#can i not just have one gender affirming piece of clothing. please. please

[cannibaleather]

PUT MY OLD LEATHER TROUSERS ON TO TAKE NICE FULL LEATHER PHOTOS WITH MY BOOTS AND THEY FUCKING DISINTEGRATED INTO DUST FUCK MY LIFE

[romanarose]

Banner by @winniethewife

Oscar Issac/Pedro Pascal Fan Art and Fiction Pride Event 2024

Hello friends!

Let's try this again and I'll try to be more clear to not invoke discourse. That being said, it is *my* event and if you'd like to run one a certain way, go nuts. However, this is how I'm doing it.

I had a lot of fun doing Dead Dove December and the Triple Frontier Anniversary Event so I decided I wanted to do an event for pride this year! I know it seems far away right now, especially given how many of us in north America are still cold af, but I wanna give everyone time!

Each week of pride will have a theme to write or draw for (you don't have to do all of them! Think of it like kinktober.) at the end, I will put out a masterlist (or multiple depending how many)so we can all share each other's work.

Why?

Oscar Isaac and Pedro Pascal are both allies to LGBT people, Pedro having played multiple queer rolls and having likened his sexuality to that of Prince Oberyn. Despite none of the characters being canon queer, Triple Frontier specifically lends itself to queer stories. Recently, theres been a rise in stories of Oscar characters in relationships or Pedro characters in relationships which I love.

What I'd really like to do is encourage people to think past x fem!reader or canon presentation of characters. I want to encourage gay, lesbian, bisexual relationships, trans readers, trans interpretations of characters etc. More content guidelines will be in the what section.

Where?

Primarily tumblr.com, our very own shithole hellsight. However, especially given tumblr's censorship vs. twitter, I am encouraging posting on twitter or wherever you'd like. If you post something elsewhere, send me a link or send me a post you made about it on tumblr and I'll promote the link.

Additionally if you only write on ao3, I'd love for you to participate too! Once again, just send the link!

When?

in order to do the week by week themes and hold all of June, there will be 6 weeks from May 26th-July 6th

Each week will have themes. I won't be policing the weeks and these so if you do the 1st week on july 3rd, that's fine. The themes are keeping in mind both artists and writers. I only got one artist for DDD, a great piece and I've love to see more! Ideas are just for spit balling, do your own take!

May 26th-June 1st: Coming out. Ideas: Coming out to family, lover, friend. Finding gender affirming clothes/hair, first pride

June 2nd-8th: Transitioning Ideas: Surgary, surgery scars, starting T or E, binding (safely!!!)

June 9th-15th: Sex/kissing First time together, first time with certain biology or the same sex, sweet kisses, smut showing scars,

June 16th-22nd: Food, fashion, fun

All things queer culture and culture of different religions, racial or country backgrounds, queer fashion, gender affirming clothes, Keshet (קשת), listening to Lady Gaga or Bruce Springsteen, watching a queer movie

June 23rd-29th: Struggles Rejection, reconciling faith and identity, missing family that rejected one, comfort, candlelight vigil, day of remembrance.

June 30th- July 6th:Strength Asserting ones or a partner/friend/family's pronouns, standing up against hate, being loudly and proudly yourself, pride events

Who?

Writers and artists in any form are welcome. I also want to encourage working with each other, writers and artists together!

For characters: Any Oscar Isaac or Pedro Pascal character has to at least be in the relationship. Other characters in universes can be done, such as FishBen.

Reader can be anyone, just properly tag! If you want to come out to Marc Spector as bisexual, do it!!! If you want Joel to take care of you after top surgery, do it!

YOU DO NOT NEED TO BE QUEER TO PARTICIPATE!

However! Please do your research if writing or drawing an identity not yours. There are trans, nonbinary, gay, lebian etc bloggers all over tumblr who write about their experience, please divert to first person testimonies rather than assumptions.

What?

A few rules

MUST contain more than male character x fem!reader. Male character x fem!reader x male character does not count unless the two male characters are romantically or sexually involved or one or the reader is trans. Any Q's, dm me!

This is not a dark event. I'm not going to be policing the content matter but I really want to primarily focus on the pride. However, as a bisexual, gender non-conforming person I know a lot of pain can still be involved. What we are not doing is suicide, death, self-harm, or non consensual activity. If you have questions or would like to make a case for something, just dm me!

This is not inherently NSFW, but there is absolutely NSFW allowed. Always tag everything properly.

The usual no's like bestiality, incest, underage nsfw etc

As far as minor characters, SFW MINOR CHARACTERS IS ALLOWED. You can write or draw lgbt themes because being LGBT is not inherently sexual. For example, teenage Santi coming out as trans to Frankie or your own version of Ellie and Joel's talk about Ellie and Dina kiss. That being said, I'd prefer to reserve this to teens. Again, any questions or ideas that don' quite fit into parameters, just ask!

As always, I am allowed to use my discretion. If I do not want to include something, I won't. However, I know that there are rifts in the fandom. I won't be excluding you out of personal bias. As long as I don't have you blocked and you haven't plagerized or done something really bad to people, you'll be included. I'm not letting petty beefs get in the way. Harmful actions will, however. I need to protect my peace and keep

NO REAL PERSON FANFICTION. Do not write about Oscar Isaac or Pedro pascal being gay or trans and do not make any assumptions about their sexuality or gender identity. Oscar is happily married to a woman and Pedro has expressed his sexuality is like that of Oberyn Martell but has not elaborated much further, nor should he have to. Just leave ‘em be. You can speculate elsewhere but that’s not what this event is for.

How?

Simply tag me, @romanarose and use the #OscarPedroPrideEvent2024 please please please use BOTH so it's easier for me to find!!!

When the event is over, much like DDD I will compiled them into a masterlist and posted. This is a chance for every blog, big and small, to get a moment in the sun and to share each others works! Remember, reblogging, comments, and interacting is what makes this a community! I want to create an environment that is welcoming and we all help each other.

Please feel free to reach out to me for any questions or clarification!

However, if you go issues with me writing men kissing, chracters being trans, queer readers etc, I'm not really open to debate.

~A nonbinary bisexual <3

[the-guilty-writer]

Criminal Minds PRIDE Fic Challenge!

Here we go! First writing challenge ever and I'm even more excited about the theme. During June I ask fic writers to challenge themselves a little bit by writing a piece that is LGBTQ+ inclusive!!! Don't let the topic intimidate you; If you want to participate, but don't know where to start, there are prompts to help. All the fics will be collected in a Masterlist that will be avalible by July 1st.

Note: if you have accessibility issues with this post (or any of my posts!) let me know and I can send you the information in an accessible format.

Prompts and rules are under the cut!

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These prompts are only ideas to help get you started! You can write any LGBTQ+ centered fic you want! Feel free to modify any of the more specific prompts to your liking.

Prompts:

Character coming out to their friends/family/the team.

Character's found family is more supportive than biological family when they come out.

Characters go to a pride parade/festival/event!

Characters discuss queer coding in media.

Character(s) explains their new, queer relationship to a child.

Character 1's child comes out to them. They go to Character 2 to ask what they wish their parents would have done.

Character 1 is having an identity crisis (gender or sexuality). They go to Character 2 for help.

Character 1 is confident about their identity. Character 2 isn't, so they ask for some advice.

Character 1 takes Character 2 to a gay bar for the first time to act as their wingman/wingwoman/wingperson.

Character 1 is unsure if they're attracted to or envious of Character 2's confidence in their identity.

Character has been dating Morgan, but realizes they're not attracted to men. He isn't sure how he ended up in this situation twice, but it's the perfect opportunity for him to play matchmaker for his ex girlfriends.

Character comes out to the team (or it's just pride month) and Penelope goes a bit overboard with decorations.

For the writers who are intimidated by this topic or unsure if they can write it: write something with GN!reader. It's less intimidating than you think, and it can make someone's day to be able to read a fic they might otherwise not relate to!

Bi and Pan Prompts:

Character 1 has always thought they were straight, but they realize their feelings for their best friend, Character 2, are more than platonic.

Character 1 is in a straight passing relationship and worries about the visibility of their queer identity. Their partner is incredibly supportive in helping them express themselves.

(NSFW) What does Emily really do during a sin to win weekend?

Trans and Nonbinary Prompts:

Character 1 gives Character 2 a gender affirming haircut.

Hotch teaches Character how to shave.

JJ teaches Character how to do make up.

Character finds themselves needing gender affirming clothes. Rossi makes sure they have the best of the best.

(NSFW) Character 1 gifts Character 2 gender affirming lingerie and it gives them quite the confidence boost.

Aro and Ace Prompts:

Character 1 keeps trying to set up Character 2 with people/telling them to find someone to help ease their stress. Character 2 has had enough of it.

Character has a monthly spike in libido and it makes them question their identity. Spencer tries to help with a ramble about science (NSFW add on: and a few other ways).

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Rules:

The fic can reader insert, OC, character x character, general fic, etc. as long as the character(s) is from Criminal Minds (yes, even the ones I don't write for).

Fics can be any genre and can be platonic or romantic in nature... and yes, this includes smut (I know, I know my brand is ruined. Oh well). You must be 18+ if you are going to submit smut. You all know I love platonic fics very much if not more!

You can write something new or dig up something you've already written! I'm also happy to add on fics that are sent to me after the masterlist is posted.

Tag me in your fic or message me the link. Please list the ship, content warnings, and have a 1-2 sentence summary of your piece! If you have multiple pieces, you can submit a mini masterlist.

Be kind and respectful! Reach out to me if you have any concerns. This blog is a safe space!

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Thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins for the support and for sending some of the prompts from discord! (and telling me it's safe to tag @foxy-eva for this too)

[windwardstar]

It won't be too late to transition.

Today marks my one year of being on t and with the current political climate, I'll celebrate somewhere, but that's not really where my mind is at right now. So instead I'm writing this. Don't give up hope. It won't be too late for you to transition.

You can do any of it at any age. And until recently it was usually done as an adult once you were financially independent and could afford to transition and restart your life compeltely over. You don't have to be a child or a teenager to start and see results and eventually find a body you're happy in. Until recently, transitioning that young wasn't even seen as possible for most people. There is no time limit. No countdown to when it won't help.

I know how much it hurts to have to wait. And with all of the attacks on trans right and trans existence and bans on our healthcare, it's making access to hrt and surgeries and other gender affirming care and changing names and genders on documents so much harder or impossible to get. But. I promise you, there's always still time even if you have to wait.

One day exists. One day will come. And when you get there, hormones and surgeries and changing your name and clothes and hair will still be possible just because you're not 15, 18, 25, 30...

I know how much it hurts to wait. How painful it is to have to exist in a body that is wrong and be called a name that isn't yours and have others constantly misgender you. And there is so much to grieve over the years where you want to get to be your true self but can't. And please, grieve those years. But don't give up hope and grieve your future ones prematurely.

I was 21 by the time I had vocabulary to name my experiences properly. I spent my childhood and teen years existing in unnamed discomfort because trans people weren't even a concept in the popular conciousness, much less being nonbinary. And I spent my twenties slowly trying to carve out places for myself to exist while living with family who I had to remain closeted around for my safety and unable to access care because of cost.

I'm turning 30 this summer. I moved into my own place and it took me two years to get my name and gender changed on my birth certificate and ID. I'm finally getting top surgery this summer. My first attempt at getting on t lasted three months before the pandemic hit and I lost access. I moved again to a safer place and eventually got back on hormones. My one year anniversary for being on t is today. I've seen so many changes and things are still changing and for the first time it really does feel like I have my entire life ahead of me. My life wasn't over because I couldn't transition earlier.

But also, hormones and surgery and legally changing your name and gender marker aren't the only ways to transition. They're just the ones that are the hardest to acess. Whether it's finances or safety or governments making it illegal, there are still other ways you can carve out a space for yourself to exist.

You can find a name for yourself. And whether it's something other people use, a select few, or just yourself in your head, that is still your name. (You can also try and find nicknames that are less painful to hear. Make an email address and sign up for mailing lists with your name so even if it's just automated advertisements your name is still spoken. Use the name with store rewards tied to your phone number and say it belongs to a relative if anyone asks. Online isn't real life, but you can use whatever name and pronouns you want when nobody really knows who you are.)

You can change your hair and clothes and the products you use. It might not be to the extent you want to, but pieces here or there can help. (Socks and underwear that nobody sees. Soaps and shampoo and deodorants that you can say work better or irritate your skin less if asked why you use it (usually the only difference in formula is which fragrance is added). Wearing hand-me-downs of your chosen type with the claim of saving money. Cut your own hair short and say you messed up but it will grow out or let it grow and say you're planning on donating it. Brushing or styling it differently.) Anything you have a plausibly non-trans reason for can be a small less risky way to affirm your gender.

And it's ok if you can't do any of those safely. You're not any less trans because you have to be in the closest or you're not ready to come out of it regardless of the reason.

It may suck to wait for the bigger things. The ones that will make the most difference. But it doesn't matter what age you finally get to them, they'll still help. Your life isn't over and your chances of being able to transition in a way that is happy and fulfilling don't go away because you can't do it yet. There's no age limit.

It won't be too late to transition.

(Keep your negativity off this post. If you need to vent, make your own. If this post doesn't vibe with you, just ignore it. Leave it a space for people who need the message.)

[patrochillesvibes]

Thanks for the Pyrrha HCs. I love it, and I love her😘😘😘

Do you have any Modern AU HCs for Pyrrha as well? Oh, and what would it be like if Pyrrha was a woman in the first place, not Achilles in character? Do you think the relationship with Patroclus would be any different? And if so, how?

Hmmm

I HC Achilles as bigender or gender fluid. I don’t really have HCs for trans Achilles. As for Patroclus, I don’t think it would matter much to him. They have a deep love for each other, and Pat is bi. I think trans Achilles would be open with Pat about it from the beginning. I think Pat would love and cherish all aspects of Achilles and would support however Achilles chooses to present. Pat might be more protective of trans Achilles due to sexism, but not much else would change. Trans Achilles would be just as capable, strong, and confident as cis Achilles. One thing that Pat might be especially please with would be their ability to get married (TSoA/Iliad).

Modern AU

Pyrrha started off as a joke. It started one Halloween when Achilles dressed in drag. He was always a bit curious about women and their clothes and makeup etc.. Often he had been called “girly” and “pretty.” He had fun with the drag. It was especially thrilling to flirt with Pat while “in-character.”

The “joke” then evolved into a roleplay persona that got more and more elaborate over time. Also as time passed, Pyrrha started showing up more, especially outside the bedroom. And more feminine pieces became incorporated into Achilles’ wardrobe. Eventually a conversation happened, and Achilles admitted to liking being Pyrrha (Pat liked it too). And so now sometimes he’s Pyrrha.

Pyrrha prefers to wear dresses and skirts (mostly because she loves getting railed in them).

Pyrrha has great skin, so she mostly only wears mascara and lipstick for makeup. She loves getting her lipstick all over Pat.

Pyrrha loves wearing earrings.

Pyrrha loves getting nail polish on her toes, especially reds.

Pyrrha engages in more PDA than Achilles (she gets away with it due to homophobia) (Pyrrha passes).

Pyrrha gets away with E V E R Y T H I N G. Pat can’t say no. And also once she got pulled over by a cop for speeding. She got out of the ticket by flirting. Pat was in the passenger seat at the time and was a bit miffed, but he also didn’t want to pay yet another traffic violation fine for Mrs. Road Rage.

If you insult her husband, Pyrrha will beat the shit out of you. Like put-you-in-the-hospital kind of beat down.

Pyrrha has her own diamond wedding ring (it compliments Achilles’ wedding band very nicely). She received it on one of their wedding anniversaries (5th or 10th).

Pyrrha is expensive. She brings a very sugar daddy/baby vibe to their relationship.

Pyrrha doesn’t care for handbags. They’re clutter.

Pyrrha prefers doggy (mostly it’s the hair pulling). She also really enjoys being bent over furniture. She loves muffing. Gender affirming terms for body parts are a big turn on and are the base of dirty talk.

She only tucks with certain outfits. Otherwise, otherwise its her natural self in her sexy panties. Pyrrha is really only sensitive about her biology when (Pat’s) babies come up.

She’s vain. She thinks she’s prettier than most girls she’s right.

She has very sensitive nipples.

She is a big fan of jasmine, rose, and other flower notes in her perfume.

Her preferred pet name is kitten (babygirl is a must).

Pyrrha is both a girly girl and a tomboy depending on her mood. But she’s almost always coy and flirty just to get Pat riled up.

That’s all I can come up with for now.

[illusionsofdreaming]

would it be okay to request headcanons with the main trio from TCF who aren't in a relationship with the (fem) reader yet but they like each other, the guys get hurt or something and the reader is so scared of losing them or was so anxious that she ended up kissing them? You can edit a few parts if you'd prefer! thank you, i know you have a lot of requests but you're the only one who writes x reader for them-

Notes: It took forever+forever but I finally gave up trying to perfect it- y'all just going to have to deal with these half baked potatos as I sob in the corner for my lack of functioning writing braincells.

+ 'nonny I know you asked for Fem reader but I'm just so used to writing gender neutral nowadays I actually forgot to write Fem reader in. Uh. I mean it's gender neutral so it should work regardless?? I'msorrypleaseforgivemeforthisblunder

Ft: Cale, Alberu, Choi Han

Cale Henituse

He’s covered in blood.

Again.

He glanced down at his shirt, once white, now completely soaked and rapidly losing warmth. The icky feeling of sticky cloth stuck on skin caused goosebumps to break out all over his arms. The lethargy that weighed on him was hard to ignore, but expected after using his ancient powers-

“Cale!”

He turned just as the full force of you barrelled into him and he staggered, unbalanced and would’ve fallen had you not pulled him back. He barely had time to protest at your rough greeting when you began frantically patting him down as if scouring him for weapons.

“There’s so much- where are you hurt?” you demanded harshly, your tone pitched higher than normal. “Raon call for Saint Jack and the others, medics- anyone that can help!”

“Y-yes! I-I will! Weak hu-human you better not die or I will destroy the kingdom!”

“Wai-“ his protests were ignored as the dragon flew off, leaving Cale dumbfounded with his jaw hanging down in disbelief. “Wait you don’t have to find the others, I’m fi-“

“Cale Henituse, if I hear you say ‘I’m fine’ I’m going to sock you to kingdom fucking come.“ you seethed. His lips snapped shut obediently, swallowing the aforementioned phrase down as a foreboding chill crept down his spine.

But I am..?

“How could you..” your voice shook even as you clung onto his soaked shirt so tightly your knuckles turned white. “You’re always doing stupid things like this…”

Cale frowned, feeling a bit indignant. Sure his plans weren’t the most thought out at times, but to call them stupid…

“If you waited for us to come, then you wouldn’t have to- why do you keep sacrificing yourself like this?”

That triggered an alarm in his head. What strange things were you talking about? The act of sacrifice were done by martyrs and selfless heroes and Cale Henituse was neither of those. He wanted to correct your misunderstanding but you were worked up and hysterical and it was with horror that he realised you were crying.

“________-“

“Don’t talk! Please, just conserve your energy- I won’t let you die, I promised the kids and the others- I won’t let you-”

The alarm bells in his head rang even louder and he fought to be heard over your rambling, “_________- no one’s dying, I’m fine-” it felt as if his heart had leapt to his throat as he stopped your fist before it could make contact. You really weren’t joking when you said you’d punch him. He tightened his hold on your wrist when you tried to twist out of his grip and swallowed nervously. “I’m not hurt _________,“ he emphasised, willing you to meet his eyes.

“Stop bullshitting me Cale- how much of a fucking idiot do you take me for? How can anyone be fine after losing this much blood-“

“It’s not mine.”

You stilled in his grasp.

“…W-what?”

He frowned. Was it really that hard to believe his words? “The blood’s not mine.” he repeated and made sure to meet your disbelieving gaze head on so that you could verify the truth in his words. “They were cut down before they could harm me. None of this blood is mine. I was not hurt.“ It was a partial lie. He did cough out some blood after instinctively activating the shield for protection but he felt that that was knowledge you’d be better off not knowing.

The coiled tension in you leaked out and Cale slowly released his grip on your hand and took a cautious step back - just in case. It was a good thing he managed to deescalate the situation before the others arrived. Just convincing one person was hassle enough and from experience alone, he knew the others weren’t as merciful when it came to learning about his injuries, regardless of severity or his protests otherwise. Cale shuddered. He really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Ron’s cold smile again. He glanced up and saw Raon’s flying figure and he waved lazily to the dragon hoping the young one would understand that the healers were no longer necessary, it had only been a false alarm.

“..ot.”

“Hm?” He looked down, hearing you mumble but didn’t quite catch what you’d said.

He was not prepared to be yanked forward and for your lips to mash against his. There was a brief sting where your teeth had caught on his lip and the uncomfortable sensation of having your teeth clack against each other, noses in the way. He froze, like a deer caught in headlights, thoughts reeling but before he could think of acting, to push or pull you in even closer-

You let him go just as abruptly and he staggered, breath stolen, mind in absolute disarray.

Then you slapped him. Which definitely cleared his thoughts. “You idiot!”

Stupefied, he watched as you stormed off, stuck in a daze as he cradled his face where his cheek and lips tingled for different reasons.

“…What..?”

Choi Han

Choi Han didn’t know what Cale saw in you back then, a complete stranger whom they saved by chance and nursed back to health with utmost care. You, who Cale insisted was the final key to their masterplan and then asked Choi Han to act as your escort.

There were many things Choi Han didn’t understand when it came to Cale-nim’s decisions. But that wasn’t so unusual and he’d never made it a habit to question Cale’s reasoning, having learned to be patient, knowing the pieces would eventually slot together in the grand picture. So although initially wary he was of your unclear history and affiliation, he stayed by your side and did his duty without question.

And perhaps after weeks of accompanying you, he’s beginning to see what Cale saw. Though powerless and weak, you were righteous and passionate, holding true to your belief even in the face of adversaries. You were the perfect replacement for the tyrannical ruler of the country, someone capable of salvaging the crumbling system of a neglected, abused society and lifting it to new heights and glory.

With the flames of revolution ignited, everything hinged on getting you safely to Cale on the final stage. While the revolutionaries fought and acted as distractions above ground, he escorted you through the abandoned waterways.

The undergrounds were dark and cramped, incredibly disadvantageous to a swordsman such as himself. When assassins leaped out in an ambush; Choi Han didn’t hesitate. Without time nor space to draw his sword, he pushed you behind him and raised his arm to block the strike.

As the momentum of the assassin’s blade stopped, it became simple matter to quickly disarm and finish them. Having checked and affirmed that there’s no forthcoming attacks, he urged you to hurry, now worried as they weren’t expected to be discovered so soon.

Something must’ve happened, we should hurry to Cale-nim’s side-

He was halted with a firm grip on his other hand and was pulled back as he was met with your stern, unwavering gaze and declaration that you will not move another step from this spot until his arm got treated first.

Which was a ridiculous request considering they were running on a tight schedule. He frowned and his fingers flexed against the hilt of his sword as you pulled him to the side.

When none of his objections were being heard, he tried reasoning with you. The wound may look horrible, but he’d assured you he’d angled his arm just so that the blade would’ve caught on his bone rather than tendons. It was a strategic move that not only blocked momentum but also kept damage to his non-dominant arm at the minimum. He would not have bled to death nor would he be crippled from it, something that barely needed the emergency care you insisted on.

“It’s not necessary, we need to get to the tower room first.”

“The room is not moving anywhere, I’d rather not risk having you develop an infection because you neglected to care for your wound.“

He flinched when alcohol was poured on the cut and Choi Han breathed out slowly, his frustration mounting as precious seconds passed. Something in his chest stirred uncomfortably. He’s not accustomed to having others care for his wounds, having spent so many years caring for them himself whilst hiding his weaknesses from monsters in the Forest of Darkness.

“I will attend to it after I’ve brought you to Master Cale’s side, we must-“

Your eyes flashed with anger as your grip tightened painfully around his arm. “So many things have been lost to reach this stage, I’d rather not lose more on the way there.”

“Cale-“

Perhaps you’ve had enough as well as the next thing he knew, your fingers dug into his arm and he found himself yanked forward and you pressing a hard, determined kiss that stole whatever he was going to say from his lips.

“Cale Henituse,” you said sternly when you parted and picked up a roll of bandages, “can afford to wait a bit longer.” you glared at him as if daring him to argue otherwise.

Not that it was necessary, considering he’d doubt he’d have the coherency to answer anything with the way all the blood in his body was rushing to his face.

Alberu Crossman

He didn’t feel anything upon the moment of impact. Only the shocking cold of metal being slid into his side and the vicious gaze of the perpetrator pressed up to his front.

The pain ripped through a moment later and he gritted his teeth, red spilling down his lips. It hurts.

Activity bursted around him, screams of fear echoed through the ballroom as guards rushed to his side. However one voice in particular caught his attention and he looked up to catch your horrified expression, lips parted in a desperate cry.

His forehead furrowed as a strange sense of guilt washed over him- he didn’t want you to see this- but he didn’t have time to explore the feeling as his hand latched firmly on the hand which still held the weapon in his side, preventing their escape.

His smile was red, “Caught you now, rat.”

═════☩══♛══☩═════

He tousled his hair dry with a towel as he read through the reports in his hand.

Alberu was exhausted, the fight to rid his side of his enemies’ spies had always been an ongoing and tedious project. His enemies were cunning and always played things safe however their impatience this time would cost them. Now that one of their own has fallen into his hands, they can start pulling in the net.

A knock sounded on his door and he didn’t bother looking up from his reports as he gave permission. “Come in.”

“Did you manage to find any new information from them?” he asked immediately as the door opened. Anything gleaned from the assassin would be beneficial to his cause. Not that he truly expected any confessions to be given this night. Any hired killer worth their salt would know not to betray the mastermind behind a hit. But there were more than one way to find credible information aside from words torn directly from the lips of a captive.

When no answer came, he looked up and immediately dropped the papers he was reading.

“___________…”

In the aftermath of the attack and the capture of the assassin he’d been immediately escorted to the healers for first aid. With the bare minimum done he’d left quickly to take control of the situation, calming the aristocrats and giving orders to assign all guests to be escorted to a room in the palace to rest from the unexpected development - the smarter ones would know this was just a way to keep all suspects in one place, stalling for time so that his trusted aides may work to narrow down the most likely suspects. He had been meaning to find you and explain once everything settled but this time you took matters into your own hands.

Your eyes glanced at the documents he dropped. “Am I disturbing your work?”

“No,” he replied instantly, fighting back the urge to shuffle the papers behind him. “No, you’re not.”

The room lapsed into silence once more as neither of you seemed keen to address the elephant in the room.

“About tonight…” he started slowly, “they had to believe I had my guards lowered.”

The truth was, though he believed you would not have been behind the attack, you had to be tested all the same. Should it be known you’ve been partial to this plan, it would’ve given the real culprits leverage to use.

You approached him and he wished you would say something. He noted the redness in your eyes and felt a stab of guilt lodge in his chest. “It had to be believable.”

You didn’t meet his eyes and your hand hovered over where his wound had been.

He lifted the edge of his shirt up to reveal the pink scar tissue underneath. It was ugly and badly healed due to the rush he had been in. “I wasn’t in any real danger.” he said softly, staying still and resisting the urge to shiver when your fingers traced the scar.

“You’re picking up bad habits from Cale.” You said so softly he would’ve missed it had he not been paying attention.

“The padded shirt under prevented the blade from going too deep.” he explained, hoping you’d understand that he hadn’t been reckless. Everything had been planned carefully. He slowly tucked his shirt back in as you withdrew your hand, already missing the warmth you brought to his skin just moments ago.

“__________…”

You leaned in and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Don’t do that again.” you whispered against his cheek.

He could only watch in astonishment as you turned away and exited his room.

“..Okay..” he said hoarsely to the empty room.

[atomicwriter]

my teeth in your heart → xiao

00. An Amputated Soul

DESCRIPTION: in liyue, wuwang hill is spoken of as the place where the dead dwell, and there’s a fable that’s oft–repeated among the youth of qingce village. xiao knows this tale, he witnessed it firsthand, and it is as familiar to him as the wind that he coils between his fingers. he does not speak of it much, for who is he to tell it to? all he knows is that the memory is prevalent as the disembodied whispers of karmic debt that call his name.

DISCLAIMER: gender neutral reader. brief mentions of nudity and death. multi-chapter fic.

WORD COUNT: 3k.

It’s a strange sensation.

There’s no pain, just an all-consuming numbness that spreads throughout your entire body. Your fingers flex, although you’re barely able to make sense of their movements. You can only recognize the metronome of your heartbeat as you float wistfully, the blood in your veins roaring so loud that all other sounds fall deaf to your ears. This serenity, a moment free from shouldering the hardships of the world, seems all too foreign for you, although you can’t pinpoint the exact reason why.

Here, you drift in the endless cosmos, wet and thick. You’re untethered, a lone particle with no sense of gravity in the middle of space. Reality seems discombobulated, and life consists of fractured memories that you’re unable to put together, as if you are missing the puzzle pieces necessary to do so. There’s a heavy pounding in your temples, and the tresses of your hair float around your head like wisps of smoke caught in the moonlight.

It’s when you open your eyes that you realize you can’t breathe. You suddenly become aware that you’re submerged underwater, and the previous tranquility is replaced by a fervent hysteria. Curled up in a fetal position, your bones knock together at the joints, trying for a foothold over the slick crossings of the river floor. Withal, your limbs are constricted by the water reeds, rendering you practically immobile, and your feet sink into the slick, black earthsoup. The surface seems far away from your stricken fingers as you desperately flail them in an attempt to stay afloat.

You can feel your heart pulse sporadically in your teeth, and your spine convulses as you choke on the air that you can’t breathe. In a brief moment of clarity, you retract your arms, beginning to uproot the reeds that confine your body to the riverbed. Determination numbs the burning sensation that coruscates throughout your chest, snuffing out the white-hot sensation that begins to gnaw at your lungs. This newfound electricity swallows you whole, surging through your veins like an incinerator that’s sweltering hot and nuclear-powered. Mud billows up in waves from the floor.

You can taste the acrid tang of death as you bite down on your tongue, and you know it’s coming when your periphery turns white. An abrupt coolness rushes in, igniting a formication along your skin. In mere moments, you realize, you will float like the water reeds, nothing more than flesh and bones ready to decay in the currents. It’s unnerving to realize, it’s unnerving to even think about, and you want to push against the exhaustion that barrels onto your body; to strain for the moonlight that dims above. But your limbs grow heavy, your fingers turn bloated and blue, and your head is spinning, spinning, spinning…

A rough hand clamps down on your shoulders and you’re jerked out of the water before the darkness completely takes over your vision.

You break the surface, coughing and spluttering. Your chest heaves violently, sucking in desperate lungfuls of air that you had previously been so cruelly deprived of. The disturbed water sloshes around as you’re pulled onto the surface of a raft, and you collapse to your knees. Spindly fingers anchor themselves against the dried bamboo stakes, unable to let go until you’re steady once again. Your breath releases in sharp heaves, but it’s there, and that’s all that matters.

When the chill finally seeps into your skin, you see everything in pieces: the shadow of a silhouette in the fading moonlight, dark eyes fraught with concern, and frantic hands thrusting a sheet around your trembling body. Panting hard, you find a certain sense of relief when you cut your eyes to the person who stands by your shivering form. The landscape is blurry before you, and a restless energy hums beneath your skin.

“Are you alright?” the man asks you.

You don’t answer him at first. Instead, you swivel your head around as you take in your surroundings. You’re encircled by calm waters, serene despite their previous menace. Ripples lull the boat, and you follow their path to a shore that doesn’t lie too far from where you are now. You can barely make out the bamboo stalks that extend towards the night sky, framed by the gray cliffs that confine the surrounding land within an alcove of shadows.

“Where are we?” you ask him.

“This is Bishui River.”

The name rings with an unknown sense of familiarity, and you repeat it under your breath.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” the man crouches down beside you, “but, what happened to you?”

You wish you could answer him, and when you look down, you notice your hands are shaking. From the frustration of being unable to recall anything or your apparent weakness, you don’t know. It’s like there’s a roadblock in your mind, a screen that reaches from ground to sky that disconnects you from the world around you. Faint sounds plug your ears, memories float across your eyes, and you’re unaware of what you have forgotten. Your past is something hidden, but in this moment you cannot fathom what it might be.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. You ball your hands into fists, knuckles blanching and fingernails digging deep into your palms as you turn to glower at the waters below. A sharp pain lances through your skin, but you don’t release them. All you can do is tell him your name.

“I see,” he hums, and you look towards him, whose cloak reveals a subtle beard of black hair and callous hands - working hands. There are wicker baskets that lie adjacent to his feet, filled with scavenged fish and herbs, carrots and sunsettias. “I stopped using my real name a long time ago. You can just call me Jiangxue.”

Your eyes narrow, but you don’t lose focus. Your nature is to piece this puzzle together: a fisherman out in the dead of night, an unknown land that is strangely familiar, and you, a person composed of seafoam who was pulled to the surface with nothing but a name. You admit that that’s what bewilders you most, but you suck in a breath and push the thought away.

“There’s a village near here. I can take you there if you’d like,” Jiangxue speaks when your silence persists. His eyes glance towards your figure before quickly looking away. A cough catches somewhere between his lungs and his throat. “It consists of amiable folk. You should be able to persuade them into getting you some clothing.”

You look down at his words, and your throat drops to your stomach when you find your bare skin on display. A hypodermic heat rushes to your face, and you wrap the thin sheet tighter around your naked body.

“I … uh … sorry,” you manage to sputter out, bowing your chin down to your chest as if the simple action alone could erase all traces of embarrassment. “I hadn’t realized.”

“It’s no matter,” he affirms, paddling towards the land.

It begins to rain once the raft reaches the shore, and an argentine fluorescence seeps from the sky. The drops plummet from the sky, rapid and ruthless. As you step onto the bank, you find that the mossy ground is damp and sodden, a deep green pigmentation that indicates the fallen rain as a usual occurrence. Jagged stones press uncomfortably into your heels, and you can feel the way the air stills around you.

You don’t understand why these plains seem so disorienting, why the soft susurration of the leaves feel so heavy in your ears. This stupor comes alongside that previous sense of familiarity - an ambient nostalgia for a native land that you yearn to experience once again. There’s an entwining reassurance, distant childhood memories, and the comforts of home. Perhaps one day you will find out why.

When you see the man step off of his raft in an attempt to follow you, you stop him with the shake of your head.

“I’m fine from here on out,” you say before you can even make sense of the words. “I know my way there.”

Skeptical of your proclamation, he raises an eyebrow.

“Dawn will be here soon, you should return to fishing before the world wakes up.”

“You misunderstand,” he says, walking towards you nonetheless. “I do not fish for a living. Neither the process nor the result means much of anything to me.”

“Oh,” you frown. “Is it just a way to pass time, then?”

“Precisely that.” And then he smiles, reaching out his hand and placing it on yours. When he retracts, you find a sunsettia placed into the cocoon of your palm, accompanied by a glowing ornament composed of Varunada Lazurite. There’s a delicate swirl–like design imprinted in the middle of the gem, and your breath catches in your throat when you realize what it is: a Hydro Vision. It must have resurfaced alongside you.

You wish to thank him, but you can not find the voice to do so.

“Safe travels,” Jiangxue says. He turns away, only walking a few steps before he pauses entirely. He opens his mouth, and a look crosses his face then as if he doesn’t know what to say.

“Yes?” you ask of him. “What is it?”

He still doesn’t speak, and you watch as he unclips the cloak from around his waist, slipping it off his arms and rolling it within itself. He hands you the bundle of cloth.

“O-Oh,” you stutter, waving your hands in front of you. “I couldn’t possibly. You have given me far too much.”

“You are cold,” is all he says. “Take it.”

“Really, I don’t-”

“I implore you. Please take it.”

There’s something in his voice then, a plea that is all too unfitting for the composed man before you. Unable to fight against his wishes, you timidly reach forward and remove the article from his grasp.

“There should be no monsters to block your path,” Jiangxue says. “He has made sure of it.”

There is nothing to stop the bewilderment that illustrates your face.

“He?” you question, but the fisherman’s back is turned to you. Befuddled, you do not say anything more, and the quietude encroaches in.

Somewhere in the near distance, a bird squalls — the only sound to penetrate the silence. Jiangxue moves back onto his raft, situating a paddle between the calloused texture of his hands. You don’t wait to watch him leave, instead bowing your head in a display of gratitude before pivoting on your heel and weaving through the clotted bamboo.

When you are certain that you are adequately hidden, the soaked-through sheet that had previously found home on your shoulders falls to the floor. You cinch the cloak that Jiangxue gifted you around your body, and the linen cocoons your body heat comfortably. Pocketing your Vision and the sunsettia, you pluck the sheet from off the ground, and begin to walk forward once more.

It’s not a long trek, that much you can recall, but when you reach the edge of the village, you find that the world has flung itself over and a new sun breaks the horizon. It’s a nectarine-sweet sky, mingling above the mountain that cradles the abundant crop lands within its embrace. You cross the bridge over the terraced fields of crops and wildflowers, inching closer to the livening village. It remains peaceful and quiet all the same, even as its occupants begin to stir.

This isn’t a place that receives many guests, that much you can affirm, despite the boundless beauty the land withholds. The rising sun embraces your skin, silky and warm, and even the rough texture of the stairs beneath your feet seems to hold a fount of comfort within themselves. You can hear the hummingbirds philandering with the flowers, their birdsong coming in lulls and bursts. The aromatic hints of Jueyun Chili and Violetgrass invade upon the atmosphere, inspiring a warmth to pool within your stomach.

It’s when you near the top of the stone path that you can make sense of a hunched figure beneath the strung lanterns, still lit despite the day’s arrival. She paces from side to side, graceful in her steps regardless of the aged lines that sculpt her face, on display due to her gray hair tucked in a low bun. As if sensing your presence, she stops, the green of her dress swiveling with her movements as she pivots on her heel to face you.

“My dear,” she calls, as if she has known you all this time. “Welcome to Qingce Village. Why don’t you take a walk with me?”

The elderly lady nods her head towards the courtyard, and there you can see a conglomeration of buildings that frame the square, constructed of wood and bamboo stalks. Fruit stands are tucked into corners, and a little ways down, a water mill sits adjacent to a bridge, converging with the path that leads further up the mountain. From nearby, the sound of a waterfall marginally emerges above the noises of early morning, and a rush of wistfulness overwhelms your entire being.

“Have you been aware that I would come?” you ask as you step beside her. She leads you towards the bridge.

A small smile sets apart her lips. “You must know we have quite the accumulation of spies here.”

A look of confoundment overtakes your features, and before you can request her to explain any further, a muffled chorus of giggles is heard from behind you. When you turn around, three pairs of eyes stare curiously at your form, and petite hands latch onto the edges of the cart that the children hide behind.

“I was not aware that I’d been under surveillance.”

“Outsiders are rather rare here,” the elderly woman muses, turning her head to where you gaze. “Of course, they still have a lot to learn.”

A sense of amusement flutters within your chest.

“Might I inquire as to why you have come?” she asks you.

The question momentarily startles you, although you reason that it is not unexpected. Attempting to grasp at your thoughts, you press your teeth down onto your lip, and all answers that are brought to mind prove insufficient to her question.

She must notice your inner turmoil, because she provides a reassuring expression before speaking: “It is fine if you do not wish to indulge me. We all have things we wish to keep to ourselves.”

“It’s not that. It’s just … how do I put this?” you reply, taking a grounding breath before voicing further. “There are many memories before this morning that have escaped me, including the answer to your inquiry. Although, I do suppose I hoped that I might be able to acquire some assistance here.”

She seems to contemplate your words, and stops walking just before your feet make contact with the bridge. A middle-aged woman appears in your periphery then, raising her hand in greeting to the lady beside you, the other arm slung over a wicker basket that rests on her hip. She must be preparing for a day's worth of field work, you presume.

“I see. Let us go somewhere more private. We will converse there,” she says. “And perhaps we might find you some more suitable clothes.”

She leads you to a building that rests on a wedge below the peak of the mountain. It’s certainly the largest structure of the village, composed of wooden posts and joists to encircle the open space. A shallow pond borders the front entrance, lotus heads and lily pads peaking above its glassy surface. The inside is completely exposed to the external environment, and from here, you can make out the entirety of the village. Nonetheless, being under a roof grants you a gratifying sense of privacy.

With a fragile hand on the small of your back, the lady leads you to a painted screen wall that rests off–center of the building, framed by wooden beams. It’s a picture of the mountain, you promptly recognize, with streaks of orange and blue that appear to glow in the morning light. She gently encourages you behind it, and you don’t realize that there is a set of garments in her other hand before she’s pushing them into your own.

“There is no one around to see,” she says, as if sensing your hesitation, and leaves you to your own.

Once the woman rounds the corner, you make haste in removing the cloak, slipping on the pants that tighten at your waist. The silk laced fabric flares out to brush at your ankles, and the cerulean trimmed edges barely graze upon the ground. The main portion is a dark umber, much like the short sleeved shirt given to you, with stitched decals of ochre and blue. It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to bind the fastenings down your chest.

There is no mirror nearby, but you are gently pleased by the choice in fabrics. You run your fingers over the material, feeling the ridges, the needlework, and the cotton–like texture. You know you’re in no position to experience such a luxury at the given moment, but you also have no entitlement to brush off such a thing. Your body hums with gratitude, and you step out from behind the wall.

The elderly lady seems to be equally as pleased, as she sends you a tight–lipped smile. From where her hands are clasped behind your back, she motions towards the chairs that circle the center of the building, fringing on the carmine painted engraving of a flower–like design. You take a seat.

“Might I ask your name?” You are the first to speak.

“You may call me Granny Ruoxin,” she muses. “I do apologize if it isn’t too lively around here, but life is pleasant here, and I hope you find a sense of enjoyment within the village.”

You learn forward, eager. “You mean it? I can stay?”

She nods, and it’s like the Universe has bursted into light. “There is plenty of room. You may stay until you are certain of where your journey will take you.”

A glint from the sun sparks your gaze, and you watch as Granny Ruoxin moves to sit beside you. Her movements are leisurely, hands crossed–hatched with scars reaching down to clasp yours in her own, and you dare to wonder of all the ways in which your life is about to unfold.

hello! i hope you enjoyed this. it’s my first time posting something genshin related on tumblr, so feedback is greatly appreciated. <3

additionally, i am considering making a tag list for this story, so if you are interested please message me!!

also! you can read it here on a03!

[herima]

hey jus made a reader x tech fic if you wanna read since Ik mans doesn’t have that much content. this was inspired by a tiktok i saw

I cannot see, I'm legally blind

Ao3 link

Rating: E

Gender-neutral pronouns as always

Part two will be out soon for readers with different body parts for now this is v and p.

Words: 3005

Meditation helped you the most to focus before a battle, but you’d gone down a different path of meditation. One that usually led to you sitting for hours when you’d try to go down the path. The path of where the Jedi would be at the end of the Clone Wars.

“Uhm... Commander?” A voice echoed, immediately pulling you out of your state of being.

Looking around you’d realized you had made a circle of rocks and leaves around you in some kind of protective field. Blocking anyone from approaching you. Once you noticed you weren’t seated on the floor and in the air you lost focus and fell to the ground on your bum in front of a trooper.

“ Ugh.. ” You groan after landing on your pelvic bone.

“Your evac is taking longer than expected. Would you like to come on the Marauder with us? We will drop you off to Kamino instead,” Oh.. Of course I bust my arse in front of him! “Tech!”

“Yes, that is me,” You looked up a little too alarmed at him as he extended his hand, and he moved his hand in front of you to emphasize it was there and once you realized you’d been staring you took his hand in yours and noted the gentle caress of his thumb over your knuckles.

“Follow me,” He states, the warmth of his hand over yours leaving.

“Wait,” Pulling him back by his hand he looked back at you, eyebrows lifted in confusion. “You’re forgetting something,”

“I’m forgetting something?” Tech ponders and you hum in affirmation, doing his thinking stance before a thought hits him and he’d immediately went to his data pad to figure it out.

“You won’t find it on your data pad silly ,” You say looking behind him to make sure no one is coming, and once you’d called him that he realized it didn’t have to do with the mission or evac and a side smile pulled on his lips under his helm.

“If you take this off I can remind you, unless you want it over the helm—“

“N-No, no , I prefer it on my skin, it feels nice,” He says, with a bit of excitement he tried hiding to not seem desperate but it had been a while since you guys got to do this so he wanted it bad.

Now holding his helm by the lip of his right hand he bent down just a bit and you reached out to cup his face a little to rough causing his goggles to be thrown off balance and placed a firm chaste kiss to his cheek, adjusting his goggles he turned his head to place one on your lips and you both laughed into the kiss when your noises brushed over one another.

“ Lovely ,” he murmurs low against your lips that sent a hot shiver straight down your body and back to your brain in a soft haze, “Will I be visiting you tonight on Kamino? I missed this,” Tech’s hands found its place on your hips rubbing circles onto the edges of your pelvic bones that you could feel through your layers of clothes.

“Of course,” You blush, placing another kiss on his cheek, “what’s the excuse this time?”

“Hmm… I won’t explain myself to them, I’m sure they will come up with an excuse if my absence becomes of me, they never do head counts of us anyway were in charge of our own,”

Once your door had been knocked you immediately went to open the door, it was 0200 hours everyone already asleep other than the troopers that were patrolling. Immediately you drug Tech inside not wanting anyone to see him and shut the door behind him, pulling him into a long warm hug that he certainly welcomed but wanted it to be felt not you against his hard plastoid armor like usual.

“Please, let me remove my armor first darling,” You let him go despite how much you didn’t want to and gave him space, staring at him as he removed his pieces and he shot his eyes your way noticing your staring.

“Are you enjoying this or something?”

“ No… Maybe,” The maybe had him averting his eyes and sucking his bottom lip into his mouth whilst removing the lower pieces.

You usually flirted with him, made out for a bit one time making out for two hours straight. But it’d never advanced from there, he never pressed you for anything more. It relieved you but also turned you on at the same time.

“This is much better,” Tech knocked you out of your overthinking by wrapping his arms around you, and he was right the hug was much better and warmer. Nestling yourself tight against his body he placed kisses on your face, the pulling on his blacks you did gave him the idea you’d wanted more and he was doing exactly that.

You don’t know how you both ended up on the odd shaped Kaminoan couch, but you did and you were seated on his lap, arms around his neck, fingers combing through his curly hair and gripping it ever so tight as you feel his freshly washed hair from the usual matted helmet hair he had on the field.

Beginning to run out of air from how deep and long the kiss was getting you whined into his mouth, feeling him drag his fingertips roughly down your back as he pressed you firmly against his chest.

“Breathe..” You could hear him in between the lil bruising kisses, and you whimpered not understanding what he was saying muffled by the heat in the air till he finally pulled away from you. Getting a good look at you he smirked, adjusting his glasses as he shakily ran his hands up and down your back to calm himself.

“Breathe, cyra’ika,” You blushed, watching his other hand come up to rub along your top to bottom lip in a circle, “ Mesh’la ..” Tech said it in that tone again from earlier, taking note of the way you started shivering in his lap. “You like it when I talk like that?”

“ Yes..” You replied, and your lip was beginning to quiver a bit when he pushed your hips down against his and the sight enamored him.

“May I?” Tech asks, thumb still tracing circles over your lips. Not understanding what he meant you furrowed your brows, and he explained grazing his thumb gently over your bottom teeth. “May I explore?” Oh fuck. Even when polite he’s hot.

Your mind screamed legs clenching around his hips as his thumb breached your parted mouth going as far as he could and the feeling of almost choking had you shutting your eyes and rutting your hips forward against his clothed thigh.

“Ah.. Just as I expected,” Tech slowly pulled his thumb out of your mouth noting the way his thumb was coated thick in your saliva. “You salivate a lot when I go deep into your mouth,” He smirks, and you could swear his goggles were a little foggy as he adjusted them to look at you better.

“I would love to touch you more.. Explore you more,” Tech placed an experimental kiss to the only exposed skin to him, on your neck and loved the way you trembled and held his shoulders tighter,

“I have many… hypotheses of ways to make you salivate more for me sweetheart,”

Oh my gods.. I will suck y—

Your thoughts were cut off when he reached out for the belt of your tunic and you immediately slapped his hand away, and he looked to you confused as he removed his hands completely from you.

“I- I don’t.. I’m not,” Tech kissed your lips chastely, “You can speak when you’re ready, If I overstepped a boundary I will stop,” He affirmed, leaning back more to give you space to think.

“ I don’t like the way my body looks… ” You’d finally said it after moments of silence, and Tech's eyes flicked up to you in an instant as a brilliant idea had come to mind.

“ Oh! I have an easy fix for that darling, look-“ He removed his goggles and you noted the way his eyes went into an immediate squint after taking them off, “I can’t see kriff anymore,” The silence you’d given him in return had his face falling a little realizing you didn’t like the idea, but once you snorted a laugh and put your face between the crook of his neck he sighed with relief.

“Oh, Tech..” You laugh again, head shaking against his shoulder, “This is why I love you..” Oh shit.

“Love me?” You’d thought the idea turned him off, thought it was too far or outlandish to love him but it seemed his body loved the idea from the feeling of his length twitching excitedly against your thighs. “ You love me? ”

“Mhm..” You hum, kissing his neck.

“Oh.. Oh gods..” Tech blushed furiously realizing he was poking you with his dick and went to remove himself from the situation, but you pressed yourself firmly against him instead and watched his eyes flutter closed and lip get trapped under his teeth to stifle a moan you knew he was trying to hide.

“Kiss me.” Tech demands, grabbing your face out from his shoulder and to his lips in another heated kiss. This time accompanied by you both roughly rutting against each other as you did so, Tech started getting antsy grabbing your hips to keep them firmly in place so he could rub himself deliciously against every sensitive part of your body, every so often getting stuck on your entrance that had him groaning and possessively grabbing your ass, kissing down your neck to suck on the spot that made you whimper and whine into the warm air lowly.

“C-Close your eyes..” You say, shakily between a moan when he’d cupped your chest into his hands and started to squeeze them gently in a repeated pattern. Once you’d pulled away from Tech he growled low in his throat, watching as you made your way across the room to the light switches enclosing you both into a blanket of darkness accompanied by the Kaminoan moonlight that kissed Techs tan skin from where he laid on the couch.

The sight was beautiful and you realized you were just staring when he huffed impatiently, “Please,” Tech begged, seeing only your silhouette through his blurry eyesight. And that’s when you’d begun undressing yourself slowly, despite how blind he said he was you could feel the heat of his eyes on your body. “I can’t see that well, but I can tell you look delicious , please come here I’m running out of patience mesh’la,” Techs voice was raw and deep, and you could see how tempted he was to pull himself out of his blacks by how hard he kept rubbing his hands up and down his upper thighs.

You’d made your way back over to him and straddled his hips again, this time he immediately began kissing and biting your chest, his hands shaking as he firmly grabbed onto any part of you he could get his hands on. Murmuring and moaning about how sexy, beautiful, soft, and hot you felt the further he’d gotten. The more unhinged he became, mouthing at your nipples with a hunger he’d been holding in for so long through your under shirt it was almost painful how hard he was sucking on them but the whines you kept releasing said otherwise.

“ Yes . Yes. Mesh’la, you love that?” Tech was trying hard to come off as composed but he was just as fucked as you were, moaning sometimes with you but when he let his ungloved hands cup your lips he groaned shakily into your ear feeling how wet you were.

“I-I know this,” He says, rubbing the pad of his middle gently against your clit, “Is sensitive—“ Tech smiled to himself, pleased he was correct as he rubbed circles into it. But they were too big, “Smaller circles Tech— Mmph! Yes..” You whine through shaky lips, and bite at his shoulder through his blacks making him whimper at the sensation. “What about this?” Tech experiments running his finger up and down softly, “ Yes! ” You were embarrassed how fast you'd gotten close to an orgasm but he was enthusiastic and wanted to see this through. Pressing his finger harder against your clit watching your hips shake- he wanted to let you do it your own way but you moving meant you’d move from his touch. It frustrated him a little, causing him to pull your hair, “Stop moving your hips, I want you to feel it all,”

Before you knew it a slow orgasm flowed through you and you were sighing against his shoulder, eyes fluttering softly as you watched him trail his hand out of your underwear and up to his eyes. You thought he was going to wipe his hand but when he put it into his mouth sucking with enthusiasm and interest he hummed. “Crosshair was correct..” Tech's eyes were dark and he looked at his finger and back to your blushing face,

“It is delicious- may I use my mouth?”

When he said he wanted to use his mouth you expected kitten licking, experimental before going back to just his fingers but once he’d gotten a taste it seemed to drive him mad and went to exclusively using his mouth on you. Tongue fucking you as far as he could go, his fingers joining in only to go further inside once he’d heard you cry at the sensation of him rubbing a spot he’d researched about. He was on it as much as possible, leaving you in a constant shaking state with his head between your thighs, and you could feel your essence dripping down onto the couch under you both as another orgasm shot through you making your toes curl against his shoulders. Tech's hands kept your hips firmly pressed down as he enjoyed himself and you had to cry his name and tap his shoulder to stop him from making you orgasm a second time.

Your throat was rawed out causing your voice to come out exhausted as he sat up from his kneeling position on the ground. Licking up the essence from his fingers with a few obsessive grunts. “Please Tech.. Please ,” Tech was lost as you began pleading at him, “W-Was what I did not enough?” He says, smirking just a bit as he goes to kneel again. “Yes!, Yes I loved it but I want you inside me, please..”

“ Oh… Kriff,” Tech cleared his throat, hand running through his messy hair that you tousled from pulling and tugging while he let you fuck his mouth.

“ Yeah.. Come fuck me Tech please,” He started slipping out of his blacks immediately and was lining himself up, till you stopped him finger twisting into the hem of his top. “This has to go too,” you say playfully, thighs instinctively shaking the higher he moves your legs up.

“Oh- Of course, anything for you,” Stripping himself of his last clothing you admired the sight of his chest. You knew of course he was built to fight and was smart, but didn’t realize how strong he really built himself to be tracing your fingers from his chest and down your finger gently stroking a nipple of his noting the way his breath hitched. I’ll play with those later ..

Tech slipped inside you easily, your body inviting him in as he glided in. You could see his thighs shaking, hands gripping your hips hard with his head bucked down. “Hah.. Ohh my.. stars ,” Tech started to whimper the deeper he went, and each sound he elicited excited you more. “Hot.. So hot inside— Gods ..” He groaned, finally bottoming out. “I can feel everything ,” Tech's breaths were labored and shallow as he tried to pull out of you a little, the sensation overwhelming him causing him to whimper again from how good it felt. “I thought my hand was good..” He tried to joke but you squeezed him instead as he started to pull out loving the whines and hot breath he released.

“Baby, switch with me,” You say into his ear and he hums slowly moving the position so you are seated in his lap, his dick still deep inside you. “If you can’t move yet.. I’d love to get started first,” You moan into his ear lifting your hips up halfway and back down eliciting a silent cry as he throws his head back, eyes rolling back before falling back onto your face and down watching the way he slipped in an out of you.

Regaining some control he gripped under your thighs, noticing how shaky your thighs were getting. And easily began picking you up and dropping you down onto his length and you could tell how close Tech was getting from his erratic thrusts into you when he dug the balls of his feet into the couch to fuck up into you.

“Close- I’m close ..” Tech whines, you moan in response, the air being knocked out of you by every other thrust, you gasp at the feeling of his finger pressing circles into your clit and hear Tech as he asks you where he should cum wanting every bit of his pleasure inside you, you kiss him deep whimpering “ Inside.” Against his lips and immediately felt his cum fill you.

“ Kriff.. ” Tech moans, thighs shaking under yours as he tries to catch his breath you both lay there catching your breath. Petting each other and kissing each other chastely.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Tech admits, slowly pulling out of you and into a hug.

“Mhm..” You hum, completely out of it feeling him begin to gently kiss you chastely everywhere.

“Beautiful,” Tech murmurs against your skin before he remembers something, “You should probably pee darling, it’s good for your health,” You laugh.

[damnedparker]

an understanding

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x reader (gender neutral; no y/n)

warnings: buncha angst, sad obi-wan, deals with grief and loss

summary: as the two of you grow together, there is one constant of support between you and obi-wan; understanding, and the comfort of each other’s hands

also posted on ao3

this is kind of short but that’s okay. someone give obi-wan a hug

I.

“You took my spot.” You announced your presence, although you’re sure Obi-Wan already sensed it, as you had been standing at the entrance to the roof watching him for a few moments already. The both of you often came up to the roof of the Temple, finding your way up here when you were just beginning to be padawans, sneaking out at night together to get up to whatever shenanigans you pleased before someone inevitably caught you. From then on, you had learned to be more careful about it.

When Obi-Wan didn’t answer, his head still turned towards the night skyline, you came to sit next to him. You could feel the anxiety and grief radiating off of him. Another nightmare tonight. If he had even gotten any sleep at all. Not only could you sense his tired state, but he was also visibly shivering, but seemed to be ignoring it.

“Stars, you’re freezing, Obi,” you murmured, shrugging off the cloak you had fortunately thrown on before climbing up to the roof. You wrapped it around the both of you, squishing yourself against his side. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” He scoffed, uncharacteristically bitter. His eyes were glassy, clearly having cried already, and not far off from succumbing to his tears again. “I miss him. And I know I’m not supposed to be dwelling on it like this. I have to train Anakin and I’m not ready. I’m not ready to be a Knight. Everything is moving too fast.” You bit the inside of your cheek and wondered if he could hear your heart shatter for him. The Force had dealt Obi-Wan the worst cards in existence it seemed, one after the other, rushing him into the responsibilities of a Jedi Knight and the grief of the loss of a mentor all at once, and far too soon.

“I miss him, too,” you laid a comforting hand on his cheek, a tear slipping down and landing on the pad of your thumb. You gently rubbed it away, sighing. “Qui-Gon was so proud of you, Ben. He trusted you with his wishes because he believed you could fulfill them. He was confident in your competence and skill as both a Knight and a mentor.”

“How do you know that?” He whispered, screwing his eyes shut. Pieces turned to dust in your heart as you watched and felt your closest and dearest friend in so much pain. Pain that he knew he shouldn’t be letting consume him, which threw guilt into the whirlwind of emotions he was already feeling.

“I felt it,” you tilted your head at him in sincerity. “I heard it. Every time he spoke to you, about you. You were his son, as you think of him your father.” You slid your hand to his jaw. “No one would be ready for the position you’ve been put in. But, Obi-Wan,” you dropped your hand into your lap. “You can do this. If anyone can get through this, you can. You’re the best of us all.” Obi-Wan turned away, staring out at the stars again, his hand immediately reaching up to where his padawan braid had been just days before, now gone at his passage into Knighthood. Not knowing what to do, he rubbed his shaky palm against his pants repeatedly, trying to wipe off the clamminess that wasn’t there. Without thinking, you reached down to touch his hand. He immediately took it in both hands, beginning to play with your fingers, occasionally running his thumb over the back of your hand, which seemed to ease his nerves. “You’re not alone,” you took this moment to remind him. “I’m here for you, always.” Obi-Wan turned to you then, locking his eyes with yours in desperation. In hope. An understanding passed silently between the two of you as you pressed against his side, your hand still in his, and leaned your head on his shoulder. Care. And love.

II.

It was a cloudy night as you walked mindlessly around the halls of the Temple, which were empty and abrasively quiet. That did nothing but spur on your nervous headspace as you continued pacing, pulling your cloak, which was actually Obi-Wan’s, closer around you. You hadn’t given it back to him yet from your last mission together, where it had gotten chilly on the journey back to Coruscant, and he had given it to you as a blanket while you slept. Your thoughts trailed back to him, and a blush crossed your face at the thought.

Before you knew it, you had ended up at a certain familiar door in the hall of living quarters in the Temple. It was as if the brief passing thought of Obi-Wan had steered you in his direction out of pure instinct. You stared at his door for a long moment, and just as you raised your hand to knock, the door whooshed open to reveal the man that had crossed your mind only briefly, his shoulder-length hair tousled, clad in only some lounging trousers.

“Are you alright?” His eyebrows drew up in concern, clearly feeling your distress grow strong as you let your already withering walls fully drop around him. “Come here, dearest.” He pulled you into his quarters, leading you to sit on his bed with him, where a mug of tea sat on his nightstand, his holopad laying near his pillow. It was late at night, but it wasn’t a surprise that the man was still awake. It was a wonder how he functioned when he rarely slept. Before you could protest, he stood and began to pour you tea of your own out of the batch he had already made, pressing your own mug into your hands. You managed a small smile in thanks to him, a sip from the tea providing you comfort, but not nearly as much as his presence. “What’s got you pacing around the Temple this late?”

“I dunno, I—” you sighed, shaking your head. “This war, the council, the code, everything just feels like too much right now. I’m thinking things I shouldn’t,” you paused, running a hand over your face in frustration. “I don’t even know what I’m thinking anymore.” Obi-Wan laid a comforting hand on your back, urging you to go on. “I just can’t help but think all sides in this war are flawed, including the Jedi, and not just the council’s decisions. The code as well. Everything is just so—so completely twisted. And unfair. It’s tiring to see.” Tears burned at the back of your throat, thinking of all the injustice you had encountered, but not had the resources to fix over the first few months of the Clone Wars that had already transpired. Jedi were peacekeepers, meant to help, but how could there have ever been peace, even before the war, if so many societies were struggling to survive?

“I don’t disagree with you,” Obi-Wan mused, sliding his hand away from your back to rest on the bed behind you. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Nothing in this world is perfect, especially when concerning war. It’s good to have skepticism, it is what keeps things in balance.” He watched you fondly as you stared down at the warm mug in your hands, deep in thought as you mulled over his words. “We are doing what we can, and I know that sometimes it may not feel like enough, but sometimes that is all we can do. It is all that you can do, and you do more than most, darling. It is unfortunate, but even the Jedi cannot fix everything. You cannot fix everything.”

“It doesn’t feel like it, Obi,” you sighed, setting your tea aside next to his on the nightstand. “I just hate all of this.” You clenched your now empty hands in your lap, so tightly your fingernails pressed into your palms.

“It will be alright,” he told you softly, sincerely. “You are not alone.” Obi-Wan reached over and placed his hands over your fists, gently massaging them open. His warm palms touched yours, thumb running over the side of your hand to soothe you. You almost stopped breathing when he raised his head slightly, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead. The affection warmed you all over, your stomach twisting in the most pleasant way. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?” A smile crossed your lips as you nodded, remembering when you were padawans, and he used to sneak into your quarters at night when he couldn’t sleep, begging to share your bed with you. It was a miracle you never got caught.

Obi-Wan left briefly to put away your mugs, and you took the opportunity to slip underneath the blankets and get comfortable. He returned only a little after you had settled in, flicking off his lamp and sliding in next to you. There were a few unsure moments of stillness before you felt him nudge his body close to yours, and his front pressing to your back, an arm slipping beneath your neck, his other settling on your waist.

“Is this alright?” He murmured against your neck, and you whispered back your affirmation, settling into the warmth of his embrace. Your breathing began to slow and even out, matching his, where you could feel little puffs against your neck from where he had pressed his nose there.

As you began to drift off, you felt his hand gently slide down to find yours resting against your stomach. He pushed his fingers between the spaces of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, and rubbing his thumb up and down the back of your hand in a soothing repetition.

III.

A strange silence filled the air as you and Obi-Wan settled into the small tavern room you were staying in for the night before you could find an appropriately discreet and permanent residence on Tattooine. So much had happened, but it was difficult to put any of it into words, and felt almost pointless to speak of, when you felt helpless in the aftermath of it all. Anakin, Padmé, the twins, the fall of the republic, the extinction of the Jedi Order. It was too much. How were you supposed to move on?

You swallowed the coming tears yet again, changing into a fresh pair of civvie sleep clothes you had managed to buy at a market you had passed on the way into town. You turned to where Obi-Wan was sitting, still as a statue at the edge of the bed, already dressed down in just his trousers for sleep. The silence continued as you sat next to him, close as can be, your sides touching as a form of comfort. Out of what now had become a habit when the two of you were alone, Obi-Wan grabbed your hand to hold. A melancholy smile crossed your face at the familiarity. You may have lost everything, but you still had each other.

“I love you,” Obi-Wan’s strained voice, holding back tears, cracked the silence of the dim room. “I’ve loved you since we were padawans. I need you to know that. I can’t seem to tell people that until it’s too late.” His voice cracked on the last word, and a jolt of bitter regret surged through his signature, so strong you could have physically flinched. 

“I know, Obi,” you told him softly, reaching up to run your hand through his hair comfortingly. “So did Anakin. You were a brother to him, just the same as he was to you.” You murmured, squeezing his hand in reassurance. More silence passed between the two of you, accented by occasional creaks of other patrons moving around through the thin walls. Ever so gently, you channeled a push of affection in the Force towards him, enveloping him in its warmth. “I love you. We’re going to be alright.” He finally met your gaze as you spoke to him, the both of you with silent tears slipping down your face. He took your face in his hands, running his thumbs over your cheeks. He leaned close to press his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“We’re going to be alright,” he echoed, sighing and trying desperately to steady himself, as much as he could. “As long as I am with you, I know we’re going to be alright.” He seemed to be reassuring himself just as much as offering comfort to you. You closed the gap between the two of you in a kiss, one that was far past overdue. It seemed to last forever, the two of you basking in the closeness of each other, the relief of finally airing your feelings, as well as being able to let a positive emotion free, let that take over rather than the overbearing sadness that weighed heavy on your mind, and was sure to make rebuilding your lives tough. But you could get through it. For each other. With each other. That feeling of certainty surrounded the both of you as you pulled away, although tinged with grief and loss, it was still reassurance just the same. You were not alone.

[dearest-kibble]

could you please write something for haikyuu where reader is kidnapped by their crush and (let's just say they have issues as well) so they're just flattered by the attention of the yandere and completely down with it 😥

Ok!! So this strikes me as a very Daichi (he’s very soft) thing to do? That or Oikawa? Also shoot I try to keep these gender neutral, but I think I accidentally made the reader more feminine (dresses are in your closet, calls you princess

Tw: Implied former abuse (From a family), yandere content, stalking. 

Daichi Sawamura

You were warm. A soft fuzzy light filters through white curtains as you sit up on a plush bed. Blankets cover your legs. Those aren’t your blankets, those aren’t your curtains. This isn’t your house. You hear a knock.

“Come in?” It’s a meek, meek sound you make as the door creaks open so delicately. You’ve never really liked when your family came into your room, but this wasn’t your room, and chances are that wasn’t your family knocking. So when the captain of the famed volleyball team walks into the room you’re a little taken aback. It’s not everyday where someone so normally levelheaded and polite keeps you in their house for one reason or another.

“I didn’t mean to, but please stay here? I’ll take good care of you.” He’s leaning against the door unthreateningly. “Oh this is probably - I’ll give you some space okay? Food’ll be ready soon, I’ll bring some to you if you don’t come out of your room.” He seems to realize that he might be intruding as he stares at your blushing face. He closes your door gently and you hear the popping of a stove as it turns on. You start shedding the blankets off of you, swinging your legs over the lavish covers of your new bed. You could live with a gentle captor after the years with your family. Your feet hit the hard wood of the ground and a chill is sent through you. To stop the chill crawling through your body, you wrap one of your large, fluffy blankets around you. Your room is decorated in soft pastel greens and whites and lots of books. Your closet has been filled exclusively with  long floral dresses. Which begs the question, what are you wearing right now? The Volleyball captain seems to have put a mirror in your room, several pictures of you from school are stuffed into the side of the mirror. You sleeping in class, were you two in the same class? You didn’t think so but maybe you were wrong. Shedding the blanket for a quick second reveals that you are in the same clothes you remember putting on before... what exactly happened? Feeling the return of the cold on your body you pick up your blanket and seeing as you need some questions answered, you go to find your chef and photographer.

“So, uhm” You don’t know his name do you? 

“Sawamura Daichi, I should’ve introduced myself earlier, huh?” He chuckles a little as he turns from a pan to look at you.

“Sawamur-” You start.

“Everyone calls me Daichi, you especially, shouldn’t be an exception.” He turns back to preparing some pan fried dish. 

“Daichi? I Guess I should’ve known that, everyone talks about the volleyball captain!” You smile at him, he’s being sweet and anyone would appreciate that. “So, my mind seems to be blanking on what happened before i came here, would you mind telling me?” Well that was presumptuous to assume that he actually knows. Maybe you passed out and he was kind enough to pick you up off the side of the road. 

“I took you from your house. I’m not very keen on putting you back though, so please try to get used to living with me.” He’s spun on a dime at your words and offers a sympathetic smile.

“You took me from my house?” You feel like crying as you speed over to him by the stove. “Thank you Daichi,” He seems a little taken startled at your willingness to hug him but wraps his strong arms around your waist anyways. “Thank you so much.” Your pretty sure the wetness on his clothes is because you’re crying,

“Of course, I knew you’d be happier with me than stuck there,” He smiles as he leans his face down into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. It’s the first time you’ve been kissed.

“You look really cute y’know?” His palms are on your shoulders, pushing you gently away from his chest. “Wrapped up in that blanket, it’s so big on you.” He’s blushing as he looks at you.

“Oh uhm, thank you,” Though your cheeks are still wet, they’ll evaporate at this rate. “What’re we having to eat?” 

“Fried eggs, if that’s alright. I’m afraid I mainly eat protein.”

“Oh that’s fine! It’ll be nice to eat with someone!” 

“Do you wanna eat in the kitchen or your room?” He’s asking if you want to eat somewhere and you’re pretty sure it’s more than anyone in your family’s asked before.

“My room, if that’s alright? It’s very comfortable.”

“I’m glad you like, I designed it for you!” Daichi smiles a lot, it’s the most anyone had smiled at you and you can get used to it. He hands you a white plate with a fried egg, perfectly brown and with the now free palm, guides you to the door you had left open. “Have you looked at your closet yet?” You nod as he sets a large towel that you hadn’t seen him take on the bed. “One second, I need to get my plate. Don’t start without me!” He dashes out of the still open door and returns equally as quickly with his plate, also with one egg. You sit one the towel he’d laid out.

“You ready yet?” He sets down his plate and is about to sit next to you on the bed before doing a quick double take. 

“Shi- I forgot utensils, sorry to make you wait.” The way he physically restrains himself in front of you is cute and you can’t help but let out a small giggle.

“No no, you’ve already done so much today, tell me where to find the utensils and I’l-”

“I couldn’t very well make my guest,” He trails off for a second with some uncharacteristic muttering. “Lift a finger! Let me get the forks.”

“Thank you Daichi, you don’t have to do all of this for me, but I really appreciate it.” His eyes go a little soft at your words. Before he seems to realize that he should be getting forks and once again, exits the room calling back,

“Be right back!” And true to his word less than thirty second later, he is sitting on the bed, two forks in hand. 

“Thank you again! You shouldn’t be the only one doing work though, let me do something for you!” You cut a piece of egg, and place it into your mouth. It’s much better than you thought it would’ve been.

“Well you’ve seen the closet, right?” You affirm this fact with a quick nod. “There’s this one dress I’d love for you to try on if you wouldn’t mind.” Its a more sheepish smile this time, like he’s a little embarrassed.

“You’re embarrassed!” You can’t contain your fit of giggles this time. This volleyball captain is so much more than the typical jock. 

“Wh- what?” He sputters with a dusting of color on his cheeks. “I’m no-”

“It’s cute!” You say through a mouthful of egg as you wiggle your fork at him. He ceases to know how to respond at calling him cute. You suppose it wouldn’t be to bad to help him out a little. HIs reactions truly are, quite cute. “What’s the dress?” 

“O-Oh, it’s uhh,” He buries his face in his hands. “It’s with with blue flowers embroidered on it, it’s my favorite dress.” He’s almost mumbling and he hasn’t eaten any of his egg.

“Well,” You raise a morsel to your lips. “If you’ll eat and get out, I’ll change for you.” His cheeks burn at the words ‘for you’ escape your mouth. 

“O-okay, you don-” He stops speaking before he can finish his sentence, instead noticing the egg on his plate. The fork he had’t touched since it was put on the towel finds its way into his hands and he scarf up the egg in three bites, 

“Ok,” You swing off the cushy bed for a second time today and walk to your closet. Sifting through the clothing you find a simple white dress, at the bottom of the skirt, purple-blue blue bells grow from the hem. Holding the dress out, you turn towards Daichi. “Is this it?” His eyes are wide as he nods quickly before evacuating your room. As soon as your door clicks shut, you are slipping out of your cloths and into he blue bell dress.

“Okay! You can come in, you may have to zip it up a little though!!” You call a little louder than normal and you’re half convinced that Daichi was just waiting with his hand on the doorknob for you to be finished as he tumbles into the room holding a camera. 

“You look, uhh - may I take a picture? You look adorable.” 

“Thank you! And sure, you can take a picture, but please, zip the rest of the dress up, i can’t reach it.”

“Of course!” His legs stride nimbly over to you at the mirror and you are reminded of the pictures he has stored on the edges. 

“You have a favorite picture of me?” 

“It’s the one where you’re sitting in your room, trying on a dress.” The sound of a zipper is white noise in the background as you scan the edges of the mirror for when you were trying on a dress. You find it quickly, it’s in the top right corner. You were probably awake in the middle of the night, when everything was quiet so you could be left alone. 

“So, should I ask about why you have all these pictures of me? Do I have a stalker?” Really you don’t mind, the teasing in your voice got it across quiet well you hoped. 

“No sweetheart, I’m just-” His voice stops and if you look at the mirror close enough, you can see his posture has become more ridged.

“Sweetheart?” That came out of left field, but it wasn’t unpleasent.

“Can I call you that?”

“I’ve just. Never been called that before, it’s sweet.” He’s finished zipping your dress and you can see it’s been made to fit your exact measurements. 

Daichi breaths a sigh of relief. “Oh,” He moves out of the reflection in the mirror, throws the towel you two had used to eat on and picks up the camera he had set on a bedside table. “Could you sit on the bed for me?” 

“Sure!”  

“Now, tilt your head a little and smile for me Princess. Just like that, exactly.” The clicks of a camera are loud in the pastel room that is now yours. 

“Did the-”

“We’re not done yet, i’m going to rearrange your position okay?”

“Okay Daichi!” He’s so kind to let you know what he’s going to do. So gentle as he tilts your head to look towards the ceiling. 

“Give me a sec, stay right there sweetheart.” His voice is so happy and affirming and you can’t help but smile at it. He comes back about five minutes later. “Hold these please!” He hands you what feels like a bouquet. It fits snugly into your two hands and you take a flower out, bringing it to your nose. A rose. “Hold there, sweetheart.” You’re sure you hear a whisper of, “You look so good sweetheart, just like that.” Your lips can’t help but smile as the thorns poke into your finger. Blood drips down the rose like a raindrop on a windshield. Daichi breaths a “Perfect” before you hear the snap. “Thank you Princess, you look so beautiful like that, lets say we get that finger bandaged?”

“Of course!” You’ve never felt more happy in your life.  “I love you Daichi, you’re so kind.” He doesn’t blush this time, instead he puts down the camera and picks you up.

“I love you too Sweetheart. You’re such a good girl.” You giggle, he’s so cute and sweet.

“Thank you Daichi, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

--

So fun fact! I was gonna add an Oikawa but then Daichi demanded that i make his segment longer because I love him. Fun fact two, Oikawa is gonna get his own post! Third fun fact? I hate the pet name sweetheart. Anyway, I’m so sorry requester that it took me so long to get this out to you, I hope you see it and enjoy what i’ve done with it!

[my-darling-boy]

i love my body to an extent (being ftm) sometimes my chest bothers me sometimes it doesn't. anyways on one of my 'don't care' days i bought this beautiful corset. some days i resent it sometimes i don't. but the biggest issue is people call me a fake because i own it and have worn it in public (only at ren fair not on the street) i'm a firm believer in you need dysphoria to be trans* and i do experience dysphoria but the 'faker' thing bugs me. especially since i can't bind real well, advice? thx

The best advice I could give to you or any other trans person: never ever believe you need dysphoria to be trans.

I’ve made my stance on the matter very clear in THIS ASK: believing you or another trans person must have dysphoria will not only harm others, but yourself as well. It’s stated in my blog bio I do not want transme.ds/transsc.um following me or interacting with me, but if I can take a moment to educate, I will!

I used to have a LOT of severe dysphoria. What I didn’t mention in that link is something that happens to a ton of transmascs who are young or have just come out, and have since changed, and now feel too ashamed to talk about it, so you know what? I’ll say it because it’s important to learn from:

Trans people are faced with this persistent issue of being accused of faking our gender identity. I happened to be a minor who was new to identifying as transgender 8 years ago; I was having a hard time getting cis people to take me seriously as a man because of both my more feminine appearance at the time as well as other stereotypical “feminine hobbies” that I enjoyed; I felt I wasn’t meeting the standards to be a man. I thought to myself, “How can I PROVE myself to be a man to others or get an undeniable piece of evidence that I’m not a girl?” And that’s when I learned about Gender Dysphoria.

Not only did I feel Gender Dysphoria articulated the negative feelings I had about my body when I was 14-15, but it gave me this sense that I had this Membership Card to prove my trans masculinity to anyone who wanted to say that I wasn’t a trans man. To me, dysphoria was criteria by which to live by: as long as I was uncomfortable with myself and my identity as afab, that meant I was trans. This was wrong. And I’m here to tell you this mindset will ruin the way you think of yourself as a trans person.

It caused me to push away ANYTHING that could be read as feminine, from clothing to toothbrush colours. I started taking on aggressive personality traits which were seen as stereotypically masculine, watching sports I would otherwise have no interest in, dressing in clothing I wouldn’t wear even today. I was SO upset with myself that I was forcing out ANYTHING in my life that had to do with femininity. I had to be uncomfortable with my chest right? I had to want bottom surgery right? The more I hated who I was, the more manly I felt. It made me feel “more trans” than other trans men who were “more feminine” than me, or who didn’t feel they had dysphoria.

What started out as a simple medical term spiraled out of control: like it exists today in a lot of trans spaces, it’s not always used as a term to describe your experiences with your identity, but used by trans people to lift themselves up by putting other trans people down, usually linked to their own internalised transphobia.

I see it all the time in the trans community! I can’t speak for you, but it’s common to see trans people who are VERY uncomfortable with the idea of being “fakes” holding on so tightly to their belief in needing gender dysphoria to be trans. For them, it can serve as a piece of “proof” to compensate for the amount of confidence they lack in themselves. A lot of these individuals, if their mindset is not reconsidered, will go on to police other trans people for not meeting the criteria—which is socially constructed by the way—for living up to X gender. These people may have private judgements about the way other trans people present themselves simply because it’s not how THEY would choose to express their identity. While you are part of the community, it is not an extension of you that needs controlling. Meaning, trans people are trans just like you, but just because someone presents themselves in a way you might not want to yourself, you are not allowed to judge them or police them. If you feel other people in the community “make you look bad” or have “caused people to associate you with Fakersᵀᴹ” you need to re-evaluate your ways of thinking. It is still possible to be trans and transphobic, or sexist, or misogynistic.

You don’t need proof to be trans. The only thing that proves you are trans is you saying you’re trans and having a piece of paper won’t make you any more trans than anyone else. I found my own anxiety with being accused as a “Faker” (which is not a real concept btw), with feminine clothing, and seeing reflections of that in my own transmasc community was directly rooted in my own discomfort with my own identity. Once I learned to start being comfortable with myself for who I was, I loved other people for who they were. The only faking I ever did as a trans person was trying to be the hypermasculine man I wasn’t to uphold some silly social constructs and please transphobes who wouldn’t accept me anyway, no matter how manly I seemed.

Currently, I have little to no dysphoria! Recently I bought a black lacy lingerie set and I feel gorgeous! I don’t worry about being a Fake for liking something that is seen as feminine because there’s no such thing as being a faker, and if someone calls you a faker, they’re transphobic, even if they’re trans. I guarantee that if you focus more on learning to love others and affirm your own identity to yourself and not only rely on validation from others you will be able to wear that lacy corset proudly to more places than just a renaissance fair.

But if you still think trans people need to have dysphoria to be trans, I’d ask that you kindly unfollow me.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

be as you’ve always been

Alternate Title: everyone’s nb bitch, let’s get you some gender affirming underwear

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This is based on a request by the lovely @minky-for-short and some truly beautiful art of Caduceus which you can see and bask in here. Huge thanks to @tendermosses for letting me base a ficlet on their work and for always doing such amazing art for fjord and caduceus! 

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Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3 or reblogging to let me know what you think!

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Caduceus had known, since moving out of the grove and into the city, that his life went at a very different pace to most people’s. He didn’t know if it was because he was a firbolg, because he talked more to trees with lifespans of centuries than to people or because of brain chemistry reasons. But why's had never particularly concerned Caduceus, he tried to take people as they were, as long as they did the same for him.

And these people made decisions almost without thinking, they moved from one task to the next without pause, one word could send them careening onto a completely new train of thought while Caduceus was stuck on one three stations back.

And some did it so quickly, so without any kind of traceable logic, that all Caduceus could do was cling on as tight as he could and follow along in complete ignorance to see where he ended up.

But then he spoke to some of his friends and realised, to his mild relief, that no. That was just what Mollymauk and Jester were like.

He also realised that sometimes it led to very good things.

Molly and Jester were two of his closest friends and two of his most regular customers, given that the theatre where Mollymauk worked was just down the block and that Jester had an addiction to sweet things. They were usually there, talking together or with their partners, and Caduceus had grown to love the sound of their voices mixing pleasantly with the noise of the cafe.

That evening, a half hour shy of closing, they had both been sitting on the tall chairs against the counter, Jester’s short legs swinging happily halfway up, Molly’s lanky ones folded underneath him but they would have touched the floor if he’d let them. The discussion had turned to sewing, how best to work with the sequined and beaded fabric Molly needed to wrestle for the theatre’s next show without breaking his sewing machine.

Caduceus had been scoring tomorrow’s loaves with the elaborate leaf and vine patterns he liked to do, bringing his work out onto the counter because there were no other customers in and so he could listen to his friend’s chatter. Jester had been recounting a memorable night with some sequinned lingerie she’d bought the other week, how so many had come loose and turned up in places they weren’t meant to be that she’d had to buy new sheets, Molly cackling and snorting at all the appropriate places. Or, rather, inappropriate places.

Caduceus had murmured, not particularly minding whether they heard him or not, that lingerie mystified him a little but he’d always wanted to give it a try.

The immediate silence told him his friends had definitely heard. And the look they gave each other, barely concealed glee and eagerness, told him they intended to do something about it.

Which brought Cad to where he was now, legs folded almost up to his chest, in the cramped passenger seat of Mollymauk’s car. Caduceus didn’t know a lot about cars but it didn’t take much to see that Molly’s had gone beyond being on its last legs and was now running on pure willpower and prayers to the Moonweaver. It felt like the bass of the music pouring out of the speakers was going to be enough to shake it apart and Jester piped up from the back seat that the door handle had come off.

“There’s duct tape under the seat, babe,” Molly called back, unconcerned, learning forward to turn down the volume when he saw how Cad was wincing but being too awkward to say anything.

“You really don’t need to do this,” Cad insisted gently, “You’ve both been working all day, it’s getting late...”

“So have you,” Jester pointed out, voice a little indistinct through the strip of tape she was holding in her teeth, “And we don’t mind, it’ll be fun! We can help you pick out something nice! Anyhow, Beau and Yasha are at the gym until eight, Fjord too.”

“And Caleb has the kids,” Molly hummed, spinning the wheel lazily, far further than he should really have to just to take an easy corner, “This is a bonding exercise, Deucey. You need back up on something like this. You need your GNC club.”

“GNC?” Caduceus tilted his head.

“Gender non conforming,” Molly supplied, “You know, people who get it. Gender’s dead but friendship is not.”

“Your NB buddies!” Jester grinned, her head pushing in between the two of them, duct tape stuck to her horns, catching her homemade earrings with the plastic gummy bears, “Wait...your NBuddies!”

Caduceus considered that, his ears flapping a little as he took the tape off for Jester. He liked the idea of being part of a club. Even more, he liked the idea of being understood. He’d been worried about that when he’d first moved, breaking away from the grove where things were fluid and constantly changing as nature itself and entering a place where there might be rules and expectations in place that made sense to everyone but him. Where he would have to explain himself and define himself with terms that weren’t his own.

But here he was, feeling safe in a very unsafe vehicle, with friends to gladly cheer him on as he threw open the windows of the self he’d made a home in and tried new things.

Caduceus folded the piece of tape over and over in his long fingers and smiled.

“So what is it that mystifies you, exactly?” Mollymauk twitched some scandalous lace as they moved deeper into the boutique. Apparently this is where he and Jester had been coming for ages, enough that the drow behind the counter had known their names and greeted them with high fives.

“I guess...the concept?” Caduceus held his tail so it wouldn’t knock anything over, some of the displays were elaborate and delicate looking and full of things that would probably vibrate loudly if they hit the floor and that would be embarrassing, “I thought the idea of sex was to wear nothing rather than something. Where in the whole...process does this stuff come in?”

Molly nodded, managing to listen intently while dragging Jester by the tail so she wouldn’t dive headfirst into the costumes part of the shop, “Anywhere really. They make stuff you can still fuck in, if efficiency is what you’re worried about. But I think the function of this kind of outfit is to make you feel pretty, y’know? Get you in the right headspace, get you feeling yourself, yeah? It doesn’t always need to be about sex.”

“Sometimes I just wear pretty lingerie under my clothes cos it puts me in a good mood!” Jester bounced on the balls of her feet, ducking behind racks to sneak sips of the milkshake she’d smuggled past the cashier, “Helps me feel more like me.”

“Oh,” Cad said softly, tilting his head to consider the silk and satin and lace around them in a different way, “That sounds nice, actually.”

“Which is why it’s important to choose things you really like,” Molly nodded encouragingly, taking a sip of Jester’s shake and dodging the punch she aimed at his shoulder, “It’s a treat for yourself, this kind of stuff. And, when it inevitably shortens Fjord’s shorts by a good few inches because you’re going to look utterly stunning, that’s a bonus.”

Caduceus turned pink under his fur, a smile playing on his lips, “You think he’d like me wearing this kind of thing?”

“If you love yourself in it, Caddy, he will,” Jester beamed confidently.

“So...what’s catching your eye?” Molly prompted, seeing the excitement in his bright purple eyes, “They’ve got a good size range here, gaps for tails. Anything you like, they’ll have it to fit you.”

Caduceus looked around, ears lifting and whiskers twitching with interest. Anything he liked. No need to wonder if they would have things made to fit his tall, awkward body, no need to feel the pinching anxiety he’d grown too familiar with in clothing shops. A place where he could fit. And the only purpose was to make him feel beautiful.

“I like...green. And I like flowers.”

Molly and Jester shared that look again, the look of remembering when they’d had that moment of realisation too, when they’d discovered the world had space for them as they were. A look of delight at seeing it happen for their friend too and knowing they’d had a hand in it.

“Let’s get to work then,” Molly grinned.

Caduceus still had a little more time before Fjord came back from the gym. They’d checked and double checked the sizes on everything but Mollymauk still advised trying them on to make sure he was happy with them. And honestly, Cad’s excitement meant he didn’t want to wait.

So he stood in front of the full length mirror, after clearing away the clothes that were draped over it, with his hair gathered up in a thick bun at the nape of his neck, wearing little beyond the dull gold light of the sunset coming in through the windows. He’d bought three sets at the store and a few bits of jewellery to go through his piercings, actually a rather modest haul compared to what Molly and Jester bought for themselves but he was just starting out, after all.

There was one in green silk with garters and lace panels. There was a bodysuit made of mostly straps in a mossy blue colour that reminded him of water and looked pretty against his fur. But he quickly decided his favourite. The main material was sheer, meant to look like it wasn’t there at all, so the effect was that he’d laid a number of beautiful, intricately embroidered flowers across his body, teasingly concealing the barest amount.

That one he couldn’t quite bear to take off, even after he saw it fit him perfectly. Caduceus kept turning this way and that, grinning widely, seeing how it looked from different angles, touching the fabric, feeling how the stitches rose and fell under his fingertips. He looked like a dryad, wearing only sunlight and flowers, glowing from the inside out with an ethereal, untouchable kind of beauty.

And he liked it. He liked it a lot.

Caduceus had always felt mostly at home with how he expressed himself. He’d had eighty years to decide who he was and to know it was okay, that the Wildmother would always accept him and some individuals would not and that was outside of his control. Dysphoria was a word he’d learned the meaning of only after he’d moved to the city.

But this was the first time he’d been able to understand why Fjord looked at him the way he did, why he wanted him. Those dark nights when he’d lain awake with his head on his boyfriend’s chest and listened to the heart that was promised to him and wondered why, of all the people in the world, Fjord’s body stirred for him, those nights felt far away right now. Because he could see it for himself now. There was a connection in his mind, clear as day, that had been dark before.

He was beautiful. He was desirable. And this was good to know.

Caduceus mustn’t have heard the front door open, more in his head and in the mirror than in their bedroom. He mustn’t have heard Fjord throwing his bag down in the hall, his heavy footfalls across the old, creaking wood.

All Cad heard was the bedroom door starting to swing and his boyfriend’s call of, “I’m home, love, just going to showe-oh.”

Cad turned quickly, the magic broken, suddenly only able to think about the fact that he was wearing ridiculous lingerie with absolutely no warning, no rose petals or candles or glasses of champagne to try and pretend this was a deliberate surprise, “Fjord! Sorry, I...I was just…”

He faltered for words but couldn’t find any. Though it seemed Fjord was having the same difficulty. He was in his gym clothes, shirt still sticking to his chest and hair pushed back from his damp forehead with a simple band. And his jaw was on the floor. And his eyes...

“Um...Molly and Jester took me shopping today?” Cad explained, feeling heat rise to the surface of his skin for a different reason, “I thought I’d try something new.”

Fjord swallowed hard, his eyes wide and darting, unable to decide which part of Caduceus they wanted to stare at most, “Yeah? You...you look...I mean, god, Cad…”

Cad’s smile was back, flickering into life, “I look pretty, don’t I?”

Fjord gave a soft laugh, his eyes practically flooding over, “Pretty? Cad, there aren’t even words, love.”

Caduceus’ ears flapped and his tail curled in the air. He liked that. He liked the idea of things that could be said without words.

“Can I?” Fjord stepped forward, muscles coiled and ready, body telegraphing his need as clearly as a hunting animal.

“Oh please,” Cad breathed, “Fjord, please.”

It was well and truly night by the time they were done and Caduceus was pleased to learn he could feel just as beautiful once the lingerie had been eagerly pulled away. It was like a light had been switched on somewhere inside him and on it would stay.

He slept contentedly, easily, head resting on Fjord’s chest. His braid was undone, hair settling over his shoulders in waves made wild by his boyfriend’s fingers passing through it again and again. His lips were swollen pleasantly and flushed, his body would be full of well earned aches in the morning.

He was the most beautiful thing Fjord had ever seen.

He was ready for sleep himself, more than ready, but before he settled down to let himself drift away in his boyfriend’s arms, the only way he could ever really sleep completely peacefully, he had something to do. He pulled his phone out, fortunately within reach because his shorts had ended up hanging off the bedside lamp. Just a quick text, sent to two of his friends- Little Blue and Peacock according to his contact list.

thank you. seriously guys THANK. YOU.

And if Molly and Jester hadn’t been busy with their own partners, their own purchases, their own bliss, they would have seen it and grinned that grin again.

But there would be time in the morning.

[forclosetedtransboys]

Uh, so, I'm a closed trans boy. I do not want to come out to anyone yet, and my gender dysphoria is getting really bad and it's harming my mental health. How can I look and feel like a man?

There are many ways to be able to pass as a man, and many ways to - as you put it - make yourself “feel like a man.” First, however, I’m going to give you a little piece of wisdom:

- you ARE a man. You know this, because you’ve come to me. So, as far as how you can ‘feel like a man,’ you’re already there. You just need to let go of society’s expectations - easier said than done. But, as a fellow trans man, I understand why you may not feel the way you want to feel and I will discuss that in this post. But, masculinity comes in many shapes and forms. Trans people especially know that conforming to society’s gender roles isn’t the only option, even though it can be difficult to process. You don’t have to be a stereotype to be a man. Men who paint their nails and like dresses are manly as hell. Men who wear suits and makeup are manly as hell. Men who do physical labour or don’t care about their clothes are manly as hell.  Crying doesn’t make anyone less manly, neither does discussing feelings. Not having a flat chest or a penis or a y chromosome doesn’t make you any less manly, either. Masculinity doesn’t just have one definition.

But I can do my best to help you figure out what masculinity means to you, and how to help you feel like the man that you are.

Let’s begin with passing.

There are many different things that trans masc can do to make themselves pass - be perceived as male. This can include:

- binding (safely using crop tops, sports bras, official binders, etc) to give the chest a flat appearance

- makeup to give the face a more angular look with harder lines

- clothing. Especially in today’s fashion industry, there are massive differences in male versus female clothes. Shorts from the female section on on average are extremely shorter than from the male section, same with how the tops are cut (female sectioned shirts are taken in at the waist and with shorter sleeve lengths and different necklines). So, using unisex or ‘male’ clothes can help someone look more androgynous or masculine.

- mannerisms. There are studies on the difference between male and female body language, and knowing these differences can help when you want to pass as a specific gender.

- body hair. Growing out leg hair, armpit hair or whatever you’re comfortable with if you haven’t before can make a lot of trans boys feel like they’re distancing themselves from who they were before. I could rant all day about how ridiculous the stigma about body hair on AFAB people is, but I digress.

Surrounding yourself by other trans men or non-binary people can help in affirming your gender or making you feel like the man that you are, because it’s always helpful to see people who have accepted themselves, knowing that you can do that, too.

If this isn’t physically possible (understandable especially due to covid), you can find online forums or just websites where trans masc people share their stories. I know it can make people feel less alone, which is so incredibly important, especially at the start when people first realise they’re “different” to what they always thought they were. 

Please let me know if you’d like me to elaborate on any points, I’m happy to compile step by step guides for any of the passing tips or give any forum recommendations.

Stay safe!

- Ty

[alorenawrites]

Thoughts on Loki, Gender, Sex, and Identity

So...I've seen a few posts on transphobia embedded in Loki and I wanted to examine my own thoughts on this a bit. I'm not going to dig too deeply, just hit on a few of my thoughts on the matter regarding my own positionality as a demisexual, demiromantic, bisexual, nonbinary, gender funky human.

To begin, my own relationship to sex and gender is complicated, based on my own experiences. I'm fine with people not having this same interpretation because of differences in experience and I'm not going to sit around and listen to anyone bombarding me with statements about how wrong they think I am. Go write a post with relevance to your own experience and please don't shit on mine. The purpose of this is to share my own thoughts on this matter, not to get into an argument. I have enough real-world stress regarding these things and don't need them on Tumblr as well.

I've seen the argument that Loki is gender fluid and it is wrong to say he is sex fluid or that sex fluidity is a way to undercut or deny the validity of gender fluidity. I don't see it this way. To begin, we don't actually see Loki display gender fluidity, even though shape-shifting is clearly within his skill set. MCU Loki shifts into Sif once in The Dark World, but other than that, there is little evidence outside of his word at this. I know those creating this story did refer to him as gender fluid, but I question whether those who stand outside that fluidity might not be as well-versed in how gender fluidity comes in a myriad of experiences. I am fine with the idea that perhaps Loki still uses traditionally male pronouns while in other shapes. I am not considering comic interpretations of Loki in this, as there are so many different storylines that I think they would be hard to sum up into this character. And it is fine if you don't see this the same way.

In myth, when Loki transforms into a maiden during the marriage of "Freya" (Thor in disguise) to Thrym, the book I reference (Neil Gaiman's retellings of the myths) does, at one point, refer to Loki as "he." When the mythological Loki transforms into the mare to lure the horse Svadilfari away from the builder of their wall, the references to the mare indicate "she" (and it is worth noting that in this retelling, the mare is never referred to as Loki by name), but when Loki returns he is referred to using male pronouns yet still as Sleipnir's mother.

In the television show, Loki's file lists his sex as fluid. As gender and sex are entirely separate, I took this into consideration as a part of what defines a Loki- they may change physical sex. I did not see an entry for gender on the file. I may have missed it. But to me, the lack of listing gender and the inclusion instead of sex leads me to believe that the TVA doesn't much care for the gender of a variant, but rather the body in which they are most likely to inhabit. In this case, it would seem that knowing if a Loki is more likely to appear as a physical type without regard to pronouns or gender might be considered more important data than gender identity and pronouns. I examine this as someone who has to handle grant data that requires a sex marker in the demographics- not a gender identity, but an assigned-at-birth or otherwise legally documented sex.

I don't see these two things as mutually exclusive or an erasure of one another. I would see it as a way for the TVA to try to classify a variant without regards to any sort of identity. After all, if Lokis are destined for pruning, who cares how they see themselves? It's not like they are going to have an extended conversation with them- process them, judge them, prune them.

In the context of the Lokis we meet, and the note that they haven't met a female Loki, I do wonder why they haven't met one yet. Is it because they don't catch every Loki that comes through? Is it because they themselves have only ever experienced being Loki as men and and haven't assumed otherwise? I don't know. But I don't see it as impossible to explain, either. How many Loki variants have come through? And how many haven't survived? We don't see every variant in the Void that we see in Mobius' briefing holograms. Who didn't make it, and who is missing? Yes, the comment that she "sounds terrifying" could be read as incredibly sexist, but at the same time...Lokis grew up with stories of the Valkyrie, powerful warrior women who they likely looked at with awe, wondering why these towers of strength were no longer with them. The Valkyrie predate them and are mythic figures- we see how Thor reacts to meeting one of these warriors in Ragnarok. Given that this line comes from Loki the Elder, someone who leans into the power of sorcery and the capabilities of magic, wouldn't it make sense that the combination of these skills would seem terrifying? A warrior of the legendary capabilities of the Valkyrie combined with the might of a Loki sorcery? I mean, I'd probably think the same thing, and I think this is possibly one reason why the variant Loki we come to know would agree with him- she has been jumping through time, surviving apocalypses that likely terrify him, enchanting anyone she needs to use, and she can run circles around him. Given the tonal shift in the delivery of the line "and she needs me," I interpret this as the blustering Loki does when he wants to feel more important than he really is- he's trying to justify why he needs to find her to someone else (and possibly to himself) instead of just saying it's because he cares deeply about her and wants to know what the hell that means. Sylvie can clearly take care of herself and doesn't really need rescue. He wants to feel important enough to go back and to convince the others he is as well. That she could render him irrelevant is something that would be terrifying to someone who craves attention and affirmation.

Mobius says that the most common iterations of Lokis look like the one standing before him, yet Loki does encounter a variant file from California in the early 20th century that refers to Sylvie. So the TVA knows that there is a rare chance that a sex fluid Loki could exist (and they have, presumably, pruned them). While I wish this had been explored further, I don't necessarily see it as a transphobic intent. Did it resonate that way with some people? Yes. And that's fine. Their feelings on the matter are valid.

Another element of my interpretation of this comes from my own experiences of gender expression. Most of the time during which I have been out as nonbinary, people have read my gender as a woman. I like my long dresses and I have an extensive collection of vintage women's clothing. I also have a decent collection of corsets and well-tailored suits that fit my body type. I don't bind my chest. My hair varies from very short to as long as it will grow (not far past my shoulders). I occasionally wear eyeshadow, regardless of what gender I am on any given day. I very rarely read masculine and when I feel neutral, I still don't bother to alter my body shape, only sometimes choosing a bra or bra tank top that decentuates my curves (which, granted, aren't dramatic). So the concept of a gender fluid individual choosing gendered pronouns and reading as male during the (relatively short) time in his lifespan during which the audience knows him doesn't seem odd to me, as it is how I've existed (and I, too, used gendered pronouns for a few years on my nonbinary journey- they were a default while I searched for something that suited me better). But I have known nonbinary people who have exclusively used gendered pronouns and it does not invalidate their gender identity, nor does gendered expressions of that identity. The concept that we would only see a male presenting Loki doesn't seem very odd because I have lived a stretch of my life during which I, too, presented a very femme gender expression and used traditionally female pronouns. But that did not make me less nonbinary.

And, of course, this is assuming that gender fluidity is part of his identity, which we are never told in the text of the story. I reject that everything a creator says must be added to the text of a piece of media simply because the piece also has to stand on its own and be interpreted on that level as well. We do know that Loki shifts sex, which makes sense for someone who shifts bodies, as sex is tied more to bodies than gender is.

The point in this is that we can't assume the gender of a fictional character, just as we can't assume from appearance the gender of a living human. I may read as a woman, but this is not my gender identity and no one should be assuming that my clothes are meant to project gender. Reducing gender to an outward and bodily expression of sex is not something with which I am comfortable, and it seems that some people are conflating the two in their interpretation. Again, your experiences may differ from mine and it's fine to see this in another way.

But here's another very important thing this show can demonstrate. Allow an anecdote. My children watched this show with me. My son is nearly 7, my daughter a few months from being 10. She is very femme- loves makeup, frilly dresses, dolls, princesses, My Little Pony, the whole shebang of activities stereotypically associated with the childhood of girls. At this point in her life, she very much asserts that she is a girl. The same goes for my son- he very much asserts himself as a boy. When we were watching together, we talked about Loki being gender fluid, just like their Mum. We talked about Loki being bisexual, just like their Mum. They understood that just because Loki looks one way, it doesn't mean he is that way...again, just like their Mum. There is power in the idea that some of us are in this same position- we are assumed to be cisgender based on our appearances, but our identities are more complex than that. I thought this was a good window for my children to see through and one I could turn into a teachable moment about all the different sorts of people there are in this world. This is the blessing of imperfect media- we can find ways to learn from it and to share opportunities in it for open interpretation with those around us. And the lesson of not jumping to conclusions about gender or sex based on appearance is a deeply important one for young children to understand.

Is this an area in which I have a problem with the show? No. Does this mean the show couldn't have done more or better? Also no. We do need a variety of types of representation. But seeing the possibilities of this being someone a little more like me (though alas, I can't shift shape)? That was nice.

Hopefully we can see more of this in the future, but if we don't, we can create transformative works to fill in the gaps. It's what fan communities have always done and will continue to do. When I fell into fandom years ago with Harry Potter, long before the movies were all out, so many works were there to add queerness, racial diversity, language diversity, disability representation, all of it, into the series. It didn't stop us from still enjoying what it meant to us in those times and places and I don't think we have to outright reject this show for the imperfections we see in it. It can still thrill us and speak to something in us we've been lacking.

And in my case, that is the affirmation of wearing traditionally gender coded clothes while still asserting my pronouns are ze/zir/zirs and my gender is nonbinary, though also gender fluid, gender optional, or gender funky and that my oft-assumed-to-be-hetero relationship makes me no less bi or any other piece of my complex relationship to sexual orientation (and sharing that affirmation with my kids).

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: overseas trip 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: yukishiro azuma/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: n s f w 𝐰𝐜: 2.4k words

𝐚𝐧: @sleepy-ruri​ hi ruri, nsfw definitely isn’t my strong suit in writing so this took a while to get out~  i tried to bring azuma justice here!!! uhh, practice safe sex guys— gender-neutral pronouns, but cis female body parts

“This is a little nostalgic, isn’t it?” Azuma said offhandedly, his hand coming to rest gently on your wrist. With a feather-like touch, his thumb barely brushing across your pulse. After a few seconds, you closed your fingers slightly around the length of his.

“To think we’re back years later in the place we first met,” you laughed quietly, your boyfriend following suit as the two of you enjoyed the walk back to the hotel room.

The two of you had been to this country before, albeit flying in separately.

It was a city of subdued colours but bustling theatricality, traditional buildings with tall chimneys made out of brick and spires of dark stone setting the main hub apart from the windswept, grassy hills and mountains compromising the landscape.

It was hard not to love the historic core of the capital, opulent with ethereal sites— its castles and churches and gardens putting an almost dreamy, magical filter in the world of reality.

“I remember it pretty clearly,” Azuma said, momentarily looking away from the row of buildings you were passing through, “the day we met,” he continued.

“We met in a garden near here, didn’t we?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed in affirmation, “would you like to go visit? It can be our little detour before heading back to the hotel.”

You smiled gently, giving him a small squeeze on the palm, “I’d like that.”

It was springtime, too, when you first saw Azuma. He stood there in the middle of the flourishing tulips, narcissus, and lupines; despite being surrounded by exquisite horticultural creations, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of the long-haired man.

“It still looks the same,” you said, taking in the sight of flowerbeds and groves being illuminated by the street lamps, giving the garden an almost mystical, fairylike glow.

Or perhaps, it was the memories seeping in that gave it that effect.

“Meanwhile, you’ve gotten more beautiful,” Azuma replied, a chuckle leaving his system. “I still remember how adorable you were, looking all lost and confused in a sea of flowers. Your dishevelled hair was cute, too.”

You nearly sputtered, unsure whether to call him out for his flattery or his teasing first.

“That’s not fair! Here I am, remembering how dazzling and graceful you were, meanwhile, you’re telling me I looked…” you trailed off, quickly changing the topic. “Besides, how do you even remember that?”

“Fufu, because it has to do with you, obviously,” he teased, “I even remember the leaves stuck on your sweater. I was almost afraid there’d be bugs, but you looked so helpless I just had to step in.”

“Azuma!”

You half-heartedly hid from his gaze, his body beginning to shake with mirth the more embarrassed you appeared.

“You make it sound like I got into a mess on purpose,” you muttered, pout already present on your features. “Is it my fault the wind hated me and smacked me in the face?”

“Well, someone needs to be at fault,” he began, “but I can’t blame the wind that brought me to you in the end.”

Honestly, where was he getting these lines? If he went on for any longer, you probably would have been set ablaze, and even in the dark of the night, you knew Azuma would be able to see it somehow.

“Really! Don’t tease me so much, we’re still outside!”

“Nn? Then it’s fine if we’re in the hotel room?”

You knew he was toying with you by the way the corner of his mouth quirked up, eyes steadily gauging your reactions. At this point you weren’t sure what else he was expecting, your widened eyes and the heat creeping up your neck already a set standard for whenever Azuma said something with… implications.

“Fufu. Ah, it’s getting darker. We should really be heading back now.”

Even as the two of you left the garden, you couldn’t shake off the flustered feeling that stuck with you. It wasn’t as if you and Azuma had never done anything, far from that, but perhaps the mood of tonight— being in the country where you two first met, further amplified your feelings and restlessness.

Still, you two had a tiring day sightseeing, and another long day ahead of the both of you tomorrow, so it was probably unlikely anything would happen.

You immediately changed into comfortable sleepwear the moment you entered the hotel room, your boyfriend chuckling as you sprawled onto your shared bed. As nice as the sights were, nothing could beat the expensively fluffy pillow welcoming you back after a long day.

“Little bunny~ don’t go to sleep yet, we still have something to do, remember?” He asked, voice mellifluous, as though sweetened with honey.

You shot up immediately, head rising up to gape at Azuma. Within a few beats, you notice he’s not looking at you, but instead laying out all of his (and your) skincare products on the coffee table.

Aha, right.

Your lack of an immediate response made the man turn around to face you, his ever-present smile looking a lot slyer than usual.

“Hmm? Is something wrong, honey?” he asked, leaving his station to sit on the bed beside you. His robe shifted slightly as he inched closer, a movement that did not go unnoticed by you.

Your heart fluttered the moment he started rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, a subconscious action that turned more purposeful as the tactile affection escalated upwards, the soft pads of his fingers slowly moving upwards to rub your arms.

With the distance between your faces decreasing, you resist the urge to shut your eyes as his you felt his hot breath against your cheek.

“You still haven’t said anything,” he reminded you, his free hand tilting your chin upwards. Eyes of gold greeted you, not unlike the lustrous jewellery royals would wear or the leaf crowns gods and goddesses would adorn in mythology.

“Your face is flushed, how cute,” Azuma said, “did you catch a cold, somehow?”

He didn’t actually think that, you knew perfectly well that he was aware of the effects of his actions. Still, he wasn’t one to pass up teasing you just as you weren’t one to unabashedly admit to how he was making you feel.

However, your patience could only take you so far.

“That’s not it,” you mumbled, “it’s… well,” you trailed off, hoping he would help you out and take the words out of your mouth.

He did not speak but his eyes did, a visible crinkle as he waited for you to arrange your words into something coherent.

“I know you’re probably tired from today,” you began, eyes darting to the side in a vain attempt to hide your embarrassment, “but I guess I’m… you’re—ugh,” you struggled to find the words, a direct enough phrase that didn’t come off as too desperate.

Azuma interrupted you with a fruity laugh, “you don’t have to worry. You could have just told me— we’ve done this many times before.”

You pouted, “it’s not fair. Why do you have to be so erotic?”

“Fufu, thank you. Now, let’s play around for a bit tonight, okay, little bunny?”

The hand beneath your chin tugs you forward, and before your eyes closed you noticed the gold diminishing, hidden beneath the dark coal of his pupils.

The first of Azuma’s kisses always leaned towards the sweet side, and this time is no different. His lips were soft and gentle, but his kisses were given with enough pressure to prove that you’re not the only one enjoying this.

Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder as you interlace the fingers of your already joined hands. The night had only just begun, but you appreciated this moment of tenderness as the day’s fatigue slipped away.

Hands abandoning their chaste positions on each other’s hands and face, your arms go around his neck as one of his arms hug you closer by the waist and the other presses against the flat of your back.

Despite the slow motions between your lips, it was clear who took lead of the other, him slipping past the seams of your lips and rendering tiny sound out of you. The hand on your back travelled upwards, his nails catching the soft hairs at the nape of your neck making you shiver.

No matter how many times he’d done it, he could never tire of exploring you, the way you’d pull away from him to breathe a low, spell-inducing, “Azuma…”

He murmured your name in return, the sound sinfully pleasing into your ear. In the time you took the catch your breath, he went from holding you against his chest to having you underneath him, lips pressing against your jawline as he muttered sweet nothings to you.

“You’re so cute, my little bunny,” Azuma said, and you felt like every appendage in your body melted into a puddle.

He gave a teasing nip to your ear, the hitch in your breath making him chuckle. He wetted his lips his tongue before gently kissing every part of his neck. You closed your eyes at the sensation, gasping as he breathed hot air on your neck in between kisses.

“Are you ready for more?” He asks, the hand still around your waist playing with the hem of your pajama shirt. When you nod, Azuma takes his time in unbuttoning the piece, his fingers brushing over the newly-revealed expanse of skin. The contact was brief, and you whined as though to tell him to hurry up.

“Hn, what’s that? You want me to go slower?” Despite his words, he doesn’t make you wait any longer, pulling off your top as you propped yourself up momentarily to discard the article of clothing.

As you settle back down onto the plush bed, Azuma’s index started at your collarbone, before tracing down towards your chest. He drew an indecipherable pattern, before stroking the side and massaging the mound as his thumb tweaked one of your hardened nipples. He puts his mouth on the unattended one, sucking firmly, and you nearly come right off the bed, feeling the first, tiny bit of slickness rush through you.

Needing an anchor, you slid one hand in his hair and gripped his forearm with the other.

“Azuma,” you said, not quite sure what you’re asking for— but apparently he knew, because the pressure leaves your chest as the pad of his thumb ventures from your stomach to the garter of your underwear, pulling down your sleeping shorts with it. He adjusted himself on the bed, positioning himself so he could be closer to your lower half.

You shuddered as his fingertips travelled down along the length of your legs to follow your bottoms. When you lifted your head, you felt your face grow hot as you see the look on Azuma’s face as he eyes your pussy. It’s rare to see a hungry look in his eyes, a look only reserved for the most private of moments, but nonetheless it never failed to get you more excited.

His face came closer to the space between your legs, but when he made contact with your lower lips, the sheer skill of his tongue and mouth electrified you. Azuma knew just the right places to kiss, to lick, to suck— knew when to change spots and at what pace to do it.

“More,” you croak out, breathless,

“So responsive,” he crooned against your pussy, your body responding to the pulsation in kind, trembling.

“Azuma!” you mewled, warning him that you were closely approaching completion. When he finally pulled his mouth away, you couldn't help the disappointed noise that slipped out of you, though it’s quickly cut off as Azuma unties the belt of his robe.

The silky fabric slides off his body sensually, slowly unravelling himself to you until he was completely bare.

The sight of his naked body does nothing to quench your desire, but if his hardened member was anything to go by you could tell he wanted you just as much.

“Are you ready, my little bunny?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, the both of you spending a few seconds to stare at each other lovingly, before he finally aligned himself with your hot, dripping core. The tip kissed the entrance, and you can’t help the feelings of anticipation you felt.

His expression remains the same— the corner of his lips quirked upwards as he slowly moved into you. The slide is easier than expected because of your wetness, but both of you wait a couple beats for you to adjust to his size.

When you finally felt ready, you whined out Azuma’s name.

Pulling out slowly, he slid back in, sinking into your skin. Pressing his chest against yours, he briefly kissed you once again as he continued gliding in and out of you. You tasted a little bit of yourself on his mouth, which did nothing but to spur you on more.

He rolled his hips against yours, before pumping more rapidly into your heat, hammering himself into your insides. Tireless moans, whimpers, and iterations of his name spill out of your mouth as your gripped onto the bedsheets beneath you.

You’re clenching around him almost painfully now, still sensitive from his earlier ministrations on your clit, and both of you knew there wasn’t much time left before you reached euphoria.

You wouldn’t mind staying like this, having his perfect cock sliding in and out of you, but you know it isn’t possible as your breathing shortened and a shower of stars blur your vision.

“Azuma!” you wailed out, your head falling back as one last thrust making you cum at last. It doesn’t take long for your lover to follow suit either, a pained groan escaping his lips; pulling out of you and smearing your stomach with his cum.

The both of you are spent and sweating, Azuma collapsing next to you on the mattress. Using what little strength you had left, you inched yourself closer to him until your head rested against his chest. His arm moved to settle beneath your head, massaging it lightly.

“I love you,” you said. With a gentle smile, he repeats your words.

“I love you too.”

You knew the two of you would have to get up eventually. You two had to clean up, and Azuma would never let either of you sleep without going through your respective skincare routines, but as you stared lovingly into his eyes you knew it could wait for a little longer.

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[dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt]

Dysphoria And All Its Different Faces · by a tired annoyed trans bloke who just wishes his brain would stfu

- the “my body disgusts me so much I have to bathe with the lights off”

- the “I’m hanging out with a group of the same gender but I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb”

- the “I don’t even know if I know how to be masculine/feminine/androgynous”

- the “I just found a new thing I’m dysphoric about and now I can’t stop thinking about it”

- the “I’m sick of hoodies but they’re the only thing I can wear”

- the “I know you don’t see me for who I really am”

- the “I can get pregnant” OR “I can’t get pregnant”

- the “fuck my voice in particular”

- the “my freaking [insert weird unexpectedly dysphoria-inducing body part here] is giving me dysphoria what the fuck?/?”

- the “I actually like my body/myself today but am somehow still dysphoric” (yes it’s confusing)

- the “I actually like my body/myself today oh my god what if I’m not actually trans-”

- the “overthinking the way everybody looks at me in public” 

- the “oh boy I got misgendered”

- the “looking at old photos”

- the “people are telling me I look fine and that it’s all in my head but I can’t believe them”

- the “I’m so hate fixated on one part of my body”

- the “constantly adjusting shirt”

- the “do I pass do I pass dO I PASS DO I PASS AM I PASSING PLEASE LET ME BE PASSING”

- the “it’s summer”

- the “family gathering”

- the “I can’t do this anymore I can’t I can’t I can’t”

- the “I love swimming but would rather shoot myself in the neck”

- the “I want bottom surgery but not the way it currently is”

- the “I’m lying in bed trying to sleep but all I can think about is dysphoria”

- the “don’t look at me don’t touch me don’t be in the same room as me don’t acknowledge my existence”

- the “I need so much affection and attention and affirmation and validation and love right now pLeAsE”

- the “I want to physically cut off my body parts myself right now”

- the “I wish I was cis”

- the “clothes don’t fit right”

- the “having to shop in the women’s/men’s section just to find something that will fit”

- the “literally everything about me is giving me dysphoria”

- the “I’m trapped in this body”

- the “constant slouching”

- the “accidentally looked in the mirror”

- the “I’ve been staring obsessively into the mirror for four hours now and my hatred grows by the minute”

- the “I want to fucking fight God”

- the “actually felt good but suddenly got stabbed by dysphoria out of nowhere”

- the “dysphoric for absolutely no reason”

- the “trying to masturbate but keep getting turned off by my own junk”

- the “seeing a cool piece of clothing but knowing I’ll be too dysphoric to wear it”

- the “I feel absolutely unlovable and nobody will ever want to be with me ever”

- the “people violently hate me for existing” 

- the “dissociating so hardcore my skin is numb”

- the “I was sitting still for a while and zoning out but the second I move I remember I have a body”

- the “it’s that time of month” OR “ it should be that time of month but isn’t”

- the “I can’t afford to be me”

- the “jealous of a cis person”

- the “what bathroom do I use”

- the “should I tell them..?”

- the “if I tell this person will they hate me and/or try to murder me”

- the “hyper-conscious of how I sit and talk and stand and walk and laugh and gesture and eat and drive and”

- the “no matter what I do I’m dysphoric”