#it might be genderfluidity having a moment. it might be stress. it could be anything

[mars-ipan]

the hinata kinning is strong tonight

[yellowsugarwords]

i know this is probably useless information but i just wanted to let you know that your twdg headcanons/scenarios/reactions etc. are the reason i was able to find out i was trans (genderfluid they/them).

so thanks for helping me figure that out lol. i couldn’t be any happier being non binary, im really glad i came across your blog.

and if you’re still taking requests / writing for twdg, can you write some reactions / headcanons of you coming out to them as genderfluid? (if you haven’t already)

stop are you for real???? literally crying rn omg this is the best thing ever. I’m so happy for you and proud of you. you are so loved and accepted!!!

here you go, my friend :’) I’m gonna do a handful of my fav characters across the series

Lee: Lee turned, devoting his full attention to Y/N. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” Y/N was refusing to make eye contact and was fiddling with the hem of their shirt - something they only did when they were stressed. Naturally, Lee was worried. “I have something important I need to tell you.” Lee leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, open and ready to listen. Y/N squeezed their eyes closed. “I’m genderfluid.” They paused, waiting for any type of reaction, before opening their eyes and meeting Lee’s stare. “I’m non-binary. They/them.” They cleared their throat. “I just wanted you to know.” Lee smiled, kneeling down to their height and pulling them into his arms. “Thank you for telling  me.” Was all he said. It was all he needed to say. It was all Y/N wanted him to say. Y/N closed their eyes and wrapped their arms around him, squeezing him tightly. 

Luke: Luke was in the kitchen, attempting to make a small cup of coffee. Y/N walked in and smiled. “Good morning,” “It would be if I can finally get a cup,” Luke said passively. Their system was far more difficult than it used to be pre-apocalypse. “I miss the coffee maker days. Way less work.” Y/N smirked, leaning against the counter near him, watching as his coffee slowly began to brew in the water he was boiling. “If you want a cup, you might have to wait ‘til next year.” The two chuckled happily, Y/N shifting nervously in their spot. “Look, I didn’t come here for coffee. I came here to tell you something.” Luke looked away from his current project. “What’s going on? You okay?” “Yeah, I am.” They answered quickly, rubbing their hands together as a means of fidgeting. They sighed and looked around, ensuring it was just the two of them for them to speak. “I’m genderfluid. Non-binary.” They shifted on their feet, but maintained direct eye-contact. “I just wanted people close to me to know who I really am.” Luke paused for a moment, then smiled warmly. Without a word, he swept them into his arms and hugged them, holding the back of their head close. “Thank you for trusting me with something so important to you.” Y/N’s eyes were wide. They had hoped for acceptance, but this? This was beyond kind. Beyond sweet. It was so….Luke. They were beyond thankful. As they pulled away, Luke squeezed their shoulders. “And look at that. Now my coffee’s done. Another reason I have to thank you.” Y/N smiled, hugged their arms to their chest, thrilled at how kidney he had not only taken the news, but reassured rhythm as well.

Javier: Javier was busy taking stock of the rations Richmond had. He was chewing on the  inside of his cheek, attempting to do the math to see how many portions each person in Richmond could get to keep them on track for storing food for the winter. In the middle of a calculator, Y/;N wandered up. “How’s it going?” Javi groaned. “Painfully. Care to help?” he passed them the clipboard and Y/N took it, smirking to themselves. “I can, but I kinda need to tell you something first.” Javi crossed his arms, smiling. “If you’re taking over the math, you can tell me anything.” Y/N chuckled, slightly nervously. “Well, uh,” they said, beginning to feel sheepish. “I’m, uh, non-binary.” Javi blinked, staring back at them. “Okay,” he said softly, nodding understandingly. “You're not shocked?” Y/N asked, releasing the tight hold they had on the clipboard and allowing her fingers and chest to relax. “No,” he said with a shrug. “I care about you being happy.” He smiled warmly, allowing his hands to rest on both of Y/.N’s shoulders. “If you’re happy, so am I. And I think you’ve been looking happier than ever these days.” Y/N smiled, chest warm, shocked that he even noticed. “You feel more like yourself. I've loved seeing that.” Y/N turned away, smiling to themselves, trying to blink back happy tears.

Kate: Kate smiled and took a seat, wanting Y/N to see how her attention was directed to them. “What’s up?” She asked, hands folded on her lap. Y/N took a deep breath, eyes directed to the ground, squeezing their fingers together in their lap. “I’m non-binary.” They said, plainly and factually. Finally, they looked up, their stare meeting Kate's. Genderfluid. I don’t identify with one set gender.” Kate hesitated, then nodded and smiled. “Okay,” she said softly. It was as though it wasn’t a big deal to Kate, but not dismissively. As thought was natural. Normal, even. Kate leaned in, wrapping her arms around a confused and stunned Y/N. “Thank you for trusting me with the real you,” she said softly, closing her eyes in bliss to hold back her happy tears. For so long she had wanted a relationship like this with Y/N - she wanted them to trust her - and she finally had confirmation that they did. “I love you no matter what.” She hushed. She could feel Y/N’s happy tears hit her shoulder as she stoked the back of their head lovingly.

Gabe: Gabe turned, smiling as Y/N sat down beside him. The sun had finally set, and the two of them were the only ones remaining at the bonfire, charged with waiting until it finally died out before going to bed. “I have something I need to tell you.” Y/N said, voice soft and low. The night felt so quiet, they felt as though they needed to whisper. Gabe nodded, poking a stick at the flames in front of them. “What’s that?” Y/N took a deep breath, but knew they weren’t going to hesitate. They would start to second guess themselves too much. “I’m genderfluid.” There was a beat of silence as Gabe turned to them. “Non-binary.” They furthered. Gabe smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “What? Did you think I wouldn’t be okay with that?” He chuckled to himself, tossing his stick fully into the fire. “Thanks for telling me.” He said softly and genuinely. Y/N smiled, thankful for his reaction. It was exactly what they needed to hear.

Louis: Louis was in the middle of fiddling aground on the piano, scribbling down notes on the scrap piece of paper in front of him. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” “Yeah, sure.” Louis said passively, scribbling even faster before he forgot what notes he had just played. “It’s important.” Suddenly, Louis froze and turned, his hand still holding his pencil. He quickly abandoned it against the piano and slid over, patting for them to join him. “Are you okay?” Y/N sat down. “Is everything okay?” He asked again. Y/N took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something important and Iwant you to not be weird about it.” Louis raised a brow. While he was known to joke, he wouldn’t ever tease them about something seemingly so important. “I’m non-binary. Gender-fluid. I don’t identify as a boy or a girl. I’m somewhere in-between. Kind of.” They were beginning to ramble, but before they could fall too deeply into it, they looked up from their quivering hands and saw Louis, smiling tenderly at them. “What?” Y/N finally asked. Louis chuckled softly. “Nothing. I’m just glad that you trust me with something so special.” Carefully, he put one of his hands over their shaking ones. “You’re okay. You’re accepted here with us. With me.” It was the perfect thing to say, but Y/N didn’t have the words to express that to him in the moment. Instead, they gave a teary smile, their chest warm.

Violet: Violet was lounging on the roof, staring at the stars, her hands propped behind her head. “Can’t sleep?” Y/N asked from the entrance to the roof. Violet turned, smiling, then shrugged without moving from her relaxed position. “Kind of. You?” “Kind of.” Y’/N responded. In reality, there was so much on their mind it was hard for them to think of sleep. They wandered up and sat beside Violet, kicking their arms out behind them and leaning onto them, glancing up at the bright night sky. “It's nice to stargaze without city lights,” Violet mentioned in passing. Y/N hummed in agreement, then averting their eyes to the ground below their swinging feet. “Violet?” Violet hummed in response, as if giving them a non-verbal ‘go ahead’. “I need to tell you something.” Violet turned to them, eyes intrigued. She said nothing, just stared and waited. Y/N could feel her eyes boring holes into the side of their skull. “I’m genderfluid.” They said, It was all they said. It was all they needed to say. Violet smiled, using her elbow to gently nudge Y/N. “What? Did you think I wouldn’t be accepting or something?” Violet chuckled/, finally sitting upright. She tossed an arm over their shoulders, giving them a faint side-hug. “Thanks for telling me. I feel honored.”

Mitch: Mitch was whittling a knife out of boredom, sitting on the Ericson front steps as he waited for his watching shift. He was to stand on the lookout tower for the night, but had to wait until the sun was fully set before he could trade off with Ruby. “Hey,” Y/N said, nervously stuffing their hands into their jacket pockets behind him. “You busy?” Mitch scoffed. “Please.” With a smile, Y/N sat down and joined him. “What’s up?” “Well,” Y/N sighed. Mitch tensed. That was never a good sign. “There’s something I really want to tell you.” Mitch was never good at this type of confrontation; a kind that could be emotional or difficult for one or both parties. He turned to look at them without saying a word, clutching his knife and stick tightly - nervously - in his palms. “I want you to know that I’m non-binary.” They nodded to themselves, as if saying it out loud confirmed it for them as well. “Genderfluid.” They continued. Mitch’s shoulders relaxed, the panic he had washing away. “Oh,” he said softly. Y/N turned to look at him, a fleeting look of pain in their eyes, before it vanished. Mitch smiled and turned back to his stick. “I thought you were going to deliver bad news. Not cool news.” Y/N smiled, nudging his shoulder teasingly, chuckling to themselves.

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 💌☕️♡

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

hey so i have a kind of issue ive been pondering over for a while. i currently identify as a trans man, but for a while i thought i might be genderfluid and identified the two possible "genders" i switched between. i gave them names, ill call them s and k here. s was my more feminine gender, i used to describe them as my "girl" gender but now it makes me kind of uncomfortable identifying even partly as a girl. for a while, s used he/she/it pronouns. k uses he/him pronouns and is strictly masculine presenting. sometimes, i will feel like a mix of both "genders" and to be honest, it confuses me because more often than not they feel very distinct and separate, but weirdly similar at the same time? because, well, i usually think theyre both still me. but recently ive been wondering if they really are both me? if that makes any sense at all. because ive been thinking that the two "genders" might not be genders at all but instead like, separate personalities? because my interests change sometimes slightly and sometimes drastically when my "gender" changes, or sometimes i feel conflicted on what i *should* be interested in, if that makes sense? like both hypothetical interests are there, sure, but i feel confused on which one im supposed to like at the moment. and now that im really thinking about this, and typing it out, i have a feeling i might have some kind of plurality?? but im also scared that im getting way ahead of myself and jumping to conclusions, because the "genders" or "personalities" or whatever they are, people maybe, arent always so clearly distinct from one another? because i feel like if they are separate personalities than they both come from a singular base personality maybe? and theres also the issue that if they are two separate personalities or people, than I don't know which one is the real me.

sorry if this was like, really confusing. i just would really like some input on what you think this could be. if its not too much trouble, i hope this could be answered quickly because it's something thats really bothering me but if thats too much stress or whatnot, like you have other asks to get to first, than i totally understand and no pressure! thank you in advance

Hi anon,

It's fairly possible that you could be plural given the experiences you described. It's common for people who don't realize they are systems to experience their plurality in terms of shifting their gender, name, and pronouns, as well as their interests, likes, and dislikes. It's possible that the shifts could be different parts fronting, and it's also possible that the blending between them could be chalked up to blurriness or being cocon. It's understandable that the idea you may be plural could be causing some unease or uncertainty, even as to who you are personally, and please know that you're not alone.

However, as a nonprofessional and as someone who doesn't know you personally, it's not my place to say for certain whether or not you are plural. This could be something to explore further with the guidance or mediation of a mental health professional such as a therapist, ideally one who specializes in dissociative disorders and/or LGBT+ experiences. A therapist, especially one with these concentrations, could help you figure out whether this is to do with gender or if there's something more going on.

Please know that it's okay to explore your identity and discover who you truly are. Identity is a complex and personal journey, it can often fluctuate, and it can take time to understand ourselves fully. Remember to practice self-care, being gentle and patient with yourself along the way. You deserve the space and time to embrace and understand all parts of yourself.

Best of luck in getting to the bottom of this. If anyone has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[voidwritesstuff]

Angel Of Lost Hope AU

Cw: alusions to ptsd, nightmares and divorce, Desmond is in a coma like state.

Summary: Desmond Wales lost his battle to Agent Rainbow, now trapped within his own mind. Luckily, his patients find a way to reach put to him and possibly bring him back to the waking world. Alusions to age gap (between Lucas and jerico)

->AU idea Belongs to @theallenshorefangirl I'm just merely writing it.

->"Jerico" is my self insert. They're genderfluid and in this fic they use they/them.

->Sorry for the weird formatting.

->reblogs appreciated.

Well, this was a pickle.

Milton-haven and Its residents have been ramsacked with crime,insecurity and violence. Amidst it all people took comfort in the smaller things in life, loved ones, Friends, and some even went to therapy.

The pickle in question was that the town's reisdent psicologist, Dr.Desmond Wales, was...out of comission. Well, that was one way to put it.

--Well? Have you guys thought of anything?-- Virginia asked softly, handing Allen a cup of tea-- here

Allen, who was sitting on the couch looks up at the rest of his companions, his attention diverted to the Virginia for a quick moment-- thanks-- he answered giving her a nervous smile before returning to the rest of his companions.

Rosemary sighs audibly, passing a hand through her forehead, stress settled deep within her mind. In the background they can hear the heart monitor noise coming from Lucas' bedroom. --if we can create a diluted solution of agent rainbow, we might have a chance at taking him back, but if we dont do it right theres a risk we either succumb to our shadow or we die

Max raised a brow,arms crossed over his chest-- Well isn't that wonderfull?. How the hell do we beat our "shadow" self?

--Well,we'll have to fight them. Not in a physical sense but rather....-- the scientist trails off trying to find the right word-- accept them? They are all we repress About ourselves.. it would be a very shocking first engagement. Thats the part that could kill us, besides the chemical melting our brain

--Well that doesn't sound appealing-- Virginia muttered and Allen couldnt help but chuckle a little.

At this, the only person in the room that has not yet spoken was Lucas, the owner of the cabin that they were all in. The ex military Man leans on the door frame, arms crossed and setting his weight on his right leg. Hes deathly silent.

--Lucas?-- Rosemary calls out-- whats up?

--I'm going in-- he simply replied-- Now I understand if y'all don't. Max has his family and the rest of ya have a life. I lost enough people in mine, and 'm not 'bout to lose 'nother one

Then, the room quietens. Theres a sense both dread and indecisiveness, the sound of the heart monitor is almost deafening its both a grim reminder of why they were all there and a sliver of hope that Desmond was still in the realm of the living.

Allen's eyes fall on his tea,dark as night yet sweet to the taste,Much like him, he looked intimidating and people didn't really like him much, but truthfully he was a sweet guy, he just wanted to help people-- I'm going too, he helped me a lot and..it wouldn't be right for me to not help him back.

Rosemary looked at Desmond and then Lucas-- seems fitting I go too, I was the one who brought back that thing from retirement. I gotta set things right.

Virginia was nervously picking at the hem of her sleeve, the purple material soft to the touch-- if theres anything I can do to help desmond then... I'm in

Max sighed, scratching the back of his neck-- well... the doc here has been a great help. I might need to call my daughter first

Lucas' face softened, he turns to Max and says-- ya don't gotta come with, ya have a little girl to take care of

The other Man just let out a somber huff of air through his nose-- without desmond I can't see 'er. Court mandated sessions and all...even if I changed therapists I doubt they'll understand me like the doc did...

--Well...it's settled then?-- Rosemary asked-- we're all going? -- she gets a Group nodd in response-- 'kay..I'll need some time to dilute the chemicals so maybe a couple of days

Then Allen perked up-- just one quick question...if we're all there... who stays here to look after us?

Lucas' lips purse, his fists tighten but then he relaxes his hands, shaking his head a little. Rosemary notices this and asks-- you have an idea Lucas?

--I...do-- the ex soldier replied-- there's this other patient of Desmond, young gal. I met 'em some weeks back I thought I was running late to an appointment with Desmond but turns out I wasn't, talked to them in the Hall..-- he sighed-- I just don't like the idea to rope them into this, they're young and I know what being pulled into things you dont understand can cause

--well, If its not them...-- Virginia trailed off looking at Rosemary-- you could guide us through the...what did you call it again? Collective unconcious?

--Yes-- the scientist answered-- but... I have to go-

--You can help from this side,you understand this thing better than any of us, you can pay your dues that way-- Lucas reassured.-- we'll need a voice to guide us, we can use radio wave signals to communicate

--That's actually a great idea-- she replied-- well...guess I'm staying..

--Not to be that guy...-- Max interjected-- but we should need a way to pull us all out in case something happens on this side

--If I could make your bodies process the diluted solution faster, you'll be able to come to conciousness...there might be side effects like..maybe you all hear eachother's voices in your own head-- rosemary explained-- wont be for long, just until the entirety of the solution is gone from your bodies

--So you're saying we would have telepathy?!-- Allen exclaimed and Virginia looked at him as if he was onto something.

The scientist chuckled at the kid-like joy Allen had displayed-- something like that

--Cool!-- the lighthouse keeper mutters with a smile.

--Well, Rosemary and I Will stay here and figure how to dilude the chemicals,you Guys should go get ready, give us a few days-- Lucas answered sitting up Straight and pushing himself off the door frame he was leaning on.

After a few moments each person within the cabin leave, Allen and Virgnia seem lost in a quiet yet energetic conversation, Max seems deep in thought.

Rosemary looks at the floor for a moment-- you know...we could use some back up

Lucas Turned to the scientist with mild anger on his face-- Rosemary...

--Listen. I'm not saying rope them into it. I'm saying let them check in on me every few days, bring groceries and stuff

The ex military stands besides the scientist,arms crossed-- and risk 'em being followed and endager our mission?

--you care about 'em, don't you? -- she turns to him with a brow raised.

--W-well I care about them as anyone would do-- he answered, voice stammering and eyes darting away

--Y'know what I mean, Cole

--It's none of yer bussiness-- He answered.

--if anyone from mayer saw you talking to them they might be in danger-- she Warned-- don't think this whole thing won't go unnoticed

--The hell do you expect me to tell 'em?! "Oh hey why dont you come stay at my cabin in the middle of the Woods,why? Oh the goverment is looking for you!" 

--When you put it like that-- rosemary started, but then she sighed-- look I can call them and tell 'em I call on behalf of Desmond. The Office isn't a safe spot...in fact the only thing keeping us undercover is the tin Foil you set up and the curtains being drawn-- Then she took a moment to think-- Unless...how were they when talking to you? Did they lean in? Copy your body stance?

--uh..I guess? I noticed their voice go down a few pitches-- he answered-- why?

--that's great! Okay here's the thing. Call 'em,tell 'em you wanna meet and make 'em come here to the park -- she started,noticing the increasing flusteredness of her companion-- what?

Lucas scratched the back of his neck-- how do I put this? I don't know how to talk to people,I'm outta practice

--You're talking to me right now

--You know what I mean-- he huffed,scowling at the smirk the woman gives him-- don't look so smug

--So you do have a crush on 'em-- she smirked-- adorable

--You're the worst-- he complained,folding his arms over his chest.

--Look. Chicks dig a Man in uniform-- rosemary started-- what's the worst that could happen? They say no and that's the end of that

Lucas gives an "are you kidding me?" Look to the woman and answers--it's not that easy!

She stands up from sitting on the table and faces her companion--Trust me,Cole. You call em up, and say "Hey,I really enjoyed our talk the other day. can we meet at Elysium Park?" Its infalible, you're nice and honest and it's a place usually filled with people which means they know that there Will be people around,which makes it safe! Witnesses and all that

--And if they ask how I got their number?-- he asks.

--Phone books!

--Great,make me look like a creep why dont you?

Rosemary rolled her eyes-- fine. You can tell them Desmond gave you their number

--Doesn't that violate patient confidentiality?

--Seesh you're complicated! Just call 'em up! Go!-- she Gently pushed him towards the phone resting on a coffee table-- Check if their file are on that paper stack over there-- she pointed at one of the other sofas.

--This is unbelivable-- he growled with warm cheeks and a scowl.

--You'll thank me later!-- rosemary shouted as her companion left, Taking great enjoyment in the way Lucas stomps off towards the files grumbling curses.

Rumaging through the files he finally finds the one belonging Jerico, he sighs under his breath. After finding the number he closes the file a little too abruptly And quickly starts pressing the numbers on his phone.

From where he was sitting,Lucas could see the smug face rosemary was giving him. He finishes pressing the number and puts the speaker part of the phone against his trapezius mouthing-- Fuck off -- and then when she laughs he gives her the middle finger. A really mature interaction between two adults, as you can tell.

Finally, Jerico picks up. Their voice startles Lucas a little bit-- Uh, Hello?

--uhm Hi,it's Lucas the guy you met ar Dr.Wales' Office..

--Oh hey Lucas!-- Their tone was cheery and oddly energetic-- how are you?

--Oh uh- 'M alright. How about you?

--Tired but fine. Glad summer break is starting,university has been kicking my ass-- they reply.

--Yeah I bet. Hey lissen uh- I really enjoyed our talk the other day, can we meet up?-- he hears them squeal on the other side of the phone, he has to clear his throat as blush spreads across his cheeks. Good to know they were excited to see him too.

--Yes. Uh yes of course! Where'd you think we should meet up?

--Elysium park? On the entrance to the dinner?

--cool! Sure. What time?

--Does tomorrow twelve am work for you?-- he asked, looking at Rosemary whose just making kissy lips at him. He grabs a crumpled ball of paper and throws it at her, barely missing his target. Damn he had good aim.

--Yes. It does-- they answer-- One more thing though, How did you get house number?

His cheeks go dark red, he has to cough a little to play off just how flustered he was-- Ah well the doc gave it to me

On the other side of the line,Jerico had their brows raised. They humm as if to say "huh. Interesting" and then they answer-- alright then. See you tomorrow, take care!

--Y-You too, see ya

They hang up first, Lucas takes a quick moment to snap out of it. He clears his throat and settles the phone back to where it was previously.

--Sooo?--Rosemary asked peeking from behind the doorframe, Like a nosy younger sibling.

--I guess I'll be seein' 'em-- he replied looking away, arms folded over his chest and acting all tough and rough.

--Wonderfull!-- she squeals-- they grow up so fast

--aintcha s'pposed to be workin' or somethin'?! Dontcha have better things to do?!-- he exclaimed his flusteredness increasing.

--I'm waiting on some equipment to finish running a few formulas to dilute Agent Rainbow-- she replied nonchalantly,shrugging a little-- I'm just killing time

--I'm going out, 'M gonna practice my aim-- he grabs his jacket haphazardly thrown on the one person sofá and walks to the entrance to his cabin muttering-- so Next time I throw something at you I actually hit you square in the face -- he of course didn't mean it. He was trying to look all tough and manly, rosemary didn't buy in his threat.

Meanwhile, Max had just arrived at his house, muttering under his breath. The door of his house opens a little too roughly, he closes it with a slam and locks it. His jacket is thrown to the nearest chair and as he goes to the fridge he says-- weird chemicals, governent conspiracies...the hell did you got into now Nyaagard.

He takes out a beer and opens it hitting the underside of the bottlecap on the corner of the table-- Unbelivable...

Sitting down on his couch, he sighs audibly, he lands roughly against the cushioned surface. His feet propped up on the coffee table, he looks at the ceiling taking a swig from his drink.

Max's eyes dart to the phone Next to the TV. He had to at least try and call Madison, let her know he would be out,make sure his little girl was alright.

Another sigh falls past his lips yet again. Swirling his beer he takes another sip and stands up, leaving the bottle on the coffee table and picking up the phone

Soon he dials up the number of his ex-wife's home and he anxiously knocks on the wooden surface of the dresser where the phone and TV rested on.

A woman picks up,he knows the voice--Hello?

--Hey...-- He starts.

--Im hanging up

--No wait! Look, Can I just talk to Maddie? I gotta leave for a job soon and I just want to hear her voice

Theres a short but heavy silence that Is interrupted by his ex wife calling out to Madison. A smile appears on his face as he hears his daughter's excited steps up to the phone.

--Daddy!-- Madison exclaims.

--Hello sweetheart-- Max says softly, a kind of softness reserved just for his kid-- how are ya?

--'m fine! Oh I had this thing happen to me at school n'-- Max diligently hears his daughter go on a rant for a solid ten minutes, smiling tenderly.

When she finished he adds-- thats really interesting sweetie, Hey lissen, Daddy has to go away for a bit. I'm not sure when I'm comin' Back but.. I love ya sweetheart

--Love ya too daddy! Good luck!!

He chuckled and said his goodbyes to his kid, then his ex wife adds-- whatever you do,be carefull

--I Will, Keep her safe for me

--Will do

He hangs up and lets out a heavy sigh. Scratching the back of his neck, knocking on wood one last time before returning to the sofá and resume his drinking.

By sunfall Rosemary had the exact formula, she was nothing but efficient. She would spend the rest of the night up until she managed to dilute Agent Rainbow. Next morning Lucas would find Rosemary passed out on her desk.

As the sun rises and Lucas makes his way to the coffee machine, he barely got any sleep at night. Night terrors wouldn't leave him alone.

But, he had to focus on the good things. He was a step closer to saving desmond, and...he could see his crush before plunging into the uncertainty and almost certain death of his mission. Lucas decided to start by having breakfast and leaving a mug of coffee besides rosemary.

He pats her back shaking her a little-- Rose? Wake up. I made ya coffee

The scientist grumbles that she would wake up soon and he finished his own coffee, making his way to a duffel bag to Grab some of his clothes and walking up to the bathroom, he had to get ready for the day ahead

[many-lovely-queer-creatures]

The KPS:

"Hello and heya!! My name's Vivian. Vivian Vex. (She/They) Transfem butch/futch/femme Cyborg/Cybernetic Succubus, but who I am doesn't revolve around sex and violence (anymore). It revolves around humor, VERY dumb memes like that barely qualify legally as memes, MLP, Fallout, Halo, and loving and supporting the people around me, not least of all my 15-year Partner and love of my life, Zander<3 I'm a surrogate mom to a lot of people, and will do almost- and will do *anything* to protect trans kids, trans people, or any marginalized folk. I love you. And I'm proud of you. I'm glad you're here<3"

"Hiya!! :3 My name's AlexZander Maxwell Belmont, (They/He/She/Cat) transmasc genderfluid catboy/catgirl/catenby! I'm a mage from the tropics, and beneath my 'Smol evil catte bean >:3' persona, I'm very soft-spoken, and try to be kind and understanding towards everyone, as does Viv, my Wife and love forever<3 I like Half-Life, fresh fruit, Halo, and being outdoors! prrrbt prbt :3"

"Good Evening, I assume. My name is Professor Yarrow or Wilson (depending on my mood) Turingley Hrothwell. Pronouns are He/They. I'm chief of research and development, and head of Psychologistics at the Kintsugi-Pentimento Society. I enjoy tea, research (particularly into plurality and other mental matters) and spending quiet moments with my loved ones: My partner Zander, and my wonderous GNC son Jonas. Warm regards, Yarrow/Wilson."

"Hai!!! :D My name's Pinkie Pie, and I'm a kinda ace-spectrummyy bisexualish lesbainish pony with she/her and im trying out pink/pink pronouns!! Im the most recent member of the system, and i love everypony here! They're all so nice and friendly and supportive, oh, I really like sweets and parties and Twilight and soda and baking and making friends and candy and everything! Everywhere! If I could, i'd give everypony in the whole world a biiiiig hug!! I LOVE ALL OF YOU, DONT FORGET TO SMILE AND DO STUFF THAT MAKES YOU SMILE! LOVE YOUUUU!!"

"hey. my name's Jonas. Jonas Kujo. some of my friends call me Shen, or sometimes Jojo. Aroace, he/they pronouns please. im a pretty soft, quiet dude. but... i love trans people. my people. I'll do anything, and fight anyone for you. Pinky promise. i have a fire in me that won't go out. I'm a JoJo. and I'm gonna save the world."

Not pictured/without comment: Smiley, a Yes Man fictive who helps out when other folks are under a lot of emotional toil, and has repaired me several times after stress damage<3 -Vivian

"Howdy! Ah'm Workhorse, an Applejack fictive, she/her. I'm just now startin' to stretch my legs, but y'all might hear from me soon. Take care, y'all! :D"

Raer Gorebeest, It/Its/Itself, is a Wendigo who enjoys drawing with crayons, scaring people, biting things, and and many other violent possibly triggering actions, but don't worry!! It's actually very sweet and lovey, and kinda just a big kid! -Zander

All others didn't want a spotlight, but are still as much a part of the family as an others. Feel free to ask about us and stuff, we're pretty open, friendly folks.

[thechangeling]

But you like her better: Part 2

Sorry it's been a minute! I hope you like it.

Cw: Some brief ableism, mentions of internalized biphobia, and self injurious stimming.

2013

It was raining when 16 year old María Machado Sotomayor first met Kit Herondale.

Marí had always loved the sound of the rain. It was peaceful and rhythmic, creating a nice tingly feeling in her skull running straight down her spine. It also good for the plants. Which meant that Marí arrived (on time for once) at her favorite class in a pretty good mood.

Marine biology was their one of their three special interests, the other two being lacrosse and Base guitar. So Bio was usually pretty fun for them. However this time was different.

Her mood was instantly dampened when she walked into class and saw someone new sitting in her usually seat. A blond, short and white kid who looked far too pretty for his own good. A new kid most likely.

A new kid who didn't realize that Marí always sat by the window every single day. It was their spot. Still Marí was determined not to overreact. They marched over to the new kid  and approached him with their best masking smile.

Remember eye contact. She told herself. Keep your tone light and breezy but not too lifeless. Smile. Appear friendly and non threatening. Try not to sweat. Try not to scream.

"Hi excuse me," Marí began in a sickly sweet tone. "That's actually my seat! Sorry!"

The boy instantly looked embarrassed and apologetic. "Oh I'm sorry!" He blushed. "I didn't realize there was assigned seating." He had an American accent, California maybe?

Wonderful. A white American boy. Just what they needed.

Marí chewed their lip and fought the urge to rock or tap. "There isn't actually," they admitted. "I just usually sit there. So can you please move?"

Now the new kid looked a little offended. A cold look settled over his face. "Well why should I?" He bristled. "This seat isn't really yours. It's not like it has your name on it."

Marí rolled her eyes in frustration. "I tried that already but then I got in trouble."

He stared at them curiously for a moment. Marí took the opportunity to break eye contact finally and scuff their heel against the floor. They were wearing the new black suede chunky heels with the gem stones that Marí had gotten when they went thrifting with their friends.

"María!" The harsh voice of her teacher snapped her back into reality. Everyone had arrived and taken their seats while she was arguing with the American and now everyone was staring at her. "Could you please explain why you are not seated young lady?" She snapped in her extra pretentious sounding posh English accent.

The one that said, "I'm better than you."

Marí tried not to growl at being called a young lady. They weren't feeling particularly female today. Not that Marí was going to bother explaining that to some old British hag.

"He won't get out of my seat!" Marí protested. Instantly laughter broke out around the classroom. Cruel mocking laughter that made Marí feel like her skin was crawling.

"It's ok!" The new kid cried out, practically jumping out of Marí's seat. "I'll move! I'll go sit over here." He grabbed his bag and moved to the back of the room as quickly as possible.

Marí smiled in spite of themself. His random act of kindness was surprising, but they were grateful. They took their seat near the window and sighed in relief.

Marí would always look back on that day with fondness no matter what. It may not have seemed like much to him, but it meant the world to her. After Bio class she had asked Kit to come eat with her and her friends. They had made their introductions and the rest was history.

They became close friends very quickly, bonding over movies and music. They sent each other playlists of their favorite songs and songs that reminded them of each other. Marí made Kit a queer playlist with songs by queer artists and told Kit that they were bisexual and a demigirl. They hadn't even told their friends that last part yet at that point.

Marí also told Kit that they liked to use she/they pronouns, but so far was only using them online. Kit asked Marí a lot of questions then confessed to Marí that he was also bisexual but he was still kinda getting used to it.

"I grew up in a shitty situation," Kit had told them. "I guess I still have a lot of shame."

Marí didn't hold it against him. She bought him queer literature and resources for queer history including "Bisexuality and Queer Theory" and her printed copy of the article published in the 90s called "The Bisexual Manifesto." She gave him advice on websites and people to follow online.

They also just talked. Talked about life and their experiences. Their feelings and their relationships with their sexualities. Bonding with another queer person was always special but spending time with Kit always made Marí feel so...light.

Despite how close they were getting, Marí didn't always want to touch him. They were touch averse in most cases unless they were very comfortable with someone. Sometimes it just depended on the day. On the days where Marí found they could not hug Kit they had invented their own way to show affection.

They would place a hand over their hearts and tap it, as if to say "I care about you" or "I love you." Sometimes Kit would say "tap my heart" as a substitute for actually doing it.

He introduced her to his close friend Janessa, the wayward vampire who was incredibly hot and kind of made Marí all nervous and tounge twisty at first. But as they got to know her, Marí realized that she was also incredibly kind, passionate and clearly cared at great deal about Kit. Janessa was a gamer who had named herself after a video game character. She drank cups of warm blood in novelty mugs with giant swirly sparkly straws and was pretty good at making people laugh.

Janessa, or Nessie as Kit had affectionately nicknamed her, was flirtatious and charismatic, but also brutal and deadly in a fight. She was full of surprises. And maybe, just maybe Marì was a little bit into that.

However as much as Marí didn't want to admit it, they were also were starting to realize that they were way more into someone else. Someone with perfect golden curls that Marí wanted to curl their fingers into.

Eventually Kit came out to Marí as genderfluid and requested that she use alternating he/they pronouns for them. They both made the decision to collectively tell their friends their pronouns. Marí, Kit and Nessie sat around her gorgeous leather couch and talked for hours about gender, identity and transness. Kit pointed put that they may never be able to fully explain their gender to the other two, just like Kit might have a hard time fully understanding Janessa's relationship with gender, or Marí's because everyone was different.

"It's personal Nessie," he had said. "Everyone has their own unique perspective on gender and every trans person has their own complicated feelings about gender and what their own gender identity means to them, and those feelings might not completely match up with another trans person's. But that's ok. You don't have to understand the other person but you do have to respect them."

Janessa's understanding of gender came from being a trans women. It was about a strict  binary with clear lines and rules. Rules that Kit was starting to make a habit of fingerpainting all over and Marí could tell that it was stressing her out.

And Marí had no idea where the hell they fit in these rules. They had stopped playing the game.

But those two loved each other more than anything, and Marí knew they could work anything out. And sure enough approximately seven hours and four margaritas later (only two for Marí,) they had come to an understanding.

2014

She kissed Kit for the first time a month into the new year.

They had been trying on clothes in Marí's room and Kit was wearing one of their old dresses that Marí thought they looked amazing in, but Kit wanted to give it away. It was dark navy blue and sparkly with spaghetti straps, coming to about mid thigh. There were cut outs on the sides, filled in with black sheer fabric, and it had a low v cut at the neckline which was also filled in with black sheer.

Kit had been infodumping about one of the Marvel movies again, Marí couldn't remember which one, and she had kept getting distracted by his tan smooth skin peaking through the sheer fabric and fullness of Kit's moving lips. He smiled excitedly and Marí had stepped forward and kissed him.

Their first thought was that Kit tasted like chocolate. Their second was that they should have done this months ago.

Kit had melted into the kiss, smiling slightly against her mouth and pulling her closer. They kissed her feverishly, sliding their tounge inside Marí's mouth and moaning when she deepened the kiss eagerly. They moved against each other with almost lazy, comfortable precision, kissing each other for what could have been hours or days or maybe only seconds.

Marí couldn't have said.

When Kit finally broke the kiss and pulled away from Marí, his eyes were practically gleaming with joy and love. And that was when they knew.

I love him.

2015

I love him.

Ty's words ran in her ears. Repeating over and over again, maddenly bouncing around inside of her skull until she was forced to utter out loud,

"I love him".

They whispered it under their breath but Marí could tell that both Alyssa and Ty had heard them. It was so quiet you could probably hear a pin drop.

But of course. Of course he does. It was obvious. This whole time Marí had noticed there was something wrong with Ty. Just like there was something wrong with Kit. The way they stared after each other when they thought the other one wasn't looking. The loving and worshipful glances mixed with the bitter glares.

Marí had already known that Kit was in love with Ty of course. But the way they had told the story made it seem like they were positive that Ty couldn't be in love with them.

But then again maybe that made sense. Given Kit's history and who he was. But then Marí couldn't help but think of Ty and how confused he must have been. God it was a giant mess.

Speaking of...

The room was still silent. Marí found that she couldn't read Ty's expression as he stared back at her flatly. But his body was shaking, his fingers fluttered at his sides. She wanted to soothe him.

They stepped forward carefully. "I'm not mad at you," Marí assured him. "I was hoping we could talk?"

Ty's left eye twitched. "We are talking," he pointed out. Alyssa snorted.

"Ty, they mean about the proverbial bomb you just dropped a few seconds ago," Alyssa said with a laugh.  Marí smirked to themself slightly.

It wasn't really a bomb. More like a flare.

She really needed to talk to Ty. The only problem was Alyssa had an annoying tendency to never leave his side. It wasn't like she had a problem with the girl. Of course not. But her presence meant that Marí hadn't had the opportunity to talk to Ty one on one.

They cleared their throat. "Alyssa could you please give Ty and I some space to talk?" They asked. Marí hoped they didn't sound too rude. Alyssa looked to Ty and he nodded slightly, signaling that he was ok with her leaving.

That was so strange to Marí. Their relationship. The way Alyssa, a werewolf who hated shadowhunters even more then Marí did, essentially took orders from him and clearly trusted him more than anyone else. But perhaps she wasn't one to judge.

After all, she loved Kit.

Alyssa left the room with a pat on Ty's back and a quick, "call if you need me." Marí shifted their weight back and forth as they rocked slightly from side to side as they waited for Ty to speak.

He stared back at her silently, most likely doing the same. Marí blew out a loud breath and forced herself to stay still, crossing her arms.

"Are you going to say something or should I?" Ty asked expectantly. Marí bit their lip and shrugged.

"I'm still thinking of what I wanna say," she admitted.

Ty smiled at her softly. "So am I."

There we go. Cracks in the armour.

"I'm sorry," Ty whispered suddenly. "I never meant to-"

"You don't have to apologize!" Marí blurted out. Whoops they had interrupted him. "Oh shit sorry you were still talking!" They reached for their hair nervously and realized that they were wearing that Morticia wig for their costume.

Great. Marí moved on to chewing on her knuckles.

"It's ok," Ty reassured her. "I don't really know where I was going with that sentence. And you shouldn't do that." He pointed to her hand.

Marí scoffed, "yeah well you shouldn't dig your nails into your palms." He glared at them and they laughed.

"Not so fun playing a game of Mirror Image is it?" They teased. Ty didn't respond, just stared at Marí solemnly.

"You know I really admire you," he said, aiming his gaze close enough to hers to create the illusion of eye contact. "I always have. I never wanted to hurt or upset you."

Marí wished for a brief moment that they could touch him and then shrugged the impulse off. "I know love," they cooed. "Me too."

Without really understanding why, she pressed her hand to her chest directly above her heart and tapped, just like how she did with Kit. Ty studied Marí for a moment and then followed suite.

Marí in spite of themself, actually felt bad for him. They could clearly see the toll the last three years had taken on him, specifically the last few weeks. Maybe his family couldn't see it, and they definitely knew that Kit couldn't, but Marí could.

Marí of all people could see past the mask because they knew what masking looked like. It wasn't just about appearing normal, whatever that word meant. It was about hiding your feelings. Taking that heart you wore on your sleeve and locking it up tight. But everytime Marí looked at Ty, they could see it. And it was bleeding.

Ripped and bloody and broken, just like her own and yet they both still had the sheer audacity to keep breathing. Marí was proud of them both.

"You need to talk to him," Marí prompted. "You both need to be honest with each other."

Ty furrowed his brow. "Honest? About what? He doesn't feel the same way." He had gone back to flicking his fingers as he stared at her, looking puzzled.

Bloody hell between the two of them, Kit and Ty were giving Marí the mother of all headaches.

They took a deep breath. "Yes they do Ty," Marí tried not to sound exasperated. "Kit is in love with you, believe me. They told me."

It hurt Marí's heart to have to say it, but it was true and Ty deserved to know the truth. And they knew deep down that Kit wouldn't really be happy, he wouldn't be Kit until he had Ty. And Marí had to make their peace with that.

Ty looked understandably confused. He ran a frantic hand through his hair. "But why are you telling me this? Why are you helping me?" He asked. "Don't you love them?"

She fought the urge to cry as tears gathered in her eyes. She found herself digging her nails into her palms despite chastising Ty for doing it a few minutes ago.

"I'm telling you all of this because I love them" she cried desperately. "Because Kit cries out your name in his sleep Ty! Because everytime he sees you, he stares at you like you are the moon the sun and the stars! Because everytime you speak they hang onto absolutely every word, and when you laugh-" Marí cut herself off.

They squeezed their eyes shut and took deep long breaths. Ty said nothing. Marí opened their eyes to see Ty staring at them in dismay. He looked like he was trying to think of what to say to help.

Marí shook their head. "I know Kit loves me. And they probably always will. We were close friends even before we started dating." Marí groaned and shook out their entire body this time, jumping up and down a few times as well to get rid of the tension. If Ty thought this was weird he didn't comment on it.

Marí wiped her eyes carefully trying not to smudge her mascara. "But you Ty?" His eyes refocused on her again at the sound of his name. Marí chuckled humourlessly. "Fucking hell, he is in love with you. And right now he is thinking that you hate him and I know it's tearing him up inside."

Ty stared at Marí hopelessly, looking overwhelmed and exhausted. "So what do I do then? What am I supposed to say?"

Marí shrugged. "I can't help you with that I'm sorry. It has to come from you." Ty looked even more panicked.

They gave him what they hoped was an encouraging smile. "Don't be scared Ty," they murmered. "It's Kit remember. They're not scary. You have nothing to worry about."

Ty didn't answer her. He had wrapped his arms around his body, squeezing tightly. "Marí do you remember those dead moon jellyfish we buried on the beach?" He asked.

She was a little confused as to why he was bringing this up now. "Yeah? Why?"

"That's what I feel like right now," Ty admitted. "Like I've washed up on the beach and now I'm just waiting for someone to come along and step on me."

Marí's heart sank. "Oh Ty," they breathed. "I promise that won't happen with Kit. I can't make any promises for anyone else, but I do know that Kit has absolutely no intention of hurting you again love."

Ty looked pensive. Marí could only hope that Ty would make the decision to trust them.

With a sudden jolt Marí remembered the party.

"Hey we still have the Halloween party to go to," she said, shaking Ty out of his stupor. "Do you still wanna go?"

To their surprise, Ty nodded. "Sure. I think Alyssa might kill me if I back out now."

Marí snorted. Alyssa Reyes could be pretty terrifying at times.

With surprise Marí found that their spirts were lighter having cleared the air with Ty and with the prospect of a party being renewed.

She smiled. "All right then let's head out!" Marí smoothed down the long black wig over her shoulders and quickly smoothed out the long skirt of her black slinky dress before turning and exiting the training room.

She knew that she would have to talk to Kit at some point and that conversation would be brutal. But at least they could have one last night together.

It's better this way. Marí told themself as they walked back towards the main living room where everyone was gathered.  At least now Kit can be happy.

It's for the best.

It has to be.

So I'm actually planning on writing a part 3 from Kit's pov because the drama isn't over yet! 😏

Tag list: lmk if you wanna be added/removed.

@playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies   @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @clarys-heosphoros @queenlilith43 @arangiajoan @hardlymatters @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @tired-vin @phoenix-and-dragon @the-blackdale @adoravel-fenomeno @the-wckd-powers

[snellyfish]

May I ask..... what is in your post game V3? I dunno how to ask this without sounding weird.

HM!!!!!!!!! GOOD QUESTION;;

I mostly only have braincells for Kiyo and Angie so not a lot of my thoughts are straying from that unfortunately LMAO, I was able to branch off a bit answering this though so thank you for indirectly helping me develop more!!

But I like to think it's the same scenario as the second game where it was all just a simulation. I know what I fantasize about is a VR AU and that "postgame" tends to refer to the survivors but literally none of my favorites survived so reality can be whatever I want: postgame Shinnaga is so canon it's unreal!! I'm sure there's probably a VR fic for them somewhere out there in the world, I wouldn't know because I suck at reading fhdjfk, but I would love to write my own someday HEH

-------------------------

They'd all wake up one by one as they die and end up all in the same facility where they're taken care of by the Danganronpa team, unable to leave until they’re well again due to the contracts they signed prior to playing-- Meaning Angie wakes up, Tenko wakes up a few hours later, Kiyo another few hours later, etc. Angie jumps back pretty quick from things so she'd be already VERY excited to see Kiyo*  after watching the trial, mostly because Angie like immediately caught onto what his sister really was to him (HINT: CONTROLLING AND AWFUL) and yelling at her screen saying "GOD WILL SMITE YOU ALL FOR PICKING ON THE WEAK" at everyone just calling him some incestuous freak during the trial. Angie does have genuinely incredible intuition (thanks god!) so she looks past the fact he murdered her Scarily Fast. Everyone would definitely mistrust and hate Angie even more as she tries to preach to them afterwards about Kiyo and how they need to forgive him since he’s a victim and God (most important opinion) already forgave him, but no one ever listened to her anyway especially postgame so it’s all in vain 😔

*whom might take a bit to wake up and fully acclimate again because...idk this man was boiled alive that's kinda Fucked I think all the executed would take longer to wake up because they went through more lengthy + traumatic deaths I guess? This just means even more time for Angie to sit on her thoughts about what happened to her+Kiyo yuh yuh

Everyone becomes a mix of their pregame selves and the identities they were given, they'd end up being mediocre/average (sometimes bad) at what their handpicked talent was but a lot of them still keep up doing it until they DO become good again. A very small amount of them try to replicate their killing game outfits and kinda live off the high of being what they once were and accomplished in their fake memories, like Miu and Himiko. (this also makes me think about Irumeno a bit more 👀) Pretty much every single one of them in pregame saw themselves as nothing, being disposable enough to be in a killing game (even if it turns out to be virtual), so the new identities would overpower the mix for the most part since they’re the more intensified and dramaticized personality--IF THAT MAKES ANY SENSE LOL.

--Angie absolutely never stopped her art and has a less intense view on Religion, since garnering more experiences in life she’s just be less intense in general I'd think; more open with her emotions in that she'd actually cry, but still very manic and bubbly and optimistic nonetheless. After getting help (mostly from Kiyo who deals with the same thing), Angie is able to differentiate her thoughts and desires from “God”’s thoughts and desires, YEA she still has a funky little friend in her head. She's not AS pushy especially not with her equally traumatized fellow killing game participants but she still absolutely gets her moments of intensity and assertiveness now and then if she thinks something God is telling her is absolute truth and for the betterment of everyone: she is still Angie afterall, truly believing everyone would be much happier with her God in their lives but having enough self-restraint to know everyone will just push her away further if she tries to help them in that regard. She has her moments of desperation but most everyone’s too far gone from her already.

--Korekiyo is such a complicated one--I do like to think of pregame Kiyo as transfem/nonbinary and that would partially stick into his postgame identity in some way...killing game Kiyo was Just A Dude but after becoming the mix of the two identities he'd be VERY confused, especially with the influence of his (simulated) sister's influence. (genderfluid time? :)) He'd have varying degrees of when his...sister...alter...thing...comes out, or is present in his head in any regard, she'd be gone or slowly disappearing from his mind for months at a time and he'd initially be extremely unstable about it because he feels extremely isolated and lost when he can’t talk to her, but he's got Angie by his side so he becomes significantly less stressed about it over time, learning to cope with it. Eventually he finds himself no longer dependent on sister and...has to learn a SECOND time to not be unhealthily dependent; on Angie this time. (funky little idea I’ve been wanting to draw/write about sometime...hnnrngm) They’re both miracle workers when it comes to each other’s mental health it’s kinda insane. Of course, after realizing that Sister never really existed, he harbors near-immediate guilt for having murdered Angie and Tenko once he’s alone with his thoughts, not being puppeteered by sister, realizing everything he ever did he did for HER and realizing how fucked it all was pretty quickly--he does crave interacting with his victims in a positive and healing light but he’s sort of traumatized by it all to the point he is TERRIFIED when they’re around him at first.

--Tenko ends up EVEN MORE protective and grudgeful after she wakes up, trying to shield everyone and everything from most of the blackened, absolutely makes Kiyo manage to feel like even worse shit when he's got 1 extremely supportive and loving woman he killed and 1 extremely spiteful woman he killed who might legitimately murder him in return if he’s not careful. Tenko never makes amends with Angie and becomes close with Himiko (who's close with Gonta despite Tenko's wishes (she hates him for killing Miu, local woman)), managing to keep Himiko far far away from Angie, not only for "stealing" Himiko in the Student Council but also for the fact Angie's glued to Kiyo's side--making her the second least trustworthy person to Tenko..

--Himiko is very traumatized after the game due to surviving all the way til the end, likely making her (along with Shuichi+Maki) very disillusioned and lost--unable to decipher anything from fiction or reality--it takes a long time for Himiko to really “accept” anything; tried to cling to both Tenko and Angie but ends up just stuck on Tenko, mourning the loss of her friendship with Angie while doing so. Himiko would probably be shoved away from Gonta at first as well, but Tenko felt a lot more confident in Gonta so after a long while of her aggressively trying to teach him manners and keeping an emotional deathgrip on him whenever he wants to interact with Himiko, they’d end up close friends again. Still thinking about Irumeno-- Also with the whole ~~Survivor Delusions~~ thing, I think that helps play into Himiko’s attachment and insistence to keep up her old magician identity, because she has a very hard time trying to tell what’s real n fake ykno, and it takes her a while to realize she doesn’t have her talent anymore; absolutely ending in tearful breakdowns and unending determination to find herself again by forcibly trying to improve and push herself to her limits.

For the most part Kiyo and Angie are outcasted from everyone else, a lot of that being due to Tenko's preaching but...also everyone just doesn't understand what actually happened to Kiyo and they are all deathly worried about Angie, but not enough to get themselves involved; they're scared of Angie too, afterall, not as much as they're scared of Kiyo but ykno-- They think her naivety and determination to “fix him” is going to get her murdered again, every day they’re just counting down the minutes until it happens again. (spoiler alert: it doesn’t)

I could ABSOLUTELY go off more but I really have to end this at some point so fhdsjkfds--

TLDR;; Angie (and God alter) forgive Kiyo almost immediately. Sister alter likes to disappear sometimes making Kiyo sad and unfortunately dependent on Angie. Both Kiyo + Angie help each other heal and recover from their issues. Tenko hates both Kiyo + Angie with a passion and protectively forbids Himiko from seeing either of them. Himiko is close friends with Tenko and Gonta and Maybe More with Miu.

[non-binharry]

hi asia! hope you’re well. absolutely no obligation to answer this but i had a general gender question (about myself) and i don’t have many queer friends to turn to atm. adult genderfluid person here, and i’ve been noticing the way my gender sometimes feels in flux in accordance with what i’m wearing. so like gender identity and gender presentation are obv two different things that can interrelate but like specifically i’ve been trying out more “feminine” things that i always shied away from when i was younger bc some instinctual part of me knew i didn’t love being coded as a feminine binary woman (unfortunately it also manifested as some nlog energy but i digress), including dresses and skirts and i’ve found myself wishing and wishing i could be a man wearing dresses every time i’ve done so and then was always like well i know i’m genderfluid like i still do feel connection to other forms of identity so it’s not that i’m necessarily a trans man. and then i was sorta like wait duh i’m genderfluid maybe i can be a sort of man when i feel like it? but then i worry that that’s invalidating of like other identities that aren’t fluid so idk i guess i’m just here spilling my thoughts bc i’m confused. at other times i’ll be wearing a binder and baggy shorts and be like i am the womanliest woman to ever woman. which i guess now that I’m typing it I’m like okay if i were my friend i would be like dude this is valid but bc it’s me I’m like ~no other ppl’s identities are all valid but i must be faking it for attention (even tho I’m literally closeted) etc etc~ also sometimes i feel way more comfortable just performing “femininity” if i feel like i “look like a boy” (quotes bc this is all socialized) i’ll be more flamboyant in my expressions etc. does this even make sense? and when i “look like a girl” i’ll often manspread and talk in my lower register and i don’t even think that’s like a conscious decision on my part it’s just what feels comfortable. so am i just comfortable like not fitting neatly into presentation categories? is that part of my gender fluidity? are questions I’m asking myself, obv not trying to like put all this on you (even though i am in your inbox, ahh i just find you really really comforting and supportive and affirming as a trans poc!)

anyway sorry for long rant, i’m in a totally okay and like stable spot and no worries if this is like not something you can respond to for whatever reason! i don’t really even know where i’m going with this other than I’m confused and sometimes i might want to be a boy? but usually it’s when I’m presenting as feminine? do i just like fucking w peoples minds?? does that matter is that even a meaningful distinction??

anon, i wish i could apologize a million times over for how long it has taken me to respond to this message, and frankly, it hurts me when you all are like "you don't have to respond" because i worry that my lack of response will make you think that's the option i've chosen lmao i've been so devastatingly busy with work and life lately when i do find a moment of quiet i can't even find a way to articulate anything other than "harr style big tittle" like a caveman

that being said, i love you, and i'm in love with you. i think you're doing exactly what a funky little fluid fella would do and should do and could do and i don't think you should doubt yourself for one minute because fucking with gender is sort of exactly what you're designed to do.

the thing is, your presentation is for yourself, even if no one else gets it. it's an expression of your gender identity, whether that's a fluid man in a dress, or a woman in a binder and baggy clothes, but that's YOU, and that's you expressing yourself how you best can. you're never going to nearly fit into anything, and that's the point. i don't want you to stress over thinking so much whether you're faking it because you're not, you're just experiencing yourself how you're meant to be. and i think that's neat.

i hope you're still around and see the response to this message because i do get the feeling that you are very settled into yourself despite whatever curiosities you may have, but it's always nice to have some reassurance and i'm here to say you're doing great 💗

[shadowedmoonlight]

3 Times Virgil Came Out to Others + 1 Time Someone Came Out to Him

I am aware that I am a few hours late, but this is the longest oneshot I've ever written

Day 3: Coming out

Warnings: Food mention, talk of sexual attraction (In regards to asexuality), anxiety, disassociation (brief)

Summary: In which the story gains a plot ft. fluff and hurt/comfort

Word count: 4025

Read on Ao3

Masterlist

1.

Virgil hadn’t been this terrified in a long time. He knew that being gay shouldn’t be that big of a deal, in regards to his two gay fathers, but he couldn’t stop the terrifying thoughts from running through their head.

What if they thought he was too young to have figured himself out? They were only fifteen after all. Is he even sure they're gay? And what would they think about the pronouns thing? Vigil had no idea where their dads stood on transgender rights.

They had planned to do it after dinner. That way he could have one last dinner of peace in the unlikely event of something going wrong. It's more likely than you think they’re gonna kick you out, you’re gonna have to live on the streets

Emile had made spinach lasagna that night. Virgil’s favorite. But he could hardly enjoy it due to the nerves stirring in his stomach. Instead, he moved the food around on his plate and attempted to pay attention to the conversation occurring before him.

He believed his dad was telling some dramatic story about some lady that came into the coffee shop. They normally would be completely invested in that sort of thing, but they just couldn’t focus with all the thoughts running around his head.

What is he gonna do if he gets kicked out? They can’t live on the streets. He can barely work a stove. How would he live on his own? Maybe Remus or Janus would take him in? No, they have their own problems. They shouldn’t burden them with his own problems. But how would he-

“Virgil? What do you think?” A voice cut through his spiral.

“Hm- wha-?” Virgil couldn’t recall for the life of them what he was supposed to be responding to. He looked up to see his parents both looking at him concernedly.

“You feeling okay, hon? It's not like you to space out like that,” Emile asked.

Virgil winced. He had to learn to be less obvious to when they were stressed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

They still looked doubtful. “Are you sure?” Remy raised an eyebrow.

Virgil nodded and tried for a small smile. He didn’t think it was successful, however, when his parents exchanged a worried glance. His leg bounced slightly under the table. Why couldn’t they relax?

Emile started to collect the dishes but paused when their eyes landed on Virgil’s still-full plate. He glanced again at their husband, and then their son.

“Maybe you should head to bed early tonight. You hardly touched your food. You might be coming down with something.” Virgil saw Remy stand up as his Papa spoke. He offered them a hand.

“Babes, I think that might be a good idea. You’re looking a bit pale- well, paler than usual with all that foundation you cake on. Don’t think I don’t notice.” Virgil blushed, slightly. His experimentation with makeup had been one of his ways to tone down their glaring masculinity.

In response to the first statement, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to put this off another day. They weren’t sure they had enough energy or confidence to go through with this. With a little hesitation, they grabbed Remy's hand and hauled himself to their feet.

Emile smiled sadly at their son’s submissiveness. He had to have been really tired with the way his eyes kept wandering. They abandoned the dishes they were holding, grabbed his other hand, and started leading Remy and Virgil upstairs.

Virgil blinked and suddenly he was in their room. They sat between his parents on his bed. Emile had them leaning against their side as Remy rubbed soft circles into his back. His eyes darted around in confusion.

Remy glanced down and let out a sigh of relief. “Welcome back to this plane of existence.”

Emile smacked their husband lightly. “Sorry baby, we didn’t want to leave you alone while you were disassociating.” Virgil’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. They didn’t remember going into an episode.

Remy kissed his forehead and stood up. “We’ll leave you to your peace now. Let us know if you need anything.” Emile began to follow.

Virgil bit their lip. Was he really going to go through all this stress just to chicken out? He took a breath. He was strong. They could do this.

“Wait,” they called out, lightly. “I need to talk to you about something.” His parents halted in their place in the doorway and came back to sit next to them.

“What is it, babe? Did something happen?” Remy grabbed one of his hands.

“No, not exactly,” Virgil said. His breath was starting to stutter.

“Take your time,” Emile said, softly.

Virgil attempted to calm their breathing. It's highly unlikely that this will have a bad outcome, half of his brain rationalized. They are gay themselves, after all.

Yeah, but what about the pronoun thing? The other half argued. You have no idea what they’ll think of it.

Virgil took another deep breath and opened his mouth to speak. They may as well start with the easy one. “I’m… I’m gay.”

Remy placed a hand on his chest and sighed dramatically. “Oh thank god,” he exclaimed. “I’m not sure I could have handled it if I had to raise a straight son.”

Emile smacked him again. Virgil winced slightly at the word ‘son.’ Remy seemed to notice his discomfort and scooted closer. “Of course we love and accept you and everything, but that's all kind of obvious considering, well,” he lifted his hand as wiggled his ring finger, “Is there something else on your mind?”

Virgil nodded, “I, um, want to start using different pronouns. He/they.”

Emile lit up. “Ooh, we can match!”

Virgil’s head shot up. “What?”

Both Emile and Remy looked confused for a second before a horrifying realization dawned on them.

“Did I- never tell you I’m non-binary?” Emile asked, tentativly. They were sure they told Virgil at some point.

Virgil couldn’t help themself. He started to laugh hysterically. After a moment their parents joined in.

“I’m sorry- I just- I’m fifteen years old and you never thought to tell me that vital piece of information?” Virgil wiped tears from his eyes as he continued to giggle.

Emile was bright red. “Trust me, I’m mortified.”

Remy groaned. “That makes two of us.”

Virgil snorted. “I was so worried about how’d you react and this whole time you’re the same thing.”

“Oh honey,” Emile exclaimed. “You should never be worried about telling us something. We support you no matter what.”

“Of course,” Remy added. “What kind of hypocrites would we be if we said otherwise?”

Virgil pulled them both into a hug. “You’re the best parents anyone could ask for.”

2.

Sanders High School had an interesting dynamic. There were two main groups that everyone at school was invested majorly in. Most, if not all, of the gossip in school was directed at them. They were envied. They were hated. They were idolized. They were the closest thing Sanders High ever had to celebrities. The Dark Sides and The Light Sides.

Everyone that saw them would assume they were the rivals. Bickering and prank wars were constant. Classroom debates between members could last hours if not moderated. Each group consisted of three members.

First up is Roman Prince, the flamboyant jock and theater nerd. He was the first kid at school to break through harmful gender stereotypes. Before he came to school, any boy that joined theater was seen as weak and nerdy. Roman was the first openly gay kid on the football team- as quarterback no less- and the first jock to join the drama program. He was unapologetically himself in everything he did. He often came to school in skirts and dresses and there was rarely a day he could be seen without his signature red lipstick. Despite his smashing of stereotypes, Roman is the only cis kid in both the light and dark sides (not that everyone is out to the school like he is, or even to each other). He has the most social media followers out of anyone in the school, and was the one to first publicize the two groups. Roman is a proud member of The Light Sides.

Next is Patton Hart, the bubbly, adorable student council president. Everybody loved Patton and they loved everybody. Patton is one of the kindest kids in the school. He’s always willing to drop everything to help somebody or cheer someone up. They met Roman when they were young and they’ve been inseparable ever since. Some might say they’re dating, but a select few know otherwise.

Last in The Light Sides is Logan Berry. Logan is objectively the smartest kid in school. He is rumored to be taking all AP classes. How that’s possible, no one knows. Everyone knows that Logan will be Valedictorian at the end of the year. There’s no other logical choice. Somehow, even with all that, they also manage to be co-captain of the debate club. Patton and Roman somehow managed to rope them into their small group sometime during elementary school. Again, how that’s possible, no one knows. Logan is extremely stone-faced to people they're not close with. Some think he might be a robot with how emotionless he is most of the time. Those people, however, have never seen him with a jar of Crofters. (But if they knew their secret, everyone would think so).

Over in the dark sides, we have Janus Lies. Genderfluid icon. Their coming out started a revolution of sorts at Sanders High. So many kids came out as non-binary or genderfluid or something in between, the school ended up getting rid of gendered bathrooms entirely. A new genderfluid locker room was built in the PE building and the academic teachers revised their gendered way of teaching. But, back to Janus. They were the most sarcastic person you’d ever meet. So much so, it became difficult for people to tell if they were telling the truth. Their trademark hat and gloves stayed on no matter what the occasion. They also co-captained the debate club with Logan. They grouped together with Remus and Virgil before anyone could remember, including the three dark sides.

Remus Prince, twin of Roman Prince, is the extremely crude drama student and class clown. They are known for their dark sense of humor and sexual disruptions of class. The teachers have learned to just ignore them, as countless trips to detention were fruitless in correcting their behavior. Although they privately came out before Janus, they were more private socially when it came to their gender. Until that is, Janus came out and was accepted. After that, Remus showed no limits in expressing themself.

Lastly, there is Virgil Picani, the emo nightmare themself. He is in almost every club at school, including but not limited to drama, debate, GSA, writing, and volunteering. His sarcastic personality is no stranger to anybody, although it is much more subdued than Janus’s. Virgil came out to Janus and Remus before he had even fully figured himself out yet. He had not, however, come out to any of the light sides as gay or genderqueer.

And that brings us to today. As mentioned earlier, anyone that saw the two groups would assume they had a strong rivalry. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

The reality is, although they did start out as rivals, the six of them have a strong friendship. They keep up the facade of competitors for sake of reputation (and a little fun never hurt anybody). Once Roman and Remus had gotten over their sibling rivalry, the six of them had discovered that they shared many of the same interests. They started hanging out after school and now it is rare to see one of the group without another.

Virgil knows that he has nothing to worry about. Roman is gay, and both Patton and Logan already use he/they pronouns. They accepted Janus and Remus without question. It won’t be any different for him. All they actually had to do was tell them.

But here lies the issue. Virgil thought they had already. It wasn’t until the first day of pride month that he realized their mistake.

They decided to make pronoun pins for all the kids in GSA. So, naturally, he made one for himself as well. They weren't publicly out yet, but it was perfectly okay for them to wear them inside the safety that was the gay-straight alliance.

Virgil was struggling to attach his pin to their shirt when Janus came over to help. Virgil noted the blue bracelet. Janus looked surprised as he read the contents of the pin.

“You told them?” He asked, incredulously. “I thought you would tell me when you finally did it.”

Virgil was confused. “What do you mean? I came out to them… shoot.”

Janus snorted. “You totally don’t need to tell them. This isn’t getting out of hand at all.”

Virgil blushed red. “I honestly thought I did! I’ll do it now, okay?”

They didn’t wait for a response before marching over to Roman, Logan, and Patton and dragging them outside of the classroom. He ignored the curious looks of their classmates, most likely wondering what they were fighting about this time.

They closed the door behind them and looked around quickly, making sure there was no one else around. He turned back to the group that was looking at him, slightly concerned.

Virgil rolled their eyes at their expressions. “Oh calm down, I just forgot to tell you something, is all.”

Logan cleared their throat and straightened up. “And that is?”

“I genderqueer, he/they, and gay.”

“Yay!” Patton exclaimed and pulled him into a hug. “I’m proud of you for being yourself.”

Patton pulled back and Virgil caught the expressions of the other two. Logan was looking at him with a delighted expression on their face. “I had my suspicions.”

Roman furrowed his brows. “So did I, but I must ask, why wait so long to tell us? Surely you knew that we would accept you wholeheartedly.”

Virgil snorted. “I actually did the same thing my Papa did with me. I thought I told you all ages ago.” They all laughed at that.

“We should probably get back,” Logan remarked, “Thank you for trusting us enough to tell us this.”

3.

Virgil felt nervous, but not extremely so.

He knew nothing would go wrong. So many kids had come out in the past year at Sanders High, the school had made pronoun pins mandatory to avoid misgendering. All they had to do was wear the new pin he had grabbed from the office the day before. He also planned to wear a rainbow shirt to identify themself as the flaming homosexual he is.

The only real thing they were worried about would be the gossip surrounding them for the next week or so. Someone coming out is hardly a rare occurrence, but they were one of the most popular kids in school. He was certain that there were at least a few bets going around school on whether they were queer or not. To be fair, he was the only member of the Light and Dark sides to never confirm any rumors about gender or sexuality. And it's not as if he’s really hid anything. He’s just never confirmed.

But they’re ready to change that. They pull on their rainbow shirt, do their makeup slightly more dramatic than usual, and debate for a moment over the plaid purple skirt his dads had gotten him a few years ago. It matched his usual hoodie perfectly, but he had yet to wear it outside the house. There was no reason not to wear it. Why not spend his first day publicly out AGAP (as gay as possible)?

They arrive at school with an air of confidence around them that he hadn’t felt in a while. As he walked through the hallways, he saw a few looks of disappointment, but most were of excitement and joy. They caught a few thumbs up and cheers in the crowd as well.

He found the other two members of the Dark Sides standing at Virgil’s locker, both wearing identical looks of pride as they stared at him. They walked directly up to the pair, smirking slightly. Once he was within earshot, Remus grasped their head with one hand and Janus’s shoulder, striking a dramatic pose.

“Do you see that Jan Jan? Our little slime monster is all grown up!” Virgil rolled their eyes at their best friend’s antics. Janus lifted their wrist to show off her pink band. Despite the new rule about pronoun pins, Janus still kept her bracelet system in place. She claimed it to be simpler and more efficient.

She slung her arm around Virgil’s shoulders. She leaned in and said in a low voice, “I really am proud of you.”

Remus jumped on his back. “That makes two of us!”

+1

Virgil had always enjoyed Logan’s company. They were the only person out of the group of six that allowed him some peace.

He could also be a captivating conversation partner. Listening to Logan ramble on about whatever he was currently studying was one of Virgil's favorite pastimes. The way his eyes lit up when you asked him about something they were interested in was adorable. And his voice would take on this gorgeous tone to it that Virgil knows not many people get to hear.

Their weekly study session was the thing that Virgil looked forward to the most. Every Thursday, they get to spend hours in a room with the most beautiful person he knows. They love the way Logan will straighten his tie or fix his hair even when they’re both immaculate. He loves the way they slowly and patiently explain the answer to something Virgil gets wrong, never criticizing them or getting frustrated.

Virgil may have developed an itty bitty crush on them over the years.

Not that they will ever tell him. They don’t even know where he stands on sexuality. He has only been open about their gender. And he doesn’t want to complicate their relationship for the sake of some silly crush.

The two of them sat in Virgil’s room doing homework. Logan sat on their bed, while Virgil had opted for the floor. They had hardly spoken a word to each other in the past few hours (a normal occurrence for their weekly get-togethers), but Virgil could tell something was bothering Logan. They’d been fidgeting for the past hour or so, and had seemed tense and nervous all day.

Virgil placed their bookmark into his book and groaned loudly. “If I have to read one more word of this, I think my eyes might literally start bleeding.”

Logan also marked their page before looking up. “That is highly unlikely. The amount of force that would cause one's eyeballs to ‘literally’ start bleeding is far more than would be caused by eye strain. Additionally, subconjunctival hemorrhage has not been linked to overuse and is instead usually caused by some sort of trauma to the eye. So unless you are planning to hit yourself in the face with the book, it will not cause your eyes to hemorrhage.”

Virgil huffed a laugh, internally cooing at how adorable they are when explaining something. “I guess you’re right. I can’t read anymore though.”

Logan cleaning their glasses on the edge of his shirt. “I agree with that statement.”

Virgil looked at him closely. Cleaning their glasses is a sort of nervous tick for him. And they had done it multiple times in the last hour. “Okay, what's going on? You’ve been nervous and weird all afternoon.”

Logan cleared his throat. “Nothing of importance.”

“So there is something!” Virgil exclaimed.

They blanched. “No, of course not. What would be wrong at the moment?”

Virgil gave them a look. “I never said that there was something wrong.”

Logan stood up quickly and started gathering his materials. “Well, it’s getting late. I must head home now in order to be at dinner at an adequate time.”

Virgil grabbed their arm. “Wait, Logan, there’s still hours until you need to leave. If you really don’t want to talk about whatever’s bothering you, we don’t have to. But if you do, I’m here and ready to listen.”

Logan shot them a grateful look. “I truly appreciate that Virgil. I will keep your offer in mind.”

They resumed their study positions and all was silent for a few minutes. Virgil couldn’t keep their mind off of Logan. He hoped that whatever was troubling him could be resolved easily. He didn’t want him to be distressed.

Eventually, Logan stiffly placed his books beside him and turned to their study partner. At the shift in movement, Virgil also put away their materials and prepared to listen, moving to sit next to them on their bed.

“I would like you to not speak until I am done speaking if that is acceptable for you.” Virgil immediately agreed. They would never interrupt him when they were having such a serious conversation.

“My sincerest gratitude. I-” Logan paused. They took a stuttering breath. Virgil reached out and took his hand, attempting to provide some form of comfort.

“I am not a robot. I know that there are some that may think otherwise. Aside from the vast technological inaccuracies in that statement, contrary to popular belief, I do have emotions. I do experience love. Just not in the same way as others do. From a young age, I have known that I have felt no sexual attraction. The idea of sex repulsed me far more than I can explain, even past the age of maturity. I have no desire to love anybody in that way. And I never will.

“I was under the impression that the same went for romantic attraction. I had never felt any sort of romantic feelings for a female. But recent… variables have shown me otherwise. I do not feel any romantic attraction for people of the female gender or sex. I do, however, experience attraction to people of the same gender. These people fall under the male and non-binary spectrum. In conclusion, I am asexual and homoromantic. I am finished, you may speak now.”

Virgil was delighted by the news. They had just confirmed that his crush could possibly be attracted to him. They didn’t care about the asexual part. It changed none of his feelings towards the academic prodigy.

They made the mistake of staying silent for a moment too long. That became evident when he looked at Logan’s face. Any positive feelings he had melted into concern.

“Oh, Lo,” they said softly, “You’re crying.” He brought his hand to Logan’s cheek and wiped away the silent tears that had trickled down with their thumb.

Logan's voice wobbled as they spoke. “My apologies.”

“No,” Virgil cooed, “you have nothing to apologize for. You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re accepting yourself and I am so proud of you for that.”

That seemed to be all it would take for their dam to break. Soft sobs escaped his mouth and he brought up a hand to try to muffle them.

Virgil made a sympathetic noise and wrapped them up in their arms. He cupped the back of Logan’s neck with one hand and used the other to rub soothing circles into his back. Logan gripped their hoodie tightly as they cried into their shoulder.

Virgil whispered quiet words of encouragement to him. Eventually, Logan seemed to finally be calming down. His tears dwindled into quiet sniffles and they sagged into his chest. The emotional exhaustion of the day in addition to the exergy expelled by crying made him unbelievably tired.

Virgil shifted the two so they were lying down on his bed, Logan cuddled against their chest. They could feel his breaths evening out rapidly.

Virgil pressed a small kiss into his forehead, wishing more than anything that they could do it when Logan could remember.

Let me know if you want to be added to the non-existent tag list!

[dervampireprince]

Ok this isn't a horny ask but I saw your pinned post and how you described your identity, and I wanted to say something! Based off of how you described it, you could use the term Genderfaun if you wanna be specific. Ofc, use what you feel comfortable with, but I just thought that maybe you'd wanna know that there's a term specific for your experience!

oh yeah i know the term genderfaun! i have actually used the flag in the background of an old profile pic. i didn't mention the term in my pinned just because idk most people won't know what it means. but also, my gender identity is... i'd just rather say i'm a man.

when i first started identifying as genderfluid i would say i switched between male and female, and then after more and more time i never identified as female and only male and i know looking back i didn't ever feel female i just was scared as being trans. and then i would keep having moments of feeling maybe not exactly like a boy and it took years to accept that maybe i felt non-binary in those moments and then that yes i did feel non-binary in those moments and i felt comfortable and confident being non-binary.

as of right now? i haven't felt a gender other than male in a long time. i made that pinned post in may 2021 back when things were a little more in flux. and yes sometimes that's how genderfluidity goes, you can switch every hour or every week or sometimes you might stick as one gender for years and then switch again. and it's hard when one gender stays for a long time to think 'okay, am i still genderfluid?'. what if my gender never changes again? does that mean i'm still genderfluid and i'm just staying this gender forever? or does it mean i never was genderfluid and was just using it as a stepping stone to work out that i'm binary trans? if i feel non-binary again will i call myself a fake trans boy because how can i align myself with trans men if i've ever felt non-binary?

genderfludity is hard. i wish i never identified as it. it makes me have endless imposter syndrome. i look at the genderfluid flag i took down from my wall a while ago and think do you belong here any more? am i genderfluid any more? and i know it's okay if i'm not, i know others change labels... but when you're changing from genderfluid to something else, when genderfluid includes everything... when you're one gender you think okay this is what i am now and i was a horrible faker before for thinking i was anything different. and then you switch and you have a moment of being confident oh yeah i am genderfluid, until you're back in one identity for a long time and think yeh actually i'm just this.

so... i've honestly thought about erasing that from my pinned post for a long time. my bio used to say 'genderfluid trans man' and i took genderfluid out a while ago. over the past 3 years i have identified as male 99% of the time. i look back at times i felt non-binary and i know in those moments i genuinely felt that, but it's hard because me right now can't think of being anything other than a boy and wonder that well maybe all the time's i wasn't sure that i was a boy was just internalised transphobic self-doubt.

sorry, i know this isn't the response you wanted. it's sweet you wanted to reach out. i think honestly i've been hoping people never read that part of my pinned post. i've just kept it in because i don't want to have a day of feeling non-binary and post about it and then have people be all confused or accuse me of lying about being a trans man. but i don't know if i'll ever feel like anything other than a boy again. and if i think too hard about it, about my gender, then i just get overwhelmed and upset.

i don't know how to tell if i'm not genderfluid any more when genderfluidity can be as broad as meaning you're one gender for a few years and then another for the rest of your life. i know that deep down i hope my gender never switches again because it's just less stressful for me that way. i get less hate that way. i am less confused with myself that way. i'm more accepted that way. i can love myself more that way. and this blog is the first time i've been always called a boy and treated like a boy and maybe i needed that to finally settle and be comfortable being a boy. i say this as an account of mind currently has a genderfuan flag bg and at the time i made that icon last month i was comfortable with it then.

so i just say i'm a trans man. that's what i am. i just want to be a boy.

edit: and see now im already like nonono be confident being genderfaun like fuck you brain why can’t you just pick, and if you’re not going to pick then why can’t you be happy being genderfluid/genderfaun?? why’ve you gotta think no one will call you a trans boy anymore or respect you? am i having a post-fluidphobia crisis? because the amount of fluidphobia i experienced last year was ridiculous and look if you ever saw me call myself pan in the past and now i call myself ombi or bi yeah well the omni flag is cooler to me, fits better, and maybe also i couldn’t think about being pan without feeling sick because i had just seen too much panphobia that i couldn’t associate the word pan with anything good any more for myself 

[steponmepinkjun]

I NEVER FINISHED MY STORY OMG. ok so i left off at being too proud to tell my friend she was right and kpop fucked hard. the difference between u and me is that i’m too good of a liar. too good. i kept up the “i hate kpop it’s cringe” facade for ALMOST TWO WHOLE YEARS, I SHIT YOU NOT. why? bc my dumb ass, extra ass, dramatic ass self thought “ok if i’m gonna have to deal with the embarrassment of admitting i’m wrong, i better do it in such an extra ass way it’ll knock ur socks off so hard that YOULL be the one embarrassed not me.” the original plan was to learn the entire choreography to bts dope, bc it’s the song that she told me to listen to and inevitably the song that got me into them, but later switched to bts fire bc i saw too many of those “choreo matches w any song” videos, and then her birthday party came up. and here’s the real kicker. her birthday is April Motherfuckin Fools. so it would be So Perfect for me to reveal my kpopism as a birthday present And a april fools prank in one. so i was Set on the Reveal being on april 1st, but the day rolls around and god that choreo is so fucking hard and i am Not a dancer. never have been. so i abandon that and go ykno what… i’ll do it Next Year. BC MY BITCHASS WAS LIKE NO THE MOMENT IS TOO PERFECT TO DO IT ON A NORMAL ASS DAY ITS GONNA BE ON APRIL FOOLS ON HER GODDAMN BIRTHDAY OR NOT AT ALL. a year rolls by, i’ve told most of our friends except her and they’re all in on it, i’d made so many subtle kpop references to her without her realising they were fully intentional and had too many scares where she almost figured me out but i lied my way out of it, and i’d given up on showing off with choreography bc i couldn’t make that shit look good. i’m not a dancer. i am, however, a rapper, and a damn good one, so i inhaled the agust d mixtape and decided i’d just rap the eminem of kpop’s anthem at her face. in korean. and change the lyrics at the end (if u haven’t listened to agust d, the bridge repeats “i’m sorry” a lot) to “i’m sorry i kept this from u for so long” and “i’m sorry i actually ult got7 not bts” (this was like the april after skz debuted ok i was holding onto got7 for dear life knowing full well skz we’re going to convert me smh) and the best part? she never saw it coming. her official present was a cd with a bunch of kpop on it but she thought it was just a personalised mixtape for her so i told her to play the first song out loud and she knew the song Instantly. it has a long intro so she was like “i guess u did listen when i recommended u this song!! i knew you’d like it since u like rap so much!!” and then i started rapping and i shit u not. she started SCREAMING. like the initial reaction was her jaw dropping and then instinctively covering her mouth but when i kept going and she realised i wasn’t fucking around she just fucking screamed like a banshee. at the end during the sorry bit i threw off my jacket to reveal a got7 shirt on the inside and she fell off her chair and started rolling around on the floor. needless to say it was every bit as satisfying as i thought it’d be LMAOOOO afterwards her ass was like “I CANT BELIEVE U HID THIS FROM ME FOR OVER A YEAR” and when i tried to explain my ego couldn’t take the “i told u so” she was like “you know i wouldn’t have made fun of you for it right? i would just be glad you’re not hating on my boys anymore” so basically i’m a big dramatic fool and she was always too good for me.

don’t mind the weird spaces here my ipad is being all fucky wucky w me rn. damn sad to hear ur sideblog experience didn’t go so well, i’d have shown u the cool side of the fandom if i knew 😤😤 leading u thru the cursed halls of kpop stan tumblr like a sketchy tour guide that’s actually 3 small raccoons stacked on top of each other like a trench coat, like “over here we have the fanfic writers that honestly need to publish a book, over here we have the gif makers that are responsible for my entire camera roll, if we take a quick swerve past the death threat anons and the twt fanwar screenshots - mind ur feet bub the 14 year olds were tryna make a grab for ur ankles - ah here’s the holy grail of shitposts, you might be here for hours, to the right we have the weird aussie side of the fandom that projects our childhoods onto chanlix but also all the members as we decide what their life in australia would’ve been like, and down there is a secret trapdoor to the blogs w endless random headcanons that will make you laugh, cry or blush depending on if the author woke up and decided to choose violence today. enjoy your Stay!” but then again i’m not so active on tumblr anymore (ngl you’ve become the highlight of my tumblr experience these days, interaction wise,) so maybe all my Local Hotspots are inactive now. i know a bunch of them are, it’s sad. “i don’t fw stan twitter for the same reason i don’t hang out in meth dens” oop. guess i’m a meth addict. no but i get u i rly do, it’s a hellhole out there, but the fact that things get shared and spread a lot easier than on tumblr and how short most things have to be (therefor keeping up w my adhd attention span without having to resort to the mental torture that is tiktok, with the added bonus of not always needing headphones.) that i just. couldn’t leave if i tried. maybe i should try being active on tumblr again but it’s a dying site in comparison.

“their music doesn’t consistently hit for me as much as skz” i’m sorry we can’t be friends anymore. what. what. you don’t dramama ramama ramama hey? you don’t feel a little jealousyyyyyy, naega anin? you don’t shoot out, shoot out, shoot out, or aremdaeun love killa love killa? you can’t be your hero du du du du du du du du du dududu? u disappoint me. literally like everyone i know who likes skz music likes mx music like it’s a rite of Passage. they’re kindred spirits, monsta x music is like skz’s music’s cool but mildly heterosexual older brother. neither of them know what a bad song is it runs in the family. and both their music runs in my VEINS. whenever i describe my music taste they’re always the first two that come to mind, skz being my number 1 bc they are my best boys but mx bc of the Flavour. pls listen to the entire the code album then get back to me 😤🙌 ok but fr ur so right they are 7 of the finest men i ever seen (yes i say 7 bc i’m including wonho cause he deserved better and i’ll die on my ot7 bullshit.) like don’t get me started on them either LOL i LITERALLY downloaded that one insta video of changkyun working out his back n arm muscles w his tattoo showing bc i needed that shit saved for Science. they could do Anything w me like frfr. yes vixx is the bdsm contract group i’m telling ya they wildin. or at least they were. it’s been years since their last comeback idk what they’re doing anymore tbh. and yeah that makes sense, savouring the hyperfixation i feel it, but also i’m so attached to skz that i never let it die. like i hyperfixate on other things and other groups but i will Always go back to skz cause they’re my homeboys. hell, they’re my home. being a predebut stay i’ve spent more time w skz than most of my actual family members at this point. but that’s just me you do u boo xx just know that if ur anything like me ur never letting go once skz it’s been my longest lasting fixation cause they hit like Nothing Else Do. ik i’ve already said that but i cannot stress it enough. they’re really special. i’m gonna stop here before i get all sappy and emotional bc i really love those boys so fucking much and i don’t drop the L bomb often. SIDE NOTE I WOULD LIKE TO SEE UR LIST OF GROUPS RANKED BY THORSt. i need to judge ur Taste. and omg cat&dog is such a guilty pleasure song bc the lyrics make me cringe so much bc while pet play can be fun they be doing it in more of an “i’m an innocent soft dogboy uwu” kinda way that just Does Not Sit Right with me. it comes back to the objectifying of asians that asians themselves don’t help in industries like these and maybe i’m looking too far into it when rly it is just wholesome n cute or maybe they are into some pet play shit idk idc i will bop to the song regardless but i will not acknowledge the lyrics nope.

YOURE RIGHT THO SKZ’S OPENNESS IS IN FACT, A BIG DEAL, i’ll grab them for u if u want but i found these twt threads of skz supporting the lgbt community and i just felt a special kind of happiness man like sure the delusional part of me likes going “haha they’re gay” bc my brain likes to imagine them as my polycule of mlm boyfriends bc sometimes thats what gives me the serotonin to get me thru the day ok don’t judge but also bc it’s nice knowing that yes i’ll never know them personally, but at least i can support them knowing they’d respect my gender identity and my pronouns, they’d respect who i choose to love, and that’s already more than the general public can say so shit, it is special! it’s special that they don’t treat being cishet like the norm - they constantly remove gender from their songs and speech entirely, they don’t assume all stays are female anymore, we don’t talk abt the babygirls incident cause we got babystays in the end outta that ok, and it’s just. so refreshing and important to me bc i can’t get that anywhere else!! like my semi ults are the boyz and while i love them very much and there’s no way all 11 of them are straight i refuse, i do get just a little bit sad whenever they she/her their fandom by default and call them their girlfriends n shit even tho i do still identify as a girl, i’m also genderfluid/nonbinary/transmasc, and i have a very love/hate relationship w my womanhood and rarely use she/her pronouns, cause it’s like, do you not see me? see us? the ones who aren’t cishet women? i mean i know kevin does bc he congratulated a fan who came out as nb but it’s just not the same as the openness we get w skz. like how do i trust cishets i could be supporting them as a queer person when in reality they’d call me a slur. what would i know, behind the screen? so it’s so good that skz go the extra mile to make it a safe space for everyone. this is already long enough i will reply to the second half of that ask in another message… tomorrow cause it’s 1am and i’m tired gn -felix bi anon

I'mma have to start putting these under a readmore so that i don't absolutely make everything who is still following me for some reason go totally fucking insane 😂

NDJDHWJJAHFNAKBSJSBFBHHDBDNAJD YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE FACES I WAS MAKING READING THIS, I WAS FUCKING CACKLING AND GASPING EVERY OTHER SENTENCE SO HARD THAT I SCARED THE CATS NDJWHSHSB the fact that you went "oh you want me to get into kpop? Give me a hot minute, and I'll give you a whole ass private concert for free" biduehsjdbd biiiiiiiiiiitch you're a fucking ICON, I stg I could NEVER 😂 (and not just because I couldn't find a tune if you gave me a printed set of Google maps directions and that I embody the steriotype that white people can't dance, like my sister kept sensing me tiktoks of the whole "dance like a white girl" trend going lmfao look it's you and eventually I was like "sis please this trend has me feeling like being white is a disability and these mothafuckers are being ableist 😭 also I could NEVER be that on beat so yall ain't even doin it right 😭😭😭😭"). Tbh if I told one of my friends (lol what friends, i got jokes) to get into Skz and they showed up at my bday and performed the entirety of I Got It I would simply shower them in money and go "aight everyone else go home, you are no longer needed, you are being laid off, your position has been eliminated, we're downsizing, the company is moving up and you're moving out, you are not qualified for this role any longer, best of luck with future endeavors" 😊

I think part of the reason I can't deal w Twitter is the exact reason I refuse to leave tumblr, in that I've been on tumblr since 2006 and twt since 2008, and tumblr literally has not changed at all, not even a little, whereas going from the early days of twt where there were no corporate sponsorships or ads and you had to manually copy and paste someone's tweet and @ them to retweet it, to how it is now, like 90% ads and showing me shit from the timelines of people I don't even fuckin follow n whatnot, it's just not enjoyable. Idk how anyone finds anything on twt, it confuses and frustrates me because I am old and have not adapted well to technology changing 😂 But arguably, the skz fanbase doesn't want me on skztwt anyways so like it works for both of us lmfaooo. I am old and cringey, and also still think of twt as stream of consciousness whereas tumblr is your teenage bedroom where you can decorate the walls with anything that interests you. I do really love the nonsensical kpoptwt shitposts tho fhshsbdjjss like it is a very specific flavor of mental instability that I enjoy immensely 😂 OH and also I initially misread part of that and thought you were saying you actually irl do meth and I was like 😳 WHAT DO I SAY TO THAT. HOW DO I HANDLE THIS. Like how do I express like "I wasn't being judgy of people who use substances cause I've been there but I was just being insensitive 😳" And then went back and reread it and was like WHEW, IM JUST AN ILLITERATE FOOL 😂😂😂😂 ejeywhdhrhjwbfbdjshdhdhd I spent like an hour bwign like "IS THE REASON WE GET ALONG BECAUSE THEY'RE ON METH???? WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS INFORMATION??????" hrhehshe I am literally a fuckin idiot it's fine

It's not that I don't fw them, it's more like... Okay so like there is no situation in which I am going to skip a skz song if it comes on shuffle. You will not ever catch me NOT in the mood to listen to Sunshine, if God's Menu comes on we are THROWIN the meager amount of booty meat I got hither and thither, I could be in the happiest mood of my life but if Ex comes on I will stop to SOB. And I'm not like that with most music, so mx just falls into the category of "there is a time and place." Idk why but it just doesn't forcibly grab hold of my heart and ass the way skz always does. I really don't WANT my skz fixation to ever end, but I know that eventually it'll stop giving me dopamine bevause my brain is my worst fucking enemy 🙃 like my arcana fixation is to date the longest running hyperfixation I've ever had, going on almost three years, and I used to not be able to spend every single second of every day thinking about Asra, but now... I just feel nothing when I look at arcana stuff. As you can probz tell by the fact that I hardly post arcana anymore 😂 So I know that eventually all my happiness will end, it always does, I can never stay just as obsessed with something as I was for long. I CANT SHARE THE LIST BECAUSE I DONT *HAVE* TASTE YET 😭 I'm basically just compiling a list of any group someone tells me I should look into, ranked by how strong the kitty purred upon googling pics of them 😂 My mom read my ass to FILTH over txt lmfao she was like "they're not that adorable. Maybe your standard for adorableness has gone down with You Know Who still on hiatus 🤔" bfjwhdhd like MOMMAAAAA THE LIBRARY IS CLOSED 😂 she attacks me any time I even hint at stanning other groups, she is a skz purist and stans skz only, unofficial Momma Stay of All Stays keeping me in check lmfao.

I feel like skz really do follow thru on their promise that they're a safe space for stays, it's nice to see that they hold space for anyone and everyone in their fanbase and do it in a really simple and elegant way, I feel. Like they never make it seem like "okay here are the fans and here are the token weirdos that were only recognizing to make a buck off of them" the way a lot of artists make it feel like 😑 like they don't go out of their way to act like it's some revolutionary act to do the bare minimum of not shitting on certain parts of the fandom, if that makes sense. They feel very "yeah, of course we love all our stays, this is a welcoming space for literally anyone, that's how it should be, that should be normal," instead of like "Hi fans we love you 😊 and special shoutout to you ell gee bee tee folk, make sure to buy my rainbow merch after the show!!!" you know? Like, they're the friends who would never make you feel weird or different for some shit, the friends that take the attention off you if something they know ur sensitive about comes up, instead of weirdly snapping at whoever brought the unfomfy thing up which ruins the mood and makes you feel tiwce as bad, yk? They just give off this vibe that they, and the space they create with their music, is just a genuine and chill place to be and hang out and relax and bond. I feel like they'd be the friend group that is so goofy and sweet and silly and accepting and lovely and always makes you feel loved and excited to be alive 🥺 They are all good noodles 🥺🥺🥺

[void-knights]

Storms End

Square Filled: Thor/Loki

Pairing: Thor/(Male)Loki

Rating: M – Mature

Word Count: 3632

Tags: NSFW, 18+, Incest, Erotic electrostimulation, Temperature kink, Ice Play, Sex & Magic, Choking, biting, Mentions of genderfluid Loki, Jötunn are not cold bodied/blooded,

Summary: Thor reflects on his new life in New Asgard just as a storm rolls in.

Written for: @lokibingo​

AO3 Link

A/N: Thorki isn’t my thing but I tried! I’m not a Ragnarök fan but it’s ending suited for this fic. ALSO I can’t stress this enough, this plays on unhealthy themes such as Incest (they’re brothers) and the shitty parenting of Odin and Frigga.

Lay on his front Thor listened to the oncoming thunderstorm, the once gentle tapping of rainwater against the windows had turned into hard painful lashes. It was as though his very element was punishing for deeds that had long gone ignored, but he knew he could step into that thunder and lightning and walk out fine.

His element may injure him for a time but never would it’s effects me lasting, for he was born with the power of thunder coursing through his veins. This was of little comfort to him now, he wished at times for that storm to be his end, for his roof to collapse and the storm take him. It would be a befitting death.

Grey skies above loomed heavy, burdened with the grief of a god who could not rest, who could not find his peace this evening. In the far distance he could hear the low rumbles, in his bones he could feel the first stirrings of lightning, his power grew in her rage.

He breathed in the cool damp air, his element sang to him as no other element could. She was unsurpassed in her might none might compare as she did, though they often tried. He could taste the rain on the air, for a moment he could believe he was back on Asgard.

But Midgard’s lightning spoke a different song, she was stronger, far more dangerous and unpredictable. Where he could predict a flat realm who’s weather patterns were as easy to predict as the seconds and minutes Midgard’s did as she pleased and to Hel with the concerns of the mortals who cowered in fear or stared in awe.

The scent of moss and salt clung to the air, something completely foreign filled his senses, a noise or feeling he was not accustomed to feeling. It caused him to shudder, old memories stirring as he tried not to think, he just wanted to sleep! Could he not be allowed this precious moment alone? To be at peace where old ghosts could not find him, what a sweet paradise that might be.

His eyes lit up, his skin crackled and for the moment he lost himself to the feeling of his element swallowing him whole. She wanted to slither her fingers deep into his soul, to empower him for the next battle. But there was to be no next battle. Not for a while.

A hand slithered its way up Thor’s middle resting upon his chest, “Try to sleep,” whispered Loki his bare pale form lit beautifully beneath the moon's light.

But Thor could no more rest than the storm could suddenly end, with a heavy sigh Loki propped himself up taking a moment to take in the god of thunder who lay with the expression of a man caught between a war of emotions.

Had they been a happy healthy family they might know of a better way of dealing with their grief than this? Instead, both stuffed down anything they could, it was best not to confront those feelings, to let them loose in battle and box them away until after death. Burdened with their parents lies both found little comfort in memories as others might suggest.

Instead, Thor cast the burdens of his crown aside for the night to fuck his little brother. Not by blood that much had been made clear, but it was not the healthiest way of resolving tension. It was odder still that when Loki looked at Loki still bearing his bite marks he still saw his little brother.

This was not their first time, the first had been on the Statesman, a moment of pure madness they both agreed. They had spent a day conflicted about what had happened, but neither could casually go fucking away their feelings as they once did.

Thor was now king, he could not have a bunch of bastards running about, (it wasn’t as though someone thought to bring the contraceptives with them when they were fleeing Asgard) and nobody who was of Asgard wanted to sleep with a Jötunn no matter how well disguised.

So they fucked again, and again and again until it had become some twisted routine. Something born out of the need to be closer, to seek comfort in the familiar. It didn’t matter if Thor was fucking his brother or sister what mattered was their connection, their love, perhaps obsession and codependency were better more suitable terms.

It was perverse.

But neither could stop themselves. Loki smoothed his palms over Thor’s chest a worried expression settling behind those emerald eyes. It was so fucking wrong to see the boy he had once been, back when their lives were better.

Hindsight provided Thor with the proof that it had never been happier or better. There were moments of true happiness, where they had been allowed to be innocent children. But with time and came realization. It was obvious to Thor now the damage that Odin and Frigga had inflicted upon Loki.

Where once Thor had resented Loki for having their mothers attention he now saw it for what it was. A way for the family to keep their eye on Loki by providing him someone he could depend and rely on. Someone to trust in, someone to cry to when Odin could no longer bear looking at Laufey’s son. The son he stole from Jotunheim for the sake of…

Well nobody knew, did they? Odin had once had a plan for Loki, had Loki never found out the truth they may have learnt what that plan might’ve been. For there was no other explanation as to why Odin kept Loki. He could have given him away if all he wanted to do was deny Laufey the chance of fatherhood.

Instead, Loki was raised in a house that saw him less than a son and more akin to a thing to be used. That purpose no longer mattered to Thor with the passing of Odin, but he suspected deep down that Loki still wanted to know. Loki who still searched for… well they were all searching for that something weren’t they?

Between them silence grew, the oh so distant rumble of thunder did not disturb them as it did others. Loki traced his fingers along the brief lines that the sparks drew across Thor’s skin, he chased and traced those sparks capturing one with his magic and allowing it to slither around his long slender fingers.

Of course Loki was capable of bottling lightning. Once such an action would inspire awe and wonder in Thor who had at one point adored Loki’s magic without question. Odin had been sure to remove that childhood love, that awe from Thor, he was not supposed to love and respect the magic used by men.

Resentment brewed within Thor as he tried to recapture that innocent childhood awe. He found nothing but the emptiness that Hela’s return had filled him with. The realization that he had not been the first, not even the first child to be exiled. But he had succeeded Odin’s second attempt at raising a child whereas Hela had been erased and abandoned. She had just wanted to be remembered, to be loved and…

He saw Hela within Loki, Loki who sat on top of him marvelling at the lightning captured within the fragile glass orb. He tried not to see his siblings, but how could he not? Did Odin look upon Loki and see Hela as well? Why had Loki as a babe chosen that look, had the baby shapeshifter conjured it from Odin’s memories?

There were too many questions the ancient king was leaving behind, it hurt to think about. He would rather admire the way the slow white glow of lightning lit up Loki’s face, the way those emerald eyes shimmered and shone as he quite seriously studied the captured element within his palm.

Thor was wrong in assuming that was glass, when Loki pressed his mouth to the small orb that captured his lightning that continued spark and bounce about its container he watched droplets of water escape the orb and moisten Loki’s pale thin lips.

The lightning flickered and flung itself against the orb as if to sense what Loki was doing or perhaps Thor’s desire to have his brother’s lip back around his cock rather than teasing the lightning. How odd was it to be turned on by this most unusual display?

If there was anyone who could make sex more unusual it was his brother… Loki, Loki, Loki, he must stop referring to the man he was fucking as his brother. It made things more odd, more perverse.

Slipping the orb into his mouth Loki lowered himself down, curious as to his brothers scheme Thor sat himself up a little. Somehow, Somehow, Loki managed to fit the tip of Thor’s cock into his mouth.

Thor groaned gripping the sheets beneath him, he did not dare grab Loki’s hair fearing a genuine chance of killing either or both of them, which only added to the pleasure. When had the risk of death become so erotic?

He groaned as icy lips and tongue teased his cock, that orb of ice rolling around with the motions of Loki’s bobbing head and teasing tongue drove Thor mad with pleasure. Loki’s eyes never left his brother’s single eye that continued to glow white with power, his hands traced the outside of Thor’s thighs as the god of thunder tried so hard not to come so soon.

Thoughts of propriety had long been abandoned on the route to Midgard yet in the back of their minds they knew how wrong this was. That made it all the more exciting. Whether it was done as a ‘fuck you’ to Odin or just a rather meaningless need to let out frustrations that did not involve punching or stabbing something they could not say.

It hardly seemed to matter now. 

That life was taken from them. 

Loki swallowed Thor down his throat, the god lost it as the ice in his brothers mouth cracked that lightning quite giddy to be let loose attacked anything it could. The sparks of pleasure started small, licks that were little more than tickles turned into the sharp snap of static before evolving into something quite like the snap of a whip.

Thor bucked beneath his brother spurred on by the immense pain his own element caused him, Loki remained unharmed and so unaffected which turned on Thor even more. That devious glint in Loki’s eyes as Thor grabbed his long raven hair wrapping it around his fist and pulling Loki further onto his cock had him wanting to prove himself. Thor liked a challenge and Loki was the perfect challenge, designed for him in a way no other being could be.

He came hard down Loki’s throat with a roar that matched the lightning creeping up on New Asgard. Not wasting a drop Loki swallowed his brothers come with a devious smirk, the mortals might think him devilish, temptation given form, but Loki was no devil, simply a trickster.

Not that Thor had been tricked into this, they had both tricked one another, thinking it a good method of coping.

Shoving his brother down on the bed Thor growled, he would have no more of Loki being in command, it invited his brothers more devious and delightful ideas and while that was tempting he had no desire for the complex this evening.

He just needed to fuck and Loki was not about to argue about that.

Loki reached up grabbing his brother by the shortened hair, how they both hated that hair. It was demeaning to them, to their culture, it removed an important piece of Thor. He threaded his fingers through the short blonde hair enjoying how fluffy it felt, though he longed for the return of those long golden locks.

Closing his eyes Thor allowed himself a moment of peace, he turned to kiss the palm that rested against the side of his head, they were both caught off guard by the tender loving gesture. More and more of those had begun to slip in as of late. A kiss here, a tender smile, a hug, sharing a bed, it was all becoming dangerously domestic. It really shouldn’t be, should it?

They weren’t related by blood, Thor kissed his palm again, they weren’t related by blood so why was this so wrong? He had grown up alongside Sif and many expected him to marry a woman he saw as his sister. Why was this so different?

Because they had spent over a thousand years believing one another to be brothers. That is why. It was not two friends who had grown fond of one another, it was to brothers who had found a perverse pleasure in one another's bodies. Blood did not bind them but they were still brothers.

They should not be doing this, Thor kissed his palm a third time, but he could not stop, they could not stop.

Loki was just as to blame as Thor, Loki who pushed Thor into random spaces to fuck him against whatever surface he could. Loki who slid her cunt over her brothers leather clad thigh riding him to completion while he signed documents and paperwork. Loki who with both cock and cunt would pleasure themselves until Thor could no longer resist their body.

Instead of pulling away, of finally saying no Thor watched as Loki slid oil slicked fingers along Thor’s length guiding his brothers dick into him. It was not so easy to adjust to his brothers girth, but that is what made it all the more pleasurable to Loki, that brief bout of pain as his body adjusted to accept his brother.

Thor restrained himself watching as Loki’s eyes fluttered shut, he was caught in that war between pleasure and pain, the sight alone made his cock twitch. He looked so beautiful with pale thin lips parted in ecstasy as a pink flush coated that pale moonlit skin his hole stretched around his cock his inner walls clamping around him in a scorching Jötunn heat.

His brother was so warm, so perfect, so beautifully tempting it was becoming impossible to keep his eyes and hands wandering. With his right hand he slid his palm other his brothers lithe pale form, electricity nipping at exposed pinked flesh, he ran his palms across those pert dusty nipples causing Loki to buckle beneath him shuddering in pleasure.

A whining moan escaped a pleading to his brother to cease with the teasing and to fuck him, fill him already with his cum. But he would not beg and as much as Thor would enjoy hearing those pleas falling from his brothers pretty lips he much preferred this. It had become a perverse secret between them, a secret no one else could share in. It was theirs and theirs alone.

A white flash of lightning lit the room in a rather ominous shade, something heavy threatened to smother them both. They shoved it aside as Thor slowly withdrew from his brother who regained his composure, those talented fingers sling along his own length playing with himself as though Thor weren’t there.

He would remind his brother who it was that was fucking him, who was pleasuring him. Just as he had done when eating out her cunt or fingering her arse until she was coming all around him. Thor knew how to pull his brothers pleasure from him by now, to make his brother scream and cry his name in the throes of passion.

Sliding a broad palm around his brothers throat Thor rammed himself back into Loki who screamed out a gust of pleasure before Thor began to squeeze cutting off just enough air to make Loki’s head swim in pleasure.

“Brother,” Loki should not be moaning at a time like this, “Brother,” should not be a word that turned on Thor like nothing else.

But Thor once again pulled himself from Loki until the tip of his broad cock remained and then brutally rammed himself back in. It would be painful, crippling to a mortal, but neither of them were mortal. The sparks of electricity that danced along Thor’s skin nipped and shocked Loki who squirmed and writhed.

The combination of Thor’s cock, the electricity, the hand pressed firmly against his throat all made Loki moan out praising his brother, a prayer that was uttered better than any mortal could hope to muster.

Thor’s brutal pace had Loki grabbing onto the headboard above him, wood splintering beneath his fingers as he tried not to destroy another bed. Thor braced himself on that same headboard as he fucked his brother hard and fast, slick sweat covered Loki’s body causing him to shine in the light of the storm.

Their pleasure came upon them, Loki teased his own cock collecting more of that electricity that wanted to tease and torment him and spread it gingerly against his own length. Thor released his brothers throat and swatted his hand away from his hard reddening cock, he grabbed it in his own sparking hand and Loki screamed his name.

There was no pain sweeter, he called out Thor’s name in the storm not the beg Thor wanted to hear but the anticipation of one he would in time bring out in his brother who whimpered in the pained pleasure brought him ever closer to his own release.

It was brutal, some might say without love, the rough way in which he gripped Loki, pounded into him until they were both bruising and aching only their feral sounds accompanied by the storm outside could be heard. Not that anyone could hear, they would never hear.

Loki his lower lip stifling the moan that threatened spill from his lips, Thor snarled increasing his grip upon Loki’s cock the pre cum that leaked mixing with the oils that Thor used from the remains of the bottle that lay beside them.

Bucking beneath his brother Loki urged him on, to move otherwise he would be using Thor’s cock for his own pleasure and ignoring his brother’s wants. Thor got the silent message and thrust deeper, harder into her brother striking that sweet spot that had Loki clamping around him.

Both breathed out their pleasured too stubborn to be the first one to come, Loki grabbed Thor’s shoulder as he attempted angle himself, so he could strike deeper in Loki who could not hold back the loud moan.

He would not beg.

But Norns was he close!

Thor closed the gap between them still pounding into the breathless Loki, instead of kissing him like Loki expected Thor licked along the side of his brothers long pale neck savouring the taste of sweat and something sweet from the oils.

The previous bite marks were fading, so he bit hard into Loki’s neck and shoulder savouring the sweet way in which Loki bucked against him, a pitiful attempt to fight back lost the moment Thor squeezed his hardened red cock.

He came hard spilling all over Thor’s fist, his brother was not far behind him, coming undone when Loki squeezed around him filling him up with his seed.

Thor moaned into the nape of Loki’s neck mumbling nothing of importance between bites and licks. Loki breathed his fingers tangled in blonde hair, gentle nips of electricity flitted along their joined sweat slicked bodies. Thor refused to pull out, to move, Loki clung to his brother unsure why that comforted him so much.

With a last flourish of magic Loki cleaned them up as best he could, what with Thor refusing to remove his softening cock that lay nestled within his brother. Thor instead rolled them over pulling Loki’s overly warm pale body tighter against his own sun kissed body.

He brushed the raven hair from Loki’s face savouring how sweet he looked as he stared out to the Midgardian sea that now acted as their background. The seas and land were dark, only a few golden lights of New Asgard were lit at such a late – almost early – hour. The distant bones of what would be Heimdall’s new observatory managed to stand out when the lightning lit up the lands.

The thunder and lightning remained, echoing their previous roars of passion, Thor meanwhile hummed some old Midgardian tune that he had picked up from some place.

It was better than those old lullabies that often talked of joyously murdering Jötnar. Why had their mother sung those songs knowing what Loki was? Why recite those old tales that made Loki hate what he was?

Loki kissed his brothers neck savouring the taste of him before sitting up, already half hard and rocking himself against Thor. Tonight was going to be a long night, not that the god of thunder would complain. Instead, he watched as Loki guided his brothers hands to his pale slender hips and rocked himself upon the half hard cock nestled within him.

Neither of them spoke as Loki slowly fucked himself on Thor’s cock, instead Thor watched in silent awe. How beautiful was his brother by the light of the storm and moon, he watched as Loki took his pleasure as he needed it, using him until Thor could give no more, as a god of fertility he took that as a challenge.

Silently he settled himself watching as once more Loki captured lightning, bringing it Thor’s own lips.

He could taste the power, the pain and pleasure.

For tonight, he could forget all that waited for him outside these walls, for tonight he had Loki and Loki had him. That was all that mattered. No matter how wrong it was.

[on-fic-writing-spree]

Chapter 3: New Traits and New Fates

Word count: 934 words

Notes: The first two chapters were opening chapters; they give some background to you guys where some of the other characters might not be aware of (dramatic irony, if any of y’all remember that bs from reading Romeo and Juliet in high school lmao). Anyway, this takes place a rough while after the split (2 years). The story will continue to progress from 2 years towards 3 years etc from here, maybe with a flashback or two. I haven’t entirely decided. Also note: I’m adding gender HCs cause I Said So. (Ree is genderfluid, Janus is a cis dudez Remus’s pronouns might change chapter to chapter and sometimes go by Ree instead of Remus. Ro is bigender and goes by both he and she. Patton is also cis, goes by he. Virgil is agender and goes by they and it pronouns. Logan is a demiboy and goes by he and they pronouns. These largely don’t influence the story, it’s just to make note of their pronouns.) Anyway, point is, we’re moving ahead in time now Yeet.

Next Chapter: Useless and Paranoid

Find the rest of the story here!

——————

Promptly after Remus jumped out from behind the couch, Deceit hissed and slammed the other’s face in with a book. “Can’t you ever not leave me be?” he muttered, going back to his book, which wasn’t all that interesting in the first place. It was just on the laws of the palace, many pages torn, others with smeared letters, or the occasional random fold or odd stain. Ree didn’t take good care of their things.

Remus giggled and grinned, poking the side of Janus’s face. “Nope, no can do Dee-Dee!” they remarked gleefully. “You live in my castle, that means you live being annoyed by me,” they declared, leaning over the back of the couch, which had rips from them throwing their morningstar carelessly across it so many times. Truth be told, Ree always enjoyed Deceit’s remarks towards them. They weren’t predicted, they weren’t preprogrammed. Deceit was nothing like the other characters in their village. Still, they couldn’t help but want more than Deceit. One friend (if you could even call him that) was great, but could you imagine if they had two? It’d be a dream come true! Maybe they’d do something about it later.

By the time Ree had snapped back to reality, Deciet had already been standing to head out of the room, only to be stopped with a few waves of Ree’s hand, pushing Deciet back into his spot. “You know what I like about you most, double-dee?” Deceit merely hummed in response, already knowing where this was going. Ree made it a point to never let Deceit think he wasn’t their absolute favorite, though they’d always give a different reason. “I absolutely love your attitude,” they complimented, resting their hands on top of Deceit’s head before resting their chin atop of that. “What boring book are you reading this time? You know I can conjure more, right? Or like... way more fun things to do.”

Deceit folded the book shut on his finger so Ree could see the cover. “I suppose you could, but wouldn’t that defeat the fun of re-reading the same paragraph twelve times because have the words are scribbled out?” he quipped, earning a soft snicker from Ree.

“Well let me know if you change your mind. I’ll be in my room, business to attend to. Being a duke sucks,” they finished, heading off towards his room. Deceit made some comment about if the other needed help, but Ree was already halfway down the hall by the time he finished his sentence.

—

Morality was special. Roman had decided this, without a doubt, that indeed, Morality was special.

When Roman had heard about Remus’s new pal—Deceit, he thought—Roman just knew he had to have one too. Morality was a free spirit, clumsy and full of joy, constantly skipping throughout the castle and baking for Roman.

Truthfully, Morality was the only one Roman would fully trust to make his food without someone to try it before he ate it, despite Roman’s the utter lack in ability to die. Not that his people knew that, of course, they knew very little. Only little parts here and there that Roman had practically programmed them to be aware of. Mindless creations, as the King once called them. Roman didn’t care much for the term ‘mindless,’ always thinking it to be a bit harsh to describe his lovely subjects.

When Morality started talking—something about the butter?—Roman snapped out of his thoughts and shook his head some. “Huh? Sorry, what?” He asked, only for Patton to giggle and point to the butter.

“Pass me the butter please,” he repeated, continuing to stir what was already incorporated into the pot. Roman passed over the butter, which Morality added after cutting into uneven cubes, humming softly while he worked. When finished, he wiped his hands on his apron, speaking again, “Should be done soon. Anything you’d like to do in the next four and a half minutes?” he asked, only half joking.

Roman tapped his chin, pretending to think for a moment. “Nope, I got nothing.” Morality nodded and shrugged, a smile on his face as he hummed some and started to clean. This was a fairly average day for them. They often ended up doing activities like this together, baking, coloring, sometimes they’d even visit town together. A few times they went into shops—Morality would always tip as much as he could afford to even after Roman slipped in a pretty penny.

The kingdom had seemed a lot more lively since Morality had been around, as though everyone was enlightened by his being. Roman truly could not imagine anyone to be more fit for helping to take care of the people, even though technically it wasn’t Morality’s job. He was like just that, always taking a parental role. Roman would sometimes joke that Morality was the ‘father of all’ to which Morality would laugh about, never minding the title in the slightest. He embraced it really.

Soon enough the timer for the food went off, and Morality made plates before setting the table with them. The talked as they ate, Morality bringing up the rest of the tasks that Roman had to do in the day. Roman merely groaned and whined about how many duties he as a poor little prince had. Which gave Roman an idea—he didn’t enjoy the idea of one of the people in kingdom taking care of many of those tasks, since they only knew to take orders, really, it won’t help with the stress. But he could certainly do something a little different... create yet another trait. Yes, that would do just finely! He could have Morality as a good friend and a new trait—something logical perhaps—to take care of some things for him!

After dropping his silverware with soft clanking onto the half-empty plate, Roman hopped up from his spot, thanking Morality for the food before hurrying off to start on his idea, a grin on his face as he sprinted through the halls and to his room. He locked the door behind him. Morality didn’t need to know of this of course. Roman had no clue what that would possibly do to him, if he knew he was a figment created by Roman. That would be something he must be careful about... for their safety, if nothing else.

——————

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This is my gift for @richardcampbells who requested so primo Gansey content! 3.7k [Ao3]

Gansey did not remember being this twitchy in high school.

It was difficult to remember ‘high school’ as this thing that had happened to him only a short year ago and not something in his distant past. He’d experienced so many things in the years of high school and also in the gap year since, it was hard to hold the memory of Aglionby as something associated with himself. He had felt quite different then.

Quite less twitchy.

Blue would probably take offense to the word twitchy. He didn’t think it was a slur of any kind, but it still felt like a word she would not-so-gently correct. Fidgety, she might say. Hyper.

Not that he was hyper, he just couldn’t seem to stop picking at the corner of his folder. Or playing with the zipper tag on his schoolbag. He had to admit, he did feel rather high-strung.

To be so far away from her – Blue – when they’d so recently been so close. Closer than close. It was mildly unbearable.

And not only her, but Henry who had been with them on their gap year road trip around the world. Adam, who was following his own academic pursuits but had been a real grounding presence in his Aglionby days. Ronan, who he missed like a limb and who’d worried him while he’d been away and potentially worried him more now that he was close but still extremely far.

Georgetown was not so far. Ronan came to the area every week for mass with his brothers.

It was enough distance for Gansey to feel it in the marrow of his bones.

He tapped his pen distractedly against his laptop, waiting for class to start and contemplating if he should send Ronan another text. Just to make sure he was coping. He couldn’t remember ever tapping his pen at Aglionby.

“Okay, class, welcome to BBH 251, colloquially known as ‘Straight Talks.’”

Gansey sat up straighter, taking a firmer grip on his pen to sublimate the urge to fidget.

“You can all put your laptops away, this isn’t that type of class.”

Gansey startled, blinking for a good few seconds before shutting his laptop and sliding it back into his bag. He wasn’t sure what kind of class didn’t require taking notes. His pulse jumped a bit in his neck, some predecessor to an inappropriate sense of dread.

“This class is about exploring intersectional identity, putting focus on privilege and invisible identities.”

And now the dread made more sense. Gansey was always far too aware of his privilege.

It would be absolutely heinous to have to get up in the front of this room and list out all the ways society valued him more than them. Looking around the room there were women, there were people of color. Students with pride flags on their bags and their hair dyed outrageous colors. There were students who looked like Adam had when he’d first come to Aglionby: hollow cheeked and broken down in a way that could only be reached by withstanding poverty. How was he supposed to come out to this class as a straight, white, wealthy son of a Republican career politician?

“The class is called straight talks because what we learn in this class, we carry over into other classes. We reach out to other classes and introduce ourselves with our full intersectional identities.”

The horrors continued abound. Gansey would have to do this around the entire university.

“I’ll start.”

Their instructor introduced herself as a white, cis woman. She was a lesbian athlete in her mid-fifties. She talked about the difficulties of being a lesbian athlete, how she suffered ageism in the gay community, and the stereotypes that come with it.

Braver souls than Gansey came forward and asked what cis meant. The teacher calmly explained that it simply meant “not trans”. Gansey hadn’t known there was a word for that. He hadn’t thought about the need for one. And that made him feel worse than anything. Because anything that wasn’t “other” was “normal”. What a terribly privileged thing he was.

“And now, to present more examples from your peers, I’ve asked some of my students from last semester to show you what a straight talk might look like. Ryann, do you want to start?”

Ryann didn’t look particularly bothered either way, but started on what was obviously a well rehearsed speech.

He was genderfluid, which meant he changed his pronouns regularly, but he told them all that at this moment he was a he so please refer to him as such. He was of Māori descent. He talked about what it was like to be underrepresented and constantly likened to Taika Waititi just because he was the only Māori person anyone ever heard of, if they’d heard of it at all. He suffered from EDS, which meant he had what was usually referred to as an invisible disability. In other words: people assumed he was abled when they looked at him since he didn’t need a wheelchair. At least not yet.

This wasn’t at all about Gansey, but he still found himself sinking slightly in his seat, the shame he felt by the simple fact that he had none of these additional social obstacles to deal with making him feel absolutely wretched and helpless.

The next speaker helped some. She was white and cis and able-bodied. But she spoke of growing up in poverty in the American south, constantly living in fear because she was bisexual and a woman. She discussed how she’d known more girls who’d experienced sexual violence than she could fit on two hands.

Gansey felt a little like crying. Actually, a lot like crying. But he was a Gansey and he would never show such unmeasured behaviour in company. And this was not about him. He would not make it about him.

The last person was agender. They were mixed race: what races, they weren’t even sure because they were adopted. They grew up in a wealthy family but lived in a community where they didn’t feel deserving of that station. Feeling undeserving was something, at least, Gansey understood.

They were also demisexual.

“So, demisexuality is on the spectrum of asexuality,” the person – Storm – explained, in a practiced-sounding way, but not like Gansey thought they were tired of explaining: they still sounded as if they cared deeply about this label. “Everyone’s heard of the Kinsey scale?” Most everyone nodded, Gansey maybe too enthusiastically. He’d read a lot of history when he’d realized Adam was bisexual. “Asexuality has that same kind of scale, ranging from sex-repulsed asexual to sex-positive gray-asexual. Asexuality is differentiated by the lack of feeling of sexual attraction. sex-repulsed asexuals don’t feel sexual attraction and don’t want sex in any way. People can still be asexual but have sex anyway for stress relief or for their partner: they don’t feel the attraction but don’t mind the act itself. Gray-asexual people can feel sexual attraction but only sometimes. It’s all very relative and, obviously, I don’t speak for everyone blah blah blah. Following?”

There were grumbles of assent from the assembled class and Gansey nodded distractedly.

What Storm (and that was another thing: Ronan would absolutely love the names nonbinary people chose for themselves when Gansey told him) what Storm was talking about with gray-asexuality sounded just like normal people. Not everyone experiences sexual attraction ALL the time. Then wouldn’t everyone want to have sex with everyone else all the time? That sounded extremely distracting, who would have the time?

And not everyone was in the mood all the time either. He was working to be really open-minded, but this didn’t sound real. 

“Demisexuality,” Storm continued, “Is on that spectrum. The important qualifier is that demisexual people can feel sexual attraction but only if they establish an emotional bond with someone first.”

And just like that, something in Gansey’s head snapped.

He shot his hand up.

Their professor waved him off. “We’re not doing questions right now,”

“That’s okay.” Storm said, smiling at him. Something in their eyes glinted in what Gansey thought might be recognition, even though they’d never met. “What’s up?” They asked, nodding at Gansey.

Gansey had no idea what was up. He hadn’t raised his hand with any kind of plan.

“Hello. My name is Gansey,” he introduced himself, because his mother always said that was a good jumping off point. “Demi is from the Latin word dimidius meaning partially or half.”

That probably wasn’t the right direction to start with, judging by the muttering and eye rolling from his classmates. Gansey felt his neck heat up but Storm looked amused.

“Are you calling me half-sexual?”

“No,” Gansey shook his head, trying to come off better. “I guess I just wondered how the leap was made from demi meaning half to demi meaning… what you said.”

“Mr. Gansey–” the teacher started again, looking a little put-out. Gansey guessed he’d probably said something wrong. Something offensive. Something condescending. He was good at that.

But Storm waved her off again. “I don’t know, man, I didn’t invent the word. I just learned it, same as you’re learning it now.” Their eyes flashed again on the words ‘same as you’. “I learned the word and I remembered every teacher I’d had a crush on growing up after they’d established a connection with me. I remembered the weird sex dreams I’d had about literally every one of my friends. I remembered how any time someone talked about having sex with a stranger I thought they were kidding because how could you feel that way about someone you didn’t know?”

Gansey’s hand gripped the seat of his chair, each statement from Storm triggering his own memories. How he’d never had a crush on a girl – a serious, Want To Do Anything About It crush – until Blue. How confused he’d been when Adam said he had more experience with girls, because he hadn’t, really. How Helen’s advances on poor unsuspecting men felt false, because how could she want to sleep with all of them? She’d just met them.

And he remembered the weird sex dreams he’d had about Adam and Ronan, even though he was straight.

At least… he’d thought he was straight?

Storm smiled at him in a soft, almost pitying way. “Any other questions?”

Gansey shook his head. “No, thank you. Please continue.”

It seemed this class may teach him more than he’d counted on.

His first order of business was to call Blue.

Both because he needed to speak with her about this new word he’d just learned and also because he had a scheduled call with her and also because he missed her fiercely.

“Have you heard this word ‘demisexuality’?” Gansey asked by way of hello.

He could almost hear Blue blink in surprise. “No. Where have you heard the word demisexuality?”

“I’m taking this Bio-Behavioral Health class. It’s usually reserved for at the very earliest second semester students but I spoke to my advisor about my apprehension regarding achieving the required credits for gen eds and she suggested combining requirements through some classes that might cover both. This class counts for gym and science.”

“So you’re not taking a gym class?” Blue hummed, mournfully. “No pictures of sunkissed Gansey rowing in the early morning?”

Gansey’s ears heated up and he cleared his throat. “Any photos you’d like I’ll take for you, Jane.”

Blue hummed again, self-satisfied.

Gansey cleared his throat again. “So this class explores identity and marginalization–”

Blue cut him off with a barked laugh. “Oh, man, I would love to watch this class react to you .”

“Yes, Jane, it was not very comfortable for me, aware as I am of my privilege.” He tried not to sound petulant but he was and it did. “But there was a student named Storm who introduced me to this new word. Demisexuality, I mean.”

“Okay,” Blue said. There was rustling on the other side and Gansey pictured her getting comfortable, sitting in the chair next to the table in the phone/sewing/cat room. She had her own cell phone by now – a fight that spanned weeks and several countries of their road trip – but she refused to use it to speak to Gansey himself, only saving it for calling her mother while she was away or to speak to Adam on the phone his own boyfriend had bullied him into accepting. He assumed she’d cave and use it to speak to him when she was away at school herself (her semester didn’t start until October) but for now they were relying on old habits. “So tell me about demisexuality.”

He began to talk through it with her, repeating some of what Storm said and drawing new conclusions and going so far as to pull a webpage on the subject up on his phone as he spoke, switching between reading off of it and putting the phone to his ear to hear her reply. He knew she could have looked this up herself, but he appreciated she was letting him tell her about it. Teaching her was the easiest way for him to learn himself.

She cut to it pretty quick. “Is that what you think you are?”

Gansey blinked, expecting the question, he supposed, but not expecting how it would make him feel.

“I thought I was straight,” he answered. Because it was true. Even if it was becoming less true by the moment. 

There was a rustling that Gansey recognized as a shrug. “Everyone thinks they’re straight until they don’t.”

Gansey blinked again.

“Thank you, Jane.”

Blue hummed. “I’m gonna let you sit with this. Call me back with any updates?”

Gansey hummed back. They hung up.

Gansey appreciated she wanted to let him sit with this – it was a kindness and potentially a necessity. He didn’t know how to do this, he’d never had a sexual identity crisis before.

So he called Ronan.

Who didn’t answer, of course, so he was forced to sit with his sexual identity crisis.

  He sat with it for two hours until Ronan sent him a text. “Dick.”

Gansey called him.

Ronan answered. “Jesus Mary, Gansey, what ?”

“I think I had a crush on you when we first met.”

Ronan choked and immediately hung up.

Gansey swore, growling, before hitting redial.

“Gansey, I swear to Christ,” Ronan pleaded.

“Shut up!” Gansey swore. “Please shut up. I am so stressed out right now, Ronan.”

Ronan, for his part, shut up. It was an angry and embarrassed silence, but considering what Gansey had just confronted him with that was understandable.

“I learned something in one of my classes today and Jane thinks it might apply to me.” Blue had said no such thing, but something told Gansey that Ronan would take information like this more seriously if it came from sensible Blue. “There is apparently a sexual orientation previously unbeknownst to me that describes feelings of attraction only when there’s an established emotional connection.”

Ronan was silent for a few breaths before he said “Okay?”

“So we were very close when he first met and I felt an immediate connection to you and I didn’t know how to process that outside of friendship because I’d never felt it before but now with this new term sort of recontualizing things, I think it may have been a crush.”

Ronan made a sort of squawk in his throat, reacting similarly to the first time Gansey had said the word “crush” but, thankfully, not hanging up the phone.

“Gansey… I don’t know what you want me to do with this.”

Gansey opened his mouth then shut it again. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from Ronan either. He didn’t know how to ask “Do you think I had a crush?” or “Do you think I’m not straight?” or “How do I restructure myself, how do I think of myself, if I’m not straight like I always thought?”

But that was an emotional burden he had no business troubling Ronan with. Gansey’s feelings weren’t Ronan’s responsibility. He had other things going on.

“Nothing,” he answered, quickly, attempting to brush off the entire conversation. “Just a thought to mull over. I thought I’d share. But, you’re right, you have other things to do–”

Ronan sighed so loud and dramatically, he cut off Gansey’s prepared polite change of topic right in its tracks.

“Gansey, it’s okay if you’re not straight. It would be fucking cool, actually. That means none of us are straight. High five for a perfect queer score or whatever the shit.”

Gansey’s mouth twitched.

“And if you had a crush on me that’s cool too.” He cleared his throat, his next statement coming out as a growl to cover embarrassment. “I had a crush on you in the beginning, too. So it’s whatever.”

Gansey grinned. “Oh, you did?”

“We are never bringing this up again,” Ronan told him firmly. “But yeah, man, you’re like the portrait of well tended youth. But you drove a fast and shitty car and smiled like a dork. I was sixteen, what do you want?”

Gansey’s grin softened. “Well, now I feel indecorous. You’ve had time to think about this. I have nothing prepared to tell you why you were crushworthy.”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Ronan said, quickly. “Tell me about the crush you had on Parrish, instead.”

Gansey sat up straight, very much feeling like he’d received a rowing oar to the face. “Did I have a crush on Parrish?”

Ronan snorted, cruel yet fond. “Of fucking course you had a crush on Parrish. Everyone with eyes and a brain has had a crush on Parrish.”

Gansey frowned but remembered again the inappropriate sex dreams. Then he blushed. Then he conceded. “I suppose you make valid points.”

Ronan laughed. “Did you get butterflies the first time he helped you fix the Pig?”

Gansey hummed, getting a little lost in the memory, before jerking back. “Oh. Have I been a little stupid about this?”

Ronan snorted again, the sound 100% joy this time. “Yeah, man. But that’s okay. No one can know everything.”

When Gansey was slated to present his own “straight talk” to the class weeks later, he was prepared. Not ready. Not comfortable. But prepared.

“Hello,” Gansey started, his politician’s-son smile on. “My name is Richard Campbell Gansey III, but I go by Gansey. The legacy in my family, so aptly captured by my name, has never been something I was comfortable with.”

Gansey watched a few faces around the room nod. Expressing that they saw him, they understood what he was saying, and they accepted it.

It gave him the strength to continue. He smiled a bit more easily this time.

“It feels overly boastful to list the ways for which I have privilege in this world – it was something I was never brought up to put a name to for fear of coming off ungracious or pompous. But putting a name to something is the first step to breaking down the social structures that put people like me so far ahead simply by the state in which I was born. So just because it makes me uncomfortable, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t say it. I only ask that as I go down my list, you all don’t hate me too much.”

That got a few laughs. Gansey sighed a bit in relief before steeling himself.

“I’m white. White Anglo Saxon Protestant, which is rather ironic as I’m deathly allergic to wasps.” Another laugh. Gansey took another breath. “I come from a wealthy family: what some call old Virginia money. I’ve never wanted for anything. I am cis, I am male, I am able-bodied – save my poor eyesight and previously mentioned bee and wasp allergy. Access to care for eyes and allergy has never been a problem, though, because of the aforementioned wealth. I’ve been able to go through my life relatively normally because of the wealth and despite what otherwise might be debilitating conditions.”

The bee allergy had killed him, once, but Gansey wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to get into that in this setting.

“I have a girlfriend, so I am straight passing,” Gansey continued, swallowing. “And, until very recently, I thought I was straight.”

He lifted his eyes to the class, hoping some of them were remembering his questions to Storm on the first day. Storm themself wasn’t there but Gansey pictured them in his mind as he continued.

“Learning about demisexuality has opened some things up for me,” he confessed. “I spoke to my girlfriend and to some friends from high school who are queer themselves and who I only recently realized I had had crushes on. They all think it’s extremely funny, telling me I was terrible at hiding it. And they’re all very excited to realize this gives us a perfect record of queerness in the friend group.”

More laughs. Students’ faces were very open and friendly. Some were still a bit disdainful – there would be some fights he couldn’t win, some people he would never be able to win over because they had suffered too much by people just like him – but there were people in this class who didn’t visibly hate him. Gansey grinned fully.

“I expect this discovery of identity will continue: probably until I die.” (Again) “And it was challenging to have to restructure my self-perception, but a bit thrilling, too. I thank you all for sharing so much of yourselves with me. I hope I can go forward in this life and take advantage of my outrageous privilege to do right by you.”

He glanced over at the professor, who looked rather stoic, but nodded once, eyes shining in something that looked a little like surprise and a little more like pride.

Gansey looked back to the class and nodded. “Thank you.”

He hoped he could answer questions – from the class and from himself – whenever they came.

[aplaceforthesoul]

im born female and i know im not a boy but sometimes i dont feel like a girl im not dure what i feel like but sometimes i feel like a girl. yesterday i like my breast i wanted to dress feminie but today i hated them and wanted them gone. im so confused and stressed. im going thru this whole cycle like i did 2 years ago when i thought i was bi and i kept wondering what if im just making this up because i want attention i think i didnt want to be different but im 100 a lesbian. is this normal?

(for the sake of transparency, I’m a cisgender person answering this.)

when it comes to gender and sexuality and identity? there really isn’t a way to define what’s “normal” or not. the western world is one that’s very heteronormative and narrowed; it has a very restricted and limited idea on gender and how people should conform which isn’t very helpful (or healthy) because humans aren’t linear, and those ideas that have been formed aren’t very accurate. 

gender dysphoria is real -- it’s not a mental health illness or anything, it’s just a way to describe a sense of conflict that you might have because of a mismatch between biological sex and gender identity. gender dysphoria is more common than you might think, there’s a lot of people who don’t fit into the small restricted western definitions of gender. this post is a pretty good breakdown of gender identities and definitions, if you’re just unsure of everything at the moment then give it a read and you may find a label that could give you some clarity.

however!! because I am cisgender and someone who hasn’t questioned their identity in this way before? messaging blogs like @whoneedssexed (they’re much more than a sex ed blog and they have admins who are trans / nb /  genderfluid), @mentalillnessmouse, @mental-health-advice or maybe @theroguefeminist might give you more answers and support that’s helpful for you. 

just know that there’s truly nothing wrong with you, it’s not weird or strange to be questioning your gender like this. your feelings and thoughts are real and valid, promise <33

- tash

[jeminy3]

Role Reversal

Another very old thing i’ve finally gotten around to polishing and posting.

This is, (like most of my fics), a collection of things I really wanted to see written about - and a bunch of things I'm very horny for.

Namely: Queerplatonic/Friends-With-Benefits Royai, BDSM with Dom!Riza and Sub!Roy, Roy in a Dress, Riza in a Pantsuit, Other Very Sexy things, with a big bonus of Genderfluid/Transfeminine Roy with Riza being supportive… in her own way.

Pronouns will change. NSFW warnings will show up as necessary.

Read on AO3

Read on Google Docs

If anyone assumed Riza Hawkeye was too straight-laced to enjoy the finer things in life, they were sorely mistaken - she just preferred things a certain way, that's all.

A good example involves her current situation: she's politely refused partaking in any alcoholic drinks during the event she was currently attending, instead getting her fill from sparkling apple cider. She greatly dislikes inebriation, as it never agreed with her in her experience, and she prefers to stay fully aware in her waking life. Besides, the gold-colored drink looks no different from champagne - tastes better too, in her opinion.

In this way she can keep her ever-watchful eyes as sharp as her namesake as she scans the room - a hotel lobby dressed up for a politically-motivated cocktail party - taking note of the building's layout, entrances and exits, where the hotel staff cycles in and out from, and how the attendees and their attitudes ebb and flow as the party progresses.

In a word, she likes control.

It applied to any situation in her life - on the battlefield, in the office, even in her dog's behavior training. She was a force of order in a world of chaos, making sense out of a senseless world, even if the effort was fruitless in the grand scheme of things - if anything, the endlessness of the process was a strange sort of comfort for her.

"The only constant in this world is that it's always changing." One of the few things her father ever said that she actually agreed with.

So whether she was organizing files, lining up gun sights, or in this case, keeping an eye out for either potential danger or her friend and superior officer making a fool of himself, she was in her element.

The aforementioned friend and superior officer, Colonel Roy Mustang, stands not far from her, on the other side of the hors d'oeuvres table they were currently haunting in order to appear as engaged as possible without actually giving a damn.

Newly-appointed Fuhrer Grumman is gathered with the Amestrian Generals and other industry leaders several feet away, chattering endlessly for most of the past hour or so. This event was the latest in many political gatherings that were supposed to strengthen ties between leaders and ensure potential partnerships, but in reality, they were a waste of time. The stubborn, incestuous nature that the Amestrian government's kept up for the past however-many-centuries meant that most of the time, these gatherings really only succeeded in fluffing up peacocking feathers and inflating already-bloated egos.

She never liked these parties. Neither did Roy.

Riza looks at him again. At a glance, Roy appears to be enjoying himself - he's standing at attention, leaning slightly on one hip and balancing a flute of champagne in one hand, head raised with (feigned) interest in whatever the Brass were prattering on about.

But Riza can tell he's anything but relaxed - on close inspection, she can see deepened stress lines around his eyes and nose, his lips pressed into such a thin line they've nearly vanished from his features, and the hand bent behind the crook of his back clenches and unclenches repeatedly, fingers aching for some kind of physical activity, no doubt.

Riza certainly can't blame him for being so tense, after all they went through recently - specifically, the Promised Day and the fallout that's occurred afterwards. It's been difficult to navigate the massive power vacuum left in the wake of Bradley's death, along with everything else about the homonculi and their master, but they're managing as best they can. Cutting off the head of the dragon was a good step, but only that - a step in the long, long climb towards a democracy free of war and corruption.

Things will certainly improve once Grumman lays the groundwork for Roy's ascension - despite personal misgivings with her grandfather, Riza has no doubt he'll do his job well - but for now, it's slow-going. Unfortunately, Roy was never good at sitting quietly and waiting. He'd be a terrible sniper, she says all the time.

Right now, he more resembles a spring wound too tightly, shuddering with anxiety and liable to snap in the form of the wrong words at the wrong time when the wrong person approached him. Which would be awkward at best, disastrous at worst, so Riza decides to circumvent that possibility altogether and approach him herself.

She crosses the distance between them by navigating around the table's end and approaching his front slowly, getting his attention with a nod and gentle smile. He loosens significantly at the sight of her, already a relief for his no-doubt-bristling nerves, and she doesn't miss the small sigh that escapes him as she settles at his side and hooks a hand through the loop of his bent arm.

She looks up at him and speaks low, enough to not be heard by anyone else in the vicinity. "Holding up alright, Colonel?"

Roy snorts softly, and responds in kind to keep up their privacy. "As much as I can."

"Same here," she murmurs. "Remind me when this is over again?"

Roy rolls his eyes in Grumman's direction. "Knowing him? Probably in another hour, at the very least."

Riza groans softly. "Can't we leave? They've clearly finished mingling with our brigade. Breda and Falman are already gone."

Roy blinks. "They are?"

"They slipped out the back when the waiters were refilling drinks for everyone." There's a tinge of envy to her tone, as she'd caught sight of them for a few moments as they left, but only just.

Roy scoffs. "They could have said something."

"Guess they forgot to, in all their eagerness."

"Eager to leave their superiors in the dust. So much for loyalty." Roy chuffs with annoyance, lifting his champagne glass to his mouth.

Riza merely shrugs noncommittally. "Heymans's only as enthusiastic as his people-reading allows, and even Vato has his limits. Who knows, maybe they had plans."

That makes Roy nearly spit up the champagne he's sipping. He clears his throat to recover. "Erm, hm- plans?"

Riza lids her eyes and looks at him through their corners, like she always does to look incredulous. "They're grown men with lives outside of the military, sir, don't be surprised. I'm not."

"Uh- of course, of course," Roy mutters, wiping his lips with a thumb and doing his very best to not look perturbed at the idea of Breda and Falman having unprofessional affairs, bless his heart.

In light of having nothing better to do to entertain herself, Riza decides to needle him further.

She cocks her head, murmuring in a more teasing tone of voice. "You know... we could make plans too, sir. I don't think we'll be greatly missed here anymore - might be a restaurant or two worth checking out on this street... unless you'd rather head straight home, of course."

Roy shifts on his feet, his eyes flitting to and away from her a few times, but he says nothing for a few moments. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and brings his glass to them again. "Mm. Maybe," he mumbles into the glasswork, taking another sip.

Riza lets her hand in his arm travel up and along it, considering him for a few moments. Maybe, hm? She could leave it at that, but all this talk of "plans" and night-time activities is drumming up a swarm of ideas in her brain with increasingly suggestive detail and fervor. Neither of them are strangers as bed-mates - even now, Riza can imagine clearly the curve of Roy's backside under his suit - but it has been a long while since they spent such time together.

Their last time was... almost a year ago now, actually. Before Hughes' passing, if she remembers correctly... Then it's no wonder she's felt so empty and frustrated lately. And Roy, with the tragedy still weighing heavily on his heart - she can't imagine how he must feel.

But then, perhaps that's all the better reason to bring this up.

Riza's errant hand travels up and along Roy's shoulders, and he tenses slightly at the touch - then suppresses a small shudder as she slide her fingers along his spine, down to the small of his back. (She stops short of cupping his ass - there's people around, after all.)

He's definitely wanting , but he won't admit it verbally... not without more encouragement.

Riza leans in and changes her tone again, this time leaning more into the... enticing side of things, but not dipping into ridiculousness. All the while she keeps her stern timbre, and the result is a special sort of commanding tone used between them only in utmost privacy.

"It's been a long time, sir. I think we're both due for some... release, after all we've been through, wouldn't you say?"

She holds Roy's gaze as she speaks, watches him blink once, twice, several more times, a little slower each time. The start of a flush colors his features, and he works his throat, swallowing despite not consuming anything.

He's thinking about it. Definitely thinking about it. But all he says is, a little hoarsely, "...I suppose."

Still resistant? Well, the man did have a bad habit of denying himself his own desires in favor of overworking himself to the point of exhaustion, out of his own obsessive need to always be working towards his goals in some way, every day, little by little. Whether that be by actual work back at the office, or work on his carefully-maintained reputation via fake-dates with his sisters or deathly boring social gatherings like this one.

It's not the first time Riza's had to push and prod him into taking an actual break from his stresses and let himself loose, and it won't be the last - ironic, when everyone calls her the workaholic who can't relax.

Looks like she'll need to sweeten the pot for him - so, she brings out an old favorite of his.

"You know I hate this dress," she mutters, shifting uncomfortably within the confines of her cocktail dress, nothing more than a tight black tube of fabric suffocating her legs and torso as far as she was concerned. "Chafes me terribly. If it wasn't for parties like this, I'd have thrown it out already."

"Mm." Another noncommittal hum from Roy. He knows this very well.

"...But times are changing, after all," she continues. "Maybe I can get rid of it soon..."

She tilts her head and fixes him with a knowing look. "That is, unless you can find some use for it, Colonel."

Roy's eyes widen slightly, and the subtle color on his face deepens into a distinct blush.

Among the many secrets Riza keeps for him, one is Roy's occasional indulgence in wearing dresses and other feminine clothing. He grew up in a brothel after all, raised by a gaggle of women who enjoyed involving him in games of dress-up and fashion experiments. But at some point in his boyhood the activity grew from a silly game to a rather normal thing, supported and encouraged by his foster family, and he kept it as a private hobby well into his teenhood, when Riza first met him and learned of all this - this is far from the first time they've negotiated the exchange of each other's garments.

He'd kept it up even as far as his Academy days. But alas, when the mountain of military pressures wore him thin - eventually overwhelming him with the tragedy of the Ishvalan War - the activity was shoved into the dark recesses of his shame, and his favorite dresses gathered dust in his closet in much the same manner. Fortunately he could be convinced to try them on again with some encouragement - much like what Riza was doing now.

She quirks her head further, amused at Roy's quiet flustering. "Of course, it'd have to be adjusted for your size. You've said one of your sisters is a seamstress, correct?"

He swallows again, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Ah- Victoria is, yes."

"Good. If we leave now, I can have it dropped off at the Madame's place by morning, and she can have it ready for you by tomorrow night."

Roy forces a chuckle as his eyes jerk to his sides, as if wary of eavesdroppers. "Hah- You act like I've already agreed to this, Lieutenant."

She holds his gaze. "Well, do you?"

Roy opens and closes his mouth, but says nothing, just stares at her. He can't seem to decide on what to say, his eyes twitching this way and that as a hundred questions and counter-arguments seem to flicker behind the lenses of his eyes, his mind an indecisive projector. Finally, he shifts to stare down at his dress shoes, mouth and throat still working, but he tenses his jaw shut.

He needs something genuine. Riza edges closer, snakes the arm at his back around his waist, squeezes gently in more of a side-hug than a teasing grope. She drops both the eroticism and the sternness from her voice, this time aiming for something closer to how they spoke as teenagers, watching the clouds go by as they lay upon the Eastern hillsides of her birthplace.

"I know it's been a while, but- I think you'd look nice, Roy."

Roy relaxes visibly, deflating with a small sigh. He closes his eyes for a moment, no doubt savoring the reassurance, verbally and physically.

When he looks at her again, his confidence has returned, somewhat, in the form of a small, crooked smile.

"Well- I am curious to see if you're right."

---

By the next evening, they've have made good on their mutual promise and laid some exciting plans for tonight, to say the least - Roy for his planned outfit, Riza for... everything else. Neither of them have gone into too much detail, of course. Half of the fun was the pleasant surprise.

After finishing her setup - part of which involved dropping off Black Hayate with a trustworthy neighbor who petsits on the side - Riza received a nervous but eager phone call from Roy stating he's ready to go, so Riza has donned her best pantsuit and now drives through the darkened streets of Central to pick him up.

The suit's far better than the cocktail dress. She sits comfortably in her dark slacks, with a black collared suit jacket of fine material cinched beneath her sternum, revealing an elegant white button-down shirt that's topped with a long, pointed collar bending sharply away from her neck. She complements it with some makeup - enough to doll herself up a bit, but not excessively so - medium-heeled dress shoes, her usual silver double-earrings, and her blonde hair falling freely across her shoulders.

She busies her mind with total concentration on her driving, for now - the temptation is strong, but she mustn't distract herself with thoughts of fondness and excitement over tonight's coming activities. Soon enough, she comes upon the sprawling luxury apartment complex Roy lives in, large enough for each home to qualify as a townhouse more than anything else with their second floors and guest rooms. She settles into its parking lot, humming to herself as she exits her car and makes her way to his front door.

Riza raps on the door with her knuckles. There's a shifting somewhere beyond it, and then Roy's voice calls out distantly. "Come in - the door's unlocked!"

After briefly amusing herself with the idea of Roy being too dolled up to answer the door without spraining an ankle, she opens the door and slowly enters. She's greeted by the sight of Roy's parlor: Like the rest of his somewhat-sparse apartment, it only contains necessary furnishings, a few personal heirlooms and effects, and various books and folios for Alchemy and military research. Ever the extrovert, he spends most of his time at work, out on the town, or in the homes of friends and family - for many reasons, he dislikes being alone.

Roy's lithe form rises from a small couch in the middle of the room as Riza steps over the threshold and closes the door behind her. As she takes in the sight of him, eyes widening, he does a small twirl and rests a hand on his hip.

"So- how do I look?"

Riza stares. She could say that her former dress looks quite a bit different on Roy's person, but that would be a tragic understatement.

There's a new slit down the side for ease of movement, the straps have been cut and re-sewn to loop around his neck instead of his shoulders, and the back's been left permanently unzipped to allow room for his broad upper body. The result is the dress becoming a scandalous open-back halter top, leaving none of his arm and back muscles to the imagination and offering enticing peeks at one of his long legs through the slit. Whatever still covers him clings tightly to his body, maybe a half-size too small for him, but it accentuates every dip and curve to a maddening degree.

And on closer inspection, his exposed leg seems to be encased in a thin, dark sheer legging that rises halfway up his thigh and stops there, offering further excitement in flashes of cream-colored skin near his hip. And- is that a garter belt? Oh my.

It also appears Roy has decided to complete the look with some stylish shoes, an application of makeup, and glittering jewelry. The shoes are black pointed pumps, high-heeled and confirming Riza's suspicion about his ankles, but he seems to be keeping his balance well enough; Small clip-on earrings dangle from his un-pierced ear lobes, tiny red gems hanging from silver chains; His face is lightly powdered to soften his features, and his smoldering eyes have been made even more so by a layer of shimmering eyeshadow and coal-black mascara. Even his lips have been supplemented with a rich maroon-colored lipstick.

To top it all off, his dark hair appears freshly-washed and brushed smooth, not gelled and slicked back like his usual formal attire. His bangs sway above his eyes in a much more harmonious fashion than usual, neatly tucked behind his ears at their edges.

"Y- you look stunning, sir," Riza says, after finding her tongue again.

Roy's thickened eyelashes flutter towards the floor, his cheeks flushing bashfully again. "Thank you. But it's debatable whether I compare to your natural loveliness, Lieutenant."

"Well," Riza pauses to clear her throat, feeling very dry suddenly, "Ahem- I'd disagree there, sir. It's obvious you've gone through quite the effort."

Roy's eyes briefly roll toward the ceiling. "God, was it ever. It's been so long that I had to ask Chris and the girls to refresh my memory on how to do this again. I'm still amazed they were willing to help me so much on such short notice. Especially Victoria - damn miracle-worker, she is. Sailed through the sewing job like a ship's captain."

"It shows," Riza murmurs, not entirely listening. As he spoke, she's taken a few steps closer to further admire the details of Roy's person. Yup, there's definitely a garter belt under there, straps and all. Panties too, most likely...

...She realizes she's been staring too long when Roy clears his throat this time. "You seem, ah... eager, Lieutenant. Shall we get going?"

Riza tears her gaze away from Roy's hips to meet his eyes, where his bashfulness is starting to melt away into amusement as he studies her. She feels a bit like a stray dog caught drooling over glistening cuts of meat in a butcher's shop - probably looks like one too. But really, who could blame her, with such an enticing specimen before her?

She clears her throat again, and, remembering her manners, extends an arm to take Roy's hand.

"Ah- of course. It would be my pleasure, sir."

Roy tugs at the fabric around his hips to allow his legs freedom, and his form is even lovelier in motion as he steps forward (a little wobbly on the heels, but he's managing), and outstretches a hand toward Riza's.

But as she takes Roy's fingers in her own, a thought crosses her mind - rather, an important observation. Roy went through an awful lot of preparation to dress up for tonight, employing both his own skills and those of his foster family... Far more effort than for an actual public outing, where all he really does is clean himself up a bit and throw on a suit, some cologne, and an offensive amount of hair gel.

This is different - there's a sincerity to Roy's beauty here that makes it seem like its achievement was just as much for his own benefit as it was for Riza's. Maybe even more so... As if he's actually... perhaps...

"...Or should I call you 'madam' instead?" Riza asks suddenly, meeting his eyes.

Roy's movements towards her shudder to a stop, and his eyes nearly bug out from his sockets. He stares, frozen, for a moment long enough for Riza to fear that she's crossed a line that should not have been crossed right now.

But thankfully, in the next moment his eyelids flutter, once again downcast and bashful as his blush deepens further, now spreading down to his neck. He clears his throat and struggles to respond. "I- I, uh..."

Again he squirms with indecisiveness, but this time he's faster to settle on an answer. He shakes himself out of his stupor with a literal shake of his head and says finally, "Um- No. No, that won't be necessary, Lieutenant."

Riza resists the urge to sigh with relief, nodding graciously instead. "As you wish, sir."

She takes his hand - her hand, perhaps, if she decided not to take Roy's words at face value, as she usually does.

For a few years now, Riza's held the suspicion that some of Roy's private interests - like his preference for dresses - may be much more than simple hobbies for him. More like an integral part of a blooming identity, bursting to reveal itself as more than simply a man, but locked within his many insecurities and the social cage he's trapped himself within to achieve his goals. At this point, Riza is certain this must be true, at least to some degree.

Who knows, maybe Roy was even more than a woman, extending beyond the usual binary. She always did have a penchant for breaking boundaries - perhaps their heart was as wild and shapeless as a flame, flickering between genders as the mood struck them. It would only be appropriate.

Either way, Riza was ready and waiting to accept this part of Roy wholeheartedly - she couldn't call herself their dear friend and dutiful Lieutenant if she didn't. But she is also patient, so for now, she'll sit by and agree to their preferences like she always does - watching, waiting, until they are ready.

From what she can see now, it's still a difficult thing for Roy to express openly - it's plain as day in his face. His mouth is a thin line again, and his eyes dart about nervously as they leave his home, alert for random passersby. Personally, Riza was fairly certain that no one would recognize him as he is now, especially under the cover of night, but he's justified in being paranoid; if word got out that the handsome, swaggering bachelor known as Colonel Roy Mustang dressed in intensely feminine outfits and had distinctly unprofessional (and un-normative) nightly affairs with his First Lieutenant in his spare time, who knows what kind of scandal it'd start, especially in this tumultuous political climate?

Riza squeezes his hand for reassurance and picks up the pace as they walk down to her car. Luckily, there's no one in sight on this particular night, and the darkened streets are bare and quiet. Still, Roy only sighs with relief once he's seated comfortably in the passenger seat, the doors are closed and locked, and they are safely on their way back to Riza's abode. He breathes more and more easier as they watch familiar streets and buildings pass them by, even more so when Riza occasionally brushes the skin of his arm and exposed thigh with her non-driving hand.

His eyes sparkle with eagerness, and Riza has no doubt that hers look the same.

---

Riza's apartment is much humbler compared to Roy's, even a little cramped in places, but it's all the more cozy. As much as she spends most of her waking life at work, she still makes the most of her private time and space; affording herself all the necessities to live comfortably, but also enough luxuries to please her heart and make up for the lack of them in her childhood.

Despite the lingering evidence of Hayate's presence from a vague musk in the air and hairs on the furniture, she's made her apartment far more appealing as a social gathering place than a stark, stuffy hotel lobby. There's warm, low lighting via candles and oil lanterns (leaving most of the electric lights off), the air is sweetened with smoke from a stick of burning incense on her coffee table, and a radio in the corner scratches out pleasant, jazzy tunes.

The furnishings are equally warm, mostly wooden and in earthy colors to remind her of Eastern forests in the fall, and are kept clean and neatly arranged to allow close but still-comfortable proximities. One could call it downright homely, if not for a few things - like a set of garishly bright yellow window curtains, a glass case holding a collection of cheaply-imitated Xingese pottery, and her personal gun closet standing proudly along the wall of her parlor.

Many people call her odd for these things - Roy is one of the loudest. "You have the strangest tastes, I swear," he says for the umpteenth time as he crosses the threshold, taking it all in before shooting a cheeky grin at her. "You should really bring Edward around sometime, you have a lot in common."

Riza rolls her eyes and pokes him in retaliation. "I'll consider it, sir. Now sit down before you fall off those heels."

Roy puts out his decorated lips in an exaggerated pout. "Pardon me - I am the Flame Alchemist Colonel Roy Mustang, thank you very much," he says haughtily. "And it'll take much more than a pair of shoes to bring me down. I've trained myself well, as you can see."

He turns and saunters away, demonstrating his barely-kept balance by swaying his hips from side to side as if he were walking down a catwalk instead of Riza's hallway. He'd at least get a round of applause for the effort, as he almost sends himself to the floor in his efforts to reach the small dining set that's just aside from the kitchenette. He doesn't bother to mask his relief at not losing his footing completely, smiling and giggling as he takes his seat. Riza can only laugh as well - it's so rare to see him like this, child-like and comfortable in his own skin.

Dinner is retrieved from a set of covered plates on the kitchen counter, a luxurious meal ordered from a restaurant that's famous for its fine dinners and delivery options. They discussed their preferred meals ahead of time, and knowing that Roy dislikes anything charred or flesh-like, Riza serves him a bowl of stir-fried noodles and vegetables on a bed of golden rice, which he enjoys heartily. Riza herself indulges in a perfectly-seared fìlet mignon with roasted asparagus on the side, all topped with a rich, earthy sauce. For drinks, they've cracked open two bottles of Riza's personal stash - more sparkling cider for her, red wine for Roy.

They talk about the finer points of cooking and recent news here and there, but mostly they pass the time enjoying the food and each other's company quietly. When they've finished, Riza leaves their dirty plates on the table to be cleaned later, at the moment much more concerned with joining Roy on the corner-couch surrounding her coffee table to sit and talk more comfortably while finishing the last of their drinks.

Roy is even more relaxed with good food and drink in him. He stretches lightly, then sinks into the corner-cushions with great contentment, a playful smile on his lips as he crosses his legs and twirls his wine glass in one hand. He resembles a large cat lounging upon its perch - so much so that Riza's half-surprised he isn't purring.

She takes her seat just across from him. "You seem awfully content for someone who didn't even eat their fill," she teases. "There was a good portion still left on your plate, and we never even touched the desserts."

Roy's eyes crinkle with amusement. "If I ate all of that in one sitting, I might not fit into this dress anymore. I'm taking a risk as it is."

That seems obvious enough, as Riza watches the dark fabric straining precariously around his bent legs and hips as he shifts in his seat, filling tautly around his now-slightly-wider middle. She licks at her teeth under her lips, savoring the lingering taste of meat there. Despite the food in her belly, her appetite is far from sated.

"It's a shame," she starts, balancing her cider in one hand and letting the other come to rest upon Roy's exposed knee, "How rarely you wear things like these, Colonel. If it were my decision, I'd hate to keep this kind of beauty behind closed doors."

Roy tenses for the briefest moment at the contact, but doesn't move or uncross his legs - a good sign. He smirks at her over his wine glass. "I hope you're not implying that I should dress like this at whatever political gathering we're dragged to next, Lieutenant."

"Well... I think it's a possibility," Riza says. "Perhaps someday, in the future."

Roy sips his wine, not looking at her anymore. "Hm. The distant future," he says, his voice hollow within the glass.

Riza studies him, a bit crestfallen - alas, she can only prod him so much. For now, maybe a more humorous slant is needed.

"I suppose. It would give everyone a terrible shock... good for a laugh, at least."

Roy snorts softly. "God- I can certainly imagine it. Grumman would flip his lid completely if he saw me like this."

Riza snickers. "I don't think he'd even recognize you. Probably try to flirt with you again."

Roy exaggerates a disgusted groan. "I've had quite enough of that from him. For a lifetime, I think."

"No need to worry, sir. I wouldn't let him near you." Riza allows her voice to dip into enticing commands again, and she makes her intentions clear with her thumb rubbing small circles into Roy's legging-encased knee.

His smile becomes knowing. "Defending me from your own family now, Lieutenant?"

Riza shrugs. "We were never close anyway. And it's my job, after all."

"I think we both know that your dedication extends far beyond your sense of duty by now."

Roy sells the tease with a small, sly wink in her direction, ever the charmer. Even Riza isn't immune to his wiles, but she is better at being less obvious about it. Like now, as she resists the urge to giggle and lets it out as a small sigh instead, setting her drink on the coffee table and spreading her hands.

"Guilty as charged. But really, can you blame me?"

She shifts forward to let her hands come to rest upon Roy's legs again, this time squarely on his thighs, especially the exposed one, letting her fingers rub more and deeper circles into his skin.

"You are a... unique sort of individual, after all. One of a kind, even. A very precious commodity."

Roy lids his eyes, watching her movements. "You flatter me, Lieutenant."

"I only tell the truth, sir."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Except the times when you don't."

"Only when it's necessary."

"Like?"

She recalls the first thing that comes to mind. "Like when a pea-brained homonculus thinks they can fool me with an imitation of you."

Roy's eyes squint slightly, unfocusing. There's laughter there, but also something cold and unpleasant.

"Of course," he murmurs. "You've told me of that battle, before I... intervened." He's picking his words as carefully as he picks around the sharp, painful edges of the memory, and all its associations.

Riza regrets bringing it up. She got too caught up in the bantering - it was the most recent and harrowing situation she could think of in which she lied to survive, but still...

She shifts closer, sliding her hands up and along Roy's hips, settling one in the dip of his waist and the other beneath the lip of his dress slit, right into the warmth of his thigh-skin and centimeters away from his ass. The distraction works - Roy refocuses his attention on her again, drawing in a sharp breath and arcing his back forward ever-so-slightly in response to the touch, pushing his chest against the taught fabric of his dress.

"Anyway," Riza murmurs, keeping up the distraction with massaging fingers and the return of her dominant tone, "I'm only being honest. As much as I am your Lieutenant, you are my Colonel. In other words... you are mine."

Roy breathes out, sighing wistfully. "I am?"

"Always."

He lids his eyes and whispers, "Show me, then."

"Gladly."

Riza leans in further, snakes her arms further up and around him as she crosses the distance between them, and catches Roy's lips in her own.

And oh, to taste him again - she missed it so. There's the briefest tinge of unpleasantness from the chalkiness of his lipstick, but it's easily miss-able among the dozens of others flavors that color his mouth and tongue. There's bits of his dinner, bits of the wine, hints of mint and cologne from leftover toothpaste and mouth spray. But mostly it's the warm, sumptuous flavor of his mouth against hers, and Riza eats it up more hungrily than the richest steak money could buy.

Her hands are just as gluttonous. Her light massaging turns into a deep groping at Roy's waist and thigh, the waist-hand circling around to his back to wrap around and draw him in as they shift their bodies closer. The thigh-hand savors the softness of him there, working steadily forward and up until her fingers are slipping under the lacey edge of his underwear and stroking the flesh of his soft, plush ass.

Roy's body was a bit softer than one would assume - a consequence of his drinking tendencies and incorrigible sweet tooth. On top of the occasional temptations of various pastries and desserts, he always has his morning coffee with cream and three lumps of sugar, and takes his evenings' alcohol as fruity gin and sweet vodkas. Despite a daily exercise regimen that he's (mostly) faithful to, he still spends most of the workday sitting at a desk, so the sugars haunt him in the form of a significant layer of fat on his lower stomach, hips and thighs.

Not that Riza was complaining, mind you. Quite the opposite - the extra flesh gives her more of him to savor, and Roy himself enjoys the extra attention, as he always does.

He hums with deep-throated pleasure against her as they keep kissing, shifting and grinding closer and closer. At some point he had the presence of mind to set down his wine on the coffee table and his now-free hands grope Riza in kind, grasping at her waist and lower back through her suit jacket and undershirt (avoiding the area across her shoulders, where she dislikes being touched for obvious reasons).

She allows this for now, caught up in the heat and excitement - they've both tipped their hands before even reaching the bedroom, but again, it's been a while and they've been very stressed lately. So Riza can't blame herself too much when their love-making becomes so feverish that her ass-groping hand pushes a few centimeters too far in its ministrations, and by the time she realizes she's crimping and tearing Roy's dress slit further open, it's too late.

There's a small sh-rrrip! down at Roy's side, and they both freeze momentarily. Riza pulls away and, looking down, sees that her wrist and forearm had tested the limits of what little space was left between the dress and Roy's hip - the small seam that his sister probably took great pains to cut, pull apart, then re-sew, has now been torn and frayed at its corner, its tiny threads stretching and breaking apart around the now-larger area of Roy's exposed thigh.

Riza withdraws her hand, mildly flushed with shame. "Oh- I'm sorry, sir. And after all the trouble you went through..."

Roy, slightly disheveled between his mussed hair, blushing face and smeared lipstick, studies the damage with more bewilderment than anything else - then chuckles with amusement as he meets her eyes.

"It's alright, Lieutenant. No great loss. It was a quick and dirty sewing job anyway, can't be too surprised."

Riza's fears are eased, but only so much. "At least extend my apologies to Victoria; it's her work, after all."

"A work she full-well knew the purpose of," Roy says, his eyes sparkling with something between lust and mischief. "Trust me, apologies aren't needed."

Riza catches her breath. He predicted this? Cheeky devil...

And sure enough, Roy's smile becomes predatory. "Besides, all of this..." he gestures across himself, especially around his greater expanse of exposed skin, "...Always belonged to you first, Lieutenant. It's only appropriate that the owner of a great gift should tear off its wrapping."

For a rare moment, Riza fears she could actually lose her composure for once - she comes very close to deciding to fulfill that proposition with feverish hands and teeth, right here, right now, abandoning all plans and further foreplay. She barely stops herself - and it must show in her face, as Roy's smirk becomes downright devilish as he watches her. Damn him and his wiles.

"You-"

Riza decides not to finish that thought, not quite trusting herself at the moment. Instead she tugs him back in, silencing his much-too-smart mouth with another kiss.

She swallows whatever retort Roy planned on making with ravenous teeth and tongue, supplanting small moans of needs into his throat, even hungrier than before. Her grasping arms and hands all but claw at his exposed back and shoulders, snaking down his backside from the tactically-safer direction of his dress's open back. Her fingers dive down the slope of his spine into the soft landing of his ass again, now with a bit more freedom and easier access.

Roy takes it all in stride, groaning low and deep in his throat and squirming against her ministrations. His skin is flushes with heat and moistens with sweat everywhere that she touches, and his dress's tiny creaks of protest increase in frequency as he shifts, no doubt feeling an increasing need to have it off.

And, to none of Riza's surprise, she feels one of her roving hands brush over a distinct bulge now forming in the front-side of his groin.

The touch draws a needy moan from Roy, and the moment of blind lust ebbs away enough for Riza to reclaim a bit of clarity - she should more seriously consider slowing her advances, now. At this rate Roy will come undone long before she can show what she has in store for him - and make him fall apart in ways she prefers.

She draws away to catch her breath, but doesn't quite relinquish their closeness, hugging his waist and resting her sweating brow against his. Roy is only more lovely in his further-disheveled state - sweat and saliva mix with makeup and strands of hair, sticking and dripping against his features, and at this distance she can see his dark eyes practically sparkling with inner light.

She presses feather-light kisses against the warm skin of his cheek. "Oh, the things I could do to you, Roy," she murmurs against him.

Roy closes his eyes, hums with expectancy. "Tell me, Riza."

"Ah- words escape me," she whispers, slightly breathless. "But I promise, it'll be a night to remember."

Roy hums again, gently nuzzling against the side of her head and pecking at her ear. Riza savors the more-tender contact as they cool off, breaths deepening and heartbeats slowing. But her loins still prickle with need, and there is no doubt that Roy feels similarly.

A few moments more of small, tender touches and she's had her fill. Eager to make good on her plans, Riza shifts away to stand up from the couch, begrudgingly releasing her hold on Roy save for a lingering hand that catches his own and gently tugs his arm up with her.

She bends down to press her lips to his knuckles, meeting his eyes.

"Shall we get started, sir?"

Roy smiles serenely as he rises to his feet. "Finally- for a moment I thought you'd never ask."

---

NSFW warnings: Dom/Sub roleplay, mild humiliation, whipping, spanking, pegging, dirty talk, more gender/pronoun stuff

---

Minutes later, Riza is in her bedroom, relinquishing herself of her clothes and jewelry as she waits for Roy to finish freshening up in the nearby bathroom.

Having hung and folded away her pantsuit in her dresser, she bends further to the bottom-most drawer to tug it open - there, under a discreet layer of towels, is a small menagerie of sex toys and harnesses, freshly cleaned and sanitized, ready for use.

She hums to herself as she retrieves a few in particular for her plans tonight, setting them upon her bedcovers and fiddling with the last of their straps and buckles. She smiles as she hears the soft sounds of rushing water from the bathroom, thinking of Roy, herself, all that has come to these moments.

Over the years, Riza has found that her desire for control applied equally to bedroom activities. As she explored the extent of her own adulthood, she's spent some time here and there quietly scoping out various sex shops in her spare time, especially since their transfer to Central. It didn't take long before she found herself drawn to the BDSM scene - it held inherent power dynamics, gratifying roleplay, and cathartic exploration of feelings and desires in a safe, regulated space, all in a multitude of forms of methods according to one's personal preferences... Simply put, it was right up her alley.

She was private about it, like she is about most things in her life, and fairly sparse. The most she's spent on are a few lingerie items, a phallus or three, and a whipping apparatus. Recently she's added an especially... interesting new purchase to her repertoire, which she's excited to try for the first time tonight - as she finishes the last of its preparations, she sets this particular toy just under the edge of the bed, to retrieve later as a delightful surprise for her partner.

Roy is far from the only one Riza's had - she's had several conquests under her belt (usually quite literally), but there is no doubt that Roy is one of her most favored, and also her latest and most proud achievement; only recently has she finally got him to not only re-embrace his dressing tendencies, but also his enthusiastically submissive sexual preferences. In layman's terms, he is very much a bottom - and like most aspects of his character, this is usually cleverly hidden beneath his surface. But like any buried treasure, it was both delightful and delightfully rewarding to uncover.

It's taken a few years for them to reach this level of comfort with each other - even longer to discover and accept these qualities about themselves.

Those early years were terribly awkward - mostly just terrible. They were still reeling from the slaughter they'd been forced to carry out in Ishval, desperately laying the groundwork for the rash, idealistic plan Roy formed in response, and generally just trying to come to grips with the frightening adulthood they'd been thrust into after their idyllic childhood dreams had been shattered. Sex and romance were far from their minds for a long time - they simply did their best to maintain even a shadow of their former friendship within their new dynamic, remolded into something cold and formal, haunted by specters of death from both the past and the future.  

But eventually, Riza's empty heart yearned for sustenance in silent, suffering cries, and Roy drowned his own in so much booze and loose women he was practically dizzy with misery. It figures it would take a team of cheeky subordinates and Hughes' prodding to get them to even acknowledge the tension between them.

Ah, Maes... she misses him so much.

He made this whole "relationship" thing look so easy. Of course, that was all part of the trick - he and Gracia were frighteningly good at hiding their uglier qualities . But just as much, they made it clear how much work a stable, life-long relationship took to stay that way. She learned a lot in her conversations with them.

Such as, how to be unafraid to take the lead in a bedroom situation in which one's doof of a partner keeps trying to top you when it's clear his heart's not into it, but he's fooled himself into believing otherwise. Then how to embrace one's power as you lay upon him, riding him until he's a trembling, starry-eyed mess underneath you, and you can feel a whole world of possibilities opening up between you.

After that, it's mostly a matter of communication - "Just keep talking," Maes always said. Which they did, and still do.

But with all their progress, there is still the lingering question of whether this "relationship" of theirs was truly romantic or not. Riza and Roy were definitely more than friends by now, and their mutual devotion to each other was unshakable - and yet, neither of them have felt a great need to commit to the other wholly and completely, no matter what the circulating rumors would imply.

...And besides, the very last thing either of them want is to be tied to each other that way, considering their troubled pasts and already-stifling professional lives - and Roy knows better than to impose such a thing on her.

So, you could call them lovers, sure - but there was still nothing entirely traditional about their coupling. Perhaps it's only fair - they'd always had a penchant for quietly rebelling against tradition.

Speaking of, a lovely image of rebellion finally enters the room and makes himself known with a small cough.

Riza turns to see Roy standing at her bedroom's entrance, freshened up, comfortable, and ready to be at her mercy. He's washed his face clean of makeup, and removed his earrings and high-heeled shoes (his stance is more relaxed now that he isn't balancing precariously on them), but otherwise, he remains fully dressed.

Riza cocks an eyebrow as she looks him up and down - she herself still wears her button-down shirt to cover her back and shoulders (again, for obvious reasons), but leaves its front wide open, revealing her to be wearing nothing else besides her underwear. Her bra is dark and lacy, modest enough to cover half of her breasts, but only that much, leaving a healthy amount of cleavage showing. Her panties appear average, but closer inspection shows them to be of thin, lacy material that leaves little to the imagination in terms of her curves.

It suits her - Riza may appear modest at a surface level, but she is still very much a woman with wants and needs. And now, she acts upon those needs.

She retrieves the first toy of choice from the bed - a long, thin riding crop, made for use on humans instead of animals. Its tip is of a softened leather, nothing that will draw blood or severe welting, but will certainly bring sharp, painful pleasure with enough speed and force. Riza prefers this over a paddle, as she enjoys the long, precise strikes she can create with it. This, and its natural connection to Roy's surname, made it too amusingly appropriate to pass up.

Roy, also aware of this, smiles with amusement as Riza approaches him with the crop in hand, swishing it lightly.

"Finally ready, are you?" Riza teases, easing into her dominant tone as she eases them into their roleplay for the night. "You know I don't like waiting too long."

"My apologies, Lieutenant," Roy replies. "I only wanted to be... properly ready for your enjoyment." His voice and expression is demure, but still holds the ever-present air of cockiness that Riza is always eager to challenge - and eventually break.

She makes this intention clear as she circles him, crop in-hand, touching lightly along his curves with her other hand and drinking him in with her eyes, as if he were a sacrificial maiden brought to the mouth of her cave. She finds herself pinching at the fabric of his dress where the slightly-torn slit is.

She meets his eyes. "Still want me to tear it off?"

Roy flutters his lashes, still smiling. "If it pleases you, Lieutenant."

Riza clicks her tongue, feigning disapproval. "Shameless. You're practically begging for it."

"Not quite, but I am very eager."

Riza shakes her head, chuckling. "Of course you are."

But she begins to think of this more seriously, studying Roy's face, and she can't tell if he's suggesting this out of wine-fueled lust or otherwise. Perhaps he's eager to be rid of the dress so he doesn't end up banishing it to the back of his closet after tonight, like he's done to so many other garments - left to gather dust for months on end when he falls into another depressive spell.

Either way, Riza ultimately decides against it.

"It is tempting... but it'd be such a shame, don't you think? Your sister worked hard to finish it in time, and you do look so lovely in it. I think there's still some... uses to be had." She lets her words drip like honey, watching Roy's smile widen ever-so-slightly as he hears them.

Roy purses his lips and nods. "True enough."

Then Riza draws closer, slipping her hand fully into his hip, feeling the skin of his ass and the lacy edges of his underwear, growling softly. "And don't worry - I'll have you begging yet."

Roy trembles deliciously at the touch, and she doesn't miss the suppression of a moan in his throat.

And so their play begins in earnest - Riza leading with possessive touches, stern commands and flicks of her riding crop, while Roy submits to her with expectant looks and quiet responses, only speaking to answer her.

"Now- I want you to be still, and quiet. You are not just my Colonel, you are my toy - a lovely, pretty toy, to do with as I please. Toys don't move or talk back. And they are not allowed to touch me until I say so. Understand?"

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"No matter how close... or how tempting..." She draws even closer to Roy's front, snaking her arms about his waist and pressing her body flush against his. "You... will not move."

She savors the feel of his body against hers, her breasts pressing against the quickening breaths of his chest, his bulge twitching slightly near her hips. She traces the curves of his backside with her hands as she dips her head into the crook of his neck to breathe in his scent.

"Yes," Roy whispers, strained and breathless. His arms tense at his sides, and the rest of him trembles, no doubt fighting every urge inside him to reciprocate her touch. With her body exposed and in such close proximity, it would be very, very easy.

But, he does not move. After drinking her fill, Riza draws away and smiles up at him, smug. "Impressive," she purrs. "Who would guess that the great Colonel Mustang was so good at following orders?"

Roy relaxes, catching his breath for a moment. "Only when they're from you, Lieutenant," he says softly, fluttering his lidded eyes again. Even without most of his makeup, he is still beautiful - soft cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, full lips and dark hair - and with the light in his eyes and rosy redness dusting his cheeks, he seems so soft, so demure, so... feminine.

Hmm... Perhaps this is another opportunity to prod his insecurities into a more confident light.

"Aw- so sweet. So eager," Riza purrs, rubbing circles into Roy's hips with her thumbs. She watches his face as he savors the sensation, squirming against her touch, barely suppressing small moans and a tiny smile.

She makes her move. "You're such a good girl."

Roy's eyes widen at the words, and his blush darkens - but he says nothing, and doesn't show any obvious signs of protest or discomfort. Actually, Riza can almost hear a small sigh escaping him... Perhaps she was correct after all in referring to Roy as a woman earlier. 

The opposite could still be true, of course. Maybe he was just in the mood for being feminized tonight - he did have a thing for humiliation - but if that were true, he wouldn't have spent so much effort in dressing up for the occasion, would have settled for a slapdash mockery of an outfit for the full 'sissy-ing' effect. That and he would have called the 'madam' gesture earlier unwanted, not unnecessary. So Riza feels confident in her first assumption.

But, just to make sure... Riza draws close again, not to tease, but to whisper in his ear. "You don't protest this, do you, madam?"

Roy's breath hitches, throat swallowing. "I- Erm. N- not if it pleases you, Lieutenant."

Riza's hands travel up his backside again, this time to rub comforting circles into his back. "It's not all for my pleasure - it's for yours as well, you know this."

"Mmm." Roy hums nervously, dips his head with a nod to confirm. Whether it's for the feminine pronouns isn't entirely clear, though - poor thing, perhaps his head won't let him get the words out.

Riza sighs lightly, kissing small apologies into his neck and collar bones. "You know our safe words," she murmurs in her normal tone. "Tell me when it's too much."

"Mhm." Roy grunts to confirm again, but this time he sounds more sure of himself - herself, rather. Riza decides she will address Roy as such, if only for tonight, and until she says otherwise. She will be regarded as any other female lover - she is beautiful, after all.

"Good," Riza says aloud, picking up her dominant tone again. "Because you are lovely, madam- ravishing, even."

She continues pressing her lips along Roy's neck and shoulder, tracing the line of the halter-style straps that travel up and to the back of his neck. She catches some of it in her teeth, lifts her hands to the knot holding them together, and in one swift motion, unties the top of Roy's dress so that it falls away around her waist, fully exposing her chest.

Riza is mildly disappointed, but not entirely surprised, to see Roy was not sporting a bra underneath. Ah well.

Instead Roy startles, flushing further, and her arms jerk upward and inward as if ready to cover herself - no doubt ashamed of how unflatteringly not-feminine her body is. Riza stops this with gentle hands on Roy's wrists, maintaining eye contact.

"Like I said - you are one of a kind, completely unique, madam," Riza says. "Always have been. Frankly, I feel honored to have someone so precious in my company tonight."

Roy relaxes at this, eyes softening with warmth and appreciation. And Riza smiles - but just to prove her point, she moves her hands to Roy's breasts, tracing her curves, and teases at her nipples. She pinches one between two fingers, drawing a small groan from her.

Riza watches Roy's face, savoring the way she squirms under her slightest of touches - and then dips, bringing her lips to Roy's captive nipple, catching it in her teeth, lightly licking and nibbling. This brings out more and louder groans from Roy, chest starting to heave from her breathing - and yet she is as still as she can be, still keeping her arms lowered and making no moves to reciprocate the touch.

But Riza only pushes her further - she continues her ministrations as her free hand reaches down and around to the front of Roy's hips, to the small bulge in the fabric between her legs. She grasps at it, feeling the warm, twitching head of a cock, and Roy gasps softly.

"Gorgeous," Riza whispers into Roy's skin, relinquishing her nipple. "So beautiful. How jealous our squadron would be of me, having our lovely Miss Colonel all to myself."

She moves her lips to Roy's other breast, and continues her worship of her partner's chest with her mouth, and of her cock with her fingers, gently stroking Roy through the layers of fabric. All the while, Roy is a twitching, sighing, moaning little mess.

Riza chuckles, and whispers into Roy's other breast as well. "One day, they'll see you in all your glory. They'll understand just how lucky I am. Maybe the whole country will, someday..."

At this, Roy tenses slightly,  her moans and squirms subsiding. A pallor seems to fall over her, and she chuckles darkly under her breath. "Hah- That'll never happen..."

Riza stops her movements, relinquishing her hold and drawing away. Giving Roy a glowering look, she raises her riding crop and strikes at Roy's thighs, drawing a small cry from her.

"I said no talking," Riza tuts. "Especially so negatively. Bad girl."

Roy grunts in response, lowering her eyes and head in shame, submission - but it isn't clear whether the punishment was entirely welcome.

Riza reaches up to cup Roy's chin, gently lifting her head and forcing her to lock eyes - a common tactic she uses to assess her partner's state of being without breaking character. It's also handy in her play with Roy, as a way to make her feel smaller, despite how she physically dwarfs Riza by a significant amount.

Right now, gazing into Roy's dark eyes, she sees them to be twitching and slightly reddened with moisture - signs of an inner pain, a great sadness. Something between her words and touches may have brought about another wave of dysphoria in Roy - well, time to remedy that.

"I said you are beautiful," Riza says sternly, never breaking eye contact. "And I am in control right now, so what I say, goes. Understand?"

Roy lowers her eyes for a moment, wetting her lips nervously. Riza brandishes her crop again, now to tap it upon Roy's hip - like a race horse, it is not to harm, but to let her know it is there.

"You are a beautiful, smart, powerful young woman," Riza commands. "And I won't hear otherwise, or you'll get punished again. Do you understand?"

Roy shivers, caught between Riza's hold and her crop, and it would not be unexpected for her to bring out a safe word now - but she instead she relaxes, and meets Riza's eyes again. The gloom that seemed to take hold of her is ebbing away, replaced with that familiar light of confidence that Roy wears so well. Her breathing evens out, and she gives a small nod.

Riza smiles. "Good girl. You were doing well beforehand - I think you're due for a reward."

She releases her hold on Roy's chin and lowers the riding crop, allowing Roy a moment to relax. She deposits the crop back on the bed, leaving her hands free to take Roy by the waist. Another sigh escapes Roy as Riza holds her, then leans forward to kiss at her breasts again. "Come now, I have just the thing."

Then Riza gently pulls her towards the bed, leading her by the waist, almost like a dance - one in which her partner is carefully undressed as they glide across the floor. By the time Roy has been spun about and settled into a sitting position on the bed, her dress has been pulled down to gather around her knees, then her ankles, and then the smooth fabric has pooled onto the floor.

And just as she's been looking forward to all night, Riza sees the full extent of the dark, lacy leggings and garters Roy was wearing underneath, complementing her long, slender legs, complete with a pair of panties that can hardly contain her erect cock by now. She looks positively scrumptious.

Riza casts long, hungry looks across her form. Her hands drink in the sensation of Roy's legs encased in the thin, silky material as they travel down from her knees, then up from her ankles, settling above her thighs where her bare skin peeks out.

Riza hooks a finger around one of the garter-straps holding up the leggings as she locks eyes with Roy again. "My, my- You've certainly dressed yourself up for tonight," she purrs.

Roy flutters her lashes again, and lets her voice heighten in pitch and soften in tone to lean more into her femininity: "Well, of course- a proper toy should look nice for her master, after all."

Riza grins, equally excited from Roy's tease and embracing of her gender. But, needing to keep up the play, she lets her smile turn wolfish. "You're so eager to please - too eager."

Her finger holding the garter-strap pulls away, stretching the material, then lets go, making it snap against Roy's thigh-skin. Roy bristles at the sensation and lets out a startled cry that's clearly exaggerated, then bites at her lower lip, whimpering softly. Ever the actor, she sells it extravagantly well.

Riza stifles a giggle as she rises to her feet. "You naughty little thing - you'll get your just desserts, but I suppose I'll give you your reward first. Lay down on your stomach."

Roy obeys, flashing a coy smile as she lowers herself onto the bed and rolls over, leaving her backside facing up. She folds her arms under the pillow and rests her head above them, arcing her back in such a way to show off as much of her round ass as possible in her new position.

Riza doesn't bother to stifle another laugh as she watches Roy, walking around the bed at the same time toward her nightstand. From it she retrieves a small, sweet-smelling bottle, and pours an oily substance from it into her hands, smelling even stronger. She rubs it between her palms as she joins Roy on the bed, sitting beside the other's hips.

"Since you've been so stressed lately, I'll give you a little massage - then you'll be nice and relaxed for what I have next."

Roy hums in response, rising into a small moan at Riza begins working her oil-encased hands into her shoulders. She works her way down, rubbing out the remaining knots of tension in Roy's muscles, all along her spine until she's reached her hips. She pinches at the beginnings of a larger person's love handles peeking out above Roy's pelvis, and when she looks up again, she sees that Roy has sunk so deeply into her pillow she looks almost half-asleep. Which won't do at all - Riza quietly unhooks Roy's garters, pushes down the hem of her leggings, widens the leg-holes of her panties, then takes a firm hold of Roy's asscheeks with both hands.

Roy startles back into awareness, moaning and twitching her hips as Riza kneads her asscheeks vigorously, clearly not for any clinical reason - merely to revel in the smooth, soft roundness of them, so much like perfect little balls of dough.

"Mmm," Riza hums, "You naughty thing - I keep telling you to lay off the sugar, and yet here you are, with your chubby little ass."

She eases up on her ministrations a little, giving Roy a chance to catch her breath and respond. She turns her head on the pillow to not-quite look back at her. "You know I can't help my tastes, Lieutenant - I simply won't settle for less."

"'Settle,' hm? Getting uppity, arent' we?" Riza growls. "Time to put you back in your place, then." And she demonstrates by drawing back, lifting an arm, and striking Roy's exposed ass with an open-handed slap. The little dough-balls jiggle deliciously with the force, and Roy cries out in both surprise and arousal, tensing and arcing her back.

"Oh, do you not like that? Too bad," Riza tuts, and spanks her again, then again for good measure, drawing a similar response each time - a jolt that sends Roy's body writhing, and a thrill of excitement through Riza's being.

"I've been nice to you so far, but you're far overdue for some punishment," Riza says, standing off from the bed and wiping off her oily hands on a nearby hand-towel. She retrieves her riding crop and stands by Roy's bedside, towering over her prone form.

"Oh no- please don't," Roy whimpers, exaggerating it as usual, as she can barely hide the excited smile that plays at the edges of her lips. Riza doesn't doubt that her own face looks the same. This kind of roleplay has been a favorite of theirs for several years, though tonight's exploration of Roy's gender has put an exciting new twist on it. Either way, Roy's protests are only a part of the play - never take her at her word, after all. If she really wanted to stop, she'd use their safe words.

Riza smiles devilishly. "You've been a very bad girl." And with one hand bracing against the small of Roy's back, she lifts her riding crop and begins whipping it vigorously against Roy's ass.

Whack! Whack! "You've been hanging around far too many other girls - you're just like them now. A proper slut, aren't you?" Riza's dirty-talk is as relentless as her blows. She relishes this role - it's ideal for satisfying her needs and venting her frustrations, considering the hardships she has endured, and will only continue to.

Whack! Whack! "And you love this, don't you? I can see you getting harder down there. Simply shameless." Roy's ass turns pink, then bright red in color as the blows continue, and her cries only grow in pitch and frequency. Soon she's making muffled groans into her pillow, face fully buried into it.

Whack! Whack! "Just look at you - your big round ass out in the open. Just imagine if the others saw you like this - the whole team coming in one morning and seeing you bent over your desk."

Whack! Whack! "Even better - imagine we're at another one of those parties, your slutty ass on full display for everyone to see."

Roy bucks her hips, hissing through her teeth. "No, please," she says, "Ah- anything but that-"

WHACK! An especially hard blow. "Quiet! You know you'd love it, you little whore. You're imagining it right now. All those guests, all those Generals, everyone looking at you so hungrily."

Roy dips her head back into her pillow again, stifling a loud groan.

Whack-whack! "Your reputation ruined in an instant - instead everyone knows Roy Mustang as the biggest whore in Amestris, putting out for anyone to get what she wants. Instead of the top you're going straight to the bottom, under every cock they plow into you. But don't worry- I won't let them touch you, not one of them. Not until I've had my fun first."

Another strike, and then a few more, and now Roy was just writhing against the bed, clutching her pillow like a lifeline, ass cheeks resembling a pair of ripe tomatoes, her cock wetting her panties with precum. From what Riza can see, her eyes are squeezed tightly closed and leaking a few tears - she was reaching her limit.

Riza gives her one last whack for finality, but without the usual force, more of a love-tap than anything else. "There- have you learned your lesson, little lady?"

She pauses to allow Roy to recover - and herself as well, letting her arm rest and her adrenaline and arousal to subside. The silence sinks in for a few moments.

Roy pants, breathing herself back into coherence. When she can speak clearly, her voice is watery. "N-no... Please, Lieutenant,  give me more. I've been so bad- the worst..."

Riza chuckles, but she's slightly concerned - normally Roy would play along and say she's had enough. "Aw- but your poor little bottom looks so sore," she says, petting at Roy's bright red backside.

"I need it," Roy murmurs into her pillow. "I- I deserve it." Her voice is quiet, near-whispering, and edging dangerously close to a sob. Ah- she's dipped back into her self-loathing, poor thing. Maybe the roleplay went too far again...

Riza changes her petting to a soothing rub, and her tone to something softer. "Easy, now- I say whether you've had enough. I'm in charge, remember?"

She rubs at Roy's backside, gently, massaging away the tension that's recollected there - soon Roy is relaxing again, and she hums in response. "Mm..."

"Tell you what," Riza continues, "Be a good girl and hang in there just a little bit longer, and I'll give you what you really deserve."

Roy seems to perk up a little at this, shifting her head to glance behind her. As she does, Riza retrieves another bottle from her nightstand - from it, she pours a cool, slick liquid onto her hands, and she rubs her palms together to warm it with her body heat.

She notices Roy's eyes brightening across the bed, and Riza grins. "That's right - time to make you nice and loose. Spread your legs for me."

Roy obeys, even more enthusiastically than Riza predicted - she not only spreads her legs, she shimmies them to and fro as she hooks into her panties and leggings with her thumbs and shrugs them down, pushing them down to her knees and exposing herself fully.

"Oh ho," Riza chuckles as she approaches Roy again. "Trying hard to be a good girl again, aren't you?"

"Only for you, Lieutenant," Roy responds, in a voice that's somewhere between a sweet little housewife and an amateur prostitute, maybe both at once.

Riza can only laugh. "You're adorable," she says, dipping into sincerity for a moment. This colors Roy's cheeks with another embarrassed blush.

She reddens further as Riza gently spreads her ass with her hands, giving easy access to her hole. "Now, don't come yet," she warns. "Only when I say you can, or you won't get your reward."

"Yes," Roy breathes.

And Riza enters her, carefully, with a lubed finger - she stops as Roy hisses and tenses, waits for her to adjust. Once she feels the muscles relax and Roy gives a signal, Riza pushes in further, and repeats the process until she can fit a second finger inside.

Roy makes all sorts of noises and movements in her efforts to not come - she even arcs her back and lifts her hips so that her dribbling cock hangs limply in the air between her thighs, denying herself any physical contact.

Luckily it doesn't take very long until she's ready - there's hardly any resistance once Riza pulls out her fingers. She pats Roy's ass affectionately. "What a good girl... Stay right there."

And now Riza finally pulls out what she's been waiting all night to use - her latest and most prized toy so far, a strap-on harness and dildo she'd hidden just under the edge of her bed. She steps into it and begins clipping it on, stifling another excited giggle. "Now, turn around."

Roy rolls onto her back in time to see Riza tightening the strap-on and giving an experimental tug on the dildo - when they lock eyes, the roleplay breaks down for a few moments as they flash each other giddy, excited grins.

This is slightly new territory for both of them - in the past, Riza would usually pump a dildo in and out of Roy by hand, sometimes plugging it in while stroking her off to finish. The mechanics aren't so different here, but the manner of applying them definitely is, and they're both equally excited for it.

Riza is quick to clear her throat and get back to business. "Ahem- that's right, I'm going to fuck you just like you want, you little whore."

Roy's eyes grow to saucer-width, practically sparkling, and she nods enthusiastically. Riza applies a layer of lube to the dildo, then steps forward, smiling as she watches Roy scoot herself closer to the foot of the bed. She dutifully lifts her knees, allowing Riza to take hold of them and pull her panties and leggings off of her legs completely, leaving her completely naked and oh-so vulnerable.

Riza lifts Roy's knees to rest on her shoulders, grasps her thighs, and carefully guides the tip of the dildo toward Roy's entrance - all the while brimming with excitement and arousal at this new position. She pushes the dildo inside with one hand, uses the other to brace Roy's thigh, all the while glancing between it and Roy's face to make sure she isn't hurting her. She pauses when she notices Roy wincing, continues when Roy nods to urge her on, and soon enough, half of the dildo is securely inside. Then, with a hand still covered in leftover lube, she finally takes hold of Roy's cock, hot and tremulous in her grip.

Roy was moaning loudly at this point, more from pleasure than pain, squirming around the dildo with a need for more friction. Riza takes ones last opportunity to tease her. "Yes - you love it, you slut. You can come now, but you wouldn't have much choice in the matter with such a big cock in your ass."

"Oh, please," Roy whimpers.

Riza smiles. "Told you I'd make you beg."

And slowly, Riza begins bucking her hips, working the phallus deeper and deeper until she's buried it to the hilt inside her partner. Then she carefully pulls out, gives a moment for them both to breathe, then works it back in again, and in this way she slowly and carefully fucks Roy at an easy rhythm as they acclimate to the toy. All the while she strokes at Roy's cock lightly, and just as slowly.

And Roy just writhes against her, twitching and moaning with an open, lolling mouth, her sounds lilting back and forth in time with their movements. She does her best to keep pace with Riza's movements in the grind of her hips, even as she aches for more, occasionally bucking against her in silent pleas for more. Her hands twitch uselessly at her sides 'till she digs her fingers into the bedsheets beneath her, grabbing fistfuls of fabric in a vicegrip.

"Please- harder, please," Roy whines between sharp gasps of breath, not quite looking at anything, her eyes glazed over with pleasure.

Riza can only comply. She hums with satisfaction as she picks up the pace, faster and harder in both her thrusting and stroking. Soon she's pounding Roy senselessly, the haze of lust taking over completely as she gives into the raw, primal nature of their copulation. The slapping of skin, the deep grunts and moans, the all-consuming heat - the appeal of this action for natural  phallus-owners is crystal clear to her now.

Riza's only regret is that she can't feel anything through the dildo - she could more accurately hit Roy's prostate otherwise. But going hard and deep like this seems to do the trick just fine, and she gets more than enough pleasure from just this - the feel of her hips slamming against Roy's, her cock pulsing against her fingers, watching her come undone just beneath her.

By now, Riza's own womanhood was throbbing within the confines of her undergarments, because on top of everything else, the base of the dildo presses deliciously against her clitoral area every time she thrusts forward. She can feel her cunt wetting into the fabric of her panties, and again she half-wonders if she may lose her composure before Roy for a moment.

Only a moment, as the evidence is to the contrary.

Roy is completely senseless now - body shuddering, eyes rolling back, mouth hanging open with loud, strained cries. Any words she's saying are barely coherent, but they seem to be the usual - 'god,' 'yes,' 'please,' and 'more.'

The 'yes'es become more pronounced as Roy approaches her edge, squeezing tears from her eyes as her wails grow into high-pitched whines. Riza's nearly breathless with the effort of her thrusting, but she finds the lung capacity to choke out one last command.

"Yes, yes- come for me, Roy."

And with one last, deep thrust and a hard stroke of her cock, Roy finally does, and hard.

Her body locks in place for a moment, then shudders violently as shockwaves course through her, undulating her spine and rocking her trembling hips and thighs. Her throbbing red cock sprays copious amounts of cum across her chest and stomach, and her cries rise into a loud, long scream of pleasure that peters out into a deep, satisfied groan.

The reaction is so intense that for a moment, Riza's instinct is to fear she's hurt her - but then she remembers that Roy hasn't had this kind of action for nearly a year, on top of the drawn-out foreplay. And besides, she's always been embarrassingly loud.

Breathless as she watches her, Riza gently squeezes droplets from Roy's shuddering cock as she rides out her tremors, at the same time pulling her hips away to remove the dildo, resisting every urge in her to keep thrusting toward her own climax, not wanting to overwhelm Roy further and having a better idea for that anyway.

She briefly presses her lips to one of Roy's thighs. "Beautiful... absolutely gorgeous... You did so well," she whispers, a little hoarse.

She forces her trembling hands to lower Roy's legs, then unwork the belts of her strap-on to pull it down and off. She kicks aside the toy unceremoniously - she'll clean it later. For now, she has a much more pressing need. She crawls onto Roy on the bed, grasping along the curves of her body -  Roy feels so relaxed beneath her hands that she's surprised she can still feel bones inside her, not having turned to mush from the heat enveloping her entire being.

Trembling and weaker in the hips than she predicted, Riza drudges up the last of her composure to make one last demand as she straddles Roy's stomach. "Huff- We're not done yet- You- you still have a mess to clean up, slut."

Roy hardly notices her, still swimming in the sea of post-orgasm bliss, but Riza nonetheless begins tugging down her panties, a significant wet spot in their center. She stands on her knees to pull them down and fully expose her dripping cunt, and at this, Roy finally takes notice.

Riza scoots closer, moving her hips up and past Roy's chest. "Time to - huff - use that whore mouth of yours for something useful- Ah- Pleasure me, Roy." Her tone falters toward the end, between her exhaustion and her precariously-desperate need.

Roy's eyes widen, but she grunts and nods, probably too tired and hoarse to respond verbally. She adjusts herself to grab Riza's hips, savoring her curves with her hands as she urges Riza's slickness closer. Then she's sitting squarely upon Roy's face, her legs spread out across her pillow as her lower lips meet Roy's own.

Roy's silver tongue wasn't just skilled in conversation, and begins to eagerly demonstrate the many techniques she employs to garner so much popularity with women in her suave bachelor persona. She quickly parts Riza's slit with her tongue, darting at and around her clitoris and drawing shockwaves from her; she moves down to her vaginal opening to stroke along its rim to bring her shivers; and all the while, her fingers work themselves into the curves of Riza's ass to tease at her other end.

Roy works faster, deeper, employing every part of her mouth to service her partner, and Riza is quickly reduced to a moaning, twitching mess atop her. She grasps the bed's headboard to brace herself against Roy's ministrations, and as much as she'd love to draw this out and savor it further, the coil in her belly and sparks in her veins are already too tight and hot to be denied their climax.

Then Roy begins sucking upon her clitoris, and any attempts to continue their play, or speak at all, fall apart as quickly as Riza does. Her orgasm quickly crashes through her and leaves her as a deep, loud groan, stars speckling the back of her darkening vision.

And yet Roy is relentless, continuing her licking and suckling as Riza trembles and wails above her, lapping up her juices like a hungry animal. Perhaps she was enacting some kind of revenge, or was simply insistent on giving Riza some fraction of the pleasure she'd dished out - either way, Roy continues eating her out for a little while more, overstimulating her until she's too tired to continue.

Roy signals this with a gentle push, urging Riza off of her. She does so, all but flopping onto the other side of the bed as Roy scoots herself back towards her pillow and catches her breath. Riza has to close her eyes for a while, so great is her exhaustion - she stops short of falling asleep, however, forcing her eyes open to check in on Roy.

Roy is a sight to behold now - naked, hair a mess, skin splotchy, face and chest covered in semen and fluids, not to mention the welts and oils decorating her backside - and she is only more beautiful than before. Her half-lidded eyes hardly register the world around her, dark and sparkling like a night in the clear-skied countryside, pooling with leftover moisture and a deep, satisfied pleasure.

"Roy." Riza speaks softly to get her attention. Roy opens her eyes fully to look at her, and the sparkle of her eyes brightens further.

She rolls to her side and extends her arms to wrap around Riza's shoulders, drawing her in for a hug. "Thank you," Roy whispers hoarsely. "Thank you so much."

Riza chuckles against her chest. "So you enjoyed yourself?"

"Yes- God, yes. More than that, I- You were right. I... I needed that."

Riza pulls back her head, enough to meet Roy's eyes again. "Even calling you 'madam?'

Roy blinks, once, twice, breathes out slowly. "I... Yeah. Yeah, even that."

Riza smiles. "So I guessed right."

Roy laughs, a weak, breathy sound in her throat. "I think you officially know me too well, now."

"I only do my best, madam," Riza says, a breathless little tease.

"You certainly do - and you are. You're the best, Riza," Roy whispers, giving her a half-hearted but nonetheless tender kiss to the lips - which is wet and tastes of Riza's own essence, but she pays it no mind.

When they pull away, silence settles in again, and they simply lay there, watching each other breathing, drifting slowly towards unconsciousness - until a thought crosses Riza's mind. Truthfully it's more like a small worry that's plagued her all through their copulation, and she feels the need to voice it before she falls asleep and forgets it completely.

"Um- I should ask. What should I call you?"

Roy, almost half-asleep again, opens an eye. "Mm?"

"I mean- if you're serious about... this," Riza gestures vaguely, "Is there another name you would prefer?"

Roy closes her eyes, squeezes both, then wipes a hand across her face, groaning softly. "Erm- I don't... really know, honestly. It's still..."

She blinks a few times again, and when she leaves them open, there's that distant, burning look in her eyes, the one she wears every time she snaps a flame into being - no, this is different. This is quieter, more introspective. She's searching inside herself, but not for any Alchemical formula or dark, terrible memory.

"...I'm still figuring it out," she says finally. "Roy is still fine, I don't really mind. I mean, I'm not even sure if this is even... well, a real thing. Maybe it's just for tonight. Or nights like this - you know, just for the roleplay-"

Riza silences her with a finger to her lips. "I get it," she chuckles. "Whatever it is, you don't have to justify it to me, you know."

Roy smiles around her finger, but there's something sad in her expression. "I know- I think I'm justifying it to myself more than anything."

Riza hums sadly, moving her hand instead to brush aside Roy's mussed bangs. "I'll only ask what I always do - talk to me. Tell me everything - or at least, anything I can do to make this easier. I don't want to have to push you again, like tonight."

She cups Roy's cheek with her palm, and Roy sighs and leans into it, closing her eyes. Her throat moves, but she says nothing - perhaps nothing more needs to be said, for now.

"Listen- whatever you are - or want to be - I will support you. Always. Just like I promised," Riza says, just to put it in words that Roy can hear, making it absolutely clear and unshakable.

Roy opens her eyes, soft with moisture again. "Even into hell..." she murmurs.

"Even into hell," Riza echoes, and she withdraws her hand and lays back, letting her eyes be pulled shut by the waves of exhaustion and bliss that still lap at her. She watches Roy one last time as her vision unfocuses and drifts into dreamless sleep.

Her last conscious thought is of Roy - her, him or otherwise - and how lucky she feels to be the retainer of such a proud, beautiful flame.

END.