos spine.

"Yes, sir, but i'm willing to prove my worthy." Todoroki could hear his voice cracking, the moment isn't bringing good memories.

His father was the one who used to put him in such a humiliating position.

"You can start by begging. If you want it, you will do anything, is that correct?" He watches as Sho silently gets on his knees. "And stop with that 'sir' thing. 'Master' will do." A big smirk appears

"Yes, master." He was starting to feel disgusted by himself, but didn't back off. "Please, let me join this league. I'm begging, Master, please." Hate on the most pure form runs throught his veins while he stay still, looking to the ground as it is the most interesting thing on earth.

"Tsc. I don't know if that erection you getting me is enough. What do you think, Y/N?" You suddenly emerges from the back of the empty dark room and joins in.

"Give the guy a chance, if he is bad we can just cut his head off." You see Shoto fighting his urge to look up and see your face, and it steals a laugh of your part.

"As you seem like having so much fun with this worm here, now he is under your wing. Test him as much as you want and if he fucks everything up, i'll blame you. Understood?" The Mastermind now shows that he's harsh to his allies to.

"Understood!" The man walks away, letting you and Shoto solve this new problem you both got into.

"So... what do you'll like for me to call you, peasant?"

"Shoto is enough."

"Okay, call me Y/N, i don't need all this formality that Master likes... get up." you order and he hops up in a second.

"Endeavors son is under my wing... a bit ironic, don't you think?" laughing to yourself, he eyes you as you clingy around his shoulder.

"You know what? This is going to be fun..." You shift into a snake, curling up on his neck, as Todoroki jumps in fear.

"So, Shoto, how you're going to prove me that you aren't faking this shit?" You turn into human again, only to shift again on his arm. "Huh?" Again, and now he is getting used to it.

"I-i don't now, 'boss'. You are the one to tell me this, right?" You finally stop, feeling pure joy while the young man has fear all over his face, body tense and eyes about to jump off.

"Yes, darling, i am. Trust me, if this is a setup, you will regret." You threat biting his neck, laughing as you walk away.

You put Shoto in all possible kinds of difficult situations...

He had to share confidential information about his hero friends.

Let the villains take a building filled of civillians.

And he had to help on the secret missions all along. You would curl on his neck and move for the extension of his shoulder, just to remember him that all his moves are being watched.

Shoto is skillful, and it's not hard to notice. In a short amount of time, he is already a pro on the wickedness. Slowly turning himself into a cold-hearted villain, and doesn't seem to hate it.

"Sho!" You two were leaving another building, with some items that Hatsume required. "You think that's funny?"

You try to play mad, but end up laughing with him. Shoto had freezed you just to mess around, and is now using his quirk to creat a beard on your face.

"I do." He complains, moving away to have a good vision of the scene he created.

"Of course you do, bastard. Set me free now!"

"Or what?" He teases.

"You know i can do it by myself, but i'm giving you the chance to redeem before i kill you." The playful tone don't make it less ominous.

"Make me." As the words drop out his mouth, you shift into a snake and get out of the ice, shaped to your human form.

You crawl till him, turning back into your normal form and quickly choking him. "Now we are talking."

"Any last words before i make you regret?" Your nails are sinking on his soft skin.

"I was couting on it." He smiles.

.

.

.

There will be a part 2 soon !! :)

[best-ghoul]

Yo NB vibe check for a Guiltless:

(Guiltless: Gender R2)

I’m not nonbinary, but a lot of you all are, so I figured I’d show my work here on my NB OC for a game I’m making (GRAVEN). I’m checking if it scratches a good itch for y’all, like, reblog, lmk, hmu, call me a fucker, whatever.

So, I know you guys have an affinity for characters that are biologically androgynous as well as reasonable grievance that we don’t have any Enby Humans (or elves or whatever) in media.

These ideas can coexist, even in the same character, it’s half the fun of playing fantasy. Guilt’s the biggest NB rep in the game by a large margin, so I’m trying try to hit both notes in one chord.

Enter “Guiltless”, a brain-eating slime assassin. Imagine The Thing, but not an asshole. I’m doing an Odo DS9, if you watched it.

Check it:

Being a Shapeshifter-of-Unclear-Provenance (even they don’t know), so Guiltless is actually just a giant amoeba, so they don’t have a biological sex even though they can emulate it, if needs suit them.

They can pass for whatever if they gotta (specific hard, general easy), and have to rehearse a form to keep it without effort. They have to eat brains to retain a memory, and can only “remember” a couple shapes at a time.

They were never a particular fan of gender, but they’ve got the ability to conceptualize, understand, and keep one if they like it. They didn’t, even though they’d pick one as their resting state for a while and ditch it later when they had to go to ground:

First-person brain they ate was a young teenager’s corpse (Guiltless didn’t kill them, they think) whose gender they either didn’t process or later forgot. They made that form their default, and have been revising it ever since. It’s “grown up” as they figured people out.

If other organisms like Guiltless exist, they probably have their own ideas about what to do with it, but Guiltless adopted whatever generated the least suspicion.

They’ve since edited and revised it as they became more acclimated to people-society. It became “them” instead of just a mask they were wearing-- literally at the same rate they acclimated to society. They’re an adult slime, at any rate, and nobody pays a kid what they deserve, even assassins. Fuck that noise.

At the same rate, their stabs at actually deciding a gender eroded off. So, instead of having a puberty, the Starveling took a pass and kinda “grew up” into a gawky androgyny.

It was a process of nudges, but as soon as they met their first NB person, it was revalatory, like, “Hah, yes, gender is indeed wack- what the fuck do you mean it’s optional? Oh fuck, bet.”

From then on, Guiltless quit trying entirely, and is now androgynous as hell any time they could get away with it.

Appearance: Guiltless is a Din, so they’re like, 4 feet tall, look like they’ve been living rough for 20 years, and have stumpy little horns which generally only appear in males, but some females have ‘em (it’s about 80/20). Either way, short ones are signs of poor nutrition as a kid.

Din have either reddish blue or purple skin, but Guitless is like, corpse-blue. Otherwise you can’t tell they’re a transparent sludge puddle without stickin’ a sword in ‘em. Shorts, hoodie with long sleeves, and lil socks over their feet. Legs are built and sleeves are a little too long, hoodie’s baggy, all to cover for the drifty, sliminess of their movements. Faking that you have bones is a lotta work!

They’re Kuudere, but as their first brain was one of incredible suffering at the hands of a few, so they try to be better for the Starveling’s sake, and generally pick their jobs with a vigilante’s zeal. Thus, they are incredibly gentle with most people, especially children, though animals don’t know what to make of Guiltless, and usually get spooked.

It’s a shame, because they very much like dogs and were very disappointed that simple mimicry was insufficient to make friends with them. A Loyalty Quest in my notes involves trying to find a pet that likes Guiltless.

Otherwise, Guiltless obviously eats people, and also eats animals to keep up their memory. Thus they suck up rats like there’s a prize inside (ibrains): they’re smart critters, after all.

[vasiliair]

the body is haven as passageway to life i make to death because it’s easier in the long term shadow of this body and its vacuum.     —     Milk and Filth, ‘(Llorona Soliloquy)’ by Carmen Giménez Smith.

vasiliska aristarkhov, a twenty six year old grisha in the little palace. she is an durast and are known in the little palace as the the peacekeeper. they are known to be adroit and over-emotional and vaguely resemble diana silvers.

hi!!!! im naz, im 21 and im a longterm grishaverse trashbag fan.   literally come and scream to me at anytime about anything.  this is vas shes babey shaped? demigirl nb babe of my heart..

you can find her stats here and her bio here.

vasiliska!!! she responds to pretty much anything usually vas, but vasya is the main diminutive she uses. will also respond to oi fabrikator and hey you

vas was born in ketterdam and didn’t discover their abilities as a durast until they was seven, when someone tried to mug her (cause yknow ketterdam fucking sucks lol) & in defense, she drew metal from a nearby building to shield their body. returning home, in fear, she told her parents. realizing the danger that she was in, their mother took them across the land bridges and into shu han, deciding that getting her to ravka was really the only safe opinion for her (since she’d been exposed as a grisha in ketterdam and would be targeted for it) 

inducted into the second army as a durast, vas was kept behind the scenes like most fabrikators and really, they kept up the reputation of fabrikators of being super helpful and useless but ignored. keeping herself in the workshops, she only managed to get noticed by creating incredible weapons & gaining up the ranks of grisha. hidden blades and knives, shrapnel bombs and other creations of mass destruction; vas proved herself as someone terrifying and deadly.

but? theyre filled with love. spent their spare time tending to the flowers and gardens of the little palace, always helping out and acting as a rich flower growing amongst weeds, greeting new grisha with beautiful origami pieces and spending hours upon hours paying love and attention to her fellow grisha, as well as any otkazat’sya who took the time to talk to her. talks to the plants.. WILL GROW A PLANT FOR U

over all? theyre very loving, very kind! will give you a hug, you can be mean and they wont be upset about it. loves flowers so much. you can often recognize her weaponry by the fact shes got flower designs in them.

she does have an amplifier in the form of a necklace/collar made from the bones of a gray whale, slain on a trip to wandering isle. after slaying the beast, vas crafted the collar herself and considers it their prized possession. 

but yeah!! shes been @ the little palace for ages, is super friendly and is filled with love!  i would love to have some friends for her bc shes babey shaped but also seriously if ur grumpy feel free to be annoyed by her i just think it would be hilarious bc she wants to be everyones friend!!!  so yknow slap that ♡ if you wanna plot ♡  u can also add me in disco at the grink#0567

[theroguefeminist]

Hey there, I was just wondering what kind of post you're referring to when you mentioned "not all men 2.0?" I've been following you for quite a while but I'm not very active on tumblr anymore so I might've missed this resurgence.

Yeah no problem! This is regarding this post and my tags, I think. Basically, for a good while people were pretty much in agreement that women and nb people might vent about men being oppressors as a class due to patriarchy and what-not, but more recently there has been backlash against that. So there has been a surge of discourse opposing how people will criticize / complain about men as a whole. This discourse usually is framed as claiming that is is “gender essentialist” and “TERF rhetoric” or “biphobic” etc etc. I’ve seen it on tumblr but also seen it crop on other online spaces like reddit. 

To be sure, not all of these criticisms are unfounded: certainly TERFs do overgeneralize about men and women in ways that demonize trans women and erase the experience of trans people or those who have been abused or mistreated by women. And obviously, some people have taken the original discourse to weird messed up places like blaming straight women or bi women for “choosing” to be in relationships with men or acting like being abused or mistreated is an inevitability if you have a relationship with men. But some of the criticism has extended beyond those actually well-founded ideas to start bashing any post that vents about men or points out that most abuse and sexual assault is perpetrated by men against women or that all men benefit from a patriarchal system / are oppressors in some shape or form. It has started to devolve into a new “not all men” imo that silences ppl from venting / criticizing male privilege. Especially because I feel like some people involved in this discourse missed the part where we figured out that “not all men” is a Bad Take for good reasons.

TL;DR: SJ discourse determined “not all men” = a bad take ignoring how patriarchy works -> women and nbs vent about men as a social class -> more recently some ppl have been criticizing that as veering into TERF/biphobic /gender essentialist territory -> sometimes these criticisms go too far and act as if any criticism of men as a whole is bad, turning into “not all men” again

[monstersandmaw]

Male alien x nb human (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Here's the winner of the 'which monster to write next' poll (at least it was at the time I started writing it). It’s been on early release for Patreon folks for about a week now, and I was supposed to post it here yesterday, but I forgot. I hope you enjoy it!

Lex is non binary, and if they lived on Earth at the moment, would most likely be assigned male at birth. Tarann (alien) is male, an assassin, and didn’t have what we might view as a normal childhood by any standards. As such, there is an awful lot he does know, and a lot that he's completely unfamiliar with...

Content: fluff, the tiniest pinch of angst, plus mention of genetic modification and sterilisation, 'creation' of genetic 'super-soldiers', nsfw, tentacle cocks (plural) Wordcount: 8000

The dull, steady voice of his ship’s computer informed him that faster-than-light travel would not be viable with all systems in their current state of blaster-riddled repair.

He cursed.

It then informed him that actually, since barely sticking the landing in a crumbling red-stone canyon, Tarann would be lucky to take off again at all.

He let out a long string of curses, even switching languages a couple of times.

“That was creative. I even detected some Tch’larian in there,” Menot, the androgynous computer, commented. “Been a while since I’ve heard you use your native tongue, Tarann…”

“Go fuck yourself with a Savaranian spiked tuber,” he grumbled, to which the computer had no qualms responding that if they were not a mere collection of unfathomably complicated code - which he had had no hand whatsoever in creating, they sarcastically pointed out - they might consider the directive.

Tarann simply shook his head in frustration and used the lower of his two sets of arms to smash the bulkhead open by the button on the wall, and stalked through the smashed-up ship towards his cramped sleeping quarters. The Spark was hardly a ship built for comfort. She was utilitarian; designed for quick escapes and aerial combat, and short-range sorties. She’d been his home for over a year now, and he’d be lucky if he ever got her to limp into the upper atmosphere of this backwater planet, let alone space. An unhealthy layer of fine red dust was already clinging to her wings and the intakes would likely need some extensive work before he could get her air-worthy again.

Mounting stress made the old implant scar in the side of his neck throb and he trailed his three-fingered hand along it, his skin currently a neutral, dull grey. Barefooted, as nearly all Tch’larians preferred due to particular shape of their three-toed feet, with one additional thumb-like digit that didn’t quite meet the ground when they stood, he padded silently along the metal floors of the ship and began to check and clean his weapons back in his quarters. The familiar monotony of clicking, sliding metal, and the smell of gun lubricant always soothed him.

“Think,” he hissed at himself.

Menot’s voice sounded over the system twenty minutes later and said, “Incoming transmission from the Agency. Would you like me to play it for you?”

He closed his four yellow eyes and inhaled steadily. Reluctantly, he growled, “Yes.”

“Agent Triskelion,” the familiar voice of his handler rumbled. “We understand that your ship took heavy damage in a dogfight after completing your last contract.”

“That’s a fucking understatement,” he snarled but he didn’t interrupt the message further.

“While it was unrelated to the contract on the Red Flame, your unplanned skirmish with Invaranian Rebels did attract attention and we have intelligence to suggest that they might have attempted to trace you following your escape. You are ordered to keep a low profile and your open contracts have been reassigned to other agents until we can be certain that the Red Flame is no longer looking for you.”

The metal of his blaster creaked under his grip and he relaxed before he damaged it, taking another deep breath. He hadn’t had a contract reassigned since he’d first joined the Agency all those years ago. The humiliation of it forced his skin to change from the dusty grey to a vibrant blue, dotted with teal. Feeling like a teenager again, he forced his skin back to its neutral grey and set the blaster aside, reflexively checking the safety before it put it down.

Back at the bridge, though it was barely large enough for him to squeeze around the seat, he snarled, “Menot, record this and prepare to send it to HQ.”

“Very good.”

“Agent Triskelion, acknowledging receipt of transmission and instructions to lie low. Currently grounded in a canyon twenty clicks north west of a small mining town on a planet that’s so fucking tiny it doesn’t even have an official name.” Tarann steady himself and added, “But I’ll get Menot to send coordinates with this transmission. Ship’s pretty beaten up and I’ll probably need extraction at some point. I doubt this place has the parts I need, but I can look. I’m going to head into the town at sunrise and I’ll take Menot with me. And I’ll keep a low profile.”

“As low a profile as one of the galaxy’s finest killers possibly can,” Menot added, and Tarann cursed whoever had coded sarcasm into their system.

“Exactly,” he said. “A stranger rocking up out of nowhere in a town that tiny is hardly going to pass unremarked, but I’ll adapt.” He snorted a little at the irony of that, knowing that his rather unique genetic melange was designed for camouflage. Not for him was the messy application of paints and disguises, though he couldn’t actually change his bone structure beyond accelerated healing. “So yeah, for the love of all you hold dear, please don’t just forget about me here. End recording. Menot, send it to HQ.”

With that, he slumped into the pilot’s seat for a moment and sighed. Menot helpfully informed him that dawn was three hours away, and he told them to shut everything down save for the essentials and maintain a vigilant watch while he attempted to get some sleep.

“I’ll wake you if anything needs your attention,” Menot promised.

With the sun high in the sky, Tarann stalked across the dusty plain that formed a ring around the town. In fact, it was much larger than they’d initially thought, and Menot quietly informed him in his hidden earpiece that the town appeared to go down into the earth, perhaps following the original mine shafts.

“Puts a new meaning on going to ground for a while,” he snorted.

He was relieved as he passed through dirty, dusty, narrow streets, to note all sorts of lifeforms here - some familiar and many not. With limited biodiversity, he might have stood out like a sore thumb, but the place seemed stuffed to the brim with hopeless outcasts from all over the system. There were even some humans here, which surprised him. The temperature was hot and arid, not ideal for the creatures he’d only had brief dealings with. Earth was seen as a backwater, with the emphasis on the water. It was the kind of place people went to retire to, and that was… about it. Enterprising humans had left centuries ago and gone to the newly terraformed planets like Mars - if they still wanted to remain in their solar system - and many more had joined up with the Federation and scattered all over the known galaxies.

When he passed a bipedal, slender human male, he asked Menot to give him a run-down on the species. “Both surprisingly easy and surprisingly difficult to kill, can be self-destructively curious and reckless, capable of making leaps of logic insurmountable to many species while being unfathomably illogical at other times…”

“Baffling,” he murmured. “Sounds like Agent Luna,” he said with a fond smile.

The legendary assassin had assessed him upon arrival at the Agency for unarmed combat, and somehow despite looking so… breakable, had had him on his back in two seconds flat. She’d also been the one to give him his field name, Triskelion, given that a decent number of things in his body, except his two hearts and four eyes, seemed to come in threes - three fingers, three toes, three lungs… The only trio of anatomical parts she hadn’t seen first hand was, well… elsewhere.

The fact that Luna was a fraction of his size and weight hadn’t seemed to matter at all in combat training, and he’d been very wary (and more than a bit in awe) of her since she’d returned from a mission with an injury that even the best surgeons at the Agency had said would kill her. Six months later, she was back in the field. He shuddered. Humans were like Anthariacs, once you thought you had a lock on their size and shape, they could simply morph into something else. Or perhaps they weren’t anything like that at all.

Unsettled, he shuddered again and nearly crashed straight into a small vendor’s stall in the narrow alley.

He heard the scraping voice say something, at which the ear piece translated, “Watch it!”

Shrugging off the encounter, he moved through the streets until he came to what looked like a bar with a noticeboard outside. Most of the listings were mundane requests and adverts for various services, and the rewards were in a currency he’d never heard of.

It took him a month on the planet to earn enough cash to stop having to make the twenty click trek out to the Spark every night to sleep. He would have slept in a doorway in the town had he not witnessed on his very first evening what happened to people who were caught unprepared and exposed. The sight of the slender wings being yanked off a tiny creature with a scream powerful enough to rupture eardrums had stuck with him and he’d risked the local wildlife - largely dirty great lizards - and gritty wind-storms on a daily basis to avoid that.

His handler at The Agency kept contact to an absolute minimum, except to update him periodically on the investigation that the Red Flame was still conducting and to tell him to stay holed up there. Boxed in with nothing to do, Tarann became irritable and jumpy. It wasn’t that he was itching for the next kill - he didn’t do his job for that - but the constant vigilance and insecurity of taking short, messy, shitty jobs here and there was waring him down, so when some jackass in the bar made a comment about that ‘four-eyed hill varanus over there’, he snapped. He’d encountered a hill varanus on one of his long treks back to where the Spark was still stashed out of sight in the canyon, and the enormous lizard had been curled up beside a large boulder, minding its own business until it decided to make Tarann’s sensitive inner calf its business with a maw full of teeth coated in thick poisonous saliva.

He’d been hallucinating by the time he’d managed to get back to the Spark - miraculously without dropping off the ledge and plummeting to the bottom of the canyon - and his body had been rippling through every colour in the known universe, and maybe even a few more, before he’d finally stuck a huge needle full of universal antidote into his left heart. It had taken him a whole day to recover enough to leave the ship.

Being compared to a hill varanus then - yes, his skin had the same gnarled texture as a number of reptiles found all over the galaxy, and yes, his saliva was also poisonous to a huge number of species - had suddenly broken all his carefully constructed control and he’d lunged at the large, slug-like creature, all four hands going around the thinnest point of its neck and squeezing until its eyes bulged.

“Oi!” a relatively high-pitched shout went up from behind the bar and a moment later a short blast of sound shot through the room and everyone cringed. The high-frequency noise made his insides crawl and he let go of the offending creature and staggered back a pace, toes splaying to try and steady himself. His skin flushed a sickly green before he could stop it.

Tarann turned his head and saw that the sound had emanated from a small, hand-held speaker which had been plonked down onto the surface of the bar. Behind it, wielding control of the button on the top of the speaker was - and he could have sworn that he felt his right heart lurch a little in his chest at the sight of them - a human. They had a blaster in their left hand and looked prepared to use it, if not necessarily formally trained. Their stance was pretty shoddy, but the distance of only a few spans between them more than made up for that. If the human fired, Tarann would die for sure.

“No fighting in my bar,” they said, voice stern and steady. “You got an issue with someone, you take it waaaay outside, am I clear?”

Both Tarann and the slug-thing nodded and he decided he needed another drink.

Approaching the human while they still held the weapon was probably not a wise move, but when he leaned his lower arms on the counter, his upper pair hanging loose and relaxed at his sides, Tarann saw a smile on their lips. “You must be new,” they grinned amicably, reaching below the counter to stash the blaster and pulling out a glass in its place. They then turned behind them to fill it up. “Haven’t seen any Tch’larians in here for a long time.”

He liked the way the human almost got the click at the start of the word but not quite. Some humans were known for their incredible mimicry skills, but this one clearly wasn’t as proficient. He also had no idea how to address a human after they’d just threatened his life, so he settled for a curt nod.

“And you’re about as chatty as the last one. Whatever that bit of pond slime over there -” they gestured with a bottle of distilled alcohol at the creature who’d insulted him “- said to you, just ignore them. They’re… a regular in here, but they don’t have many friends, if you catch my drift.”

“I wonder why,” he said flatly.

“It speaks!” the human chuckled. “And you’re fluent in sarcasm as well as Federation Common. Here, on the house.” And a small glass was shunted his way, sloshing with a clear, ruby red liquid. “You’ll like it. It’s a kind of brandy made with a fruit that grows in the mines. At least, the last Tch’larian I knew liked it. I could be grossly stereotyping an entire race based on one data point. Still, free booze…?”

“You talk a lot,” he said before sipping it. It burned his neon blue tongue pleasantly and then left a sweet aroma in his mouth that went up into his nasal cavity, leaving him with the impression he might breathe fire if he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah, well, you don’t, so… one of us has to balance the equation.” After a beat they added, “I’m Lex.” They held out their hand over the bar counter and Tarann vaguely remembered something about touch not being a taboo for humans. Not that it was taboo for Tch’larians either, but with so many people mingling under the Federation’s relatively peaceful protection in the past few centuries, it was still easy to offend someone inadvertently.

He noted the strength in the human’s hand as he slid his own three fingers into the grasp, and smiled at how smooth their skin was. Their hair was cut short at one side and had been left to flop a little longer at the top of their head, and he’d always wondered what a human’s hair would feel like beneath the pads of his sensitive fingers. Agent Luna hadn’t exactly been the type to let him try. He’d known that Agent Luna was female, but he had no idea what this human went by, and he was unfamiliar with human naming conventions, so that gave him no clue either.

Eventually he realised that he hadn’t told them his name, and murmured, “Tarann.” It seemed fairly safe out here, and most of the people who might want revenge on him for his line of work knew him as Triskelion anyway.

“Where are you staying?” Lex asked as they got back to work, keeping their head turned towards him a little so that he could still talk to them while they polished glasses and took orders from the odd patron.

“Out of town,” he said.

Lex paused halfway through pouring a bottle of something frothy and blue into a glass the size of a small bucket. “There’s nothing out of town…”

“My ship’s out there. Dead in the water, as it were,” he offered, taking another sip of his brandy. “This is excellent, by the way…”

His compliment was met with a grin, but the gesture quickly faded. “You’re not seriously sleeping in your dead ship out in the hills, are you?” they asked.

“Why would that be a problem?”

“You’re lucky the scavengers haven’t found you and stripped your ship - and you - bare…”

He tilted his head and blinked his four golden eyes at them. “I haven’t seen any sign of anyone out there except me. And the odd varanus…”

Lex winced dramatically. “Nasty fuckers those…”

Tarann nodded, rolling his right ankle. “Indeed.”

After a pause, Lex looked like they were about to say something, but the crash of glass on the other side of the room stopped them. “Shit, not those two again,” they hissed, and Tarann looked around just as a fight broke out for real this time.

They grabbed the blaster he’d seen before and the little speaker that emitted the unpleasant noise, and strode off around the bar, ignoring him completely where he sat. He had eased his lean, muscular frame onto a bar stool to take the weight off his frankly rather bruised and sore feet. The unpleasant sound seemed to do nothing for these two as they scrapped - all arms and teeth and roars, and even when Lex shot a quick, low-energy blast into the stone floor beside one of their feet, they didn’t break it up.

He should stay out of it. The human had guts, for sure, but the two creatures that were fighting were large and aggressive, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. A stray flail of the tip of one of their tails caught Lex in the face and they staggered back, yelling and spitting curses.

Making his mind up, he slid off the stool and approached the brawling patrons. Grabbing the nearest one by the scruff of their reptilian neck, he yanked hard and backed towards the doors of the bar, clearly catching them completely by surprise. Top thugs never expected to be bested by anyone, and it gave him a good few minutes of stunned compliance. Tossing them out onto the street with a snarl of his own seemed to sober that one up a mite, and a second later the other creature was booted out of the door with another curse, leaving Lex framed in the open doorway, blaster raised, face slightly bruised and utterly thunderous.

Something happened then in Tarann’s body that he was not expecting. A sharp, unfamiliar pang of arousal shot down his spine and fanned out through his entire nervous system. He shivered, a low-frequency rumble escaping him without permission. There was something about seeing a creature that should have been vulnerable in this situation - could have been crushed - standing there with a bruised face and blazing eyes, staring down two enormous beings three times their size, that made him hot all over. It was like mating season, or at least, his vague recollection of it from a brief talk at the Facility to explain that none of them would ever experience any of that because they had essentially had it edited out of their DNA. He’d escaped the Facility and joined the Agency and had never experienced the slightest tinge of lust since a brief flare in his teens. He bit those memories down and looked back at Lex.

“Thanks,” they grinned as the two brawlers separated and headed off in opposite directions down the street, yelling curses over their shoulders in their various languages. “How’d you feel about another brandy?”

He nodded and followed them back inside, watching the way their legs moved - their legs hinged forwards at the knee, which was intoxicatingly the opposite way to his own, their hips swaying rather alluringly.

“Listen,” Lex said as Tarann closed his fingers around his second glass of fiery brandy that evening. “If you’d like somewhere to stay, I’ve got a job opening here for a bouncer. The last girl I had got into trouble with some bounty hunter and had to scarper, but it comes with the offer of a room, use of the kitchen out the back, and a steady pay. It’s not great, but if I get tips, I’ll share them with you.”

Tarann blinked. “You can’t be serious…”

“Why not?” Lex shrugged, refilling a container with a viscous, silvery sauce that crackled softly as it sank into the jar.

Barely suppressing a shudder at the offending liquid, he made a mental note to avoid that at all costs, whatever the fuck it was supposed to be or go with.

Lex caught him staring sidelong at the fluid and laughed. “One of a small number of things on the menu that I wouldn’t recommend to anyone except a hazmat droid, or an Efulgari bombardier -” they added nodding across the room to where a frankly enormous creature sat waiting patiently, presumably for the bucket of viscous gloop in Lex’s hands. “Now, do you have to get back to your ship tonight, or do you want to stay here and think it over? You can let me know what you decide in the morning.”

He scowled softly; wary and distrustful. “You’d just let me stay?”

Lex shrugged again. “You’ve already earned your keep for tonight,” they grinned, revealing hopelessly small teeth. How could they hope to defend themselves with those? His own, by comparison, were two rows of viciously pointed fangs that could rip open the jugular of most of the known species that didn’t have exoskeletons, and even some that did.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll think it over.”

Lex left him in peace after that for an hour or so, but when the patrons began to trickle out into the night, they returned to him and asked, “Want to head up to your room?”

He nodded silently, and followed Lex through a door behind the bar and upstairs.

“That’s my room,” Lex said, nodding at a door with peeling teal paint which stood ajar on his right. “And this is yours. It’s not much, but it’s comfortable and I kept it pretty clean. There might be just a little bit of dust…”

Again, Tarann just nodded his understanding and set his small pack down gently beside the bed. The room was indeed humble, but that wasn’t an issue. He didn’t have many belongings anyway; just Menot in their portable device and some clothes and local coin. “It’s fine,” he said, turning round to find Lex leaning against the door frame in a way that spoke of casual trust and again made his skin flush hot. Embarrassed, he looked away, but Lex didn’t seem to mind, or perhaps they didn’t notice.

“Kitchen is downstairs - it’s the only other door than the one that leads to the bar. You can’t miss it. Help yourself. See you tomorrow, I guess?” they smiled, running a hand through their hair and messing it all up in a way that did nothing to help the rising temperature of his skin or the syncopated lurching of his twin hearts in his chest.

With a final nod from Tarann, Lex left him for the night.

He heard them closing up about an hour later, and then caught the steady tread of their footsteps on the metal stairs, the squeak and click of their door, the sound of clothes hitting the floor, and, another few moments later, the gush of hot water. In the corner of his own room was a sink, so he splashed the dust and grime off his face and decided to ask about a shower in the morning.

The rhythm of his life for the next few weeks was considerably easier than the first had been. Menot kept him abreast of activity both regarding his ship - nothing, mercifully - and the Agency. After three weeks working for Lex, the two had become the very thing he had always shied away from. Assassins don’t form attachments; they don’t form friends. Do the job, get out cleanly, and move on. That was how he lived, and yet, the regular ebb and flow of patrons - most of them familiar by now, a few of them new - and the easy manner of the ballsy human who ran the place lulled him quietly into a new life.

He constantly tried to remind himself that it was a borrowed life; a cover, almost. This cosy existence with its easy repartee between them and the comfort of a soft bed and regular meals was not his to keep, and he would have to shrug it off the moment that he was given the all-clear.

One evening, seemingly at random, Lex closed up early.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked as Lex politely shooed the last drunken creature out of the door and locked it behind her six scuttling legs. “What’s going on?” His natural instincts set him suddenly on edge all over again, perhaps because he’d grown so complacent of late. He didn’t like changes to patterns. It had taken him a little while to relax into this one, and even then, he didn’t exactly ease up on the vigilance.

Lex grinned at him like they’d won some kind of cash-prize, hands balled into fists at their hips, and announced, “It’s my birthday.”

He frowned. “What… What does that mean? You’re… You’re giving birth?” He looked at Lex’ body and couldn’t see any indication that they were carrying some form of offspring.

Lex gave a huge snort and bent nearly double laughing.

“Apparently not,” Tarann mumbled. “Apologies.”

“No,” Lex waved, straightening up again. “I’m sorry, it’s… that just… caught me off guard. No, I’m not giving birth to anything today or ever. It’s…” and then they fell quiet, almost sad, and said, “You really don’t know what a birthday is?”

He shook his head, feeling unsettled.

“Huh,” they mused. “Well, simply put, it’s a celebration of the day I was born. Back on Earth, we celebrate them roughly every 365 days because that’s one complete orbital cycle of our planet around our Sun. Roughly. Give or take a decimal point or two…”

They stared at him and he grew even more uncomfortable. Birthdays were not something celebrated at the Facility where he’d been… raised. The old scar in his neck where their implant had been throbbed and his skin changed colour quietly from grey to a dark blue.

Lex took a step closer and placed their fingertips on his upper forearm. It wasn’t the first time Lex had touched him, but it was the first touch like that; gentle, careful, concerned. “What does that mean?” Lex asked softly.

Tarann wanted to run, but instead he forced himself to ask, “What does what mean?”

“That colour change? I’ve worked out a few already. You go a kind of bright blue when you’re super embarrassed, but I’ve not seen you turn that colour before…”

“You noticed,” he said with a half-smirk, revealing all his dangerous teeth behind his thin lips.

Lex twitched a shoulder but didn’t let go of his arm. “It’s hard not to notice you,” they said voice shifting lower in pitch. “I love watching your skin change. You know, it reminds me of these old antique lamps back on Earth… they’re called ‘lava lamps’ but they’re not actually made of lava. It’s wax or something. Anyway, when you turn them on, they get hot, and the wax inside floats to the top of the liquid in a blob, and when it cools down a bit, it sinks down again. They’re super old and rare now, but some of them change colour slowly, and it’s kind of hypnotic. I remember going to a museum and staring at one for ages. It’s like that with your skin.”

They circled their thumb over a small area of his arm and he shuddered.

“I think it’s beautiful…” And then Lex’ skin flushed and he caught the way their pulse throbbed in their neck, the veins and arteries so close to the surface as to be impractically vulnerable, but they didn’t seem to want to protect it with armour.  “Anyway,” they blurted, releasing him so quickly that he actually swayed a bit at the loss of contact, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. What was I saying?”

“It’s your birthday,” he croaked after a pause.

“Yeah, so, uh… I figured maybe we could do something? There’s an Earth recipe involving pasta that I’ve finally managed to get all the ingredients for and I wanna make it. You game?”

“Game?”

“You want to help me?”

“Oh. Sure.”

Lex deflated a little. “You can take the night off if you’d rather.”

“No,” he said firmly. It never hurt to add to his knowledge.

“Ok then,” they smiled, and he caught the way their shoulders dropped a little, the muscles relaxing again. He’d answered correctly.

In fact, the meal ended up tasting alright. Human food seemed strange to him, and perhaps a little bland, but after the protein blocks he’d been raised on, anything tasted alright compared to those. What really made his evening was Lex’ obvious enjoyment. Their eyes were sparkling and alive, like jewels, and they laughed a lot.

They also made some significant inroads into the fiery brandy afterwards, and ended up slumped against Tarann’s left shoulders, smiling softly and running their fingertips over the slight, flattened bumps in his skin along his forearms.

“I can’t believe you have four arms,” they said, their voice slurred and their eyes vague.

Tarann, who wasn’t drunk, shifted slightly and jostled them. They snuggled up again immediately in a new position which forced him to put both his arms around their shoulders as they lay against this chest this time, and giggled. “Why not?” he asked, because he wasn’t sure what else to ask. They were beautiful and strong and tough at work in the bar and during the day, but he got to see a different side before and after work. The fatigue, the loneliness, the gentle-heartedness was never on show for the patrons of their scruffy, homely bar, but for him, they showed all that and more. Now, unwinding even further as the alcohol took effect, Lex became even more talkative than usual, which was saying something.

“Because you’ve got four!” they exclaimed, as if it was blindingly obvious. “And four eyes. I like your eyes. They’re like crocodile eyes.”

Tarann had no idea what a crocodile was and wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not.

“And you said you’ve got two hearts?”

“Mmm,” he nodded, feeling brave and bringing his lower hand to rest quietly on Lex’s stomach as it rose and fell. Their body was warmer than his and he liked the tingling that ran across his skin at the touch.

Lex fell surprisingly silent for a while, their fingertips still trailing idle lines along his skin, until they looked up into his face from their slouched position - now with their head in his lap - and asked, “What did you do before you came here?”

Faced with the utterly open honesty in those deep eyes, he found himself suddenly unwilling to lie or even bend the truth. “I was a contract killer. I am still a contract killer. I’m just… lying low for a while.”

Lex blinked. “That explains it,” they muttered, eyes turning back to his arms.

They hadn’t even flinched at the revelation, which set a different prickling running across his nerves. “Explains what?”

“The way you watch people. You don’t see people though, do you. You see soft bits and armoured bits, dangerous bits and weak bits. You see exits from a room and weapons where there shouldn’t be any…”

Inhaling softly, he nodded. “Yes. Does that bother you?”

They shook their head. “No. But it makes me sad.”

“Why?”

“Because you… you haven’t really lived… have you?”

“I don’t understand.”

Lex lurched to sit upright then, dislodging Tarann’s hands from their stomach and swivelling to face him, their eyes now blazing with intensity. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you react when I touch you?”

The leap from ‘not living’ to ‘reaction to being touched’ was too great a one for him to follow and he narrowed his golden eyes in confusion.

Lex’s face softened and they climbed awkwardly into his lap, swaying slightly. The sudden, warm weight of their body so close to his own stole his breath for a moment and he felt his skin change from grey to acid blue to a dull pink and finally back to grey in the space of a few heartbeats. “See?” they murmured, rolling their hips invitingly and smiling as a low-frequency mating rumble left him before he had realised what he was doing. “You come alive beneath that touch…”

“I…” he began but stopped when he realised he had no idea what he was going to say. It was perfectly true. He did feel utterly different when Lex was touching him. “I’ve never… There’s never been any need.”

“What do you mean?” they asked, placing their hands on his chest, one over each thudding heart.

Tarann became almost painfully aware of his rasping breathing, the way his body was heating up, the stuttering rhythm of his hearts, the tingling in his groin that he’d never bothered to explore, even alone… “I was created to become a weapon. I was incubated and hatched in a facility which created weapons. They sterilised us before we were even born.”

Lex did look shocked at that. “Fuck… that’s… that’s so heartless… But even so, I can’t have kids, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to get my dick wet from time to time…”

Tarann, again, didn’t understand. Lex was speaking Federation Common, but the nuances that the human put into their words were frequently lost on him.

Seeing his confusion, Lex laughed, rolled their hips again, and this time Tarann noticed something a little different at the front of their pants, a hardness that hadn’t been there - or hadn’t been as prominent - a few minutes earlier. “I still like to have sex,” they grinned.

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to have sex though,” they went on. “I’m just saying, it’s ok to let someone close. And to enjoy that. However you want to.”

“Oh.”

Lex laughed and tipped their head back a little, looking free and relaxed again now that Tarann’s confusion had been cleared up. Being unsteady with alcohol, however, they kept tipping back until Tarann was forced to grab them with both sets of hands to stop them toppling off; one pair around the waist and another around the arms.

“Steady,” he smiled. “I think maybe you should have some water. And head up to bed.”

“You’re probably right. I had a good birthday though,” they added, gently peeling the three fingers of Tarann’s lower right hand off their waist and bringing it up to their lips. The gesture they left there Tarann knew was called a kiss. Humans weren’t unique among lifeforms in nuzzling intimate parts of their anatomy against the other’s, but the strangeness of it for his species held an instant fascination. How could their lips be so soft? How could he never have done that? How could he never have wanted to share this kind of experience with anyone before?

And before he could stop it, his skin flushed a deep maroon all over like a drop of ink on wet paper, splotched here and there with dark purple. He knew what that meant for his species, and the sight of his own skin changing to the colours of an individual receptive to mating made him freeze.

“Well,” Lex chortled amusedly. Apparently they knew what it meant as well.

“No,” he said immediately, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was he was rejecting.

With a knowing but slightly melancholic smile, Lex clambered out of his lap and stood up. “Night, Tarann,” they said as they walked away. Their hands brushed against the door frame as they left the bar, and he stared at the spot where their fingers graced the woodwork even as their footsteps vanished up the stairs.

His skin did not change back that night, no matter how much he willed it to change. Half an hour later, as he lay in his bed, the sounds of Lex pleasuring themselves reached his acutely sensitive ears. The tiny, muffled moans and grunts that left their body set his skin aflame all over again. He moved one hand cautiously, experimentally down his torso to the slit where, to his astonishment, he was slick and sensitive. He gasped at the touch, and the three delicate, tentacle-like cocks which normally never left the sheath began to unfurl almost curiously into his hand.

Ordinarily, this might have repulsed him, but the sound of Lex gasping and the slick sounds that accompanied the moans, made the tentacles of his genitalia coil demandingly around his fingers. He knew almost nothing about his own species’ reproductive habits because he knew he would never need them. ‘You will never be a breeder,’ they had said when he’d hit sexual maturity - the first time he’d even bothered to explore his body, and, until that night, the last - and that had been that.

Sparks of pleasure shot through his whole body and he began to croon, the sound deep in his throat, rumbling and vibrating like an idling engine, filling the room. He couldn’t stop it. Balling his fingers into a fist, he felt his three pale cocks coil around it instinctively, and he began to kneed exploratively at the inside of the flower-shape they made around his hand, a thin, extremely sensitive membrane stretching between them from the root to about a third of the way down. The pleasure that that elicited made his back arch of the bed and his toes scrunched up the sheets as he lifted his hips too, pressing harder at the centre of the three smooth, increasingly slick tentacles.

Forcing himself to focus back on the sounds of Lex as they apparently approached their climax, he felt a wall of heat building in him. Something was approaching, and he let it sweep over him until the three tentacles surrounding his balled-up fist pulsed, gripping his hand tight as a vice, and warm fluid spurted from their centre over his clenched fingers in a series of messy gushes. His vision went white, his body went rigid, and his mind went completely blank.

Tarann floated in a blissful haze for a long time before he could even bring himself to move, his cocks too sensitive, his hand covered in sticky, slick release, but eventually his cocks retreated back into the sheath in his lower abdomen and he felt able to sit up. His hand was a mess, his lower body too, and when he tried to stand, his muscles felt shaky and weak, as though he’d run the training simulation at the facility for an entire day without breaks.

With his skin so sensitive that it was hard to fall asleep that night. Lex must have finished during his own orgasm because he never heard another noise from their room that night. Shame curled in to replace the pleasure as he realised that he’d eavesdropped on something that was private and not meant for his hearing, and in the morning, he could barely look Lex in the eye as he entered the kitchen in search of breakfast.

Lex, however, smiled warmly. The effects of the alcohol the previous night seemed only to have made their voice drop a little and their reactions were groggy and slower. “I think I'm going to keep the bar closed today,” they announced as they poured themselves a hot drink. “You’re not hungover at all, are you?”

“No,” he replied. “It takes more than that to get me drunk, let alone hungover.” ‘Hungover’ was a term he’d only learned since working for Lex.

“So…” Lex asked a little while later as they cooked breakfast for the two of them the hob. “If you’re only here to lie low for a while, do you know how long you’ll actually be here?”

“No.” Apparently Lex hadn’t been so drunk that they didn’t remember their conversation last night. He paused and added, “But the last transmission the Agency sent me indicated that the people who were looking into the disturbance after my last contract were no longer investigating.”

“So… not long then.”

“Probably.”

Lex poked at the pan with a wooden spatula and sighed.

“Why do you ask?”

He could see the way Lex’s jaw worked from side to side for a moment and recognised it as one of their tells. They were upset. “You think you’ll miss me when you leave?”

“Of course I will,” he said. “You’ve been extremely generous to me when I did nothing to earn it.”

“Right.”

Tarann knew he’d said the wrong thing immediately, but none of his intense training had prepared him for this kind of situation. He backtracked through the conversation, searching for something he could have said differently, something he could have handled better. Lost, he asked falteringly, “Will… you miss me? Is that what this is about?”

Lex nodded without turning around. “Yeah,” they said, voice cracking slightly. They cleared their throat and poked at breakfast again. It smelled ready but they didn’t seem ready to turn around.

Tarann stepped closer, his feet silent on the stone floor, and placed his hands boldly on Lex’ hips. The human immediately eased and leaned back, resting their weight against his body, though their head barely came midway up his chest. Taking the opportunity at last and sensing it would be welcome, Tarann brought his hand up and stroked his fingers gingerly through Lex’ hair. It was every bit as soft as he’d thought it would be, and he watched his skin change colour beneath the strands as they brushed over his fingers. Lex moaned quietly.

When he lowered his hand and Lex saw the maroon fading back to grey, they smiled and turned around, switching the hob off as they did. They put their own hands on his chest and he ached suddenly to have nothing separating them; to remove his close-fitting space-suit top and Lex’ loose-fitting shirt. As Lex slid one palm tentatively up to his neck, he felt the touch in a wave of heat and closed his eyes. His fingers tightened on Lex’ hips and Lex moaned softly.

“I want you,” Lex murmured. “I thought about you last night.”

Tarann opened his eyes a crack and blinked softly. “I heard you,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” Lex laughed, looking part bashful and part turned on. “What did you do when you heard me?”

“I…” he flushed neon blue and stepped back, ashamed.

“Hey,” they breathed, chasing after him. “It’s alright. It’s… really hot that you did that while thinking about me.”

“You don’t mind?”

They shook their head. “If you wanted to try together…”

That mating call thundered through him and he lowered his forehead, bringing it to touch Lex’.

“That a yes?”

“What about breakfast?”

“I overcooked it all already,” they laughed. “It’s ruined.”

Grabbing his hand, they tugged him out of the kitchen and back upstairs to their room.

They shed their clothes in a tangle, and once again Tarann was left staggered and enchanted by the human’s body. This time it was the sheer vulnerability of it. He could also see their arousal plainly - there was no sheath to tease - and something about that made his own sheath throb so hard he let out another mating croon.

“Fuck, that sound is so hot,” Lex gasped, lying back on the bed and tugging him down atop them. “Look at you,” they added, running their fingers down his heaving chest and playing with his sheath as he collapsed atop them. “I’ve always found Tch’larians attractive, but you… the way you move, the way you shudder when I touch you, the way you fucking croon like that…” He did it again - entirely involuntarily - as Lex crooked two fingers and delved carefully into his sheath, catching the inner walls of his three cocks inside and making them unfurl even quicker than they had last night.

They wrapped around Lex’ fingers and Lex moaned. “I want those on my cock… please…” they gasped, and Tarann felt like he might die if he didn’t do as Lex asked. His body was so tight all over, his skin flushing from dusky pink to dark magenta with every deep, sonorous groan that escaped him.

With one leg on each side of Lex’ thighs, he lowered his hips down until they were touching, and his cocks immediately curled around Lex’ own hard cock, covering it in weeping, slick fluid. Lex let out a string of curses and flung their head back into the bed beneath them, rutting their hips up into Tarann’s grip. The pressure of the tip of their cock against the point where the three cocks joined inside him made him growl with pleasure, his maw full of teeth opening, his saliva starting to fill his mouth, bright blue tongue lashing behind them.

“You know…?” Lex panted, thrusting up into the wet heat of the grip that his tentacle cocks had around theirs.

“Know what?” he snarled back, shaking from the effort of holding himself upright over Lex.

Lex reached up to his face with a fingertip and trailed it around his drooling mouth before putting it in his own and sucking. The sight of it sent Tarann into a fury of lust for some reason, and only then did he recall that his saliva was poisonous to many species. Before he could warn Lex, the human grinned and their eyes went wide, pupils blown until their irises were a mere whisper of colour. Apparently he wasn't poisonous to humans. Quite the contrary if the way Lex fucked upwards into his body and filled him with sparking pleasure with each thrust was anything to go by.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Lex hissed, and Tarann felt his cocks contract around the hard length inside him.

He didn’t have the breath or the words to agree.

“I’m… I -” Lex cried out, and suddenly heat flooded the inside of Tarann’s sheath and he felt his own cocks clench and pulse rhythmically around Lex’ cock as he came too. He drew every drop from Lex that they had inside them as his own orgasm rolled through him and left him mute, panting, and thrumming all over.

“Fuck that was intense,” Lex chuckled some while later, when Tarann’s cocks had finally let go of their own softening cock. “Are you ok?”

“Mmm,” he rumbled from his new position, slumped on the bed beside Lex, his trio of cocks lying limply across his torso, splayed out and spent and utterly sensitive.

Lex sat up, heedless that their own body was covered in their combined release, and trailed their fingers down Tarann’s torso towards his still pulsing sheath. “Can I?” they asked.

Tarann didn’t reply but he responded with a shrug. He had no idea what Lex intended, but he trusted them. What Lex did was to lean forwards and take one of his cocks into his mouth and suck on it gently. Tarann’s whole body lurched and he bellowed at the sheer volume of the sensation as it thundered in his head and under his skin all over again.

“Too much?” Lex laughed.

“No?” he gasped, trying to steady his spinning head and suddenly racing hearts. “No. Definitely not too much. Just…”

“Intense?” Lex supplied.

“Do it again?”

Lex did.

—

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier or higher! Plus lots of new goodies for February!!

__

| Masterlist | Patreon | Ko-fi | Writing Commissions |

[n7punk]

Heyyyyyy i'm a bit late to the party, but i just finished Strange Disease and GOD i love your writing, thank you for sharing it us. Free serotonin!!!!!!!!

Love that you're doing a smut fic followed by a teens fic. Balance is everything hahaha. And a question, do you have playlists of your fics??

Best wishes on your surgery, take as much time to recover and rest as you need. And one question that just came to mind, you have any terms of endearment (im not really sure thats the correct expression in English) you are or arent confortable with? I'll go around calling everyone dude but wouldn't want to do anything to make you uncomfortable

hope you don’t mind me publishing this, i usually priv answer things not sent on anon, but i want to answer some of these questions publicly.

ty for reading! im glad you enjoyed the fic. All of my long-form fics have been rated M or E, but I really wanted to explore some childhood fluff because I think about Catradora during the Horde times a lot lmao. The second fic in the series will be when they are older and rated E, but I separated it out since the majority of the fic is while they are kids/teens.

I do make playlists for some of my fics (the greys playlist is just starting to take shape), and i usually post the titles of a few select songs from them in the fic notes for each individual fic. i can’t share the playlists as they are on youtube and would share my full name publicly, since google has never heard of privacy. i also usually delete the playlist once a fic is done. i have a general catra, general adora, and general catradora playlist i use too. i’ve posted some tracks from my catra playlist here, which i also just went back and updated since this reminded me! I posted the song titles i looped for strange disease near the beginning of the fic notes.

ty for the well wishes. in english, the phrase “terms of endearment” is pretty limited to affectionate names like “baby” and “sweetheart” one would use for a loved one, but i totally understand what you mean! im nb and use they/them pronouns, but im fine with gendered terms like “girl” and “dude” and non-gendered ones like “yall” because i know that in their actual usage they are not gendered, just in definition. i don’t mind being called things like that, or just “n7″ or “punk”, or my name if you prefer lol. i appreciate you taking the time to ask!

[nattikay]

Do you miss it?

Based on a prompt by @nb-demon in which Jim is “fixed” via a stone that allows him to shift forms like a changeling....except uh probably not exactly what you had in mind because hoo boy do I stand by the idea that troll!Jim does not need to be “fixed” whoop ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

Ao3 link

--

Jim turned the smooth stone over in his hand. It shimmered lightly in a way not unlike the sheen of the blue stone in his amulet. The amulet that had changed his life forever when it called out his name nearly forty years ago.

“I’ve been…researching transformation magic,” Douxie the wizard had told him when he presented the stone. “Because of the way Merlin’s potion worked, it can never be truly reversed…but this should allow you to take a human appearance at your leisure. Like a changeling without the need for a familiar. In case…in case you miss it.”

“O-oh,” Jim had stammered as he accepted the gift, pocketing it gently. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t this. “T…thanks. That’s…really thoughtful of you.”

Douxie nodded. “I thought it was only fair. It took a long time to develop, but…I figured you should have the chance to choose the form in which you live without the threat of evil breathing down you neck. Let me know if you have any problems.”

And with that he simply left, off to take care of whatever business wizards do. Jim, too, had duties to tend to, and for the next few hours left the stone in the back of his pocket and mind.

That had been this morning. Now Jim was sitting alone in his home, perched on the lip of his bathtub as he carefully examined the magical stone.

Did he miss being human? He wasn’t sure. Sure, there were days—the particularly tough days that trollhunting lent itself to—when he yearned for the nostalgic days of his human childhood, racing bikes with Toby and eating dinner with his mom. But those days were so far behind him. So much had changed. He had changed—and not just in the obvious ‘I’m partially a different species’ way. He’d grown up, made new memories and experiences. 

Jim glanced up into the mirror across the floor, studying his face. His features were a bit more mature—jaw stronger, shoulders broader, scruff thicker—but despite fast-approaching his 53rd birthday, he looked remarkably similar to how he had the day he defeated Gunmar. He supposed his troll half was responsible for that. Trolls, after all, generally lived for many centuries. He hadn’t asked many ages, but he knew that Blinky, at least, was over 600. Whether he would make it as long as a full-fledged troll, only time would tell—but it certainly seemed he’d outlive most humans. 

Claire, too, no longer looked her age. When she began officially training in sorcery she had gained a wizard’s longevity. Though she certainly appeared more mature than the teenager she’d been when she first began to dabble in the magical world, no one would guess just by looking at her that she was really in her early 50s. In fact, when they were alone together, a part of Jim almost genuinely forgot their true ages. 

Of the original trio, only Toby showed the true passage of time. He’d kept remarkably upbeat and positive as his ginger-brown hair grayed and his face wrinkled, but while their friendship remained true, Jim knew that this gap would continue to widen until one day it would reach a length he could not cross.

Jim’s brows furrowed. His heart ached to think of loosing his lifelong best friend to human age when he, as a half-troll, still had so much life left to live. 

He glanced back down at the smooth stone in his hands. Did he miss being human?  

Had he been presented with this opportunity before, he would have leaped at it. He had made the choice to go half-troll—with the imminent threat of Gunmar and Morgana, it had felt necessary. And, indeed, the improved strength, speed, and stamina he gained from it certainly helped win the battle. 

But once the battle had been won? Well, there had been a lot to get used to. After a lifetime of barely even noticing whether or not the sun was out, suddenly needing to avoid it was a jarring adjustment. His entire palate and nutritional needs changed and his body both felt and looked so strange, so foreign. With the need for trollish strength and speed over, it would have been so much easier, so much more comfortable and familiar to revert to a human form, had it been possible. 

But…

It had actually been years since Jim had to worry about the sun. As the Trollhunter he had access to a variety of stones he could add to his amulet to grant special abilities, including one that immunized him to the trollish sunlight weakness. It was still wise to be careful, and limit his time in the sun if and when possible, but nonetheless the workaround had been effective.

While he was no longer found enjoyment in some of his old favorite foods, he’s found new favorites. It had taken a fair while of experimenting to find the balance of his new palate, and now he couldn’t imagine not being able to eat his spiced metal-mouse stew that had taken Trollmarket by storm. 

And his body…well, it had taken adjustments, but after a while he had come to accept it as it was. Claire had helped a lot with that.

Claire. Her love for him had not wavered for an instant, no matter what he looked like. In fact, he recalled her bashfully admitting not long after beginning their exodus to New Jersey, she rather liked his new appearance. Yes, she’d insisted, even the horns and the teeth and the blue skin. 

This year would be their 35th wedding anniversary. 

They’d even had children together, all four of whom had now grown and left the nest, but still visited frequently. They had been fully bracing themselves for the thought that this would not be possible—would a half-troll still be able to have a baby with a human, or would he be like a mule, unable to breed?

Finding out Claire was pregnant for the first time was one of the most exciting moments of his life…though even that could not compare to the day their daughter was born nine months later, looking surprisingly normal save for unusual pinkish coloration that never quite went away and the two tiny bumps on her little head that would later grow into stubby horns. 

Jim turned the stone over in his hands again and again. His life had turned out pretty well, all things considered. Would it have been better if he were human?

This should allow you to take a human appearance at your leisure, Douxie had said. Like a changeling without the need for a familiar.

Like a changeling…so nothing permanent. He’d be able to switch back if he changed his mind. So what could be the harm in…trying?

Jim closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he focused on the magic in the stone. He felt himself shifting…

…and opened his eyes to see an older, startlingly human man staring back at him in the mirror.

Jim examined the appearance in shock. He hadn’t seen himself as a human since he was sixteen years old. Of course this form would look different now. Even still, seeing it for real…

He was about half a foot shorter than he’d been before, his dark hair grayed. He’d lost his scruff but kept his sideburns, as well a shadow of hair around his mouth and chin that suggested he ought to shave (unless he wanted to start growing the beard). His skin, though wrinkled, was soft and decidedly not blue.

He was surprised how strange and fragile he felt in this body. In fact, it almost felt as strange as that day he’d woken up on his mother’s couch as a half-troll for the first time…

With a start, Jim suddenly realized that at this point in his life, he’d spent more time as a half-troll than he had as a human. Being half-troll was more normal to him than being human.

“Jim!” a familiar call came from the front door as Claire walked into the underground house. “Are you home? Laura’s here to visit!”

Jim grinned, shaking his head lightly as he reached out to the magic in the stone, re-assuming his half-troll appearance.

“In here, I’ll be out in a minute,” he called back, leaving the stone on the sink as he left to greet his wife and youngest daughter.

No, his life had not been perfect. He’d gone through more than his share of hardships, both before and after finding the amulet, before and after turning half-troll. But it wasn’t without the happy times, either. Throughout all his challenges, he’d been surrounded by friends and family, love and support. Each obstacle he’d faced and overcome helped shape him into who he was today.

Despite the hardships, in the end, he was happy. His life didn’t need fixing. It merely needed living.

And if he could go back, he would’t change a thing.

[random-imagines-blog]

The Dream {Eomer x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @groovyfluxie Wordcount: 2897 Summary: You weren’t exactly like anyone in Rohan. Perhaps on the outside... but inside? And what happens when you admit this to your husband, the King, Eomer? Mod Note: As requested, I did this as a non-binary come out story. I myself am not NB but I took care to read interviews of people who are. I hope I did this alright.

You weren’t exactly like the other women of Rohan. Not that being a woman of Rohan was a bad thing. They were all extremely wonderful. They were strong, they were caring, they were hard workers and they were good mothers. You would be honored to be like them. But you didn’t want to be a wife to a rider, and be expected to give children and take care of the home. That’s not what you aspired to. Nor did you really look to the men as inspiration for your life. You liked horses, but you didn’t want your life to be riding around on them all of the time. In fact - you wanted to be a Blacksmith. You looked to the weapons that were used, even the tools used by women for farming and cooking, as a goal in life. But there was only one thing preventing you from going down that path. It was the fact that you were a woman between your legs that stopped anyone from training you. Too fragile, they always said. Find yourself a good husband and you’ll never have to worry about work. Wouldn’t want the flames to damage that nice face of yours.

You didn’t blame them for saying that. That’s what the women have been doing for years. It was as natural as the sun and the moon, which frustrated you. Because you felt as if you were unnatural for not feeling like the woman your body had made you out to be. But nor did you wish that you were born a man because those bodies also seemed troublesome. Having a cock seemed to have a weird affect on the mind.

So only to yourself did you identify as neither. You didn’t tell anyone about this for it would have to include a lot of explanation. And you weren’t even sure they would understand even if you did explain. Perhaps you should have been born an elf, for the stories that you had heard made them out to be nearly sexless beings. You were sure you would be able to follow your dream of being a blacksmith in Rivendell without any issue.

However, since you weren’t in a position to leave and go journeying for the elves, you only really had two choices. Suck it up and be the woman that everyone expected you to be, which wasn’t the greatest. Or appeal to the newly appointed King Eomer for permission to study your passion. The second option held promise so it was what you were going to do.

An audience with the King was not hard to achieve. He was a very attentive King to his people, and welcomed them in to air their grievances. Not that there were all that many. Rohan had survived the great war and many of the people were just happy to have returned home. He granted you an audience right away.

Beneath the long dress that you wore out of tradition, you wore riding pants, just like the men. You had stolen them from your brother quite some time ago and enjoyed wearing them under your skirts. They were much less cumbersome than the heavy skirts that only seemed to get in the way. You slowly approached the King and realized immediately just how well the throne suited him. He looked good up there.

You met his eyes and gave your curtsy automatically, knowing that it was expected of you, and perhaps might even help you gain favor. “Good morning, my King.”

“Good morning,” He said, bowing his head, his long blonde hair forming a curtain. “And what can I do for you, Lady Y/N?”

Lady. The words of your mother went through your mind. Ladies should be seen and not heard. Ladies should have children before they are your age. Ladies should tidy the house and brush the horses and mind the children and take care of her husband.

You pasted the smile on your face, though. There was nothing wrong with being a lady, nor being addressed as one. You just wished you could feel like one, and want those things. But you didn’t and that was why you were here. “I have come to request permission for something that isn’t really available to me, my King. I believe that you could open the doors for me with just a few simple words, however. I would be forever grateful, and in your debt.”

“What is it that you want?” Eomer asked, his curiosity peaking.

“I wish to study as a Blacksmith. I did apply to Theoheort, for his is the best forge in the city, but he said that he did not train ladies. Then I went to Leodan, and Deorgar, but they both refused as well.” You were leaving out the rather nasty comments that they had made about your gender, for they would be eating those words when you created better swords than they did. “I’m not asking for special treatment, either. I just want to be trained like any other apprentice.”

“A blacksmith?” Eomer repeated to make sure that he heard you right. You nodded the affirmative. “Are you not frightened by the concept of working closely with fire and steel? Because it is not easy work.”

“The only things that I am afraid of, respectfully my King, are mediocrity and boredom.” And the thought of never being fully accepted for the way that you felt, but you didn’t want to bother the King with those thoughts.

“Then I don’t see a problem,” He said, smiling pleasantly. “As long as I get to see the first sword that you make, and see how it handles. A blacksmith is a very important person to a King, and I like to make sure to have them as my friends.”

“Of course, My King,” You said, curtsying again. You couldn’t help the smile on your face - it came out, though you would much rather of kept it hidden. But Eomer continued to smile as well. You took your leave, grinning smugly until you were back out on the sun-drenched streets.

-

Theoheort contacted you a fortnight later, agreeing to give you a position as an apprentice. He kept a close eye on you, waiting to see if you would break down and leave because of the hard work. But you didn’t even consider that for a second. You were eager to show you passion, and you did. Even Theoheort had to admit that you had a natural talent, once you toughened up a bit. Within a year, the muscles on your arms have grown from handling the hammer.  You liked the changes, and the way that you looked. It gave you a confidence.

It was noticed by someone else in particular. Word was sent to the King when you had finished your first sword, something that you had spent many months upon. You planned on not only showing it to him, but gifting it to him as well, for believing in you. For giving you this amazing opportunity.

The hilt was shaped like a horses’s head. There were ears that stood up from the mane that you had very carefully carved into the wood. You took just as much time on that as you did the steel for the blade, which was sharp enough that someone wouldn’t even know they were cut until they were bleeding to death. It was a special sword, and one worthy of a King - you hoped.

You presented it to him with frazzled hair, sweaty arms and cheeks aglow from being near the fire for so long. Eomer took his time testing it, cutting little niches into a wooden column with ease, spinning it around like he was attacking someone, testing the handle to see if it was comfortable. It was like watching a warrior in action, which you supposed, you were. When he looked at you, you had a hopeful expression on your face, which made him chuckle with amusement.

“It is a very good sword. You should be proud of yourself,” He said, holding it back to you to take. You shook your head and gave him your best bow, rather than curtsy this time. It felt like a more appropriate measure to take, since you probably smelled more like a dirty man than a lady.  

“I made it for you, My King,” You insisted.

“Thank you, I’ll be honored to have it.”

It wasn’t the only thing that you gave him either. Six months after this, you had given him your hand in marriage. You wore your mother’s dress, because you knew that it meant everything to her to see you in it. As you looked at your reflection from the waterbowl that you washed your face in, you realized that you did feel beautiful, which made you nervous. You hadn’t come clean to your future husband about how you felt about yourself yet. That although you liked aspects of femininity, you did not feel like a woman. Just like how you liked some aspects of masculinity, but you did not feel like a man either.

The wedding went off perfectly. You met his sister, Eowyn, and found yourself charmed by her immensely. You heard about how she had disguised herself as a man and gone to war. How it was her who had plunged the sword into the Night King’s helmet and killed what no man before her had been able to kill before.

“It is just a shame that you had to dress up like a man,” You said after a few sips of your goblet at the after-wedding feast. She sat beside you, and her husband, Faromir, on her other wise. “I believe that any army would be benefitted from women. After all, we are much more accustomed to seeing blood than men give us credit for.”

Eowyn seemed pleased by you, while Faramir smiled until he realized what you meant and quickly drank wine to get rid of his red cheeks. You and the blonde woman got along like fire and kindling.

-

The honeymoon was incredible. Eomer made you feel alive. He kissed over each burn that you had gotten from working with the forge. He rubbed at the muscles that you had gained from using the hammer. He made you feel loved - and you loved him so much in return.

That’s why you knew that you had to tell him, and hope that he would not regret his decision of marrying you.

You rolled onto your side to face him, your eyes connecting with his instantly. He looked worn out. You were as well. It had been a very busy couple of days where you only left the bed to use the toilet or to get food to get your strength back. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sounds serious,” He said, all amusement coming off of his face.

“It is,” You admitted. “It’s not about us because this ... is perfect. It’s about an aspect of myself that I think that you should be aware of. It’s a huge part of who I am. And it will definitely affect who I will be in the future, especially as, well, a Queen.”

“Explain it to me then,” Eomer said, patiently. You held onto the blanket, running the corner tassels through your fingers. You knew the words that you wanted to say. You’d been thinking of them for years. You had planned on telling your parents but now you felt that you didn’t need to stress them with this. You weren’t theirs anymore. You were Eomer’s.

“Okay, here goes. And please, don’t think that this is some evil curse. It might have felt like it a couple times, but this is one hundred percent who I am. And it took me a lot of time to realize that it didn’t mean that anything was wrong with me, or that I was a bad person, or even that I should be outcasted. I became comfortable with it and I accept it, though it means that it will always make me different.”

“Walk me through it then. Help me to understand,” Eomer said, continuing to show a patience that you weren’t even sure he had inside of him. He was hasty to make decisions, verging on a stab now, ask questions later kind of King. He was learning.

“Well, there are types of people, as we know. The women and the men. Male and female. That part is simple enough, you’re definitely a man.”

“But you don’t feel like you’re a woman,” Eomer finished, surprising you. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, being so thrown off by his observation. “I sensed something when you first came to me with your request. At first I thought you were just giving into some sort of feminine whim, or trying to prove somebody wrong.”

“That wasn’t the case-” You interjected, but he continued on.

“Blacksmithing isn’t a job that women take on, it’s too tough for them but-”

“Eomer,” You said, a little sternly. “Why don’t you let me explain to you about myself, rather than have you tell me? I think it would be a lot easier if it’s up to me.”

“Oh, of course.” Eomer never had anyone shut him down like that, but it made sense. Who was he to tell you what he thought you were? He pressed his lips together and nodded at you to continue.

“I don’t really feel like how women are supposed to feel. I don’t crave children or stability nor did I spend my life thinking about marriage. I know not all women are this way, but the ones I grew up with were. When my mother would put me in my best dress, I wouldn’t look into the mirror and see myself as a pretty girl. I’d just see me in a pretty dress. Like the clothes are wearing me. But I’m not saying that I feel like a man either. I don’t want to go to war, or be tough, or drink beer and try to hit on women. I don’t like women like that. But I value strength, like in the blacksmith. And trousers. You would not believe how nice it is to wear trousers sometimes.”

“You in trousers?” Eomer asked, cutting in with wide eyes. “How have I not seen this?”

You chuckled at the awe that he had just over the idea of you wearing trousers. “I mended an old pair of dad’s and kept them for myself. They’re for riding so they’re a bit tight but I like them. I wore them under my dress for a confidence boost when I came to make a request of you. Then I got a second pair when I started working at the blacksmith’s. Managed to convince Theoheort that they’re less of a fire risk since the fabric is right up against my legs instead of being loose.”

“Very smart,” Eomer grunted with approval.

“So I guess what I’m really trying to say here,” You said, getting back on track. “- is that I don’t really feel like I fit into either category. Male or female. I’m just sort of on the outside, or in the middle, I don’t know that part exactly. But it’s something that I want to explore in the future. I know that it would cause a lot of trouble to try to explain this to the people of Rohan, so I have no problem with wearing the gowns in public and being addressed as Queen. I just can’t promise that I would be comfortable doing that in day to day life. But for you, I’d be willing to try if you really can’t handle the thought of it.”

He brought his hand up, cupping your chin gently. His thumb rubbed against your skin. “I’m not going to pretend to be anyone except for who I am. I could never ask you to either. We’re in this together, as I told you in our vows. Besides - I’d quite like to see you in your trousers.”

You laughed, taking a pillow from behind your head and hit him in the face with it, sending a few sparse goose feathers flying, and a surprised sound from your husband. “I think you just want to take them off me.”

“Is it that obvious?” He rolled over so that he was on top of you, keeping his weight on his elbows and his knees, which you fit snuggly in between. His hair was just about everywhere, with feathers stuck into it, making it look as if he had just emerged from some sort of chicken snowstorm. “Whoever you are, I love you.”

“I love you too,” You said dreamily, looking into his eyes.

This was never the dream that you had in mind for your life, but it turned out better than you could have imagined.

[idealnreal]

Please overanalyze the shadows in his palace I am begging you.

@appleyjuiceboy​ / jester owns my braincells of course i would do this for u

Okay so i think its best if i go about the order of shadows we meet in the game so. I’m not going to go into the persona/shadows in maruki’s palace. I’ll leave that for some other day. Now! Lets hope i can remain fully coherent.

1) The fluffy haired noodle shadow we meet for (ka)sumi’s awakening

First off, look at the design of this shadow--it has the fluffy hair parted to the right like maruki, its androgynous figure, and that swirly face mask as well! The mask has two eyes, and it even looks like theres a smile there, lopsided. 

We have never seen any other palace shadow taking a similar shape as the palace ruler (except maybe the yaldaboath palace). Shadows are meant to emulate what the ruler thinks of as protectors of their heart. Maruki doesn’t trust anyone other than himself with this secret. And particularly at this phase of his distortion -- there are no scientists, to attendants, no patients. Just an empty, beautiful palace -- with possibly only one type of shadow and protector. The type that represents himself. 

(Also androgynous/nb maruki confirmed ?? yes)

Okay then lets look at what this shadow says to Kasumi.

Shadow: ... Heresy. You dare to spurn our lord’s mercy. Accept yourself... Our lord laments the foolishness birthed from your pain.

Having the context that Kasumi is Sumire here ... Because this scene comes about because Kasumi sees a cognitive version of herself (Sumire) blaming herself -- and so, a part of her is probably trying to remember that she is Sumire. Thus ‘spurn(ing) our lord’s mercy’. And yeah accepting herself as Kasumi instead of trying to remember that she is Sumire. 

But most important is the fact that Maruki’s palace shadows refer to him as a religious or god-like being (’our lord’s mercy’ calling back christian themes). Someone who is merciful and, most of all, does feel grief over one’s pain. Painting an ideal picture of a loving and caring god, ala abrahamic religions. This is a running theme with all the shadow’s dialogs. Let’s put a pin in this for now. 

These design shadows are seen again later in the container room of the palace. They’re slightly faster. The container room is a strange one -- because it doesn’t quite fit in with the rest of the laboratory/hospital/garden of eden thing going on.  While yes labs and hospitals do have storage areas, i cant imagine them being a container warehouse like this. I do headcanon that this is a storage area for the pain and suffering that Maruki has taken on from other people in order to heal them, due to his hyper empathy -- but i’ll analyse the room some other time. For now it’s interesting that the Maruki-like shadows are now relegated to this specific and really dark section of the palace.

Like the throne room/centre of eden that the Maruki boss fight takes place in -- He resigns himself to the darker gloomier parts of his palace. And the same goes for these shadows. This is where he belongs. 

Also abso-fucking-lutely we’re going to talk about how this shadow transforms when it ambushes you:

Skin suit opening up to reveal fangs and rows of teeth, and a formless monster inside. Maruki ... dude ... are you okay? If these shadows are meant to emulate him -- is this how he sees himself sometimes? HHh boy...

2) First lab coat wearing shadow at the start of his palace investigation

Prior to this, while we understood that Maruki was a researcher, it was never a defining feature of him. Like the first thing that came to my mind on Maruki was that he was just the school counsellor and snack purveyor. Now this entire researcher, scientist, side of him is in full display. And this is the most common type of shadow we see, some which are violent, and others are non violent. Maruki sees scientists as the main residents of his palace -- his drive towards investigation and discovery, to puzzling out the intricacies of the human heart, human mind, and human pain. To better further his ability to heal. But there’s also a sort of cold, methodical nature to these scientists. Their ‘healing’ is methodical, based in science.

This coupled with the religious reverence and ideology that their dialog suggests, is a nice contrast. Experiments, data, research, are people’s salvation. Not the simple belief of a deity or of a higher purpose -- but science. Science, in many ways, becomes part and parcel of their religious belief.

Shadow: Those guises ... You aren’t among those who desire salvation. Leave. You are unwanted intruders. Do not disturb our lord’s research-- this world’s salvation. Why do you willingly strive for self-suffering? Why are you reaching out to your own pain?

So here -- the shadow wants them to leave the palace well enough alone. To leave Maruki to his research, and to allow this reality to exist. They don’t want this to end violently and it seems like they’re okay with the trio not ‘desiring salvation’. And when the trio refuse to leave, the shadow asks them why they want to suffer. It’s something inconceivable to them. Maybe even challenging their resolve-- to reconsider their current path, which will only lead to more pain. Also ‘salvation’, ding, on the christian theme counter. Deliverance from above from sin, even redemption. Not for one person, but for the whole world. 

We see this type of shadow again before the scene in the auditorium. 

Shadow: You are misguided. Do not search for pain. Only tragedy awaits you beyond here. [After defeating it] Such a fool, rejecting our lord’s mercy. In that case -- witness it for yourself.

Same themes. Delicious. Lets move on now shall we.

3) Hastur -- the shadow that appears with Maruki at his reveal as his second-in-command / bodyguard

I don’t think i’ve talked about how much i love the lopsided smiles on these masks. Because i love it. it’s just the right amount of unsettling and creepy. fUCk. And the twitching, twisting, and the weeping blue paint that Hastur’s shadow form does before transforming is /chefs kiss. I wanted more.

Anyway, onto Hastur’s design. Not a labcoat this time, just an ordinary looking white suit with no tie. This is the only time we see Maruki have a bodyguard shadow -- something else he relies on. Hastur’s presence in this scene only shows how deeply afraid and uncomfortable Maruki actually is with intruders in his palace. This experience is a reminder that someone had come into Rumi’s parents house to kill him years ago (a theory for another time). Like that incident years ago, he doesn’t resort to violence here -- he did and does try to negotiate. But when that didn’t work, at least now he has something that can fight for him. 

( It is only in the second infiltration when we see Maruki actually take a more active role -- but I won’t get to that here. )

Hastur: Stubborn imbeciles, rejecting our lord ...

There is a running theme here, unfortunately. The shadows again cannot comprehend why anyone would choose to reject Maruki’s salvation, why anyone would choose suffering. And words like ‘foolish’ ‘misguided’ and finally ‘imbeciles’ here are all used to describe those who choose to reject it. While i do think Maruki only bends reality if the person wishes it (subconsciously or consciously), and does accept that there are people who won’t accept their wishes being granted and is aware of the reasons why-- He cannot fully understand or emphatise with it. 

4) These deformed Maruki-like shadows guarding the control room

Jesus christ above, i don’t like these, because they contrast with all other designs as these are more brutish and deformed. There’s used as gatekeepers at certain points of the palace, in the first control room, and later on in the brain-pod-room (my brain cells are stopping to work now excuse me) before the garden puzzle portion, at his final will seed and the entrance to the garden of eden.

We know Maruki isn’t a brute strength kinda person. And yet we see these few who’s only purpose is to defend certain things and areas with force. Its uncharacteristic, but at the same time, given the things that these shadows are defending -- it makes sense. No cunning, no wit, no negotiation, no compassion -- just forcefully defending very important parts of his heart and his work. 

Shadow (at the control room): So you dare defy His Excellency. You shall not interfere with our master’s work!

Shadow (brainwash room): Foolish rebels! You won’t take one step past here!

Shadow (entrance to garden of eden) : You?! I can’t believe you’ve made it so far ...

I had to do a double take on this. I think this is the only time this title ‘His Excellency’ has been used in the palace. While it is used for catholic bishops and that sort -- its mostly used in the context of heads of state, ambassadors-- more secular roles. The other times this shadow speaks is also similarly less reverent, less religious orientated. Of course this makes sense if the only function of these shadows is to use force to defend. They’re not the scientists or the first maruki-imitation shadows -- they’re not as devoted, and they dont have to be. 

5) Finally, these limbless noodles

This one is found during the horticulture portion of the palace. I can’t exactly figure out why. And as far as i can tell, they only appear in this portion of the palace.

As far as the design goes -- these are probably the most unhuman like. Slender, androgynous with only a mask. I’ve got nothing. Braincells ran out. Sorry!

(Haha androgynous maruki go brr)

SO! That’s it. thanks for coming to my ted talk and following me down this rabbit hole. I need to go and drink some fuckin tea.