#no gender descriptors

[sofiiel]

Eddie x Reader Comfort:

A/n: hehe, this turned out longer than that I'd initially had in mind. Written with a sweet anon in mind ❤ I hope this is something along what you are looking to see.

Warnings: Fluff. Drained reader. Soft Eddie. Written from phone ~ tried to weed out mistakes. Not really warnings but, you know.

Eddie falling into that serious tone and channeling his feelings into you the only way he knows how, when you've been shutting out the world.

It's been weeks, and he's only gotten very short phone calls from you every couple of days.

When you do spend time together, you've fallen silent and the mental and physical exhaustion shows on your face.

Eddie knows you're going through it, and he trusts you'll open up to him when you're ready. You always do.

But this time, watching you settle at the bottom of the depths causes a fresh ache in his chest, that ache whirling into wildly trashing levels of love.

Love louder than genre he's worshiped for so long.

He needs to flood you with it. If you are to be sunken in the depths, he would have you drown in a warm, soothing spa than a frigid abyssal ocean.

So he asks to come over.

"I swear, you don't even have to get out of bed, don't get dressed. I won't either. Let's just be." He told you over the phone.

Unable to deny that voice, you agree, and the next morning Eddie announces himself as he enters with the key you gave him.

You meet him half way, and he's in his comfy clothes, padding about in Jesus sandals he wouldn't be caught dead in public.

He's got a worn stuffed animal that looks like it hasn't seen daylight in years. A sheet, a spare shirt and a mixed tape.

You see, you being quiet gave him a lot of time to plot.

The master story weaver and adventure guide has had his mind turning all this time.

First thing first, he greets you with a hug. Pulling you into his arms, lightly caressing your back, "my sweet song" he murmurs.

Oh, he's using that term for you? That always promises you're in for a tidal wave of feelings. That rare sugary pet name.

He tilts your chin to look up at him and faintly winces at the struggle in your eyes as he searches them.

Eddie plants little feathery kisses across your face, taking his time slowly. Letting them linger.

When he finally goes in to kiss your lips, you melt into it like cotton candy on his tongue.

His hand rests on your neck, tenderly stroking the skin with his thumb.

If the world was going to be rough with you, he would be soft, he would let himself become pure cotton, velvet, will around you.

Breaking the kiss, Eddie rests his forehead against yours, "let me in? Just a little. We don't have to talk about it. Deal?" He asks.

"Deal." You answer.

Eddie takes your hand and offers you a smile. "Good, cause I'm gonna make your space nice and cozy with my spell." He says, leading you to your room.

He pats your mattress, bidding you to sit, and the moment you do he enfolds you in the sheet he brought.

"Breathe deep." Eddie lulls with a faint smirk on his face.

You're curious about the hint of mischief in his tone but take a deep breath. Doing so bathes you in the comforting scent of home away from home.

Leather, carpet deodorizer dust, faint tobacco and cannabis, that new shoe smell, beer and Eddie. The smell of his room.

You pull the sheet around yourself tighter and flash him a tiny smile.

It's not much, but it makes his heart do little cartwheels in his chest.

He reaches out to rub your cheek.

"There's that gorgeous smile." He said teasingly.

Eddie then nabs one of your pillows, stuffing it inside his spare shirt like a pillow case.

"You just crush this sucker with all your might when you need to." He says fluffing the pillow. "And let it soak up every tear and scream and sleep talking and drool you got when I'm not here." He said.

Eddie passed you the pillow, and you hug it to your chest. It feels like him, and it too carries his scent. His soap, his shampoo, his fragrance, the smell of his skin.

Reaching into his back pocket, he holds up a tap, "this is for when I leave. Hit play, whenever you need me but want your space. For now, it's a surprise." He says.

He pops it in the player without turning it on and goes to join you on the bed.

Laying down, Eddie settles in before holding his arms out to you. Naturally, you nestle against him as his arms surround you. His body radiates, feeling like Sundays on your skin.

His heartbeat thrums in your ear and against the palm of your hand as you rest against his chest.

"I can't stop everything that aims to hurt you. I mean, I'm gonna damn well try. But for what I can't, I'd like to face it with you" he rambled given you a squeeze.

Maybe you murmur about not wanting to bother him, how you don't want to burden him, how you don't want him to always have to see you like this. How you don't want to make him feel bad or exhaust him too.

Eddie chuckles softly.

"You could never." He says.

"Babe, I live for your dark days. Your happy is stunning. But Christ, if your darkest hours don't make beautiful." He says.

You shift to look up at him, and he's gazing deep into you with that meaningful haze across his eyes. Like the world around him faded away and there was only you.

He kisses your forehead.

"If anything, I love you harder in times like these." He whispers.

"Yeah, I don't want you to feel like this. I don't want everything to feel like it's shitting on you. I don't want you in the trenches." He explains.

"But I also don't want you hiding from me. I can take it, it's your fight and you are surviving it. So let me kiss your scars, lick those wound and drink those tears. They're just strength, filling up to the brim and spilling over." He says.

If you start to cry he does just that, kisses the tears away.

He lets you vent your battle into his chest, he lets you squeeze him. He doesn't care if it's in the form of tears, shouting, rambling, or silence. He's listening.

Eddie is drawing random shapes on your back and shoulder. He is playing footsy with your toes, he's stroking the top of your head and running his fingers down your scalp. Or playing with your fingertips.

When you start to calm, he will hum your favorite songs. Now and then, whispering his love or praises into your ear.

Simply stating "I'm here"

From then on, you spend the day however you wish, Eddie showering you in his own special love language.

And when the time comes that he's gone home and everything takes over. You pop in that tap, curl up in bed in your sheet and lay down to hug your eddie-fied pillow.

You hear the melody of Eddie's guitar playing and acoustic session.

"Side A is for comfort, babe. Side B is when you wanna rage." Eddie's voice speaks calmly. "Sit back and enjoy, love you - always."

And side B is Eddie shredding on Sweetheart the most insane heartfelt solos you could imagine. The sound of an angry, frustrated, aching soul reaching out to unify with yours.

[trans-axolotl]

my gendered experience growing up as an intersex person was overwhelmingly defined by my responses and resistance to everything that got me labeled as a failure: failure to quickly get a gender assigned at birth, failure to go through a normal puberty and grow up into a woman, failure at meeting the standards for "complete womanhood" because of my intersex sex traits, and yet simultaneously failing to ever be acknowledged as a "real man" and being treated as a threat when I expressed I wanted to transition.

before i realized i was a man and came out as trans, the ways that girlhood was denied to me was very often humiliating and painful. locker rooms filled with other girls were a frequent source of shame. there were many big and small ways that i was told that my intersex body made me insufficient, incomplete, broken. i was forced onto estrogen, forced into shaving my body hair, and was constantly being told to change myself to better fit this mystical idea of a "normal woman." and even though I ultimately ended up becoming a man, the denial of girlhood was painful.

but i think that these things would have been even more difficult to navigate as an intersex girl if on top of everything I already said, i was having to cope with the denial of my girlhood while i was forced into boys locker rooms. if my doctors were forcing me onto testosterone hrt and refusing to even discuss estrogen, if all my legal paperwork had "M" on it and was a logistical nightmare to change, if every support group for my intersex variation labeled it as a "men's support group," if the LGBTQ community spaces i tried to join were misogynistic towards me often to the point of exile, if my self determination as an intersex girl was denied in most spaces of my life, and on and on and on. while listing all these things out i also don't want to make it seem like it's all about suffering and pain--so much of transition for me has been about joy in my self determination and how much it feels like a reclamation of autonomy to decide what I want my body and self to be like--i know this is an experience i share with so many of my trans intersex friends.

as an person who was AFAB, although there were many ways that trying to grow up as an intersex girl were a painful, logistical nightmare, many times and places that i was excluded from woman's spaces, etc. however, there was a simultaneous affirmation that i was right to strive for that in the first place. which is logic rooted in some fucked up compulsory dyadism, but also which would have made some things slightly easier or even possible at all if i had wanted to embrace being an intersex girl within this fucked up system.

pretty much every time i've seen people on tumblr talking about "afab transfems" in an intersex context, people seem happy to collapse these experiences and act like there's no meaningful distinction or point in distinguishing between different types of intersex embodiment. it seems incredibly extractive, to be perfectly honest with you--taking terms already used by a community to make meaning of their experiences and to expand and dilute that term enough that it means something pretty different than the original.

it's making me think about the concept of epistemic injustice, which is a term coined by Miranda Fricker to describe oppression related to knowledge, communication, and making meaning of the world. There's two subtypes of epistemic injustice: testimonial injustice and hermeneutical injustice. Testimonial injustice refers to the dynamic where marginalized people are labeled as not credible, excluded from conversations, and their testimony and knowledge is labeled as unreliable, even when they're the ones who are experts and have first hand experience of what people are talking about. (this is why i probably won't make this post rebloggable--i've noticed this pattern on tumblr many times where trans men speaking about transmisogyny get lots of notes and are given a lot of grace, where trans women are silenced, attacked for not having perfect wording, and otherwise delegitimized.)

the second type is called hermeneutical injustice. it describes how marginalized people are denied the right to make sense of the experiences in their own lives. this can look like preventing people from building community, terminology, a political understanding of themselves, and the interpretive resources needed to process how you live in the world.

this is a form of injustice that I think almost all intersex people are very familiar with--we are denied community and interpretive resources to the point that we're told we don't even exist, that intersex isn't a real word, and so many more examples that leave us isolated and with very few options for understanding what we're collectively experiencing. as an intersex person i really intimately understand how frustrating, confusing, and painful it is to not have words for your experiences, your identity, your life.

so it makes me really sad and pissed off when it seems like intersex people seem to be replicating this exact same type of epistemic injustice towards transfems and specifically towards intersex transfems. pretty much every time recently i see people talking about "afab transfems" they're doing so in a way that seems to deny that trans women even have the right to make sense of their own experiences in the world. there seems to be this mindset that these political frameworks, these interpretive resources that transfems have built up are just up for grabs for anyone. and then on top of that has come with it a lot of cruel, hateful language and direct attacks towards many intersex transfems who are facing so much harassment right now.

an important value to me is this idea of reciprocity as a foundation for solidarity. to me reciprocity means that we're prioritizing the ways we care for each other, we're thinking about how we can uplift each other, and we're watching out for extractive or exploitative patterns where one group is constantly expected to be in "solidarity" with another group without getting the same respect and care back toward them. i think that there could be so many ways that intersex people of all genders could share our overlapping experiences and actually be in true, meaningful solidarity with each other, but i barely ever actually see that happen on tumblr. and that pisses me off, because i do think that there's so much we have in common that we could celebrate and support each other with. i feel so much kinship with so, so many of my trans intersex friends, and ways where i see our lives converge. but i don't think that can happen in an environment where there's no acknowledgment of the ways that our experiences will sometimes (often) differ from each other, and the ways that we have unique needs.

another frustration i've had based on this most recent couple months of transmisogynistic intersex posting on tumblr is how intersex people have been mostly ignoring intersex community resources and devaluing the existing intersex terminology that people created to try to meet our needs. so much of what i've seen people describing on tumblr seems to really line up with the term ipsogender. Ipsogender is a term coined by an intersex sociologist Cary Gabriel Costello, and is used to describe intersex people whose gender matches the gender they were medically assigned at birth, but who might not feel like cis or trans fits them, might experience dysphoria, and who might feel like they've ended up transitioning medically or socially in some ways. this is a word that exists that an intersex person put time into coining because they wanted other intersex people to feel seen, embraced, and have ways of understanding themselves and communicating to others, and that's something that's super meaningful to me! and yet, i've rarely seen anyone reference it, and also seen multiple people making fun of it in other spaces online.

there's also intergender, which is another intersex specific gender term used to describe when your gender is inseparable from your intersex traits, and that your intersex identity is intertwined with your gender identity in some way. some people just identify as intergender, others use it as an adjective and exist as an intergender man or woman. intersex terminology like this is really important to me, especially because we're so often denied the right to make sense of our own experiences.

i think ultimately what i wanted to say with this post is just that when i think about intersex community, some of the most important values of intersex community for me are solidarity, care for each other, and affirming our right to define our own existence. and i don't think that can happen in a community where people are acting in extractive ways, harassing and attacking their fellow community members, and being dismissive of the realities of other intersex people's lives.

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

Pet peeve related to a post of mine that people have been tagging weirdly: I don’t get why you would call a dude who’s caring towards kids a mother. like "oooh he’s such a mom for this." No he’s not? You’re not breaking any gender norms, just drawing attention to the fact you believe so deeply that childcare is a woman’s job that you can’t conceive of a man filling that role.

Or if what you’re saying is actually: "he’s caring in the way mothers are caring," you’re still not making a revolutionary statement. You’re saying tenderness and gentleness are inherently feminine and unmanly. It’s like saying that a man doing the dishes or baking is "wife-coded" which I’ve seen some of you say btw. Which is insane to me

If you’d say of a nurturing guy that he’s a mother then I have to assume you’d call a tough gal who teaches kids to play rough a "father". (I know you wouldn’t and yet it’s the exact same thing.) And mulling that over for a minute should make it plain to you why that’s just a sexist view of parenthood.

[bookwyrminspiration]

I first heard about filling out your gender as "n/a" as a joke, but now it's also genuinely my favorite way to mark my gender. unironically. for a lot of reasons. i actually use that to fill out forms accurately whenever I can. so whenever I see people make jokes about doing that (which I support! it's funny) I have a private laugh because I actually legitimately do it on purpose

[vulpinesaint]

dear beloved mutual @godtrauma tagged me for this :D so delightful. and terrible. i made the picrew first on purpose so i wouldn't be influenced by the quiz result and damn my character design really does look like that huh...

make yourself x find out what the fandom would see you as if you were a fictional character

tagging all the beloveds @cherryriposte @romcomfemme @mirthful-madness @bucklikethedollar @theempressofeyes @lesbianboyfriend + anyone who wants to do it

[beaft]

"women and nonbinary people" really is my villain origin story

[unhelpful-ultralink]

ven ghan accidentally making max discover gnc like "max what are these he or she categories you humans split yourselves into?" max doesn't want to explain so he asks steel who looks it up and reads from wikipedia

which answers the questions for the two aliens but raises more for max "steel why did you say social construct? steel it can CHANGE over TIME i thought that was just a math thing. steel steeeeel stop holding your arms like that i know you can hear me and besides you don't even have ears"

going off of the WHO's definition (first one to pop up on a google): Gender refers to the characteristics of women, men, girls and boys that are socially constructed. This includes norms, behaviours and roles associated with being a woman, man, girl or boy, as well as relationships with each other. As a social construct, gender varies from society to society and can change over time.

inspired by @rolaplayor101 's post

[goblinbugthing]

hey. hey. btw. if youre trans and dont plan on medically transitioning. i love you

[spinnysocks]

it's so weird and irritating how certain descriptors are close to fitting, but they're not quite there

they are so close! to how i want to be called or described, but they're just... not... how i want to be called or described

so,

shoutout to those who don't feel described by mr, ms or even mx

shoutout to those who don't feel described by woman, man, enby, any of the sort

shoutout to those who don't feel described by boyfriend, girlfriend, partner, etc

shoutout to those who don't feel described by cute, pretty, beautiful, handsome, the list goes on

and to those who feel iffy or uncomfortable by those terms, especially those who feel they have no other choice but to go by them

i see you, i understand. <3 i'm always welcome to and hoping to hear some new or different terms :)

[piss-bong]

also while i'm on the topic i've kinda grown to hate the term 'transgender' bc it reminds me too much of the whole "sex is what you are, gender is how you identify" type of ideology and when someone calls me 'transgender' rather than 'transexual' or even just 'trans' it feels way to much like they're saying "you're still a man but i'll treat you like a women because i'm Woke" like girl ... just call me a slur

[argo-bolo]

love that gender doesn't really matter on the qsmp unless it's funny and/or queer

and as someone who's an agender nonbinary, i support this message

[sofiiel]

Love poultice: eddie x reader ══════════════════

Content: Mental health. Sleep scratching. Unintentional self-harm. Comforting fluff. Soft Eddie.

══════════════════

You're drying your body off after a long, soothing shower. Eddie pokes his head inside the bathroom, judging if it's ok to come in.

You've been very quiet lately, with that far-off look in your eyes. He'd tried his normal tricks to bring you out of yourself. He'd upped his goofy game to one hundred and ten percent, and he'd become baby bunny levels of snugly.

Nothing was working, and that void chasm in your gaze was only getting wider. Eddie wanted little more to dive in and fill it up like a warm giant bubble bath.

"Um... I just need to, eh to-" Eddie's brain broke, he'd been so eager to check on you, that he'd forgotten to come up with a reason to need the bathroom.

"- toooo- toothpaste, yeah." He said.

You glance up at him briefly, making eye contact through the mirror. "Toothpaste?" you question.

Part of you wanted to laugh, but that half was being smothered by a dark, weighty pillow.

The momentary sparkle that fizzled for a second was enough for Eddie. It gave him hope, he could help, even a little.

Bopping into the bathroom with new resolve, Eddie hummed and took up his toothbrush. From the corn of his eyes, he carefully watched you.

"What's going on with you, babe." He thought to himself. He'd asked you a dozen times this week.

"Don't worry about it" you'd say and defuse him with a quick kiss.

He frowned slightly, that was always a good way to stunt his train of thought, and you knew it a little too well.

With a sigh, he spits and rinses, dropping his toothbrush on the counter. Turning to you with his hands reaching out. "Here, let me help." he offers.

You pause for a moment, you don't want to be a burden, but your mind is screaming to feel something soft and you nod.

Eddie faintly smiles as he is passed the towel, coming close his lips land gently on the curve where your neck meets your spine. It sends a tingle down your back.

Carefully, Eddie pats the towel around your body, kissing a patch of skin each time before drying. He's still humming, his eyes giving their attention to his task.

He doesn't notice the tears welling into your eyes as you watch him. But he can feel the tension slowly seeping out and away from you, and he smiles a bit more.

He dries you off from head to toe, stopping at your legs, he sets the towel on the bathroom floor. Tiny long erratic welts draw his fingers to trace them.

Eddie does so as if his touch could spit them open to bleed.

You tense again, he saw them, of course, he saw them. And this time there were so many. Much more than before. You thought you'd gotten better.

You thought you'd made progress. They're unsightly.

Eddie breaks your vicious thoughts as he kisses as many of the scars to be as he can manage.

And your tears spill over. "I don't know why." your voice breaks.

It stings Eddie's core, but he stays calm. "It's ok," he says, pushing warmth into his voice. "Hand me the cream."

Through blurry vision, you look at the little cosmetic jar on the counter. Grabbing it, you hand it to Eddie as he stands up.

"And they're all over the place this time," you whispered.

His hand brushes the side of your face before cradling your cheek, his arm is warm against the side of your neck as he looks deep into your eyes.

In his gaze you can faintly see the reflection of your crying face, you feel like a mess. Though, Eddie is looking into you like one might a scenic ocean view.

Silently trying to convey that you were no less beautiful simply because of a storm blowing in.

He plants a short sweet kiss against your lips, "sit down, and I'll put cream on them." he said. His eyes briefly cut to look down at older scabbed-over slashes around your shoulders and arms.

He wasn't sure how he'd missed, them.

You give in and take a seat on the toilet lid.

Eddie rubs the cream into his hands and then tenderly spreads it around your scarred skin.

Your head hangs a little, feeling defeated. Unsure of why your mind seemed to hate your body so much, enough to attack it. You didn't want to make an appointment and have that talk again, Meds only do so much. The back and forth of therapy to figure out "why" again.

Exhausted tears stain your cheeks, a drop onto Eddie's hands as he massages the cream across your thighs.

He pauses and peers up at you, You'd had numerous talks about your sleep scratching before. It was one of the reasons he offered you to move in with him.

"Babe?" He questions to gain your attention.

You can make out his pained expression through the watery glaze in your eyes.

He raises up to kiss you, it's long and slow, and mind-numbing. His lips move lightly against yours, his palms pressing into your thighs.

"It's been a hard week, I've seen it." He confesses.

"But you gotta let me love you when your mind and body doesn't." He whispers, kissing the curve of your jaw, "Let me do it for you."

Eddie's arms wrap around your back as your arms wrap over his shoulders. He's locked you in a firm embrace as you cry into his neck. Carefully moving himself so that you can sit on his lap.

He rubs your back and continues to kiss the top of your head.

"I'll call in for you today and tell them you won't be coming in." He murmurs. "Neither will I."

With a squeeze, he pulls back to get a look at your face. "We can slice up cucumbers and wear them like sunglasses and make that green mud shit for our faces. Take a walk, drive, and pick up a snack and a movie." he hummed, rocking you slightly.

"But first, we'll sleep in, and I'm gonna koala cling to you so that silly brain of yours will have to leave you alone." With those works he swipes away the remaining tears with his thumbs.

"But only if you let me."

You respond by showering his face with little kisses, and Eddie chuckles. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes" you answer.

He flashes you a strained smile as he heard the smallest hint of laughter in your words.

"Good, wanna go unmake the bed by jumping on it?" he asks.

"Jumping? Or..." you lull quietly coy.

Eddie rubs the back of his neck, "Well I...I mean, sure if you want."

"It's stress relief," you tell him.

Eddie grins and as you stand up he takes both your hands and leads you out of the bathroom to the bed.

"So tell me what you need."

"I need you to love me."

══════════════════

A/N: this may have been incoherent, self-indulgent mess of nonsense, but kicked myself out some comfort writing before work. Good ol' emotional unpacking. Be sure to take care of yourselves today ❤

══════════════════

[prismatic-starstuff]

me when opening an x reader fic with no pre-stated clarifications on what characteristics the reader has: :D

me when reader is called a girl in the third line: D:

[everlastiingiimmortals]

So, I mentioned yesterday that there was a piece I saw where Stelle was wearing a rather fancy dress, and though I personally adore it because she looks so pretty, Stelle herself was hit with a very strong wave of dysmorphia. (Super brief mention of 1.5 events present! Not tagging spoilers due to it being about two weeks since the update dropped, but I'm giving a heads up regardless.)

Stelle has always, I think, been someone who prefers more neutral clothing, and though she has absolutely no problem with being referred to with feminine pronouns at all, she herself does not like the idea of presenting as particularly feminine. In fact -- and this scares her -- she sometimes does not want to be perceived a physical entity at all. While I do stand by my take and new understanding that Stelle is on the nonbinary spectrum (her disgust was both dysmorphia and dysphoria!), this does go a little deeper: Stelle is very very conscious of the Stellaron housed within her body.

Feeling the weight and warmth of the Stellaron inside, knowing she's artificial, frankly makes her want to tear herself out of her own skin sometimes. In the wake of her possession by Cirrus, I think this feeling only worsened with her horror and disgust at being robbed of her autonomy. That line of thinking became something along the lines of I am (in) a vessel, and this vessel has been tainted. It's very, very awful. And, on her worst days, when the paranoia starts to kick in, frankly? She's not sure if she is Stelle or if she is the Stellaron. Is her dysphoria a factor caused by the Stellaron desiring freedom or having its own thoughts? She doesn't know. There's no way for her to verify the person she used to be before, after all. She has no memories from before the space station. She doesn't trust Kafka.

But she knows the Stellaron speaks. She heard the voice of Cocolia's Stellaron. She knows the one within her pulls towards the desires and wishes of the worlds she's in, too. She's felt it. The existence of the Stellaron within her is why she walks on the Path of Destruction in the first place, its response to the desire of the people of Belobog to survive is why Qlipoth granted her the powers of Preservation. She knows it's why she can adapt to the Paths so fluidly.

She heard its call on the Luofu, too, heard it all throughout the battle with Phantylia.

On her best days, she just doesn't like being seen as very effeminate, because that isn't her. But on those particularly bad days, when she starts to lose sense of where the Stellaron ends and where Stelle begins, she'd really... rather not be perceived at all. Having eyes on her just makes her all the more conscious of the cancer she's housing, stable or not. This ties into her regular discomfort with being spectated by crowds, why she insists she's plain, why she dislikes dressing up.

That being said, no one aside from her twin Caelus (@celestial-narwhal) or Dan Heng would be aware of this extreme discomfort. It's something she keeps extremely close to her chest, and with her resting neutral, straight-faced expression one would find it near impossible to tell what sort of day she's having inside.

[latexwife]

YAYYYY! my funny guys finally have matching little reference sheets! men who go to the gym to bench press eachother

[lonniemachin]

oh yeah btw happy almost pride. im coming out AGAIN!