#it doesn’t help that I’m made of dysphoria.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Shower - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: I cried so much while writing this. I think that means it’s good? Either way, I hope you all like it. Lmk if any of the warnings are missing or labeled incorrectly

Written for this request

CW: dysphoria; chest dysphoria; descriptions of dysphoria triggers; descriptions of dysphoria; anxiety attack (or panic attack. I’m not sure which one counts for this); crying; mentioned emotional exhaustion/numbness; Logan is soft in this; hurt/comfort; Reader and Logan bathe together; bathing while partially dressed; Reader is called handsome; mentions of panic; fluffy ending; talk of love; mild kissing

669 words

It really was the mirror’s fault.

One of your least favorite tasks to do was to shower. Not because you didn’t like being clean or because it was too overwhelming. No, you didn’t like it for an entirely different reason.

Taking a shower meant being naked. And that was the one thing you hated more than anything else. Well, sort of. Being partially naked was fine. The real problem came when your chest was bare.

And your bathroom had a mirror. A large one, so no matter where you were, you could always catch a glimpse of your reflection.

It made you feel physically ill. Like you could see all the people around you, laughing and mocking you for not being as flat as you needed. It made you want to rip off your very skin.

But you have to take a shower.

Everything is fine until you get into the bathroom. Your back is to the mirror, you’re focusing on something else… and then you drop something and have to turn around to pick it up.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, and it all spirals from there.

Logan finds you in the corner, crying and numb. He crouches in front of you. “Hey.”

You don’t answer.

He drapes one of his shirts over you, careful not to touch your chest as he buttons it up a bit. Once your chest is hidden, he steps back, starting to shed his clothes.

You lift your head a little to watch, but don’t say anything. You just sniffle and wipe at your eyes.

He turns on the water to the bath, waiting a moment to make sure it’s the right temperature. Then he gently scoops you up and steps into the bath.

He sits down, settling you on his lap. The bottom of the shirt gets wet, but he makes no move to take it off.

You lean back against him, resting your head against his shoulder.

“You alright, handsome?” Logan asks, hands gently rubbing your thighs.

“No.” You shake your head. If you weren’t all out of tears by now, you’d probably be crying again.

He nods and presses a kiss to your temple. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

You take a deep breath in and let it go. You do feel better now than before. The shirt you’re wearing clings to your body as the bathtub water rises, but your chest is still covered. You don’t feel so gross anymore.

Logan doesn’t leave for the rest of your bath. He helps you wash, doing it for you when your hands shake too much and bile rises in your throat. His hands are rough but gentle. They ground you, keeping you from falling into panic.

The shirt is soaking wet by the time you’re done. Wet and clingy and gross. But you feel so much better.

You get out of the tub on your own, shying away from the mirror. Logan drapes you in a towel before undoing the buttons of the shirt. When you pass by your reflection, there’s nothing visible but fluffy towel. You take another deep breath.

There are no mirrors in your bedroom, so you drop the towel to get dressed. Logan sits on the edge of your bed, watching. It makes you feel the tiniest bit insecure about yourself before you catch the look in his eyes.

Absolute adoration.

It makes you blush, hasty to finish dressing. You’ve always known Logan loves you. He’s made it abundantly clear since the two of you started dating. You just forget sometimes how much he loves you.

Once you’re done you sit on the bed next to him and lean against him. Entwining your fingers with his. “How did you know?”

Logan looks down at you. “I had a feeling. You’re always fast on shower days. Figured something was wrong after you took a while.”

You lean up to kiss him. “Thank you.”

He leans into the kiss. “Anything for my man.”

[enkiooo]

…

[quartergremlin]

Yall got a little too much faith in leo. this guy is clueless.

first/previous/next

transcript:

Yuichi:

No. Absolutely not.

Leo:

Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? Don’t you like me? Aren’t I your best friend?

Y:

Yes, unfortunately. But you really should go home.

Leonardo, why are you here right now?

L:

Isn’t it enough that you get to see my handsome face? You gotta know why too?

Y:

It’s kind of hard when you’re shoving your face into my comforter.

And here’s your chance to make me feel like an asshole for kicking you out.

L:

S’never stopped you before.

…

I guess I’m like… a girl or whatever.

Y:

Oh. Um. Okay? Congratulations? Did you have another name picked out oooor...

L:

No! Not like that! Its-

I've been a girl this whole time. Apparently, dad just guessed – and everyone else knew! And just didn’t tell me!

And-I know. I know it doesn’t matter – I'm being stupid.

Y:

I mean- that doesn’t sound stupid. Id be upset too.

And I don’t want to tell you… what you’re thinking or feeling. But this seems like some pretty intense dysphoria. So maybe your dad got it right?

And your nesting is obviously not helping, honestly-

L:

My what.

Y:

What do you mean “your what”?

Leo:

reeks of lemon-scented cleaner

Yuichu's hoodie

Donnie's board shorts

Raph's bear

made a nest in his bed

Meme:

Yuichi: this is your hormone level. It's pretty normal for someone turtle-PMSimg. You'll be fine in a week.

Extra 1:

Yuichi: as a lizard owner, clocked Leo's nesting immediately.

Leo: Didn't read Donnie's book, so still clueless.

Extra 2:

Yuichi enters to sitcom clapping and cheering.

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Can I ask, why do you love BL romance better than het romance? What makes them better? I did not mean anything negative, and I know everyone have their own like and dislike but I want to know your thoughts....

Also what do you think that made Asian MLM (BL manga/manhwa/manhua/tv series/movies) romances better than western MLM romances?

Hello! Yes you are more than welcome to ask :) I truly, truly love getting asks in my inbox and have been having so much fun with the fact I’ve actually been getting some recently! Warning this is long (but i have TL;DRs for everything)

___

I think the fastest answer for me is that I am queer, and therefore I find I have a lot more enjoyment and interest in watching queer stories compared to heterosexual ones.

Also, I find a lot of heterosexual romances to be steeped in misogyny, and have low-key or high-key abusive dynamics. And again, do not get me wrong, there are plenty of queer shows where there are abusive dynamics in play, but it is much harder for misogyny to be committed between two men than it is for misogyny to be placed on a male/female pairing. (I love GLs cause, you know…women, but there are a lot more complex dynamics going in to stories written about two women and those can get much trickier for me, and unfortunately many narratives love punishing lesbains with death so.... Anyway, I’m trying to stick mostly to BLs since that is primarily what this ask is about.)

Additionally, I love BLs more than heterosexual romances because of how BLs treat men. Men in heterosexual romances, especially in the West are extremely masculine, often unable to be in touch with their emotions, jaded, misogynistic, they have to be extremely muscular, and we almost never see femme boys or men.

BLs have such a vast range of men, they have twinks, they have femmes, they have gym bros. They have the clowns, and the super masculine boys. There are shows that let boys be boys, be stupid, and stinky, and fucking gross (hey Pat from Bad Buddy), they let boys be angry and aggressive and express their emotions that way (Sean and Yok’s fight in Not Me, Han Baram and Im Hantae’s conversation in the boxing ring in Sing My Crush, Lom and Nuea in The Wedding Plan, Patts in La Pluie), they let boys fight and wrestle and play (Bad Buddy, My School President, Moonlight Chicken, Only Friends). I love queer stories that let men be gay and ensure through the story that that never undermines their masculinity. I love that there are shows that focus on the progress older men can make in their relationships (What Did You Eat Yesterday?) THEY ARE ALSO ALLOWED TO CRY!!!!

And though it is still kind of rare, Asian BLs actually do have femme boys, and while I am sure femme boys exist in Western shows, I think Pose and fucking Glee are like…the only two shows with queer people that I have seen in the last decade that have an femme boy representation at all. On the flip side, I love how often GMMTV puts their boys in drag and that doesn’t even have to be in a queer show. I also generally love the fact that most of the male actors in Asian BLs, and again, especially in Thailand embrace their femme sides in photoshoots and whatnot, that they wear earrings, and jewelry, and makeup and they look hot as fuck, because it helps me with my own gender identity. I feel and see myself much more masculine (and have less dysphoria) when I have an earring or a necklace or makeup on, now that I have seen so many boys do the same. 

TL;DR: I am queer, and heterosexual romances are frequently misogynistic, and men are extremely masculine and rarely allowed to be soft. Asian BLs give us a very broad range of masculinity, but often let boys be boys while also kissing boys. And actors embracing their femme sides helps me feel more masculine when I lean in to my femme side.

___

As for Asian MLM romances compared to Western MLM romances, obviously this is not a cut and dry thing, not all Asian BLs are going to be better than Western BLs but I find I have a tendency to enjoy Asian BLs/queer media more for a few reasons, generally in order of most to least important for me:

Reason One- Family

This may seem somewhat surprising because the first, and honestly biggest reason I tend to like Asian BLs more than Western BLs has much less to do with the queer aspect. It's actually the family dynamics. I think Western media very frequently has a tendency to be very binary in their portrayal of family dynamics, if family is at all included in Western narratives the relationships that characters have to their family is either almost wholly good, or almost wholly bad. You either have a very abusive household that a character is trying to avoid or flee, or you have a traditional, happy, nuclear family, and when characters have a strained relationship to their family, I have noticed a lot more narrative support for leaving that family behind. But for the most part, family does not play a huge role in most Western shows (and, wild concept to me, it’s part of why I think shows like Succession are so successful, because that is all about complex, fucked up, and loving relationships within a family). 

Whereas, in Asian media, far more frequently family and family dynamics play a huge role in the character’s lives, behaviors, and can influence the story. And because filial piety is such an important aspect to many Asian cultures, you get a lot more interesting parent/child relationships out of Asian media than you do with Western content. And I am a white Westerner, but I am fundamentally, culturally a Southerner and despite no longer being a woman, I will never shed the mantle of Eldest Daughter. And that has resulted in a sense of family responsibility and piety that ends up making it very very easy for me to understand the motivations of the characters that remain loyal to their family even when their family is asking for things from them that run counter to their own desires or happiness (I’ve actually had this conversation a lot with @waitmyturtles about the intersections of Southern culture and Asian culture).

And similarly, I find that a lot of Western media with queer characters at least in the time frame that I have been able to find content with queer characters is either wholly homophobic, or wholly accepting. And do not get me wrong, we get family dynamics like that in Asian BLs too, but we also get parents who are upset about their child’s queerness, and will voice that, and yet who still take care of their children. I’m thinking of the film I watched just the other day called Margarita with a Straw where the main character’s mother can barely look or talk to her daughter when she comes out, but because she is disabled, her mother is still there preparing food for her, bathing her, etc. because even if she is upset about her child’s queerness she can’t stop taking care of her. And those aren’t dynamics I often see in Western media. 

I don’t see relationships like Sawismol and Wang in Western media, where a mother can look at her child and say, out loud that she is disappointed, and to be upset, and to still, despite everything, be the person that her son goes to for comfort when he is absolutely devastated, and I don’t see Western parents sitting there and performing that comfort even when they are disappointed in their children’s queerness.

TL;DR: Family dynamics feel a lot more built out, realistic, and complex in many Asian BLs/media that I’ve seen, than they do in many Western shows. Until I started watching Asian media, I had not seen the dynamics I have with my mother or my father played out on screen. 

Reason Two- Casual Trans Inclusion 

And, as a trans person myself, part of what makes Asian BL shows, Thai shows much more specifically, so important, interesting, and influential to me when compared to Western BLs is the casual inclusion of trans people. Like, that is just something Western media is barely ready for. It’s not non-existent. We have and have had shows like The Fosters, Sense8, Pose, The Owl House, and Heartstopper that have some trans rep. But a lot of those shows have a hefty component to them that shows the struggles of being trans.

In The Fosters we have to watch Cole nearly die trying to get his hands on testosterone, in Sense8 we have to watch Nomi be kept as a medical prisoner and stripped of her autonomy and almost lobotomized, in Pose we are constantly exposed to the very real dangers that trans women of color experience including murder, in Heartstopper we are spared from having to witness the transphobia Elle went through, but it is mentioned. I think the only one of these shows that doesn’t have some element of struggle because a character is trans is The Owl House and let us not forget that Raine Whispers goes through fucking hell in that show. And these conversations, and the demonstrations of struggle to just survive and thrive despite that is vitally important in a society that is pushing closer and closer towards genocide against trans people. Stories that show the struggles of trans people exist for the sake of realism but also serve as an attempt to try to garner empathy towards trans people by cisgender viewers. 

Thailand does have stories where a trans character experiences transphobia (3 Will Be Free, The Warp Effect, Secret Crush on You), but they also have so many stories where trans people are literally just vibing. Do you know how revolutionary it was for me when I watched KinnPorsche and saw Yok, and she was happy, and beautiful, and fun, and her entire plot centered around her running that bar, flirting with boys, and playing surrogate mother to Porsche? Or just to see trans women existing, who aren’t even central to the plot, but are just there? (Payu’s secretary at the auto shop is a trans woman, Golf Tanwarin was at the inclusive cafe in The Eclipse, Golf Kittipat had an illustrious career as a music producer in My School President). Like that shit is SO important to me, and I never, never see it in Western media. 

TL;DR: There are many Thai shows especially where trans people just exist, and they have plots that aren’t always centered around them being trans. Which is revolutionary, coming in as a trans Western viewer where the majority of trans rep in Western shows makes me eventually have to watch trans people suffer. 

Reason Three- Passion Projects

The film industry is huge and pervasive in Western culture, and in the US especially, and with that comes big budget projects that stretch out as long as they can squeeze a cent out of a fan base. As a result you get shows that are too long, you get shows that ruin their premise in the last season after five to fifteen years of dragging the shambling corpse of a story along. And again, do not get me wrong, there are plenty plenty of Asian BLs that are cash grabs, that are terrible, where the actors aren’t really in it. But, most BLs in Asia are one season, they get in, they get out, and you forget it if it’s bad, or you hate it forever if it’s objectively bigoted. But the time commitment to terrible pieces is a lot shorter. 

That said, when you have a low budget, and a story you want to tell, it makes my love so much more. Because it means the crew, the writers, the director, and often time the actors are there because they want to be there, because they like the story they are telling, because they have a story they want to tell. It’s part of why I love shows like The Eclipse so much, because that show was made with a budget mainly comprised of pocket lint and hope, because Golf Tanwarin had something they wanted to say.  Most if not all of Aof Nopparnach’s shows give genuinely, inherently queer stories that speak to queer people. Jojo Tichakorn makes pieces that are so full of queer lenses you could never deny the inherent queerness in his shows, even if the story is primarily focused on a straight person/relationship (Mama Gogo). There are so many shows in the Asian BL world where you can just tell that everyone is having fun. LIsten, Fish Upon the Sky is an extremely problematic show, but for me it felt like everyone had a great time goofing off on that set. You can tell EV-ER-Y-BOD-Y in the cast of Mama Gogo  was having the time of their motherfucking lives. 

I also think the West is very self-congratulatory and tends to hold themselves as the standard of televisions and acting, when I am over here watching Asian BLs with some of the strongest acting from young people I have ever seen, and having it be written off because its a) low budget b) gay and c) in another language. Like, when I try to get people in to BL I start with shows like KinnPorsche (which I know drives @bnegiyo mad) cause it has a much higher production value than many other Asian BLs without being prestige and therefore can’t radically alter the perception of what BL is (hello ITSAY/IPYTM and 180 Degrees), Thai BLs especially. And I figure that is the only way to show someone the level of absurdity and camp that comes from a lot of BLs, while also maintaining their interest because it has a higher production value, so that if they end up enjoying that they are more willing to watch the low budget shows. 

TL;DR: Many Asian BLs are pretty low budget, compared to like any Western show, which I find to mean we have more stories in Asian BL that people actually want to tell. (there are still very many shows that people seem to just kinda show up for, or get bored with partway through [looking at you Tee] but.)

Reason Four- Abundance

There are 

So 

Many 

Asian 

BLs 

Here's a fraction of my watch list

I have watched 81 in roughly the last year, and there are so many more on my Plan to Watch list, and there are more coming out all the time. The West has given me like…two, maybe three. And when we do get good queer shows in the West, they are frequently canceled before completion. Especially if they are on Netflix. 

We lost Sense8, fans had to fight for Out Flag Means Death to get renewed, The Owl House got cancelled by Disney after giving their main character a girlfriend, ND Stevenson had to write two ending to She-Ra and fought tooth and fucking nail to get the gay one, Legend of Korra had to save the gay kiss until the end just like She-Ra had to. If you want to get depressed here is a link to an article ‘50 TV shows with Lesbian, Bisexual, and Queer characters cancelled after one season’. Because most Asian BLs are meant to be only one season, we actually get complete stories, rather than ending with unresolved tension, or cliffhangers. 

TL;DR: there is a metric fuck ton of Asian BLs

Reason Five- Sex

The West, especially the US, tends to have a very puritanical view of sex (which makes sense because the Puritans were some of the first colonizers…I mean colonials…to murder everyone and occupy…uh, I mean settle the United States (I would also like to place blame on the Italians and Spanish [hey Columbus] and their Catholicism AND PROTESTANT CALVINISM that also influenced the pervasive societal views of sex and especially gay sex in the United States).  

With ever increasing homophobia and transphobia, so many shows are trying, in my own personal opinion, to garner empathy, sympathy, and acceptance for queer characters by cisgender and/or heterosexual viewers by making their queer characters flat, two-dimensional, virginal, perfect people. But homophobes and transphobes consider holding hands to be just as grotesque and inappropriate as full on porn. With Western, and especially US based, views of sex, many queer characters are sanitized, sex scenes are rare, and if they do exist at all they are usually in shows that have mature ratings. 

That is not the case with Asian BLs. Like, do not get me wrong, there are plenty of pure, virginal, don’t kiss, barely touch BLs out there, but because there are so many BLs, there are also plenty of shows with lots of physical intimacy and multiple make out scenes that aren’t maturely rated, as well as plenty of maturely rated shows that have multiple sex scenes AND CAN INCLUDE KINK WHICH LIKE!!!!! I rarely see in the Western media I’ve watched. Hell, Sense8 is a sexual liberation show that includes multiple orgies, but there is not even a hint of any other kink (besides whatever Dani, Lito, and Hernando have going on).

gif by @radishayuan

Meanwhile, The Warp Effect has fucking puppy play, Bed Friend has pet play, Laws of Attraction which has a couple pretty chaste kisses shows handcuffs to at least imply kink, there’s a ball gag and a fucking leash in Big Dragon, I haven’t seen it but Unforgotten Night has a lot of BDSM themes in it, Rain and Payu have a dom/sub dynamic going on, we have daddy kinks abound, I also haven’t seen this one but I know there is some belt bondage in War of Y. And even if it isn’t shown, kink and bondage specifically are often referenced in passing in shows with sex.

Also, there are very very very few Western shows I have seen that treat sex workers kindly, and Jojo Tichakorn is right there giving us sex workers as main characters multiple times in a row. Taiwan has great physical chemistry, the very few things I have seen from the Phillipines are so fucking queer, Japan even when they aren’t including sex at all have some extremely queer narratives, and when they are including sex? Holy fuck. South Korea is developing, but I have liked what I’ve seen so far, and it’s been fun seeing very rapid progressions in the level of physical intimacy characters are allowed to have, Thailand has been making a name for itself.  

TL;DR: There is a very broad range of physical intimacy in Asian BLs from no sex to lots of sex, but the abundance of content means I am seeing more shows with gay sex in them in like…a month or two, than shows I have seen in the West with gay characters at all in like…the past year. (This is of course, subjective, don’t ask me for real numbers). 

And, you know, in case this response wasn’t long enough, the amount of queer content, the types of stories being told, the rapid and continued development of BL is super interesting to observe in its own right. Sure, it may be driven by marketability and sales, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t some truly important, realistic, vital, and beautiful pieces of queer media being created and shared with the world, a lot of which is much more accessible to audiences than Western media. I go heavy on the Thai shows in part because they are available for free on YouTube. 

I also think the West seems to think that having gay marriage is the be all, end all of queer inclusivity, and that they do not realize that countries without gay marriage are creating some of the most realistic queer content out there right now. The West has a lot it can learn from Asian BLs, but in my opinion, we’ve got our heads too far up our asses to be following their lead.

[munsonkitten]

strange as angels

| steddie | 8600 words | explicit | tags/read on ao3

Eddie squirms on his bed, lying on his stomach with the seam of his shorts hitting his cock just right. He can’t do any more than that, though, because Steve’s sitting just a few feet away, taking a hit off the joint that Eddie passed over to him before he had gotten comfortable where he currently is.

Fuck, weed makes him horny. Most things make him horny, but the weed paired with the summer heat paired with Steve Harrington in the tiniest shorts he’s ever seen, nothing but a white wife beater covering his torso, well, it’s a fucking recipe for disaster. A recipe for wetness spreading between his thighs, something tingling and warm where he can’t touch.

He groans, face buried in his pillow. The seam of his shorts pressing perfectly against his cock. The heat around him and the heat between his legs is nearly unbearable. He needs to do something, but that’s just another problem.

Eddie hasn’t been able to get off since March. He tries, he tries a lot, but as horny as he gets, he just touches himself and touches himself and suddenly it’s an hour later and he’s made no progress, his pussy has dried up, and his cock fucking hurts. Every single time.

“You okay, man?” Steve asks. Rough and deep, throat scratchy from smoking. Without even realizing what the fuck it does to Eddie to hear him like that.

God, he needs to stop smoking with Steve. They need a new hobby, something else they can do during their hangouts, because honestly, Eddie’s been crushing on him since middle school, and it’s only gotten worse. This pent up sexual frustration doesn’t fucking help, that’s for sure.

Eddie turns his head on the pillow, faces Steve. He takes a breath.

“I’m fine,” Eddie huffs. “Just fucking…”

He shakes his head and rolls over onto his back.

The pressure on his cock alleviates, but he still throbs in his shorts, still pulses with need and desire. He knows it’s fucking useless to even acknowlege the feeling in his underwear, knows he won’t get anywhere even if he tries. Won’t get anywhere if he kicks Steve out and tries to get himself off like he wants.

“I’m high,” Eddie says instead. “And being high makes me, uh, horny, I guess. So just, you know.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes. “I can, like, go in the living room. If you wanna, you know, do something about it.”

“No,” Eddie sighs. He sits up, plants both feet on the ground, watching as his toes sink into the carpet beneath his bed. “Nah. I haven’t been able to.”

It’s embarrassing, admitting it to Steve. He can’t look up at him, not as heat settles in his cheeks, as his hands shake in his lap.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks. “Haven’t been able to touch yourself?”

“I mean,” Eddie starts. “I get horny I get my hand down my pants, try and try, and then I never get close enough to cum.”

He doesn’t say that it’s usually because something in his body ends up hurting in a way that isn’t fun or that he gets into his head about one thing or another, or just… Just general fucking dysphoria over his body. He doesn’t tell Steve there are reasons for it because he’s already said too much.

“Oh,” Steve says. He stretches forward from Eddie’s desk chair and puts the joint out in the ashtray on Eddie’s nightstand.

Eddie thinks this is it, Steve’s just gonna get up and leave. Eddie’s said too much, shared too much. He’s never had a guy friend he’s spent this much time with, not one so close to his age. His band’s too young, the Hellfire kids are too young, he wouldn’t talk about any of this with them, wouldn’t dream of it, but Steve — well, now Eddie doesn’t know if he’s even allowed to talk about it with Steve.

But then Steve leans back in the chair again, spreads his legs out with his hands clasped over his stomach. He gets comfortable, and Eddie watches him, careful not to meet his eyes.

“How do you do it?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s head snaps up and he finally looks at Steve’s face. “What?”

“Well, you get your hand in your pants, right? Have you ever tried taking them off? Getting all spread out and naked?”

What is happening right now?

“Uh,” Eddie says. “Not really. Tend to just stick my hand in there and touch my dick till I finish. Don’t really need to take them off. I mean not that I never do, but I just—”

“Try it,” Steve says, nodding toward him.

“What? Now? Are you fucking — you, what, you’re gonna sit there while I get naked?” Eddie splutters.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Steve says quickly. “Just, you know, I’ve seen you naked before.”

“Not when I’m about to jerk off!” Eddie reminds him. “Helping me bathe when I’m half-dead is not the same thing.”

“Hey, man, I’m just saying,” Steve says, putting his hands up in something that looks like surrender. But then he fucking continues. “I’ve gotten a lot of people off, you know? I could give you a few pointers.”

Eddie stares at him. He waits. Waits for Steve to laugh and say he’s just kidding, waits for Steve to punch him for even considering saying yes.

Waits.

And nothing. Steve just watches him back, head tilted forward, eyebrow slightly raised. He still has his hands clasped over his stomach, legs spread so casually. Eddie could fit between them, nose along Steve’s zipper and pull it down with his teeth — and no, he tells himself. He can’t afford to think like this.

“Hey man, if you don’t want to, that’s fine,” Steve says after a while. “I shouldn’t have — I mean, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by asking, or anything. It’s just, you know, I’ve had some friends and we used to, like, jerk off in the same room sometimes. No big deal. I mean—”

“Steve,” Eddie blurts out. He doesn’t want Steve to say anything else about how he and Tommy Hagan used to jerk it together. He doesn’t think he could handle it without fucking dying. “This is fucking insane, but I — okay.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie swallows, nods. “Yeah, I mean — fuck, man. It’s been… A really long time.”

Steve nods encouragingly. He sits up a little bit straighter, hands on the edges of his seat to push himself up. He looks like he’s going to stand, and then slumps back into the desk chair with a little sigh.

It’s like he wants to… Like he wants to get closer. Touch.

And the thing is, Eddie would fucking let him.

“Alright,” Steve says. “Uh, then take off your pants, okay?”

Eddie nods and stands up from the bed. He tries not to think too hard about it — Steve has seen him naked before, that’s not a problem at all. Steve had to help him a lot after everything in March, and he had already found out by accident that Eddie is trans. Eddie hadn’t wanted to expand the number of people he’s out to by letting anyone other than Steve and Wayne help him with his recovery.

So yeah, Steve’s seen him naked, he’s seen him get undressed. It’s in a different context now, of course, but as Eddie unzips his shorts, he can pretend it’s all the same.

His denim shorts hit the floor, and he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his underwear, just a pair of light briefs because even his regular boxers were too hot to put on today. He isn’t wearing a shirt, didn’t bother to put one on when Steve came over, having asked Steve if that was okay. You’re a dude, aren’t you? Steve had scoffed. Why would I care if you don’t wear a shirt?

And Eddie didn’t mention the one tit he has left, the fact that he hasn’t always been seen as a dude, but Steve never mentions it, so Eddie never does either.

Steve’s seen him naked before.

He pushes his underwear down, lets them slip down his legs into the pile of material around his ankles. His hands cover his crotch, not really meaning to, not with any intention, it just feels like the thing to do.

“Gonna hide from me?” Steve teases.

And honestly, what the fuck?

Eddie doesn’t even know what’s happening right now. Doesn’t really know how to process all of this, but his cock is throbbing under the attention, pulsing with the need to touch himself. He doesn't think he’s been this horny since before the bats tore him to pieces. He could probably get off without Steve’s help, but that might be wishful thinking.

Besides, Steve’s the whole reason Eddie feels this way right now. He knows that.

“Not gonna hide,” Eddie breathes, mostly to himself.

He turns, places a knee on his bed and climbs back into it, leaving the pile of clothes on the floor, leaving the covers pushed to the end of the mattress. Nothing between them, no more pretending this is just what it always is.

Eddie spreads his legs as he gets comfortable, angled out from the corner of his bed, propped up by the corner of the walls. He feels the sticky heat from the room settle on his bare skin, the slight breeze coming through the window, the waft of air from the box fan pointed toward his bed. He feels all that, but most of all, he feels Steve’s eyes on his body.

“Go on,” Steve encourages.

He rolls the chair forward, feet moving him across the floor until he’s just two feet away from the bed. His new angle has him looking right up between Eddie’s legs, has him close enough that he could reach out and touch Eddie’s ankle, his shin.

“Are you sure this isn’t weird, man?” Eddie asks. “I mean, you know I’m — I, uh, you know, man. I’m a fuckin’ queer. I mean, having you here, that’s… you know.”

Eddie winces, waving his hand helplessly, a vague gesture round the room as he searches for the words he doesn’t really want to say. Doesn’t want to admit.

“I know, Ed,” Steve says softly. “I know, and it’s alright.”

Eddie releases the breath he’s been holding and shuts his eyes. He forces the words out, something painful in the vulnerability. “Just… I’m not gonna not be thinking about you while I do this.”

“Eddie,” Steve says in a way that makes Eddie’s eyes open. Giving him his full attention. “It’s okay.”

Eddie nods. “Right, so then I’m just gonna…”

He gestures down toward himself, down toward his cock, hard and alert, sticking up out of the thick, dark hair surrounding it. Steve’s eyes follow down, and Eddie nearly misses the way his tongue darts out and wets his lips. Without meaning to, Eddie moans quietly in the back of his throat, a quiet noise he can’t help.

He’s never felt… Desired. He’s never had anyone look at him like this, when he’s bare and spread open.

Eddie closes his eyes, needing to focus, and slides his fingers over his cock. He twitches beneath his touch, that good, warm feeling spreading through him. It starts off how it always does. Good. Touching his cock always feels good at first, always makes him think he’ll get there eventually.

He rubs his fingers over it, slides them down to his hole to gather the wetness there, and brings them back up. He works them slick and sloppy over his cock, hearing the wet noises he makes. He can’t help the little breathy groan that escapes from his lips, can’t ignore the one he gets in response from Steve.

He goes quicker, presses against himself harder, quick little strokes to get him closer but—

“Slow down.”

Eddie stops completely, looks over at Steve. He’s still sitting there, casual as ever.

“What?” Eddie breathes.

“Slow down, Eddie. Go fast like that and you’re gonna, like, burn out,” Steve says. “Go slow, ease yourself into it.”

Eddie listens, of course he does. When Steve’s using that voice, looking at him like that, all parted lips and spread legs, Eddie can’t even think of not listening.

He slides his thumb over the top of his cock, back and forth over the short length of it. It’s not enough, not fast enough, not building enough. He’ll be here for fucking hours if he keeps up this rate, and honestly that’s just as bad as not getting there at all. He doesn’t fucking have time to spend hours getting himself off, not when he used to do it in fifteen minutes and go back to whatever he was doing like he never paused in the first place.

He closes his eyes, lets the feeling wash over him, doesn’t go any faster because Steve didn’t tell him he could.

His breaths come out a little faster when he hears Steve shift, hears the fabric of his shorts rustle a bit. Eddie doesn’t look, doesn’t need to know. Just the idea that Steve might be touching himself, or needs to, at the very least, adjust himself in his shorts, is enough to make Eddie tremble with need.

“Slow down,” Steve says again.

Eddie fucking whines. He didn’t realize he sped up until Steve said it. He’s just desperate to force an orgasm after so long without. He slows down again, slides his fingers over his dick in languid movements.

“Ed?”

“Mhm?” Eddie opens his eyes, looks over at him.

“Going okay?” Steve asks. He has his hand cupping himself through his shorts, not moving, just holding. Eddie wants to watch him, wants him to get naked and spread himself out just like Eddie is.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “Going about the same as it normally does at this point.”

That’s actually a fucking understatement.

“That’s good,” Steve says. “Have you ever tried fingering yourself?”

Eddie nods, a little too jerkily. “Yeah, but I can’t reach too good anymore.”

With that, he dips his fingers lower, slides one over the entrance of his hole. He dips the finger just inside his pussy, feeling the stretch in his shoulders and back as he tries to reach further. Ever since he got hurt, it’s been harder, he can’t quite get much deeper than his first knuckle.

“You don’t have a toy or anything?” Steve asks.

Eddie slides his finger in, ignoring the aches spreading through his body. He spreads his legs open further, feels the painful click in his bad hip when it’s too far, and has to pull his finger out, gasping with the pain. He clutches his hip as he moves his leg back into a more comfortable position, and then he feels a hand settle over his.

He opens his eyes to see Steve leaning over him, hand still on Eddie’s hip. He rubs at the spot, massaging the pain away. He’s done this before — Eddie’s hip, his shoulder, his back, any of the problem spots he’s had over the last few months. Steve has massaged him, held him up, kept him steady, used his big hands as a brace when Eddie just needs some extra support where it hurts.

This hand burns.

Red hot with fire, with the look in Steve’s eyes.

“I asked you a question,” Steve says, voice low in the way Eddie likes it. He shivers.

“Could you repeat it?” Eddie pants.

“Do you have any toys?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, man. Too expensive. I’ve, uh, used the handle of my hairbrush before, back before everything, but…”

He trails off, shaking his head. It’s been a while. It doesn’t feel right using the thing he leaves in a shared space on the bathroom counter.

“Poor baby,” Steve murmurs.

A moan punches out of Eddie, the name swirling around him and holding him tight in a warm embrace. Baby, baby, baby.

“You must be so desperate to get off,” Steve continues.

“I am,” Eddie whispers.

He starts touching himself again, cock between his knuckles. He slides his thumb over the tip, entire body twitching with sensitivity.

Steve is so close still, leaning over Eddie’s body with his hand still cradling his hip. The point of contact is so minimal, so routine, but it feels like he’s being touched everywhere. Like Steve’s the one working his fingers over his cock.

He wants that. Wants Steve to touch him, to be the one to get him where he hasn’t gone in so long. He wants Steve’s fingers inside him, knows they’d stretch him just right and hit exactly where Eddie needs them, thick and long, and perfect. Steve Harrington is fucking perfect.

Steve goes back and sits down on the chair again, and Eddie watches him, watches the way he settles and puts his hand back over his own cock. Eddie can see the bulge in his little shorts, can see the way his cock is straining to get free. It’s big, Eddie knows that. The thought of it inside him, oh god. Eddie screws his eyes shut again.

He can’t keep thinking about it.

“What do you like, Eddie?” Steve asks softly, leaning in closer.

“I don’t — I don’t know,” Eddie pants, tilting his head and opening his eyes.

“No? Nothing?”

“I don’t know, man,” Eddie says helplessly.

“Is this all you do, baby? You just touch your pretty cock? What do you think about?”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groans. Zings of pleasure shoot through him, his dick throbbing and twitching from the words. “I like when you say shit like that.”

“You like a little praise, I get that. Like being told you’re doing a good job,” Steve says thoughtfully. “What else?”

“I don’t know, man,” Eddie says. He drops his hand to the bed, spreading his legs a little bit further to feel the air on his cunt. What he thinks about is Steve Harrington’s huge hands gripping his hips as he fucks his huge cock into him. That’s what he fucking thinks about.

He digs his fingers into his thighs, trying to distract himself from the thoughts. His cock pulses, and he can see it twitching between his legs when he looks down. He digs his fingers in deeper, wishing he could do it hard enough to bruise, settles for digging his nails in instead.

“Think you might like a little pain, too, though, huh?” Steve asks, drawing Eddie’s attention back to him.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. He looks… He looks about as wrecked as Eddie feels. Raw and splayed open, entire body thrumming with arousal. That’s how Steve looks, parted lips and half-lidded eyes. “I think you do. Digging your nails so hard into your thighs I’m scared you might bleed, man, and your dick is fucking… twitching, like I can fucking see it, Jesus Christ. Like, seems like you like that a little bit. And if all those tattoos are anything to go by…”

“Y-yeah,” Eddie admits. “Yeah, I like… A little pain.”

“Pinch your nipple, then,” Steve suggests. “See if that does anything.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Doesn’t do much for me. I’ve tried.”

“That’s okay,” Steve whispers. “What about, uh, spanking?”

“What, you’re gonna bend me over your knee and spank me, Harrington?” Eddie asks, and well, he doesn’t hate that idea. Okay, that actually sounds really good, but he doesn’t know if that’ll help him get where he needs to be.

“I was gonna suggest you spank yourself,” Steve says. “Slap your, uh…”

He gestures between Eddie’s legs.

“My cunt? Are you serious?”

“Try it,” Steve says. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay.”

“No, no,” Eddie says quickly. “Fuck, I’ll try anything at this point.”

“That’s right,” Steve says with a nod. “You’re desperate, baby, I know.”

“Jesus Christ, man,” Eddie huffs. If he’s called baby one more time he might cum untouched.

Without another word, Eddie lifts one hand and hesitates just a few inches above his crotch. He looks over at Steve, see the way he looks at him so intently, sees the way his eyes are fixated on Eddie’s cunt, and it’s — Eddie usually feels a bit dysphoric about the parts he has, wishes he had something else between his legs, but he feels like he doesn’t even have the brain power for those feelings to creep up on him right now. He doesn’t have it in him to think that Steve might be looking at him right now and seeing a girl.

Steve’s clearly getting off on this, he’s turned on, Eddie can see that. He can see the slight twitch of Steve’s hand over his shorts, like he’s trying not to be too obvious about touching himself.

Eddie brings the hand down, hearing the wet slap that fills the room. The blow isn’t as sharp as he’d like it to be, his pubes kind of ruin that skin on skin contact he wants, but it’s still good. It still makes him close his legs around his hand and moan out.

“Was that…?” he starts. “How was that?”

“You tell me, Eddie,” Steve says. “You’re doing this for you, not me.”

And that’s — well, Eddie kinda likes the idea of it being for Steve. He likes the idea of punishing himself and being told whether or not it’s good enough.

“I think I should try again,” Eddie whispers.

Steve nods encouragingly.

Eddie lifts his hand and brings it down again, hitting his dick dead-on and crying out. He shakes, legs closing around his hand again, and takes a few deep breaths.

“That was a good one, Eddie,” Steve says. It heightens everything Eddie’s feeling right now, spreads warmth through his whole body to hear that. “Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” Eddie breathes.

“Good boy,” Steve says. “That’s what matters, right? Feeling good?”

Eddie nods. If he wasn’t before, then being called a good boy would’ve done it for him. It settles deep in his gut, warm and tingling. He’s being a good boy, he is, and he’ll show Steve he can keep being one. It falls so easily from Steve’s lips, the ease with which he calls Eddie a boy making Eddie swell with something euphoric. People who find out don’t always treat him right. Sometimes they find out and flip right to calling him a girl, calling him by the wrong name — but not Steve. Never Steve.

It’s so simple, to be called those two simple words, but it means a lot to Eddie. Maybe it shouldn’t, maybe it’s bare minimum, but it’s still something important to him.

Steve’s important to him, and Eddie wants to show him just how good he can be. He’s desperate to show him.

He spanks himself a few more times, making each one better than the last. The last one stings the most, his pussy and dick sore from the blows. He feels like he could float away, each smack of his hand bringing him right back down to earth and then sending him away again. He feels light, floating in a way that has nothing to do with the weed he was smoking earlier.

He wants more. Wants it to be Steve’s hand coming down on his heated skin.

“That’s enough,” Steve tells him. “Give your poor dick a break.”

He would, he so would, but he’s fucking throbbing. He wants to go back to jerking himself off, wants to shove his fingers in deep, if only he could. Wants, wants, wants.

Most of all, he wants Steve, and he doesn’t know how to ask for him.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes. He puts his hand back on his dick, needs to touch himself. Thinks he might be getting closer — he just needs Steve. Needs Steve to take away all the thoughts that stop him every other time he tries.

“Yeah?”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to say it. He’s stood on tables and yelled to the entire cafeteria, he’s sung and played guitar in front of the entire school, he DMs with everything he has, never ever feeling nervous, but he’s never had someone this close, has never felt so vulnerable.

This audience of one feels so much bigger than the rest of them. Steve Harrington is everything, and Eddie is scared. He’s scared to ask, he’s scared to fuck up, he’s scared to be this open and raw with someone, and he doesn’t know what to say.

He shakes his head.

“Eddie Munson’s finally run out of words,” Steve comments, not meanly, or anything. It’s like he’s truly in awe of this progression. Like he can’t believe Eddie’s speechless because of him. Eddie can’t really believe it either.

Eddie just nods. He stops touching himself, reaches out to take the hem of Steve’s tank top in between his fingers. Tugs.

“What is it, Eddie? Need you to talk to me.”

“I can’t reach, but you —” he swallows. He tugs on his shirt again, trying to urge Steve into taking it off. “You could?”

It seems to take Steve a second to recall the previous conversation, now feeling like ages ago to Eddie too, but then he gets a sharp intake of breath in response, and Steve tugs his shirt over his head. Tosses it down to the floor, and Eddie’s seen Steve shirtless, but not like this. Not when he’s about to touch Eddie. And that’s what’s going to happen, Steve’s definitely getting ready to touch him, hopefully fuck his fingers into him and help him cum for the first time in months.

“I could,” Steve says. “I could. Just tell me—”

“Steve,” Eddie whines. “Please just touch me.”

Steve ends up on the bed between Eddie’s legs, knees planted on the mattress, outer thighs touching the insides of Eddie’s. His fingers slide over Eddie’s hole, rubbing at the wetness, spreading but not dipping inside.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks.

“Y-yeah,” Eddie breathes. “It’s fine, right? You said — you said, you and the guys—”

And Eddie knows Steve said nothing about touching each other, but he doesn’t fucking care. He just needs it so bad.

“No, yeah,” Steve says quickly. “Yeah, it’s — just giving a friend a hand, right?”

Eddie nods in agreement because yeah, that’s exactly what this is. He doesn’t need to think about what else this could mean because Steve says it’s normal. Eddie doesn’t have to worry about being the freak — the fag — because Steve is okay with this. He’s doing this.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie pants. “Just — I’m… You know I’m not a girl, right?”

Because he has to say it. He needs to know that Steve knows. Cunt and tits (one tit) don’t make him a girl, and Steve needs to know that. If Steve wants to say this is something friends do, something that doesn’t have to mean anything, Eddie at least needs him to acknowledge—

“I’m gay, Ed,” Steve whispers. “It’s okay, I’m — yeah, into guys. Don’t worry, man. Never seen you as anything but a guy, okay? Not gonna start now.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes. Okay.

Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool. Steve Harrington just came out to him and now he’s pushing one finger inside Eddie’s cunt. Just a typical fucking Friday afternoon. Except it’s not because—

“This is my first—” Eddie blurts out. He cuts himself off, swallows. Says softly, “I’ve never done anything. With anyone.”

“Then I better make it good for you, huh?” Steve says.

Eddie shivers, the low rumble of Steve’s voice right in his ear making him tremble with need. He nods, a quiet moan falling from his lips, just a little noise that fills the room.

The finger inside him is long, presses and touches experimentally. Eddie finds himself panting, squeezing down around it to make it feel thicker inside him.

Steve laughs quietly, head dipping and pressing into Eddie’s neck. “Gonna push me out, baby.”

“Sorry,” Eddie whispers.

He brings his hands up, slides them around Steve’s waist, touches the scars on his hips and back.

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “Just feel good, okay? Let me help.”

Steve pulls his finger out and moves, settles on the bed beside Eddie. He lays on his side and wraps his arm around Eddie’s waist, pulling him flush to his body. Eddie’s arm and side press to Steve’s chest, the thick hair brushing against Eddie’s skin.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks, face right next to Eddie’s on the pillow. He hikes Eddie’s leg up, hooks his arm underneath his thigh, and slides his fingers through the wetness on Eddie’s skin, up to his cock.

“Shit,” Eddie breathes. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.”

“Good.”

Steve pushes two fingers into Eddie’s pussy. They go in easier than Eddie expected them to, he’s so turned on. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this wet before, doesn’t usually get anywhere near this, but right now he has Steve Harrington pressed to him, their sweaty bodies sticking together where they touch, and he has two fingers inside him that he’s dreamed of, and he can feel Steve’s cock digging into his leg. Sue him for being affected by all of that.

“Good?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods, mouth falling open as Steve moves his fingers just right. It’s so much better than anything Eddie’s ever tried himself. The feeling of a warm body pressed against him, the feeling of someone else’s fingers inside him, it’s fucking — it’s a lot. It’s a lot, but it’s not enough at the same time.

His whole body feels like it’s on fire, and he wants to crawl toward that warmth, wants to crawl inside Steve and stay there, if only he can feel close to him for a little while longer. The feeling suffocates him, sucks all the air out of his lungs, and he turns his face toward Steve.

“You okay?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods, adjusts himself so Steve can thrust his fingers in deeper, feels the stretch in his hip as he hooks his leg over Steve’s thigh. He feels like he’s contorting himself, trying to become one with Steve.

“Not enough,” Eddie tells him.

“No?”

Eddie shakes his head. He doesn’t know how to ask for more, doesn’t know what’s going to be too far, but he wants more. More fingers, something harder and faster, anything.

“What do you need?” Steve asks.

“Don’t — don’t make me ask,” Eddie blurts out. He can’t. What he wants — he wants Steve. He wants him forever, wants to keep him. Wants Steve to love him.

That’s the core of it. Eddie’s in love with Steve, and he just wants to be loved back.

“More fingers?” Steve asks, sliding a third in with the other two.

The stretch hurts for just a second and then eases into something pleasurable when Steve starts rubbing his fingertips inside him.

Eddie gasps, nods. His eyes slip shut, and he breathes, “Yeah. Yeah, good, Steve. That’s great.”

Steve hums in response, something low and rough, close. And then Steve’s lips are pressing to his chin, and Eddie lifts a hand to cup Steve’s jaw because yes, more, please, and he tilts Steve’s chin, tilting him so their lips can slot together.

And Eddie’s never kissed anyone in his life, might be doing it all wrong, but now he’s kissing Steve Harrington, and the world isn’t ending, so he might be doing okay, afterall. Steve’s fingers move in and out of him at the same pace their lips slide against each other, and it’s all so good, and it’s almost enough. It’s almost enough and Eddie drops his hand from Steve’s chin and starts to touch himself, working his fingers slowly over his dick like Steve told him earlier, and he’s getting close, he thinks. He’s going to get there.

Steve’s fingers stop, he pulls back. Eddie stops his own hand, slowly opens his eyes to look at Steve.

“Is it okay if I take my shorts off?” Steve asks softly.

Eddie nods because yeah, of course. It’s only fair.

Steve slips out of bed, leaving Eddie alone for just a few agonizing seconds. He drops his shorts and briefs to the ground, and steps out of them, his cock slapping against his stomach as it springs free.

“Christ,” Eddie breathes. He wants it inside him, thinks it might break him in two.

“Don’t feel like you have to touch me, or anything,” Steve says, crawling back into bed and taking up his previous position. “This is about you, yeah? Helping you out. Don’t worry about me, alright? Just feel like I’m losing circulation if I keep those on.”

“Hey Steve?” Eddie says.

“Mhm?”

“Shut up, please.”

Steve laughs, pressing his nose into Eddie’s neck. “Which part?”

“Can I? Touch you?” Eddie asks. He wants to. Doesn’t even know why Steve would say he doesn’t have to. “It would probably be mutually beneficial.”

“Mutually beneficial, huh?” Steve repeats. He tugs Eddie’s leg up again, pressing his fingers back inside.

His cock brushes against Eddie’s thigh, wet at the tip where it touches him.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. Summoning all his bravery, he adds, “I mean, surely giving a friend a hand could extend to, uh, more.”

“You mean…?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Eddie whines. He doesn’t want to be the one to put it out there because if Steve doesn’t want that, if he doesn’t wanna go that far, then what? Sure Steve’s gay, or whatever he is, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to go all the way with someone like Eddie.

“I really think I need you to, baby, because what I want and what you want might be completely different things, and I need to know—”

“What do you want?”

“I… Want to make you feel good,” Steve says. “I want to fuck you until you can’t think of anything else.”

Eddie moans, turns his head to catch Steve’s lips in another kiss.

“I want that,” Eddie says. “I think that would get me there.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods.

“You have condoms, baby?” Steve asks.

And, fuck, no he doesn’t. He did before his room got swallowed up, but he never got a chance to use them before they expired and got lost to the Upside Down. No, he doesn’t, but—

“No, but I mean, you were telling me you got tested just a couple weeks ago, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Steve shrugs. “I guess I did tell you that.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, and I’ve never been with anyone.”

“Yeah, but Eddie—”

“I can’t get pregnant,” Eddie says before Steve can bring it up. “So don’t even worry about that. I’m, like, completely obliterated in there. Bats took my ovaries, man.”

“Well, that’s… Lucky?”

Eddie barks a laugh. “That’s one way to put it, yeah.”

Steve laughs too, pressing his face to Eddie’s chest as he moves over him. He gets up, fits himself back between Eddie’s legs.

“I do, um,” Eddie says. He opens up his nightstand drawer and pulls out a small bottle of lube. He hands it over to Steve.

“You have lube but no condoms?” Steve asks, looking down at the bottle.

“Don’t even—” Eddie starts. He shakes his head. “I was in Indy a few weeks ago getting a tattoo from my friend, you know, because he has a little operation going on in his apartment, you remember, it’s the one I got on my leg? Yeah, well, he had lube in his bathroom in his apartment, so.”

“So you took it? Why?”

“I don’t know, man!” Eddie huffs. “The idea of walking into a sex shop and buying it, like, makes my skin crawl a little bit, and they don’t fucking sell it at Melvald’s, and I thought, maybe if I tried something new, I’d be able to get off, but like I showed you, I can barely fucking finger myself, and I dont have anything to—”

“Okay, okay,” Steve whispers. Soothes him with a gentle touch to his stomach.

Eddie falls silent, lets himself settle under Steve’s touch. He’s getting worked up, a bit overwhelmed. He’s so desperate to get off, it feels like he’s vibrating with arousal. He doesn’t need to be interrogated about stealing lube from his buddy’s apartment. Not that Steve’s doing that it’s just—

“You’re okay,” Steve says.

Eddie nods. Yeah, he’s okay.

“I’m going to finger you a little more, okay? Can you be good for me? Let me take care of you?”

Eddie doesn’t know why that does it for him, doesn’t know why he’s so willing to let Steve just do whatever the hell he wants just as long as Steve keeps being so sweet with him. The thing is, he just feels so safe with Steve in a way he never thought he could with anyone.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes.

“Good boy,” Steve says. He pushes two lubed fingers into Eddie, sliding so much easier than before.

Eddie moans, cock twitching from the words and from the fingers. Steve rubs his thumb over it and Eddie thinks he might die. He might just drop dead right here because he feels good and no one’s ever touched him before and it’s so much. It’s so much, so much more than when he does it himself, and he needs more, he needs so much more.

He needs too much.

Steve works three fingers in and out of him, leaning over so he can press a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips. It’s intimate, something secret and warm between the two of them. Eddie knows this isn’t just something friends do, he knows that, and he can see it, he thinks, when Steve pulls away, that they’re both on the same page.

He hopes they’re both on the same page.

“You ready, Eddie?” Steve asks, a smile lifting the corners of his lips. He pulls his fingers out and searches the sheets for the discarded bottle of lube.

Eddie nods, spreads his legs even more. He winces when his hip turns too far, and then Steve is there, gripping him gently, and turning him onto his side. Big hands, strong muscles, moving Eddie with so much ease.

“This’ll be more comfortable,” Steve tells him, fitting behind Eddie.

His chest presses to Eddie’s back, the lengths of their bodies touching, sticky with sweat, heated with arousal. Eddie can feel Steve’s cock against him, hot and hard, pressing between his asscheeks, sliding up against the small of his back.

Steve reaches between their bodies, lifts Eddie’s leg, slides it forward until Eddie knows his cunt is on display. Steve sets Eddie’s leg down on the mattress, and then Eddie feels the wet head of Steve’s cock slide against him, right where he needs it most, and this is it, he thinks.

He’s stretched open as Steve pushes in, the fingering and all the lube helping. Steve takes his time, working just the tip of his cock into Eddie’s dripping cunt, letting it pop in before he pulls back out again. Eddie hears him add more lube, and then Steve pushes in deeper on the next try, forcing a moan from Eddie’s lips.

He turns his face toward his pillow, takes the fabric between his teeth and clamps down to muffle the sounds falling out of him. It’s good, feeling Steve against him, it’s so good feeling him inside, knowing he’s taking his time because Eddie’s never done this before.

Steve Harrington is fucking sweet, and he’s fucking Eddie so sweetly, and Eddie wants to keep him. He wants to keep him for as long as he fucking can.

“You okay, baby?” Steve whispers, sliding his arm around Eddie’s waist.

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, pressing his face into the pillow.

“Doesn’t hurt, or anything?”

“No, no,” Eddie says, lifting his head and turning it. He can just turn his head enough to see Steve over his shoulder, to see the way his hair is sticking to his forehead, sweaty and damp. He can see the way his lips part as he breathes, little rapid puffs like he might be just as affected as Eddie is. “I’m so good, Stevie. Please keep going.”

“You’ll tell me if you need to stop,” Steve says, no room for argument.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell you,” Eddie pants.

Steve pulls out until just the head is left inside Eddie and then he slides all the way in, pressing so deep Eddie thinks he might die in the best way. He feels it, feels how hot and thick and hard Steve is, feels him everywhere.

He slides in and out, never leaving Eddie’s body more than a couple inches before pressing back in impossibly deep. He slides so easily, hitting Eddie in all the spots that make him tremble. He’s being loud, he knows he is, and he almost, almost feels bad for his neighbors who have to hear it, but he also doesn’t really give a fuck.

He feels too good to give a fuck about anything other than Steve fucking him just right, a hand settled over his stomach and pressing down, holding him so close.

“Fuck, you’re sensitive, hm?” Steve comments, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder. His hand on his stomach moves, slides down until it’s between Eddie’s legs.

His fingers graze over Eddie’s cock, featherlight and Eddie tenses up, a loud moan breaking free.

“More,” Eddie demands. “Please, Stevie, need more.”

“You beg so nicely,” Steve murmurs, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s neck. “I can give you more, baby. You’ve been so patient, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie pants. “I’ve been so patient, baby, please touch me.”

Steve does, working Eddie’s cock in time with his thrusts. It’s so much, so good, the dual sensations inside and out of Eddie’s body, spreading like wildfire through his limbs and in his core.

It takes him a second to understand what exactly that means, the warmth in his gut that he hasn’t felt in so fucking long.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve whispers. His hand works faster. “Good boy. I can feel you, angel, can you feel that? Tightening around me so hard, oh, fuck, Eddie. You close?”

“Yeah,” Eddie gasps, the word punching out of him as he rocks himself against Steve’s hand and on his cock. He’s so close, so much closer than he’s gotten on his own in months, and it’s different than he’s ever felt.

He gets right up to the edge, about to tip over and Steve doesn’t stop, just keeps fucking him through it, working him like his life depends on it, and Eddie might be screaming, but it doesn’t fucking matter. Not when he feels like this, like he’s on fire in the best way possible.

Eddie thinks he definitely dies and goes to Heaven when he cums. It’s too much, too powerful, ripping through his entire body and crashing over him. He clenches down so hard on Steve’s cock that he feels it slip right out of him, leaving him with just the hand on his cock, working him over and over speeding up, never relenting. He bucks his hips up into Steve’s hand, grinds himself against it as he gasps and cries out.

His pussy throbs long after he’s done, tingles with the aftershocks. His heart rate returns to normal and he’s left with this bone deep satisfaction. He’s never felt this sated in his life, has never felt this — complete.

“Christ, man,” Steve huffs. “You needed that.”

Eddie nods, cranes his neck so he can see Steve, so he can bring him in for a kiss over his shoulder. Their lips meet in a sloppy kiss, wet with spit, uncoordinated on Eddie’s part because he does not have control over his body anymore, that’s for sure.

“You didn’t cum,” Eddie pants when Steve pulls away.

“That’s okay, sweet boy,” Steve murmurs, and Eddie doesn’t want to dissect what that does to him. Doesn’t have enough of a coherent thought after coming his brain out to feel anything other than warmth over it. “This was about you, yeah? You needed some help, and you were so good.”

“Want you to,” Eddie says. “Want you to feel good, too, baby.”

Steve opens his mouth and then closes it, eyes slipping shut. He nods. “I did. I do feel good, Eddie. Helping you? That makes me feel good.”

“Steve,” Eddie whispers. “I want you to cum inside me. I’ve been good, right?”

“Yeah, Eddie, you’re so good,” Steve tells him. “But you just came really hard, man. I don’t want to hurt you if you’re sore.”

“Stevie,” Eddie sighs. “We established I like a little pain, right?”

Steve nods, takes a deep breath. “Okay, yeah. If you’re sure.”

Eddie reaches down between his legs and guides Steve’s cock back to his hole. He feels it catch, pop just inside, and he whines, angling his hips so Steve can slide back in.

Steve’s arm settles around his waist again as he rocks into Eddie, trying to get enough leverage to fuck into him faster.

“Hold on,” Eddie whispers.

Steve stops, face buried into the back of Eddie’s neck, panting into his skin.

“Wanna—” Eddie starts. He doesn’t know if he should ask, if it’s too much, if it means too much, but he realizes he wants it desperately. Wants— “Wanna see your face, baby. When you cum in me, I wanna—”

And then Steve is pulling out and grabbing Eddie by the hips, moving him until he’s on his back with his legs spread, and Steve fits himself in between them, and pushes back inside. He bends over Eddie, quickly thrusting into him, grinding deep as he presses kiss after kiss to Eddie’s lips.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to slam deep, so deep Eddie thinks he might break, and shake apart over him. He kisses him, lips slack as moans fall between them. Eddie drinks them down, holds Steve tight as he cums hard inside him.

And then Steve slumps against him, cock still pulsing and twitching inside him, and Eddie can feel the added wetness of Steve’s cum, can feel it leak out with each twitch of Steve’s hips.

Eddie locks his ankles behind Steve’s back, thighs squeezing his sides, and holds him there.

“Stay inside,” Eddie whispers.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, shaking but easy. So soft and so sweet.

He’s still shaking, just resting against Eddie as they try to breathe together.

“You okay, Harrington?” Eddie whispers. He runs his hands up and down Steve’s sides, over the scars that match Eddie’s.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Steve whispers, muffled into Eddie’s collar bone.

Eddie’s hands still, he freezes. Still blanketed under Steve’s trembling body, Eddie takes a deep, shaking breath.

“Pussy was that good, huh?” he jokes. Because there’s no way Steve meant that. There’s no way he even said it, nah, Eddie’s just hearing things.

Hearing things he wants to hear.

“No,” Steve says. He lifts his head. “I mean, yeah. Your pussy’s great, man, but no, that’s not — I just had to tell you, okay? It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, but you know, I have to be honest because we just… did all that, and it would be wrong for me to not tell you.”

“After we—” Eddie starts, but then all the words catch right up to his brain and he pulls Steve in for another kiss, so heated and full of all the words Eddie wants to say back.

Steve’s still inside him, still covering him with his body. It’s so hot in the room, and Eddie feels gross, but none of that matters because Eddie may feel gross, but he’s loved. Loved in a way he never has been, and that’s—

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie laughs. He thinks he might start to cry, thinks he might be already. “I mean, hell, I think I’ve been in love with you since, like, middle school, so there’s that.”

“You didn’t even know me,” Steve points out.

“Didn’t need to. Knew you were pretty,” Eddie whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “What about you? When did this revelation hit you?”

“At Reefer Rick’s,” Steve answers immediately.

“Oh yeah? Which time?”

“The first time, man. When you had that bottle pressed to my throat. Fuck, all I could think was that you were wild. Wild, but scared, man. Like an animal that shouldn’t be caged, I don’t know.”

“What the fuck, Steve? You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this the whole time?” Eddie jokes.

Steve shrugs. “Didn’t wanna scare you off. You, uh, you’re doing better now, than you were then, and even just, a few weeks ago, you know? And if I would’ve—”

“I would’ve ran,” Eddie realizes.

Steve shrugs. “I would’ve waited longer, you know. Just, you were lying there in nothing but a pair of fucking cut off shorts, squirming, man. You were squirming and whining, and fuck, you would’ve seen how hard I was if I didn’t say something first to beat you to the punch.”

Eddie laughs. “Can’t believe I got you that worked up.”

“You’re a fucking dream, Eddie Munson,” Steve says. “And I don’t wanna wake up from this one.”

And it’s fucking cheesy, it’s so fucking cheesy, but Eddie finds himself smiling, his grin overtaking his whole face. He can’t stop it, can’t contain it, doesn’t fucking want to.

“You sure know how to sweep a guy off his feet,” Eddie teases.

“Did that actually work?” Steve asks, his grin matching Eddie’s.

“Consider me swept, Harrington,” Eddie says with a wink. “My feet are thoroughly off the ground.”

Steve kisses him again, and he moves them, slipping out of Eddie’s messy cunt, but not letting him go, not going far. He grabs the joint and the lighter off Eddie’s nightstand and lights it up again, taking a hit before passing it over to Eddie. They lay on their sides facing each other, Steve’s arm slung over Eddie’s waist.

“Hoping to get me horny again?” Eddie asks as he brings the joint to his lips.

Steve laughs, ducking his head to hide himself in Eddie’s neck. “I’m hoping I’d get a second round without it, but hey, if it works, it works.”

“Don’t worry, baby, you can have as many rounds as you want,” Eddie promises.

Something has definitely changed between them, but strangely, as Eddie lays in his bed beside Steve, smoking the rest of the joint they were working through earlier, it feels like nothing’s changed at all. They’ve been in love with each other this whole time, been living in each other’s pockets for the entire summer. Steve’s seen Eddie naked before, he’s helped him bathe, helped him change his bandages, helped him brush his hair, and makes sure he’s eating.

All these acts of kindness have never been because they’re just friends, and Eddie knows that now, and he thinks he knew that before, too. He kisses the top of Steve’s head, noses against his sweat damp hair, and holds him closer.

Soon they’ll have to get up and clean up, to wash away the evidence of what they just did, and they’ll get in the shower together, not for the first time, but for the first time when they both know what it means, and Eddie will hold Steve close, and he’ll ask Steve to call him angel and sweet boy, and—

They’ll clean up later.

Now, though, he whispers a quiet, “Yeah, I love you,” and holds him tight, and hears the same three words whispered back.

ao3

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for not intending to go through with a promise?

💅(for me)

I (m18) when I was 14, I came out as a trans guy to my mom (f39). She was very supportive of me but there was a slight issue. My mom loved my deadname, it was something she picked out back when she was in middle school and it’s just overall a pretty name. As much as I like the name in general, it’s way too feminine for me. We had a few conversations about it and she came up with a compromise.

She would help me find a new name if I name my first born daughter my deadname if I have kids. I agreed because I didn’t want kids or plan on having them (besides the name in general doesn’t give me dysphoria) so this deal to me seemed more than fair. After a few days of searching we both come across a name we both really like and it’s been my name for almost four years now.

Recently, a family member had a baby and not going to lie that little dude set off my baby fever like crazy. I’m obviously not going to have kids for a long while but the idea of having them is so exciting to me. I already have a list of names I really like if I have daughters but the thing is in that list of 15 or so names, none of them are my deadname.

I really don’t want to name my future daughter my deadname. It’s not like the name gives me dysphoria, it’s just that it feels really weird. Almost egotistical? I don’t know it just feels wrong. But I made a promise and it feels guilty to not go through with it especially because my mom hasn’t forgotten about our deal. We still talk about it every now and then and I feel awful about it. My mother has been super supportive of me and I owe so much to her but my g-d I don’t want to give in my part of the deal. I know that this situation won’t be relevant for at least a decade but it’s plaguing my conscience.

[mattgrayyes]

Representation’s important, esp during times like now where people are marginalised and turned into scapegoats regularly.

So here’s some stuff that, while none of your business, I’ll share in case it helps anyone feeling alone:

I’m non-binary & have gender dysphoria.

I’m prob demisexual & polyamorous.

I’ve got ADHD, ASD, & a history of depression, and panic/anxiety disorder.

I take anti depressants monitored by a psychiatrist, and see a therapist regularly.

Long COVID gave me Chronic Fatigue which I’ve had for two years now.

Being “person off the internet” I’m usually careful not to talk about personal stuff. I’m in the odd position where people have a parasocial relationship with me, and are interested in me and my life.

I enjoy sharing my work, humour, and things I’ve made online. But that doesn’t entitle anyone to know anything about my personal life.

I’ve seen other creators have their life and relationships discussed, and I don’t want that.

I’m sharing personal info despite this, in case it helps someone.

[leighsartworks216]

Feel Good

Astarion x transmasc!Tav/Reader x Gale Dekarios

Requested by Dirtyramen on AO3:

“can I request a fic abt Astarion just being soft/caretake-ish to Tav while they recovery from top surgery? (or, I guess whatever might be the equivalent to it in the world of baldurs gate haha) maybeeeeee in a poly relation with gale if it tickles your fancy?

-also if Tara could be mentioned somewhere that would be adorable but not at all necessary, I just love her LOL-“

Gale may be OOC in this, I've never really written him before, but it felt right to have him there

Title is based on "Feel Good" by Ryan Nealon. Doesn't fit 100%, but I feel like this could be a good reference to how Tav felt before their magical top surgery

Warnings: mentions of chest scars, insecurity, mentions/references to dysphoria, crying, implied sexual antics at the end

Word Count: 1,699

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You can’t stop staring at your body in the mirror. Just behind the protective bandages lay the chest you’ve dreamed of having - and it terrifies you. What if it came out wrong? What if you hated it? What if having a flat chest makes you feel worse about your body? The thoughts spiral, questioning every single thing you thought you knew about yourself. You frown at your reflection.

Hands on your hips startle you from your mind, as soft lips against the back of your neck chuckle. Astarion - forever the rogue.

“Admiring yourself, my love?” he teased.

You sigh. You wish you were. You wish you just knew what it looked like. Just a little peek and surely you’d feel better about it all. He rests his chin on your shoulder when you don’t speak, smoothing his hands over your stomach, just below the wrappings. You rest your hands over his, focusing on your reflection’s hovering hands as you run your fingers against his prominent veins.

“What if I don’t like it?” you whisper. “What if I was wrong?”

“Darling, you’ve been gushing over this for months. Why are you worried now?”

“I just…” You dare to raise your eyes to your chest again. Flat. Years and years spent hating your chest, crying and spitting vitriol at yourself for how it made you feel. “I just want to feel okay in my body, Star,” you finally admit, to yourself and your partner. “What if this isn’t it? What if it doesn’t help?”

He hums, considering. “It seemed easy enough to magic your breasts away, I’m sure Gale could find some spell that would bring them back.”

You chuckle despite the emotions in your chest. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” Your hands slide off his as he turns you around, away from the mirror. “The worst that could happen is you don’t like it. And if that happens - which I don’t believe it will for a second - we’ll help you find what’s right. Until you’re comfortable.”

You can’t stop the grin that tugs at your lips. “You can be really sweet when you want to be.”

He smirks. “Don’t tell anybody.” He gives you a quick kiss, though you can feel how reluctant he is to pull away. “Now, come on, off to bed. You’re supposed to be resting.”

“What are you, my mother?” Despite your words, you follow along with him easily as he leads you by the hand through the tower back to your bedroom, only a few doors down. You had a mirror, of course, but this was the only full-body mirror in the place. Gale kept saying he would move it to your room, but he always got sidetracked, always distracted by new questions that needed answers.

Astarion had his reservations of living with the wizard at first, but even he couldn’t deny how comfortable it was here. It was far better than any other option available to him at the time. Not to mention he was always around if Gale had any ideas on how to cure his undead affliction.

And, well, perhaps he didn’t completely despise him, but the world would burn before he ever admitted it.

He leads you through your door, as natural as though it were his own bedroom. He did have his own, but, truthfully, he much preferred spending time in yours. When he wasn’t perusing the wide collection of books scattered in mostly-organized shelves and piles, that is.

He lets go of your hand to open your blankets, and he helps you slide under them so you can lay on your back. He crawls in after you. You’ve learned to scoot over a bit beforehand, so he’s not constantly shifting to avoid falling off the edge, or whining about the blanket not covering his ass, all because he refuses to go around and lay on the other, wide-open half of the bed.

His arms wrap snugly around your waist, though he refrains from resting his head on your chest as he normally would, opting instead to curl into your side, resting his head on your shoulder by your neck. There’d be plenty of time for proper cuddles once you were fully recovered. Unable to roll to your side, you opt to tangle a hand in his hair and rest the other on his arm. It wasn’t the same, but it was comfortable nonetheless.

“A few more hours, Gale will return, and you’ll get to see,” he murmurs against your skin. He presses a kiss below your jaw. “And I’ll get to see you, my handsome man.”

The phrase makes you flush. He smiles when he hears your heart beat faster. You let out a slow, shaky breath. “He needs to get back sooner.”

He chuckles, but says nothing more. You tilt your head to rest against his and close your eyes. Visions of your chest before mixed with fantasies of what it looked like now. It was still so difficult to grasp the fact it truly was flat. Whenever Astarion would help you change into fresh clothes (after he gently wipes you down with a damp sponge, as you are unable to bathe until the bandages are removed), you’d have a moment of confusion when you flipped through the stack of folded clothes and didn’t find a bra. In fact, you’d gotten rid of them all right after your procedure. Gale had to stop you (and Astarion) from lighting them on fire as celebration.

With the images, your anxiety spikes again. It’ll be fine, you know it will be… By what if it isn’t? You want to relax into a nap, pass the time warm and comfortable with your vampire partner until Gale got back, but your mind would not let you.

You sigh in frustration. You press your lips to his head as you quietly murmur, “Will you read to me?”

He sighs, too, long and dramatic. He only half means it. He truly does not like having to pull away from you to sit up, but he does quite enjoy flipping open the book from the side table and continuing the story where you left off. You press your face into his side and he combs his fingers through your hair mindlessly as he weaves a tale of romance and intrigue. He doesn’t stop reading until he is certain you are asleep.

-

You cover your eyes, elbows lifted to the sides. You can barely stay still, rocking back and forth between your feet and fighting not to bounce on your heels. You groan. “Are you almost done?”

Gale huffs a laugh. You can feel it ghost along the back of your neck. “Patience, dear. You’ll see soon enough.” His fingers finally work out the knot in the bandages, and you almost gasp as he unwraps them from your body.

The air feels odd against the clammy skin. Even weirder is the feeling of his warm hand pressing supportively in between your shoulder blades.

“Okay. You can look now.”

You take a breath in. You lowered your hands to your sides, but taking that final step felt overwhelming. Gale’s thumb rubbed against your skin, silently encouraging you, as Astarion came to your side to hold your hand. It was now or never.

It takes a moment for your brain to process. It’s so different. You step closer to the mirror. They let you go, standing back and watching with wide grins. (You can see Gale’s proud smile in the mirror, but you don’t pay him much mind.) You turn to the side. Flat. You delicately brush your hands over your chest. Flat. Tears well in your eyes. You try to blink them away so you can watch as you trace a finger over the scars left behind. The magic was experimental, Gale had worried it would leave a larger mark, but he trusted the Weave more than any surgeon.

A wide smile overwhelms your face as you laugh. A weight has been lifted off your chest, literally and metaphorically. You feel like you can breathe looking at the figure before you. You don’t feel dread looking at your chest anymore. You can’t fight the tears anymore as they pour freely down your cheeks, carrying years of dysphoria with them and leaving trails of relief behind.

You turn and rush straight to your partners, wrapping your arms around them and pulling yourself as close as possible. Gale’s hand rested at the back of your neck as his other held your hip. Astarion stroked comforting shapes into your spine. A gasping sob wracked your body.

“Are you alright, my love?” Astarion asks gently. “Is it alright?”

You laugh again, nodding eagerly. “It’s perfect. It’s perfect,” you gasp between your emotions. You pull away and wipe at your eyes, but when you look down at your chest again they come in another wave. “Oh my gods, look at me.”

“I’m having a rather hard time taking my eyes off of you,” Gale teases.

Astarion chuckles, receiving a quirked brow from the wizard he did not want to address. “I hate to say I told you so, but… You look absolutely stunning, my handsome man.”

“Hm, you’ll have to share that moniker, you know.” Gale smirks as the vampire scowls. “Our handsome man.”

You sniffle, trying futilely to dry your face. “If you keep saying that, I’m gonna cry again,” you joke, but they know you’re right. You gasp and light up. They don’t have time to ask what’s wrong before you’re rushing out of the room, shouting, “I have to tell Tara! Tara! Where are you?! My bandages are off!”

They smile fondly, listening as your voice becomes more distant. Astarion turns mischievously toward the wizard. “Sooo, how much longer does our darling have to rest now?”

“Well, he should avoid any strenuous activities for another week, at least. Why? What did you have in mind?”

“Hm. Would laying down, receiving endless praise from his two partners while we lavish his body with generous care and attention count as strenuous?”

Gale thought for a moment. “If he’s laying down…”

Astarion smirked deviously. “I’m glad we could come to an understanding.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @cyber-dump-171 @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @yarn_yogi @tototini

[destinygoldenstar]

“Feeling like you’re nothing is… kinda normal. If people even feel like that in the world I came from.”

TW: DISCUSSIONS OF SUICIDE

So this line specifically has been on my mind.

Obviously Pomni does not outright say she’s depressed. But she doesn’t need to. The show trusts us to pick it up for ourselves.

At first I thought it was just trauma, because… DUH. WHAT HAPPENED.

She experiences nightmares, she has zone outs, she closes herself off from her peers, panic attacks, etc. All pretty real responses to a traumatic event.

BUT THEN WE HAVE THIS LINE.

Now, I wouldn’t think too much of it if she said “In the world I COME from.” Present tense. So that would indicate she’s talking about the circus.

But she uses PAST TENSE here.

“In the world I CAME from.”

So she’s not talking about the circus.

We know she’s not because we know she was once a human in the real world.

Gooseworx confirmed that the Digital Circus characters DO remember their past lives, just not the key identify-defining details like their names. Which makes sense cause, well, if they had full amnesia they wouldn’t know they came from anywhere else at all.

So this implies she’s talking about her life in the real world before this.

So this may indicate that in the real world, human Pomni had anxiety & depression.

A theory someone else said, but I liked and could see being possible, was that each Digital Circus character represents certain mental illnesses. (My idea: Pomni - Generalized Anxiety & Major Depression Disorder, Ragatha - Separation Anxiety Disorder, Jax - Sociopathy, Kinger - Schizophrenia, Gangle - Bipolar Disorder, Zooble - Dysphoria) While it is questionable for some characters whether they experienced these in the real world or they gained them in the circus (Kinger is probably one of the latter’s case), considering Pomni’s new to the circus, it’s easy to assume the former. You don’t develop these mental problems overnight.

So here’s my theory: Human Pomni was an accountant at C&A, and got her hands on the information of the Digital Circus. As in, she knew EXACTLY what it would do to her…

…but she put the headset on anyway as an act of suicide.

This could be proven wrong in a future episode, but that is my belief on what happened to her. Would also explain how she had a vague idea on how the video game’s outside maps worked.

BUT, you may be asking, “If Pomni knew and did it as sudoku, why would she want to leave immediately?”

Survival reflex. (And I’m partially thinking about that Bojack Horseman speech at the penultimate episode of that show. You know the one.) It IS a thing for someone to attempt suicide, and then change their mind on it pretty quickly, whether it be the pain that came with it, or the fear of death. And this is in both cases whether the attempted succeeds or fails at the deed.

So the beginning of the show could be Pomni’s brain, scattered as it is, experiencing just that.

“Wait a minute. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to end it. I have to stop myself!”

But it’s too late.

She made her choice. She didn’t want to be ‘her’ anymore.

So she put the headset on.

She did the act.

There’s nothing she can do about it.

And since she TECHNICALLY isn’t dead, this is her processing her own existence, old and new, and what to do with it now.

THAT’s another reason why she has that nightmare about abstracting. Which could easily be seen as ‘mental suicide.’

A horrifying image on the outside. And on the inside, an image that’s far too real for her.

But she doesn’t have to have that be her fate.

There are people to help her and there are people that WOULD care if she dies.

Her story is about fighting the worst thoughts known to mankind and come out of that fight as a more emotionally realized person. As someone who wants to live. As someone who ISN’T nothing.

(This is a theory. Is open to be wrong.)

[ashdreams2023]

Loki helping his friend who is nonbinary but struggles with gender dysphoria and supports them, if ok?

Sure sweetie

Loki x nonbinary reader

Special little dove

"My top doesn’t look right…" you mumbled looking down at shirt you had on.

Loki looked up, he was just finishing polishing one of his daggers "Whatever do you mean? You look fine, you’ve worn this top before and it was ok"

You sighed "It just…I don’t feel comfortable, it doesn’t look ok…I want to look more masc today and I feel like it’s not helping and I don’t know”

Loki stood up and approached you, he lifted your chin and made you look him in the eye "Tell me what do you see when you look in the mirror?"

You swallowed and avoided his intense gaze "Some days I just look wrong…I wish i could be like you where I can just shift into what I feel like that day…some days it seems impossible and that there’s something wrong with me"

Loki’s eyes softened at hearing the words being uttered from your mouth "I am have been more fortunate than others but that doesn’t mean theirs something wrong with you, I’m not saying you can not feel uncomfortable in your own skin but I do know that I will not let you loathe yourself in discomfort and uncertainty"

You sighed and warped your arms around his waist and laid your head on his chest, breathing in his scent "You might get sick of it…like everyone else did"

Loki hugged you back and rested his chin on your head "You keep forgetting that I am not like everyday else, I am a god and you my little dove will be protected by this god, no one will harm you even yourself when I’m around"

Your heart fluttered with joy "You sure know how to make me feel special don’t you?"

"Oh but you are special because to me, those curious eyes of yours hold the universe and much more"

"Are you flirting with me?" Your crossed your arms with a fake frown.

"And is that so evil of me to do?" He chuckled before pulling you back into his arms and pampering your face with kisses.

You squirmed till you laughed.

Side note: Loki just flirts with his friends just because he can 💀

[mymp3]

wave ^_^)/ !!!! i hate to be predictable, but for the ask game - poor ryoji mochizuki ? :]c

VITY! waves back o/

Anyways here's Ryoji Mochizuki world’s most perfect boy ^_^

favorite thing about them

Where do I start. Nyx being the primordial being, God in the persona universe. All life comes from her. She’s the beginning and the end, she is death itself. Having death be put inside a small boy and his kindness and love making death want to be human itself. Wanting to repay that kindness and love, feeling guilt at the way it treated the small boy, ruining his life.

The fact that Ryoji is Death, is Thanatos, is Pharos, is Nyx. They’re all the same being. The concept and execution of that, who had no feelings either way before, being treated so kindly to the point where it takes forms this bond with P3 Hero. Protecting him from the first arcana shadow as Thanatos on the first full moon of the game. The culmination of these forms is of course Mochizuki Ryoji. Who’s become soft and sweet. He copies P3 Hero’s appearance and gender and is everything that he never knew he wanted to be.

He loves the world so much, loves humanity so much. He’s so endlessly kind and having that kindness be a direct reflection of P3 Hero makes it that much sweeter. The fact he created this form because of his desire to have it and desire to separate himself from Nyx is the sweetest thing in the world. Especially when they’re all still the same being. Ryoji just has a hard time putting that in perspective again, he doesn’t want to be that, (Evident by his dumb Ryoji phase) doesn’t want to go back to that. It’s so sweet. He’s the cutest in the world.

least favorite thing about them

I honestly don’t think I have one.

favorite line

“I know you better than anyone after all… That’s why I came back to you as Ryoji Mochizuki.” (I know this is kind of cheating. sry.)

brOTP

Him and Junpei are so good it’s unreal. Just bros being bros. They hang out, are the most frat of guys and its hilarious. But when Junpei is going through a rough time Ryoji always knows exactly what to say. I find it so sweet.

OTP

Ryomina

They are literal soulmates. They are one another. Mirror images. Love birds. Codependent cats. Made for each other in the most literal of senses. Ryoji made his form from Minato so they could spend time together. Minato taught Death kindness.

Sometimes I feel so like I’m making them up they’re so perfect.

NOTP

This is a bit odd to type out but pretty much anyone who isn’t P3 Hero with Ryoji? I see Ryoji as only being made for one person in particular, so the others just don’t appeal to me in the same way.

random headcanon

Can I cheat and put more than one. I’m gonna. These are all Ryoji post P3 unless stated otherwise.

- Ryoji going a step further and taking Minato’s hair and eye color. Draining a blue Minato used to have til his are bright and shining. The same way he absorbed his kindness.

- He is crazy codependent. Like crazy codependent. If he was able to touch Minato for a split second in November they would never be able to let go of one another. That’s why Minato had to avoid him in FES.

-He's really warm! Got that from Minato too so he's left with all the cold. Ryoji's fun to hug though :)

- Him and Minato watch over the world together in the great seal! Ryoji shares the knowledge while Minato catches up on rest and helps explain new concepts to him when he wakes up. He’s his doorman ^_^ (ha)

- He would really enjoy working retail if he ever got the shot. He loves people in general. Getting to meet them, talk to them, the whole shebang.

- He’s embarrassed of being Pharos. Like people get of old baby photos.

- Ryoji is metaphorically trans baby. Wanting to copy Minato and preferring being called Ryoji, a boy. It makes talking about Gods a bit difficult. Dysphoria and all. Poor thing experiences it in the weirdest of ways. But as Minato and Ryoji continue to be the seal, it’ll get easier.

- He likes sunrises and cheesy rom coms and fairy tales. Classic knight and princess stories. Kind of has the most normal taste ever, but a romantic at heart.

- Speaking of normal, I think “Dumb Ryoji” is a representation on what Minato would have been like if Death was never sealed inside of him. Perfect friends with all of the right people, charming, a bit of a playboy, and best friends with Junpei.

unpopular opinion

I personally don’t imagine Ryoji with a sexuality. His human form was made as a mirror to Minato, and so interacting with him throws him off course. He acts different around him, it confuses him. I don’t see anything Dumb Ryoji does as being a real representation of who Ryoji is.

song i associate with them

My Ryoji playlist is just the most cheesy songs you’ve ever heard in your life.

Anyways I guess my pick is “Rhythm Of Love" by the Plain White T's. (yeah ik. please go easy on me he's so owl city 2010's pop to me.)

favorite picture of them

i like how pouty he gets when he's upset ^_^

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Comfort - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: I’m fighting off the evil brain thoughts so I hope this is good 🫣 I hope it’s okay I mentioned the dysphoria so vaguely. I didn’t wanna make it uncomfortable to read

Written for this request

CW: Reader is dysphoric; dysphoria is described as grossness; mentioned crying; Logan calls Reader handsome; probably ooc Logan; ‘I love you’s; fluff; hurt/comfort; no use of Y/N

660 words

You’ve been lying in Logan’s bed for over an hour before he comes back from training. You hide your face in his pillows, hoping he can’t tell you’ve been crying.

“Hey.” He sits on the edge of his bed, resting a hand on your blanket cocoon. You don’t answer him, just press your face deeper into the pillows.

“Hey.” He nudges you. You turn your head to the side, gazing up at him. Your eyes itch and your head hurts from your crying, but you still look up at him.

Your voice is cracked and scratchy when you speak. “What?”

Logan’s tone softens a little. “You wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head and hide your face again. Unburying yourself from the blankets feels like too much. But you feel so gross, made worse by the heat of both his blankets and the thick sweater you’re wearing.

“Just having a sucky day,” you mumble.

He sighs and moves to lie next to you. After a long, long moment of struggle and indecision, you lift up the blankets and press yourself against his side.

When that only heightens the discomfort, you lay on top of him, pressing yourself as close as possible. You can hear his heartbeat and it soothes the grossness of your mind a little.

Logan gently rubs your back. You tense up for a moment, until you realize he’s avoiding touching your lower back or sides. You hide your face against his chest.

“How bad is it?” Logan’s voice rumbles through you. It gives you something to focus on other than the growing sense of quiet panic in the back of your mind.

“Bad,” you whisper. “Worse than last time. It keeps coming back.”

Logan’s hand stills on your back. “That bad, huh?”

“I feel gross.” Your voice cracks a little.

Logan’s quiet for a moment. You don’t blame him. You’re not even sure what would help right now.

“Well, you look handsome to me,” he says finally.

You turn your head to look at him. “Really?”

“Really. Handsomest man I’ve ever seen.”

The quiet panic in your mind slowly starts receding. You take a deep breath. “Keep talking? It helps.”

Logan starts rubbing your back again. “Slim asked about you today. Thought he was gonna start a fight with me. Just like he used to.”

You nod. It’s hard to relax, but his voice is like gruff magic. You can feel every rumble as he speaks.

“Turns out he got over that once he realized I wasn’t interested in Jean like that.”

A tiny smile flickers across your face.

“Still can’t figure out why he’d think I’d still go for Jean when you were right there.”

Your face warms a little. “You were pretty smitten with her before you met me.”

“Yeah.” Logan presses a kiss to your head. “Before I met you. You’re the handsomest man I’ve ever met, and I’ve been alive for a lot longer than anyone here. Not to mention, you’ve got the best damn personality I’ve ever seen in anybody.”

The compliments really make your face burn. You shift against him, moving your head to nuzzle into his neck. Just quietly breathing him in. “I’m your man.”

“You’re my man.” He sounds so sure of it. So absolutely unwavering.

He keeps talking, telling stories about the kids or giving you quiet assurances that you’re his. That you’re his man. That you’re handsome no matter what.

You feel yourself relax against him. There’s still grossness in the back of your mind, in certain areas of your body. But it feels manageable now.

Logan has that effect on you. You know this moment is special. He doesn’t usually give out compliments like this. But it makes you feel warm. He’s soft when you need him to be.

And you’re safe, you’re feeling better, and you’re with him.

You press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, Logan.”

“I love you too, handsome.”

[hobie-enthusiast]

totally real req and totally not based off anything you just said but you should totally write hobie making out w a trans male reader and calling them pretty boy totally mhm

totally an actual req mhm mhm it fs isn’t based off anything you just said nope that would be crazy

-🫓

PRETTY LITTLE KISSES !

— hobie brown x transmasc!reader

— comfort and fluff, making out, transmasc reader, dysphoria, kinda suggestive, petnames (sweetheart, love, my boy, pretty boy, handsome), hobie asking for consent cuz he loves that, hobie has a tongue piercing, hobie also calls reader a boy, reader has self-image issues

— a rather dysphoric day prompts hobie to let you know just how he sees you

— 🫓 anon giving me an excuse to write whats on my mind 🫶

You had a long day.

Of course, you always had these days. But this one was particularly harsh. Nothing looked right about yourself in your eyes. You nitpicked at every little feature you despised, that made you look feminine.

And even when you weren’t criticizing yourself in the mirror, you lied in bed, crying about those features. Curled up in a ball with your legs to your chest, alone in your bed.

You voted against messaging Hobie about it. He probably was out saving the city like usual. He was the most amazing guy in the world, and he happened to be your boyfriend. You really couldn’t understand why.

Someone as charming and as cool as him could get anyone he wanted. You knew that.

Night fell, and you were lying in bed, staring at the wall in front of you. Your face was dried with tears by now. But any other thoughts of it would definitely make you cry again. Any reminder would push you back over the edge.

Hobie, meanwhile, opened the door to the apartment, walking in and setting his guitar to the side. “[Name], swee’heart, ‘m back.” He called out.

He expected that to get your attention, as it normally did. But it didn’t. Confused, he walked towards your shared bedroom, opening the door to see your body curled up in the corner. His eyes widened for a moment when he sees the state you’re in. And he feels terrible.

“Oh han’some..” He cooed as you turned over and sat up, face a mess. He made his way to you, sitting on the bed as his thumb runs over your cheek. “Wha’ happened?”

You glance down, sniffling. “It’s nothin’. I’m being stupid.”

“No no, tell me what happened.” He insists, holding your hands in his own.

You debate on if you should explain your troubles. You knew Hobie would never judge you for it, but you felt weak. Would he even know how to help? This isn’t something he has to experience.

“I feel.. horrible.” You start, body drooping down. “I don’t look exactly how I want, like a boy. Maybe I was stupid for transitioning, I don’t know. But I feel like I’m pretending. Undeserving. It sounds stupid, I know..”

Hobie shakes his head, rubbing your shoulder. “Hey now, ‘s not stupid. ‘s okay..” He whispers in a comforting tone. “Those are valid feelin’s. And ‘s okay ‘f tha’s got ya down.”

His words go through your head, but you still feel terrible. He was kind enough to comfort you. You appreciated that. It just didn’t feel like it was helping.

But he continued his words anyways.

“But you are a boy, swee’heart. ‘s how you feel and that shows. You’re so bloody han’some, and ‘m sorry that ya felt this way all day.” He says.

You sigh, glancing up at him. “But it’s pathetic. The way I let this get me down. It shouldn’t.”

“Love, ‘s normal to feel this way.”

“It just.. doesn’t feel like that to me Hobie.” You whisper, body slumping down against the headboard.

Hobie took this as his moment to climb above you, raising your chin to meet his eye. He knows you need reassurance right now, you feel terrible. He had to be the one to give it to you. And boy would he.

“This okay..?” He questions gently. When he sees your nod, he leans in closely. “I think ‘ur the mos’ han’some boy in th’ world. Ya don’t think ‘m a liar, do ya?”

Before you could protest, he closes the gap between the two of you, capturing your lips in his own. Hobie Brown has a way of captivating you, distracting you from any bad feeling. And this was it. Pulling you close to him as he lets his lips dance with yours.

One kiss turns into two, which turns into Hobie pulling you into him, to a more heated session. His hands roam your body as his lips work wonders on yours. He’s got you right where he wants you, and is not going to let you go. Working to help you forget all your previous worries.

He pulls away for a moment, noticing the red tint decorating your cheeks and swollen lips. He takes his thumb, running it down your lips. “My pre’ty boy.. so fuckin’ han’some.”

Hobie’s words make your cheeks even redder, embarrassment flushing through your body. He knows how to reassure you, that his words go above and beyond for you. That much is shown in how shyly you glance away, avoiding his gaze.

“Ah ah, eyes on me when ‘m takin’ to ya, han’some.”

Well shit. He’s got you now.

And he knows he does, the smirk on his face growing. “My han’some boyfriend.. such a pre’ty boy.. can’t ‘ave him thinkin’ he’s any less, yeah?”

Without time to respond again, he dives back into your kiss, this time asking for entrance into your mouth. His piercing already feels so cool on your lips, quite the contrast to your hot cheeks. He loves this feeling, it’s so insanely addictive.

Once you let him slide his tongue in, you’re in absolute bliss. Hobie knows what he’s doing. His movements are meticulous and calculated, allowing your mouth to feel the smooth metal of his tongue piercing. He was driving you insane on purpose. And he’s eating up every moment of it.

Hobie wanted you to forget any doubts you had of yourself. If he could take them away, he would. But for now, he settles for making you forget, giving you something else to obsess over. It’s the least he can do.

Large hands find home on your hips as he rubs circles on them, drawing out any sounds he can get from you. Drawn out whimpers and moans that show you’re enjoying this. To show that he’s doing something right. That you felt amazing right now.

And you give him just that.

“Mm.. there it is.” He muses, ego through the roof. “Such a pre’ty boy, makin’ pre’ty sounds.”

“Hobie..”

He shushes you quietly, hands continuing their motions. “‘s true. You’re s’ han’some, ‘m so fuckin’ lucky. You know that?”

You fein silence, embarrassment seeping through you with Hobie’s words. He always thought so highly of you, you couldn’t see what he did. But hearing it from him, the effortlessly cool punk who chose you, was so insanely comforting.

Hobie was the best thing to happen to you. All your insecurities seem to come to a halt whenever he reassures you, using his words and voice to remind you of how valid you are. He has a way with words, one that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

“C’mon swee’heart. You look like ‘ur thinkin’.” Hobie pulls you from your thoughts, planting gentle kisses on your jaw. “Wh‘s on your mind?” He questions.

You smile softly, hands placing themselves on his arms. “Just thinking.. ‘bout how grateful I am for you.”

“Oh? Are ya now?” He smiles as he brings his head back up to stare at you.

Your hands move to his cheeks. “Yeah. With everything you do for me, ‘m the luckiest person in the world.”

Hobie couldn’t help but smile softly at your words, ruffling your hair. “Of course. You’re my boy.” He said in a loving tone, caressing your cheek. “Neve’ gonna le’ ya think any less, ‘kay?”

You nod carefully as you plant another kiss on his lips. After, you leaned your head on his shoulder, basking in the comfort of his presence. Yeah, Hobie would never let you feel like this without some sort of comfort.

Not on his watch.

[communistkenobi]

i know next to nothing about queer theory, but i did exist online during (what felt like) huge exclusionary periods (ace discourse, bi/pan discourse, and transmedicalism were the big ones i remember)

i wonder if the first drive for sexuality being something unchangeable and intrinsic to you had something to do with those things, that queerness was fixed and definable, which meant that there were strict lines to be drawn about who was and wasn't gay/lesbian/bi which was only made worse by trans and nonbinary people who didn't exactly fit the previous molds

ill be doubly honest and say i only interacted w/ the community online at the time bc living in a homophobic country doesnt give you a lot of opportunities to meet up in person which means my view of the whole thing is skewed. im not sure if this makes any sense

What I’m about to say isn’t a diagnosis of the causes behind those discourses (partly because i don’t think there is a single reason animating those arguments), but like I guess in general a very baseline authority people fall back on is biology. Dominant reactionary discourses describe being gay trans etc as a lifestyle choice, as an active decision to participate in sexual and gendered degeneracy, and so a very appealing counter-claim to make is to point to biology - we are born this way, we can’t help who we are just as cishet people cannot help who they are, so you should accept us because we can’t change our identity. That rhetorical strategy requires/assumes a stable sexual and gendered ontology, a primary authority of the body that can’t be altered. While I believe this argument is fundamentally flawed, I think this is a straightforwardly easy argument to make re: sexual orientation. With trans and non-binary people this is more difficult because the foundational claim to our existence is that gender is mutable, is alterable, is subject to change (and also “I’ve felt this way since I was a child” is a pathological model of gender dysphoria that is enforced through medical and psychiatric institutions, not a reflection of lived reality for many, many trans and non-binary people). That doesn’t necessarily mean being transgender is a “choice” (although if someone said they woke up one day and chose to be transgender then that is a perfectly authentic justification), especially because “choice” in these discussions is often framed as individualised, private, detached from the social world - we are all just free agents making rational autonomous decisions in a field of equally rational choices, etc. which I think is a very impoverished way to understand choice and agency. Gender is an institution, it is a set of behaviours and performances that we choose to engage in in many different ways, and my use of the word ‘choice’ there does not imply these choices are free from coercion, violence, or harm. I chose to transition, I chose to engage in performances and behaviours that signal to the social world that I am a man - where that desire to make those choices arises from is another matter, and honestly not one I’m super interested in figuring out. Like if I discovered the ‘origin’ of my transness it wouldn’t make any difference to me. Similarly, how I choose to signal masculinity is very obviously bound up in dominant gendered assumptions. Trans people get accused of upholding gendered norms a lot, but that’s only because we aren’t taken seriously unless we do so! It is a survival mechanism that allows us to better navigate incredible amounts of violence and social exclusion, and arguing that our desire to do gender with our bodies comes from some grade-school assumption that dress = woman and pants = man or whatever is pure projection on the part of cis people. cis men think if they drink pink wine they’ll become gay - trans people are not the ones enforcing these norms here.

Getting a bit far afield here, so to loop back around - I think a stable state of sexual and gendered subjectivity or “being” is very appealing to a lot of people because it’s a way to dismiss reactionary fears and to justify to yourself that your oppression is entirely out of your control (which is true obviously!). Again I think these arguments are flawed because they buy into cisgendered and heteronormative ideas about gender and sexuality, that it is a biological burden imposed on us, that deviance is not a choice, that gender is done to us as opposed to being gendered agents, that we are similarly trapped in a sexual prison and should be accepted on those grounds, etc, but they have massive rhetorical power.  

As I’ve said before I’m a pretty staunch believer in Butler’s assertion that it is social all the way down, that gender is not discoverable in the body but rather the body is the medium through which gender is done in the world. Cis people choose to do gender just as much as trans people do! The only difference is that institutional architecture is set up to facilitate and make invisible (in very misogynistic and racist ways) those gendered practices. I think the stronger counter argument to make is that cis- and het-normativities are deeply violent and miserable status quos that need to be dismantled and discarded, that true choice can only emerge vis a vis gender and sexuality once those institutions are abolished, and that choice is actually a desirable end-goal - I want people to be able to participate in gender and sexuality as free agents, as non-coercive practices that are sites of great joy and wonder and pleasure. And this world is only possible if we accept that there is no gendered or sexual ontology, that it is all smoke and mirrors, that this current system’s primary function is to reproduce the nuclear family, to maintain the hereditary nature of class and wealth and race, to provide a standardised system of labour division, to maintain a distinction between the public and private labour realms, and so on.

So again like, is this what animates discourses about who gets to be counted as lgbtq/queer/whichever label you want to use? I don’t know. Probably some of it has to do with that. Queerness is in party a pathological category that is used to describe a failure to meaningfully reproduce cishet norms and practices, it is a set of relationships you have to legal and political and medical and administrative institutions (which is especially true for trans/non binary people). I like this definition because built into it is the possibility of change - I do not want trans people to be assimilated into cishet society, I want society to become transgender, thereby making transgender an irrelevant medical and legal category of person. Much like communism aims to abolish class by universalising the proletariat, I want to abolish gender by universalising the legal and political and medical mechanisms of transition. Only then will cisgenderism be abolished.

One thing I have been thinking a lot about is something a friend said to me, which is that human rights to do not begin with a definition of human - in the same way, I think trans rights do not require a definition of transgenderism. Just universalise and de-pathologise the mechanisms through which transition is expressed. Make it easy to change your name, remove all barriers to hormones and surgery, make everyone economically secure enough that they can change their wardrobe however they please,  desegregate all gendered spaces, de-gender clothing, remove gender markers from all documents, and so on and so on. Doing so would make both cisgender and transgender an irrelevant legal and political category and, again, allow choice to emerge as a meaningful mechanism of gender expression. 

This isn’t a comprehensive policy platform, there are many things I’m sure I haven’t thought through and a large portion of this discussion has to contend with the colonial and white supremacist nature of the western binary gender (bringing us into discussions of decolonial efforts, socialist efforts, and so on), but this is already getting long and I feel like I’m rambling. But like fundamentally I believe in a radical political imaginary that argues that all of this is subject to change and therefore any arguments about an essential gendered or sexual being is, at the end of the day, a reactionary description of gender and sexuality 

[donnieisaprettyboy]

Sorry if this is an inappropriate question but I'm having some self doubts. How did you know for sure that you were trans? I think I might be but I'm very confused if I'm feeling dysmorphia or dysphoria. Feel free to ignore if this is too personal

There’s nothing wrong with asking questions like this! :) gender is super confusing and sometimes it’s nice to have insight from other people

For the longest time I connected the discomfort with my body with trauma I experienced when I was younger. However, even as I worked through therapy and grew to a point that I am not as affected by my trauma, my discomfort remained.

Everytime I thought about people looking at me and seeing a boy, or even just looking at me and having no clue what my gender is, it made me feel kind of excited? I get heart flutter moments when I think about it.

I feel like I should add that most of my dysphoria is social. There are different kinds of dysphoria, and seeing this image is what made me realize that even though I didn’t struggle with my body too much, I had a strong desire to be seen as non-woman by society (not even necessarily as a man, just as something apart from “woman” if that makes sense).

(I cannot find the original artist for this so if anybody knows who it is please lmk)

When my friends started using he/they pronouns for me it felt really good. Even if I dress more feminine, I’m not binding, or if I’m actively trying to look more feminine, my friends still use he/they pronouns and it feels good!

My university has one of the best LGBTQ+ centers in the country, so I had a really good resource to reach out to and talk to people about. Which, for anybody reading this, you don’t have to be a university student to reach out to queer centers at universities! If you need resources, email them! :)

After quite a long time of experimenting with names, pronouns, styles, lots of research, etc. I came to the conclusion of “I’m just going to do me, whatever that is.” I use any pronouns, I dress however, I present differently depending on how I feel day to day :) people may call it genderfluid (which is fine!) but I’m personally sticking to more vague labels for my own comfort :) transmasc and genderqueer are what I use because it doesn’t feel confining!

I know a lot of this is kinda anecdotal, but I think the gist is there wasn’t one thing I noticed about myself that “confirmed” I’m trans. Also, you define what that means for you! There’s people who use they/them pronouns or different pronouns from those associated with their sex and don’t consider themselves trans! And there’s people who use pronouns that are associated with their sex and consider themselves trans! Technically because I use any pronouns, people can use she/her and that’s fine, but I’m still trans. I want top surgery, and I plan on cutting my hair into a more masculine cut, but I’m unsure about HRT. And after all that, I’m still trans!

I think this got kind of ramble-y but I really hope this all makes sense and helps to some capacity. And I encourage you to explore this and experiment! And if you decide “hey I’m actually not trans” that’s okay! Don’t be afraid to experiment and try things out :)

The trans experience is beautifully unique person to person, and your transness can look very different from someone else’s! :)

[draped1ncerecloth]

Hear me out, Nick Valentine x TransMasc Reader

First off, bro is hot. No reason for the robot detective to have my mind in a grip.

SECOND, the disconnect from his own body/personality makes it match with the struggles the reader would also have so erm 😞

Nick Valentine x Trans masc reader

Some good old fashioned fluff since he’s perfect for it.

Warnings: tooth decaying sweetness, mentions of body dysphoria, swearing, ooc Nick valentine.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

“Have you figured anything out yet?” Nick called from his desk, sorting through the paper work as you scanned over your own newly discovered clues. “Nothing. I can’t seem to figure out we’re this bitch could be camping out at!” You sigh in frustration at the current project you had spend days of restless nights, the heat of the summer days and the soaked sweat clothes you’re currently drenched in makes the already tedious task much more daunting. It’s been about a year now since you first met Nick, him helping you with your issues and you of course saving him from people who wanted him dead. You hadn’t really known why Nick had been caught but all that had mattered was that you saved his ass and he was eternally grateful.

“Well, the sooner we are to figuring this out, the sooner we are to finding this man and putting him behind bars.” Nick called back. He never really took much bite of your tone or the way you would grow even more agitated by his words in the current moment. There was nothing he had done wrong but they way your very old and worn binder had been cutting into you after a whole days work, and the way your clothes clung made the whole action of breathing so much more difficult. Pain spreading through your body and the lack of oxygen made the oncoming headache much worse. But hey, in the end at least it was more comfortable and reassuring than anything else.

After some shuffling of the files Nick had neatly written and tucked away had been dropped and the way you let out a loud sigh, Nick finally popped out of his chair and asked if you were doing ok. Unfortunately this pissed you off to no extent. “No! I’m not alright Nick! I and tired I’m hot I can breath and worst of all, I can’t seem to figure this out!” Your hands thrown in the air as you fully turn to him, he watched in silence as he let you express what’s you felt. He knew you weren’t mad at him or whatever he might’ve said but he didn’t understand what had you this upset to begin with. “Hey, calm down kid, why don’t you take a seat and just breath.”

You threw the remaining files in your hand, down on the table and laughed. “I fucking can’t breath, I’m hot, I’m exhausted, I feel like my ribs are about to break, I need to take this off!” He watched in shock as you quickly removed your shirt and revealed your binder, quickly shoving your shirt back down and sucking as much air as you could. The pain was excruciating, and your back cracked from new found freedom of mobility. Then you sat. Only then did you start to cool down. To relax. To focus on breathing and letting the pain wash over you and out. “Forgot to take it off again?” He asked quietly, walking over to your side and rubbing your shoulders. “Mmhm.” He said, taking in his touch. “That’s unsafe, you need to be more mindful about these things, you could get hurt you know?” Nick tried to comfort you. “It’s unsafe but for me, I feel more safe. It’s….” You stopped yourself.

“It’s what dear?” He questioned. Worry washing over him. “It’s not like you really realize just how comforting it is to bind.” You winched at the way you said it, the way you doubted how much he cared made you feel guilty.

“You’re right, I don’t know the full extent of how much you need it kid, but I do know how important the comfort of needing something like that can be.” The synth let out a sigh and moved to sit on the desk in front of you. “Look, you know it doesn’t make me see you as any less. I am not bothered by you needing to take a break from binding. But it can be dangerous if done incorrectly, and you know this.”

“I know. I just don’t know how to explain it. It’s like, without it. I am just. Wrong.” You tried to puzzle your words together but only ending with half made sentences. “You feel as if, it is not who YOU are. That you’re incomplete.” You nodded. “Look kid, I love you, I hate to see you in pain. I can’t say I know how you feel but I myself have my own feelings about myself too.” He removed his coat and took his fedora off, setting them on the table. “A robot programmed to basically be part human. Used for something that I never turned out to fit. There’s no one like me, I don’t know who or what I am. But I do know that even though I can’t be at peace with what is missing, I do know I make peace with what is there.”

Nick and you talked back and forth about your own insecurities and he himself opened up slightly about his. Though things were different for each other, you still found that you felt the same about these situations. Standing up, you wrapped your arms tightly around him and Nick did the same in return. “I love you Nick, thank you.” You mumbled to him.

“I love you too darling. Now, let’s pick up these files and get you cleaned up and relaxed. It’ll all be okay.”

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Authors note: Sorry this is short, I haven’t gotten much time w Nick valentine yet!! I do wanna explore his companion ship now that I finally got to play with him♥️