#obviously i love and appreciate the community i have

[velvetvexations]

as an autistic trans man, sometimes I feel less safe in public presenting as a man than as a woman, because, especially in certain places, man + visibly autistic tends to be more often falsely read as "dangerous and predatory" than when people read me as a woman.

Yeah, as an autistic trans woman who doesn't pass, I feel that. <3

Honestly thank you so much for what you do on this app. I'm so glad there's people who are actually willing to stand with trans men instead of pulling the "um well I have it worse so do NOT talk about your own oppression EVER or else you're a transmisogynist!" I'm so happy I found your blog and I hope you have a great week <3

I hope you have a great week as well!

Eh a long while ago Chris Fleming made a video making fun of polyamorous people which used a lot of the same hurtful stereotypes society already perpetuates against us and I’ve not paid attention since

Noted, as someone who is also poly.

i wish the queer community didnt put so much emphasis on sexuality labels like i just want to have sex why do i need to put a word to it

very valid

about the dropout “discourse”: hot take but real life people are not representation. theyre people. real people are not queerbaiting you and real people happening to not be transfem (and I have literally seen transfems in some dropout episodes theyre just not part of the main cast) is not a lack of representation. these are real people. stop* *not you, the people being shitty about it

the complaint is not in any way coming from a genuine place tbh

hey! i just wanted to let you know how much your blog means to me as a trans guy. you and your reblogs have given me hope at trans unity, and lets me know that i-- that we-- aren't alone. so thank you for everything you do, and i greatly appreciate your support and look up to you 💛

Thank you. <3

i redownloaded etsy recently and seeing all the trans stuff saved to my favorites is so sad. i used to feel happy and proud and i wanted to be open about being transmasc. but since all the discourse got worse i just. cant bring myself to feel like it matters. it makes me feel like im trans and yet i will never matter the way other trans people do.

You do matter anon, I promise. I love you, you matter, and I'm glad you're here.

As a trans guy a lot of the self-ID'd TME transmascs weird me out so much. Like why do they all sound like "I am so strong and my power to Harm Women is immense. I could do it so much and I feel the pull to the Transmisogynist Dark Side but *unsheaths sword* I will protect them instead with my big strong testosterone arms from my fellow men" like what even is that. Who is into this.

it's so incredibly obviously bad but it reinforces some people's victim complexes so it's praxis now

a trans person will joke about their experience and a trf will jump in to assume theyre a white transmasc who has never ever faced any real difficulties for being trans

every time

Out of the many, many stupid ideas in this dumb discourse, I've finally decided the one I hate the most is that underlying implication that transmascs just aren't trans enough. It's so gross seeing people imply that we aren't really trans. Our dysphoria is minimal discomfort at most, apparently. I've seen people post about and imply that transmascs will never understand not feeling like a person or being unable to live a life pre transition and that's why we have privilege, i guess - are you kidding me? It's like our experiences are a joke to these people who are clearly so wrapped up in their online discourse bubble that they're just detached from what it's like for trans people as a whole. Sorry for the vent (would rather not post this on main and I don't have anyone to talk to) but it's just the most grating part. Also it's like. Low-key transmed shit. Thought we left that behind, c'mon.

transmeds are like ants they come back every summer

i wish TRFs had a label they proudly called themselves so i could jsut go through their tags and block them, but noooooo they HAVE to frame their transphobic bullshit as Brilliant Transfeminist Theory. like atleast radfems are fucking honest about being radfems

That's part of why I made antigonism a label for anti-TRFs to call themselves~!

[joyful-enchantress]

Is it 2025 yet? 🕚

Folks tend to get reflective during this time of year and... it's me. I'm folks. Reflecting on 2024 has been hitting me in the gut like a sucker punch.

Some of you know, in great detail, what I've faced in 2024. Some of you know parts of it, but not all. And some of you know none of it. But 2024 has been the most difficult year in my 32 years of life. That's not to say that there hasn't been any joy throughout the year, because there has been. That's just to say that the things I've had to process this year sometimes had me feeling like both my brain and my heart were in a blender.

I've been a bit of a recluse as a result -- not just on Tumblr, but in all my communication channels, and even IRL to an extent. I certainly haven't been myself for much of the year.

With the holidays upon us, I'm feeling extra reflective, and so I decided to do a 2024 recap. And there's some people I want to thank that will be tagged. PLEASE, there is no obligation to read on, even if you're tagged. There's some heavy shit below the cut. If you're tagged and don't choose to read on, just know that you've played a part in adding some warmth and light to my year despite everything and that I love and appreciate you 💚

Here goes nothing --

January 2024: After a few months in a nursing home, we learned that my husband's grandmother was put on hospice.

February 2024: My husband's grandmother passed away. Our first loss of the year. It was sad, but not tragic. She was 99 and passed away peacefully. Later in the month, we get the news that my maternal grandfather has cancer. It was discovered very late.

March 2024: My grandfather was put on hospice.

April 2024: My grandfather passed away. Our second loss of the year. I'm trying to comfort my mom as she mourns the loss of her dad. Later in the month, MY dad has some tests done and gets a call with the results -- they detected tumors in his abdomen.

May 2024: After a few more appointments, it becomes clear that my dad's situation is dire. He is shortlisted for major surgery to remove the tumors ASAP. He had surgery on May 21st. They removed several tumors, the largest of which was about 44 lbs (20 kg) ‼️ Recovery from the surgery seems to be going fairly well at first, but then things take a turn with some additional complications. He passed away for the first time on May 31st, but they resuscitated him. Now he has 6 broken ribs on top of everything else.

June 2024: My dad spent most of the first week of June unconscious and on life support. My family, considering all options and all the complications, made the difficult and heartbreaking decision to take him off life support and end his suffering. He passed away on June 7th. We held a beautiful memorial service for him on June 22nd. I started therapy to get support through my grief.

July 2024: Towards the end of the month, my mom found a camera in the house as she began sorting through things. She found it in the stand beside my dad's chair. After some digging she also located the charging cord and turned the camera on expecting some happy memories. Instead, she found photographic evidence of my dad's infidelity. And the woman in the pictures with my dad is one of my mom's sisters. The pictures are from about 10 years ago. Obviously this news rocks my world -- tilts it on its axis. I feel some cracks forming in the foundation of who I am as a person, since my dad shaped so much of that. I was close with my dad. I never suspected in a million years that he could have done something like this.

August 2024: During this month, my mom managed to find my dad's phone, which had become lost amongst the chaos of bringing his things back from the hospital, funeral planning, etc. In light of what she found on the camera, she opens my dad's text message thread with my aunt. It is damning; full of pictures, explicit messages, and arrangements. Some as recently as early 2024. My dad's affair with my mom's sister was ongoing for a decade.

September 2024: I feel like I'm finally making a breakthrough in therapy (thank god I didn't waste time deciding to start in the first place or I don't know if I would have made it through the year). My therapist is wonderful and she has me start to work on reparenting myself and relearning how to express my emotions in a healthy way, after a childhood of being raised by a dad who would yell and scream and get angry anytime I cried. I seriously would stare at my therapist through the screen and say "I WANT to cry right now, but I can't" My body would shut it down without me even thinking; a defense mechanism that I had developed as a kid to avoid getting screamed at. (GREAT news -- I'm way better at crying, now, guys!! 🥳)

October 2024: My husband is in a car accident. Most importantly, he is okay! He did end up with whiplash and a concussion, and his concussion symptoms do still flare up from time to time even 2 months later, but we've been told that's not abnormal and they are getting fewer and further between. As a much more minor but still disappointing note -- the accident happened the day before we were supposed to leave for a trip that we had planned and had been looking forward to since January. We had to cancel the trip.

November 2024: My first Thanksgiving without my dad was very difficult.

December 2024: My mom closed on a house! This is obviously very exciting and I more than understand why she wants to move out and sort of leave everything of her life with my dad behind. But it is still... a lot. It is all so strange. And scary. And sad. I celebrated my first birthday without my dad on December 19th. It was hard. He gave me roses and a balloon every year without fail. So, this year my wonderful husband got me 32 red rose cookies... he didn't want to replicate exactly what my dad did (he might have, had it not been for the discovery of my dad's decade-long affair) but he wanted to pay homage to it, and I think he knocked it out of the park. I love him so much and I'm so lucky to have him.

And now I'm about to celebrate my first Christmas without my dad. I already know it is going to be difficult. This entire holiday season has been more difficult than I could probably explain. But I'm being kind to myself and I'm trying to look for the joy amongst it all.

If you've made it this far --- whew. Are you okay? Seriously, I know that is a lot, even to just read about all at once. I've spent a lot of time this year being so confused and angry... my grief journey for my father, which is already difficult in and of itself, doesn't even get to be straightforward or "normal."

I'm aware this has been bleak. I didn't post this to bring you down. I just wanted to put it out there so you know. So you know why I may have seemed distant or absent this year.

I sincerely hope that you all have the warmest and most wonderful holiday season, and a kick-ass New Year! So many of you have been there for me this year, whether in direct support, or just by providing some fun, silly distractions that injected joy and laughter into my year. Truly, you have no idea the difference or the lasting impression even one comment or whisper of support can make. I love you all, and don't you forget it.

Here's to 2025! May it be kinder to us all ✨

@ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @sarahscribbles @infinitystoner @loz-3 @loopsisloops @holdmytesseract @muddyorbs @give-me-a-moose @maple-seed @ladyofthestayingpower @tallseaweed @loki-cees-all @liminalpebble @fandxmslxt69 @lokiandbuckysdoll @superficialdomina @jiyascepter @gruftiela @simplyholl ++ people I'm sure that I missed 💚

[florwal]

it’s so hard to get out of the “i need to be recording this gameplay or putting this save/build out to the masses.” mindset, especially when people are being rude in your inbox demanding shit and acting like you owe them something.

anyway my save files have issues and i don’t plan on fixing them for a while because like i’ve said… the amount of bugs and problems the game itself has makes it a super frustrating and stressful thing and i’d rather not spend months of my life nonstop working on something that the game will eventually break again.

[fitpacs]

,

[sinnettini]

are you catholic? i wouldn't have said so

anon 😭😭 i'm not trying to make fun of you and i'm taking this as a compliment actually but i don't know how to tell you this... i'm literally italian 😭

but seriously, i've grown up catholic yeah, but i don't believe in god and haven't taken part in anything religious in many years. i would say i'm like culturally catholic tho. and technically still catholic to the eyes of the church bc baptism and all that

[ghostiboos]

Is there some kind of community or volunteer program I could join to learn how to make designs and modifications for prosthetics? I’m more of an artist than an engineer, but I’ve always been kinda obsessed with the sculptural properties of prosthetics. Obviously when designing one, though, function and comfort come first, so if I ever got into it, I would want to make sure I’m making things people can actually use (not to mention afford).

[ficsempai]

I think it would be cool if we stopped treating fanfiction like it’s a small buisness that needs more customers.

This toxic idea of reward for job done in a situation that 1) doesn’t involve money 2) is completely voluntary is a little fucked up. The only thing you might win is popularity as a fic author, which is cool but fundamentally not that useful irl.

Due to recent issue with some people arguing about how ‘AO3 should have algorithm’ and such… I feel like these tweets need to be shared out more. Saw this tweets thread by chance and I had to admit it’s a great advice esp on fic writing or fanworks in general.

[Edit] Also since I noticed this post blowing up, if anyone ever tell you that AO3 doesn’t have a function to RECCOMMEND fics you like to others or read other people’s fic recs on the site point them to this post.

[Edit 2] Check source for the original tweet.

[Edit 3] Not OP, but usually when ppl talk about ‘rude or demanding comments’ it usually refers to those that tend to message fanwriters to write according to what they want to be either on the flow of the plot, shipping, etc to the point of harrassment/toxicity. And that would make writing not be fun anymore for some. 

[eldragon-x]

Let me ask you a question, Light.

What it is, Ryuzaki?

I've been wondering: Who is your favorite Pokemon Mystery Dungeon character?

...I see what your game is, L. Deducing the probability of me being Kira based on my answer. Not bad, but I'm already ten steps ahead of you.

If I tell him my favorite character is Dusknoir, it's obviously going to link me to Kira. Not only is he a cunning, detective-like figure chasing after himself, but he is part of a species of grim reapers which can be connected to the shinigami.

But,

It would be befitting Light to pick Dusknoir since in the expanded story of Explorers of Sky, he grew willing to take great risks in order to make the world into a better and safer place. And even before his redemption arc, he is shown to be genuinely concerned about fellow Pokemon who are in immediate danger.

Of course, he could always play it safe and say Grovyle, who is a well-written and widely beloved character in the community. Not to mention a true seeker of justice.

No, it's too obvious. I have no choice. I'll just be outright. He can't possibly connect my liking for Dusknoir to Kira if I just present the facts.

I think my favorite would have to be Dusknoir! His development in Special Episode 5 was a fascinating choice and made me appreciate his character as a whole.

I see. I'm personally rather fond of Celebi.

!?

What the hell... Who would care about Celebi? Is this a threat? She is one of the characters who contributes to foiling Dusknoir's plans... Is he that confident in his ability to stop Kira? What is your angle, L...

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon!? I love these games! My favorite is Munna!

!

Misa, what are you doing?! Munna seeks to rid the world of rotten Pokemon! You're blatantly making a connection to Kira!

Besides, Gates to Infinity is hardly worth of the Mystery Dungeon title... It's naive message about trying to better the world just through hope... I suppose it is just like Misa to like this game.

Still! Munna is an incredibly incriminating choice. Dammit, Misa...

Ahehehehe... Wigglytuff.

[not-a-space-alien]

I've seen a lot of "You have to communicate directly/don't expect other people to read your mind" posts going around tumblr lately and while I really do appreciate them because it's a skill a LOT of people need to work on, I do want to remind everyone to please meet people halfway sometimes.

I recently read a story on Reddit about a guy's pregnant wife texting him "I'm craving donuts but we don't have any in the house 😔" and he DIDN'T stop to pick up donuts on the way home from work. Everyone was taking his side because "she needs to communicate" and "he's not a mind reader" and "How was he supposed to know she wanted him to get donuts???" People, ffs, why on earth would she text him that while he was at work if not because she wanted him to get donuts? I was flabbergasted everyone was taking his side. "How was he supposed to know??" What? Like yeah it's true she didn't say "I want you to get me donuts" with those exact words in that exact order but the reason why people get upset if they hint they want you to do something and you don't do it is because they feel like you don't care about them and aren't actively thinking about their feelings. Especially in a marriage or LTR they are in a situation where the assumption is you care about filling the other person's needs.

Someone who loves and cares about someone will get the donuts "without being asked" just because their partner expresses a want or need. That's what someone is fishing for when they say "Aaaah I'm craving donuts 🥺🥺🥺" It's less about the donuts and more about feeling cared for. Sometimes straight up asking "Can you get me donuts?" defeats the purpose.

Also, women are typically socialized to communicate this way because they're punished socially for being too direct. I've heard that people of color, especially black people, often do this too because they're likely to be branded as "aggressive" if they're too direct with white people. So it might be a good idea to be a bit intersectional if we're trying to encourage people to be more direct.

Take the stereotypical example of a wife gets a new haircut and then gets upset that the husband doesn't notice. She's not literally mad at him for not saying the exact words "I like your new haircut." She's upset because she feels like he doesn't look at her and appreciate the efforts she's putting in anymore.

Obviously this will vary widely depending on the nature of your relationship with someone, but especially when it comes to intimate partnerships, there are certain things your significant other should not have to tell you directly. It's probably safe to assume your wife or husband wants a birthday present even if they don't ask for it. It's probably safe to assume your bf or gf would appreciate a valentine's day present or a compliment without them having to literally ask for it, unless they explicitly say otherwise.

This is difficult for a lot of neurodivergent people to learn manually if it's not instinctual and they didn't learn it growing up (lord knows I didn't) and yes, it's true that most people (especially NT people) should learn to communicate more directly. But also, your relationships would probably benefit from learning to read indirect cues and just pick up the donuts on the way home because you heard your wife is craving them. Sometimes what someone wants is for you to think about what they're feeling and what they want and do it without them asking directly. It's up to you whether or not you do that, but sometimes that is asking. I think this is what people generally mean when they say their partner is "thoughtful."

[wolviensabes]

Wolverine and Sabretooth in rut. You are completely screwed (literally).

Primal mutants = rut cycle. Obviously. Written in a headcannon style. NOT poly, the title looks a little misleading lmao. Not edited so pls ignore mistakes.

Minors DNI. 18+

Logan aka Wolverine

Logan gets crazy when he's in rut. He tries his best to keep his distance at first because he knows if he gets near you and smells you, he will lose all of his composure and throw you onto the bed.

He growls and huffs a lot, he's vocal about his needs and he warns you many times before he gives in. "This isn't like before...if I fuck you, I'm fucking you hard. Once I start I won't be able to stop." Logan's voice wavers with desperation as he tries to keep himself controlled.

The thought of him losing all his composure and pinning you down, making you take it, turned you on more than you thought, and he could smell it.

Logan gets a little cocky when he smells your arousal, and he drags you into the bedroom for some much needed relief...for the both of you.

He tries to be as considerate as possible, but in rut he's much more driven by instinct and focused on himself. He can't stop himself from driving into you and reaching his climax as soon as possible.

Something about him using you to relieve his primal need turned you on so badly, you laid as he wanted you, rutting into you from behind as he let out loud, guttural groans and growls into the back of your neck. He stretched you so good, and his thrusts always hit the right spots.

The marks he leaves on you are insane. He leaves bruises where he holds you, how he tosses you around the bedroom, his teeth and mouth leave various bites and dark love-marks. He doesn't mean to hurt you when he throws you around, in the moment he's blinded by his desire and he can't stop himself.

In the brief moments where he calms enough to recover some sense, usually only after cumming many times inside you, he will look you over to make sure you're not hurt. He wouldn't want to hurt you, but his instincts make it hard for him to control his strength sometimes.

He doesn't like you anywhere besides his place, and honestly...wear loose fitted clothes. Or nothing you really like. Because it's going to be shredded off your body. One time you wore one of his shirts and he ripped it off you without a second thought.

Logan's rut can last anywhere from two weeks to a month. He only experiences one per year, either in the fall or the spring.

He tries to disappear for most of it, fearing he will literally fuck you until your body can't take it anymore. But with your insistence, he relents and gives in.

He's so appreciative of you, you learn to help him not just with sex, but by making things as comfortable as possible. Ruts hurt. He is almost in desperate need of relieving himself, and you do what you can, even though he understands he can't constantly fuck you. There's always other ways you can help him.

When his rut comes to an end, he's more affectionate rather than needing to fuck every day. He tries to do things he knows you like as a thank you without being too mushy about it. He lets his actions speak for themselves.

"You doin' alright, sweet thing...? Nngh m'almost done...just a little more." He will grunt to you, either getting ready to plow you again or during, he does his best to reassure you with words even when it's hard for him to communicate fully.

Even if it's hard at first, you get used to it and it's a good thing to experience with him. It brings you both closer, having been there for him during it.

Victor aka Sabretooth

Dudeee please. Victor is quite literally an animal when he's in rut, he becomes 90% non-verbal, and all he wants to do is fuck.

The second you come home he slams the door behind you and grabs you, smelling your neck with deep inhales. His chest vibrates deeply, guttural growls escaping with each breath he took. His hands are firm around you, one hand moves to grab your jaw and tilt your head back.

You try to speak to him, but the only responses you get are growls and low snarling. You finally turn to face him, with great difficulty since he nearly imbedded his claws into your flesh. He huffs deeply, looking more wild than usual. "Victor...what's gotten into you...?"

He'd watch you constantly, rubbing himself all over you. Cooking? He's behind you, chest to back, rubbing himself against your body. Sitting on the couch, he's almost on top of you. He constantly is brushing against you, or holding you close enough to be touching him.

He grooms you regardless if you want him to or not. He will tear your shirt off and lick your skin, most of the time he aims for your tender spots. He licks your neck and ears, over your chest, your face, everything. If you try to stop him he snaps and growls at you, so you just sit there and let him do his thing.

He also surprisingly likes when you reciprocate. You don't have to lick him back, but messing with his hair or showering together is a good compromise. If you can manage to get him in the shower...he likes his musk and likes having his musk all over you.

Victor stalks you. He stalks you around his cabin and watches you clean or do whatever else. When you least expect it, he pounces on you and drags you into the bedroom. "M'sorry sweets, but you're gonna be sore as hell when m'done."

Victor is a lot more rough and unrelenting than Logan. He claws you and bites, he does make an effort not to cause any severe harm, but there's a first aid kit by the bed for a reason. There is a weak urge to hold back, but honestly he can't help himself.

He fucks you from behind 90% of the time when he's rutting, he gets the best hold on you from behind and he can really push his cock far inside you, plus you feel much tighter that way.

From behind he can also bite down on the nape of your neck, and he holds on as he completely ruins you. His teeth sink into your flesh while his hips snap into your ass over and over until cum is overflowing out of you.

Victor's rut can last anywhere between two weeks and two months. He also goes into rut twice a year, once in the fall and once in the spring.

Unlike Logan, Victor doesn't bother hiding his rut from you. He tells you what it is before he enters it, and he does give you the chance to disappear for the time if you think you can't handle it.

If you decide to stay while he goes through it then...you'll definitely be feeling it for two months. Nearly feels like he fucks you open, and not only that, but he is almost always buried lapping you. He licks, sucks, and cleans your sex, loving all your sounds of desperation. It just urges him on even further.

When his rut is over, he is visibly much more protective over you. You endured his brutality and slight aggression, now he wants you to stay at his home so he can keep you somewhere he can control.

Victor isn't one for words, he prefers to show things rather than say them. But deep down he's glad that you help him, he adores your willingness and it makes him feel more possessive over you. Big cat man purrs as he licks you clean after~

Ty for reading 🧡

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover image from Wolverine Vol 8: Sabretooth War Pt 1 (2020)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

CALL MY NAME AND I'LL COME RUNNING ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru can be irritating, at times. but even if you push him away, he’ll always, always be there for you when you need him.

word count; 8.7k (this was supposed to b a short drabble but i was possessed by the devil halfway through)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, reader n toru have a fight, mild swearing (a couple fucks here n there), hurt/comfort, satoru has communication issues but he’s trying his best, depictions of stalking (reader gets followed by a random creep but satoru comes to the rescue dw), uhh implied thoughts of violence? (satoru wants to Maul said dude but doesn’t), literally just me being in love with satoru gojo for 8.7k words straight

a/n; no thoughts head empty only gojo running through the streets like a wild beast looking for u <33 im normal about him yeah.

“you’re so annoying sometimes, you know that?”

satoru smiles. the sentence isn’t one he’s unaccustomed to hearing.

usually, the words are soaked in an undeniable fondness, as they spill from your lips. rich with exasperated love. one that never fails to have the corners of satoru’s lips curling up, a mellow kind of joy blossoming in his chest.

but now, that fondness is nowhere to be found. 

you sound thoroughly exasperated, and a little bit fatigued. more than anything else, there’s a vague irritation behind the tilt of your voice, something almost cold. it makes all the difference in the world. 

and yet, despite that, a certain someone chooses to pay no heed to the bad omen.

“aw, c’mon. you know you love me, baby.”

satoru is grinning. lighthearted, awfully sweet. there’s a certain smugness to it, though, one he couldn’t wash away even if he was aware of it; you wouldn’t do so even if you could. that smugness is a part of him, one that you’d usually find endearing. 

but right now, it only seeks to further your frustration.

it was a stupid fight, truthfully. completely meaningless. satoru had forgotten to pick up after himself for, like, the fourth consecutive time, and so you grew annoyed. not by a lot, but enough that you felt the need to be firm when you reminded him not to make the same mistake over and over again.

but satoru had only grinned, in that self-satisfied fashion of his, and apologized in a way you couldn’t possibly call sincere. then he did what he usually does — promises to work on it. to not do it again. he never follows through, though.

but even that thought wasn’t anywhere near enough to make you truly angry. what really began to irk you was the fact that satoru wasn’t taking you seriously, even in the slightest.

that’s how he always is, when it comes to this kind of thing. and you try to be patient, you do. you try to be understanding. sometimes you even appreciate that he keeps the atmosphere light, but other times, you just can’t help but feel irritated by it.

and the current situation happens to fall into the latter category.

you don’t care if satoru leaves a candy wrapper or two out, every once in a while. of course you don’t. it’s a silly thing to argue about. but would it hurt for him to just listen to you? to try to put himself in your shoes, for once? it’s not about the wrappers, or the undone dishes. it’s about the way he treats you when you complain about it — like it’s no big deal, like it doesn’t matter. even if it obviously does, to you.

so, gradually, the topic of your little argument began to shift, into a conversation about satoru. about the fact that he so adamantly refuses to talk about the things that bother you in a serious fashion. about the fact that he so adamantly refuses to take you seriously.

and he just keeps proving your point, with every word that falls from his lips.

at this point, you’re genuinely beginning to feel a little angry. but satoru doesn’t see that as the warning sign it is — he just thinks it’s cute. he’s just been cooing at you, this whole time, despite your numerous attempts to actually explain how much his behavior affects you sometimes. it feels a bit like talking to a wall. satoru keeps on teasing you, even as you try to be firm about your point, and only brushes you off with empty promises to do better and more unneeded comments about how much he wants to hug you when you pout like that.

and you falter, a little. of course you do. you’re weak to satoru. weak to his words, that sweet voice of his, that pretty grin. but that only makes everything worse, because if you let yourself look even a little bit flustered at his comments, he sees that as his cue to continue.

you don’t even know if he’s doing it on purpose, at this point. is he doing it because he knows it’ll annoy you, or does he genuinely not understand that you’re upset? you’d like to think that there’s no malicious intent behind it, but can’t he see how troubled you are? you don’t get it. you don’t get him, and that frustrates you most of all. satoru can be so goddamn convoluted, sometimes.

so you simply can’t help but feel annoyed. angry, even. how long have you been arguing for, at this point? you’re not sure. but you feel the frustration inside of you grow, as the minutes tick by, into something you know will eventually explode.

a sigh falls from your lips, deep and exasperated. a little bit exhausted. “i’m serious, satoru. you’re not even listening.”

“i am!” he protests, stubbornly. childishly. “you just look so cute when you’re all mad. not my fault you’re so distracting.”

satoru smiles, voice sugar sweet, but all you can do is frown. does he really think it’s cute that you’re upset? the thought makes you somewhat sad. but you can’t show that, can’t let that part of you win — you don’t even want to think about the possibility of you crying, because of this. yeah, no way in hell. 

so instead, you channel it into anger. as the blood inside your veins comes to a boiling point, you dig your nails into the skin of your palms, gnawing at your bottom lip and shifting from one foot to another.

”satoru, i’m —” another sigh, sharp and vexed like the blade of a knife. ”i’m trying to have a serious conversation, here. can’t you see that i’m upset?”

satoru takes a moment to look at you, from behind the black glass of his shades.

he can. of course he can see that. you’re frowning, and there’s a crease between your brows, and you keep huffing and sighing every three seconds — you’re obviously, undoubtedly upset. and satoru wants to take you seriously, he does. it’s just that the part of his brain that only ever wants to coddle and tease you keeps persuading him not to.

he’s not lying, either; you do look cute. almost too cute to take seriously, when you’re pouting so sweetly, a little red in the face from all the frustration bubbling inside your chest. you look so small, glaring up at him like an angry puppy. 

satoru can’t help but smile. it’d be impossible not to.

and he will listen to you, will take you seriously. he knows you’re angry, knows you’re upset, and he intends to deal with that properly. but he doesn’t need to do it right now.

just a little more teasing, before he has to stop beating around the bush. satoru dreads it, a little bit, dreads having to genuinely be serious, be open and apologetic. it always feels so strange, so discomforting. 

all that stuff can wait until later. for now, he just wants to see you blush a little more, huff and puff at his limitless affection, that he knows you love deep down. where’s the harm?

(and therein lies the problem. satoru is observant, and typically good at seeing the line that he shouldn’t cross when it comes to you. but there are times when he slips up, times when he doesn’t realize that his words have begun to sting. times when the line becomes blurry, because he knows some part of you enjoys the way he babies you, and sometimes it blinds him to the part of you that doesn’t.)

satoru is smiling. it’s the same as always — big, bright, glazed over with honey-sweet adoration. smug and teasing. it’s such a satoru-like smile that it makes your breath hitch, sometimes, makes your heart race with wonder. but now all it does is annoy you. everything you love about satoru is annoying you, right now. 

in your eyes, that pretty smile of his seems almost taunting. like he’s trying to pick a fight with you, trying to make you even more upset. you don’t want to blow up over something like this, you really really don’t — but for some reason, you feel dangerously close to. it’s not like you at all.

you bore into his eyes with a cold glare, even though you can’t exactly see them with his shades in the way. posture straight and rigid as you try to make yourself look bigger. you must look at least a little bit menacing, like this. right?

“i’m seriously angry with you,” you say, hoping your voice sounds as austere to his ears as it does to yours. “don’t you get that?”

satoru coos, unable to hold the sound back. he doesn’t notice the flicker of hurt in your eyes, only focusing on how the sunset rays frame your figure, kissing your skin with sun-soaked fervor. you look so pretty. and that angry look on your face is too tantalizing not to tease.

“aww,” he croons, inching closer to you. there’s a teasing glint in his eyes that you can’t see, unmistakably fond. “is my little baby that upset?”

you blink. his voice sounds even more sugar-sweet now, obviously exaggerated. there’s amusement there, too — like this is just one big joke to him. you think he must be doing it to belittle you, to embarrass you. speaking to you like you’re some kind of grumpy toddler, and not a grown adult trying to have a serious conversation with their partner. your blood boils, boils, boils.

— and so the cup overflows.

“oh, go fuck yourself.”

it’s almost in a hiss that the words fall from your lips, cold and harsh; they leave the confines of your throat before you have a chance to reconsider them, sudden and sickeningly heavy. crude, too. you’d never be so crass with him under normal circumstances.

but you’re overwhelmed, thoroughly and completely, and satoru is being particularly infuriating. you genuinely feel hurt by the way he’s disregarding your feelings, and that realization stings more than anything. 

so you can’t help but say the words, louder than you meant to, before turning on your heel swiftly and walking out of the room. 

you don’t even have time to register what you’re doing, legs moving on their own before your mind can catch up. brisk and heavy steps carry you to the door, all while you furiously attempt to blink away the tears of frustration that begin to form in your eyes.

it only takes a second for you to grab your jacket — then you’re out.

satoru hears the front door close, echoing off the walls of your apartment. you don’t quite slam it shut, but you close it with more force than usual, and he can’t help but inwardly wince.

a moment passes. 

then, he flops down on the couch, lanky arms and legs dangling uncomfortably off the edges. the groan that slips from his lips is muffled by the soft cushion as he burrows his face into it, while replaying your interaction inside his mind.

satoru can’t help but feel uncomfortable, with this conclusion. a little bit irked. a vague something rests inside his chest, something he doesn’t quite want to admit to feeling. it makes him feel a little bit sick.

(”oh, go fuck yourself.”)

he can’t recall you ever raising your voice at him like that. when it comes to him, you’re usually so patient; soft, understanding, gentle. for you to have snapped in such a way — to have stormed out of the apartment in your anger — he must have pushed you pretty far.

satoru sighs.

he really pissed you off, huh?

(he can never quite seem to get this right, can he?)

it was never his intention to make you genuinely mad. he just lost sight of the line, for a second. that’s all.

and maybe he was also trying to avoid the issue, trying to avoid actually arguing with you. because he hates it. he hates it more than anything. satoru would much rather see you smile and blush than act all serious and sad. 

he just wanted to make you laugh.

was it insensitive? yeah, probably. he just can’t help but fuck this up, it seems. now he’s gone and made you angry — and as much as the sight would usually thrill him, as cute as you look when you’re irritated, a pit of anxiety settles in his gut. everything just feels wrong.

more than anything, satoru feels restless. because, right now, there’s nothing he can do. he can’t chase after you, even if just to apologize — that’d make you even angrier.

he knows he needs to give you space. you were obviously overwhelmed; some fresh air will do you good.

it irks him, though. satoru wants to fix it. he always wants to fix everything, before it even breaks. and even now, all his mind can do is spin in circles, wondering how he could possibly cheer you up.

he’ll just have to apologize, when you get back. and hope you forgive him. maybe he can get you something sweet to munch on, or a bouquet of flowers. would that make everything okay again?

satoru doesn’t know. so he just scratches his head, and tries his damndest not to think of how defeated you looked before leaving.

your steps are heavy, dragging you forward, leading you somewhere you have no knowledge of. it’s chilly out, and the sun is already setting.

everything in the world feels so wrong. like it’s tilted slightly to the left, like the earth stopped spinning around its axis. like everything suddenly lost its saturation. 

you just needed to get away from him, for a while. away from that smug smile, that patronizing tilt of his voice. you couldn’t even stand to be in the same apartment as him. it’s not often you feel that way, not often at all. 

and it only increases your growing frustration. 

you are beginning to calm down, though — you know you are. the crisp evening air and the pleasant mingle of people soothes your muddled senses, smoothing down the crease of your brow and the ache in your chest.

a heavy discomfort, and a growing guilt. that’s all you can feel, as the anger slowly seeps out of you, turning into vapour with every exhale of your breath.

you hate arguing with satoru. you hate it more than anything. the guilt clawing at your chest barely leaves any room for anger — you almost yelled at him. just the thought of doing that to satoru makes you want to cry.

because you love him, at the end of the day, even when he’s being absolutely insufferable. he’s a sweetheart, your sweet boy, always trying to lighten the mood and make you smile. maybe you should have been a bit more understanding; you know satoru’s bad at this stuff, bad with emotions and vulnerability. and deep down, you know he’d never hurt you, not on purpose.

he probably just didn’t realize that you were genuinely upset. it’s a mistake that anyone could make.

but it just makes you feel so frustrated. like he’s not even looking at you. always hiding behind those shades, never opening up. never letting you see him wear anything but a smile. you want him to take it slow, open up to you at his own pace, but that doesn’t make the wait sting any less.

it’s not like you were asking for a lot. first, you simply asked him to pick up after himself. the way you do, the way anyone does. then, you simply asked him to treat you with respect.

a sudden pang of bitterness runs through your chest. sure, you could’ve handled it all better — but he could have, too.

every step you take hits the pavement with an irritated kind of decision. whatever. whatever. for now, you don’t want to think about it — all you want is to walk around and take in the sights, enjoy the peace and quiet.

so that’s exactly what you do.

before you know it, the sun has set, and the moon has risen — shining down and painting the streets in a mesmerizing blue, ephemeral and tranquil. it’s enough to give you some peace of mind, as you lurk around familiar streets, soaking in all the open space. so different from that suffocating apartment, and the man inside it, with that shit-eating grin and those breathtaking eyes.

(he’s called you, a couple times. you haven’t been gone for long — an hour or so, you think, maybe two. some part of you wanted to answer, just to hear his voice through the phone, but the part of you that’s still awfully irritated shut that down immediately. so, stubbornly, you just let it ring.)

the streets are empty, and the sky is dark. the light of all the lampposts illuminate your way, along with the soft flicker of the moon and stars. an endless galaxy stretches out before your eyes, little pale dots of stardust shining like jewels.

an ever-lasting, never-changing sky, that continues on for infinity. limitless. all the space you could possibly want, and then some.

for a moment, you can only look at the glittering stars in wonder, soaking in the feeling of absolute solitude. 

— it doesn’t last, though.

“you alone?”

a sudden voice calls out from behind you. close, discerningly so, enough to make you flinch. you curse yourself for not noticing anything sooner, caught up in looking at the starry sky, in angling your phone to take a picture of it.

hesitantly, you turn your gaze towards the sound — wincing under your breath when you see the man a couple steps away from you. he looks a little crazed, you think, shifting from foot to foot and hunching over. 

oh fuck no.

great, just what you needed. that’s just your luck, isn’t it? your brain can only spin in circles, trying to get your body to react, to run. to do literally anything except just stand there like a deer caught in headlights.

in your nervosity, all you manage is a painfully awkward laugh, as you stutter out a halfhearted response.

“oh — no, i’m just waiting for my boyfriend!” you smile, unconvincingly. your face must be soaked in unease. whatever he wants with you, it can’t be anything good.

at least you said that one word clearly — boyfriend. you can only hope it’s enough to scare him away.

but the man only shifts a little more, emitting a gruff kind of hum, not saying anything else. your spine tingles with apprehension. every cell in your body wants you to leave. he seems a little intoxicated, you think, and the thought only stirs the anxious feeling in your chest further.

god. why does this have to happen to you? why now?

thankfully, you’ve got your phone in hand. as your mind scrambles for solutions, your fingers tap at the screen, urgently scrolling through your contacts. in such a frightened state, your acting must be positively awful, but you make a vague attempt. not like you’re getting any oscars for this, either way.

“sorry — he’s calling me now!” you stammer out, taking a step away from the man. he doesn’t make a move to follow you, so you take your chances and press your phone to your ear, feet carrying you forward with haste.

in your fear, you don’t think twice about calling satoru — but you can’t help but internally wince at the decision, as the anxious patter of your own heart resounds in your ears.

how are you supposed to talk to him, exactly? what are you supposed to say? hey, i know i just told you to go fuck yourself, but will you hear me out? i need your help. 

and you do. you do need his help. all you want is for him to swoop in, to take you in his arms, your knight in shining armor.

satoru’s said it to you, before — that if you need anything, anything at all, you can come to him. that you can always, always lean on him, without exception. 

you know that he likes helping you. likes it when you open up to him, when you put your trust in him. when you aren’t afraid to ask for his help.

so despite everything, you hold your phone to your ear, walking away with brisk steps and praying that he’s not petty enough to ignore your call like you did to his.

back home, satoru is still resting on the couch, tapping his feet and trying to distract himself. 

he’s a little anxious. it’s dark out, and you’re not answering any of his calls. when you’re out of sight, like this, he can’t help but feel a little helpless — worried about everything that could happen to you. but it’s not like he can force you to pick up. 

you’re probably at a friend’s house, or something. telling them all about what an asshole your boyfriend is. as much as the thought stings, satoru hopes it’s true; it’s all he can comfort himself with. anything is fine as long as you aren’t out walking alone, in the cold, in the dark.

entirely caught up in his spiralling thoughts, satoru almost flinches when the phone rings. laying on the table in front of him, just within arm’s reach. it only takes a second for him to react as his gaze flits to the bright screen, and he sees the contact name, the many heart emojis littering it.

with a start, satoru jumps up. his back straightens out, and his hand flies to grab the phone — he’d feel embarrassed at his own eagerness, but right now he just can’t help it. even under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn’t let the phone ring more than twice, always giddy to hear your voice whenever possible. 

this time, however, he does falter slightly.

he takes a split second to simply stare at the phone in his hand, at the affectionate contact name. what is he supposed to say to you, exactly? how is he supposed to act?

satoru doesn’t know, but as if afraid that you’ll change your mind and stop the call, yourself, he opts to simply answer. he’ll just have to figure out what to say on the fly.

(unfortunately, satoru’s instinctual response to anything is either smugness or playfulness.)

“well, well. look who finally decided to pick up.”

you’re the one who called him, not the other way around — but satoru can’t be bothered with small details like that right now. he only hopes you don’t notice the faint nervosity in his voice, the stiffness as he tries to sound unbothered.

you don’t notice anything at all, mind far too muddled, too clouded by fear. all you can do is take a deep breath, desperately trying to grasp control over your wavering voice.

“— satoru?” you call out, voice meek and frail. the man in question notices it immediately, sitting up a little straighter, but before he can say anything you continue. “i’m sorry, i just — are — are you still at home?”

there’s an anxious tilt to your voice, one that’d be impossible for satoru to miss. your words are a little breathy, spoken in a fast tempo, and he feels a sudden dread crawl up his spine.

something is wrong, his senses alert him.

“yeah,” he hums, trying to hide the turmoil in his own voice. “why? is everything okay?”

the line is quiet, for a second. “it’s just —“ an exhale, as you once again attempt to steer your voice in a less nervous direction. “just… some creepy guy tried to talk to me. i told him i was waiting for my boyfriend and now i’m walking away from him but he’s still following me.” another exhale, as you worriedly sneak a glance over your shoulder. ”i just — i don’t know what to —”

“where are you?”

satoru cuts you off, voice eerily serious. his gaze turned cold the moment he heard creepy guy, legs moving him towards the coat rack by the front door as if on autopilot. 

he’s already left the apartment by the time you answer, looking around you meekly.

“i… don’t know,” you sigh. “i’m not far. i walked past that one crêpe stand by the park but then i, like… continued up that street? and now i don’t really know where i’m going.”

you continue, a little exasperated as your gaze flits around the dark street. attempting to recall your steps, a difficult task with how on edge you feel. “i’ll try to look for a sign, or something,” you gulp. “… i’m sorry. i just wanted to get away from him.”

satoru’s voice is comforting, when he speaks, eager to console you. grounding and soft. “hey, it’s okay. i’m heading there now, alright?” he smiles, hoping you’ll hear it in his voice. “i’ll be there before you know it.”

you do hear it, and his words ease a little of the anxiety in your chest, despite your fear. “okay.” 

the line grows quiet, again, and your brows furrow in worry. “can — can i keep talking to you?” you ask, uncertain. a little pitiful. ”please?”

“of course,” satoru answers, instantaneous. he’s already making his way towards the crêpe stand with decision in his steps, mentally scanning the area ahead. despite his own anxiety at the situation, he attempts to sound as secure as he can possibly manage, desperate to soothe the worry in your voice.

“try to relax for me, okay? nobody’s gonna hurt you. not while i’m here.”

his words are absolute, as he consoles you. he sounds so sure of himself, so much that you can’t help but believe in his words. so you nod, emitting a weak hum when you remember he can’t see you.

“can you tell me what you see, baby?”

“uhh…” you look around, blindly, trying to find some sort of meaningful hint around you. “there’s like… some toy shop?” 

satoru only hums. “can you check your location on your phone?” 

you blink. 

of course. why on earth didn’t that cross your mind before? 

“oh — yeah — fuck. i’m sorry. i don’t know why i didn’t —“ you sigh, heavy. “hold on.”

following satoru’s instructions swiftly, your gaze scans over the screen. he waits, patiently, already heading past the park and up ahead. as soon as you succeed in finding the name of the street, you echo it to him.

satoru sighs, a little relieved. “okay,” he hums. “i’m not that far away. i’ll be there soon.” he only hopes his words can soothe your fear, even a little. “is he still following you?”

you glance behind you, and meet the gaze of the stranger. just like you were afraid of, he’s still following you — if anything, he seems to have gotten a little closer. with a jolt, your heartbeat picks up.

“yeah,” you gulp. 

satoru’s chest tightens. he emits a low hum. “just hold on. i’ll hurry.”

focusing only on the tilt of satoru’s voice, you try to calm your breathing. you just want to see him. the thought of doing so is the only thing keeping your trembling ribcage intact, at this point. 

you swallow a shaky breath.

“thanks, toru.”

a sudden pang of ache sprouts in satoru’s chest, like thorny vines curling around his ribcage. his heart hurts. you sound so scared, so very small. 

this is all his fault, he thinks. all of it. he got too careless; none of this would’ve happened if he had only been more considerate. if he had just stopped you from leaving and apologized, or hadn’t upset you in the first place. then he wouldn’t have to hear that scared little voice, wouldn’t have to imagine your body shaking like a leaf in the cold night. so far away from him. 

but satoru can’t beat himself up over it, not yet. there’ll be more than enough time for that later. for now, he needs to get to you — that’s the only thing on his mind.

so he lets his feet carry him forward, running towards your location with bated breath. he’s sure you can hear it, through the phone, even though he tries to contain it.

the sound consoles you, if anything. it reminds you that satoru is there, that he’s on his way. that there’s no need to be scared. 

but you can’t help but freak out, a little, when you hear the man call out from behind you.

“hey!” he slurs, stumbling towards you with unsteady steps. his voice is loud, angry, and it sends your mind reeling into panic mode.

a flinch overtakes your body, before you stumble forward, walking even faster than before. you’re almost running now, breath hitching as you gulp. satoru hears it all — your panic, the echo of the man. his own tempo picks up.

“baby, calm down, okay?” he consoles you, voice concerned and honey-sweet. “just keep walking. i’m almost there.”

“sorry —“ you squeak out, between flurry breaths. breathing uneven, laboured and anxious. but you try your best to calm down. “‘s just scary.”

it almost feels physical, the way it irks him. satoru wants to pull you close, more than anything, but he can’t. and that just makes the calamity inside his chest grow, clawing at his ribcage as if trying to escape, to go to your side. 

(he never, ever wants to hear that kind of fear in your voice again.)

“i know,” he soothes. “you’re doing good, honey. listen — he’s not gonna touch you. i won’t let him. you have nothing to be scared of.”

you nod, even as you exhale a shaky breath. ”i know.” 

and you do. you know there’s a truth, to satoru’s words, one that’s never failed you before.

because satoru is your safe space, at the end of the day — he can be annoying, outright insufferable, and sometimes he’s bad with emotions. but he tries, you know he does. and, more than anything else, you know that he’ll always, always be there when you need him. he’ll always be there to protect you. 

and a part of you is sure that everything will be okay, as long as he’s around.

(it’s easy to forget how trustworthy satoru really is, how much he cares. how dependable he is. and how serious he can get, when he truly needs to be, despite his childishness. it’s moments like these that remind you of that.)

but it’s still scary, at the end of the day. you can’t help but feel uncomfortable, a little lost in the world. because you and satoru just fought, you just told him to go fuck himself, and yet here he is. running to your side, in the middle of the night, because you’re scared and alone and you need him.

the man continues to shout, behind you, muttering curses you can’t quite make out. you look over your shoulder nervously, steps hurried.

and satoru runs like a man possessed, through the moonlit streets, gaze scanning the area like a wild beast. his most visceral instinct is screaming at him, tugging at his flesh and bones, desperate to protect you. to comfort you. to wash all your worries away. 

as he makes a sharp turn, he momentarily stops the movement, halting to look around. he thinks he must look a little crazed, with the moonlight illuminating his eyes, but he couldn’t care less.

especially not when his gaze lands on a certain person, further down the street — small and alone.

your eyes meet his.

with the darkness of the street, it’s hard to make anything out, but the light of the lamppost helps. though even without it, satoru’s sure he’d know it was you, just from the sensation that unfurls in his chest as his gaze lands on your figure. 

an audible sigh of immense relief falls from his lips, and his tense shoulders relax, eyes softening just a tad. he hears a similar noise coming from the phone in his grasp, and he assumes that means you recognize him too. not bothering to end the call, he puts it in his pocket, walking over to you with brisk steps. 

you stumble towards him, yourself, the worried crease between your brows now smoothed away. the closer he gets, the faster you move, until you can see the blue of his eyes. two pocket-sized moons.

satoru swoops you in for a hug before either of you can say anything.

he cradles you close, awfully close, so close you can hear his heavy breathing against your ear. it tickles your neck, along with his soft hair, and you shiver. his fragrance envelops your senses, a blend between fresh laundry, strawberries and some expensive cologne. your favorite scent in the world. 

and suddenly, the world is devoid of danger. nothing can get to you while satoru’s there. all that exists is you, and him, and the soft flicker of the moon.

satoru squeezes you tightly, ensuring himself over and over again that you’re safe. he might be squeezing you a little too tight, but he can’t bring himself to think about that just yet.

finally, that growing calamity inside his chest is satiated. winding down at the feeling of you pressed up against him, the indisputable proof that you’re okay. with you in his arms, satoru feels like everything is alright, again.

the fear inside his chest, so foreign it leaves him shaken to the very core, finally begins to dissipate too. he doesn’t think there’s anything that makes him feel quite as hopeless as the thought of not being there for you when you need him. he never wants to feel that fear again. it’s suffocating. it crushes his lungs.

all he can do is hold you close, his big palm smoothing down your hair, the back of your head, your spine. warm and comforting. keeping you steady against him. he can feel your heartbeat, rapid and anxious, so fast that his heart aches. satoru is eager to soothe you, eager to make it go away.

”i’m here, baby,” he breathes, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head. ”you’re safe now.”

the words are spoken softly, right by your ear, and you exhale a shaky breath. you’re bundling up his clothing with your fists, anchoring yourself to him. after a little while, you let go, opting to wrap your arms around his midriff instead. nuzzling into his broad chest, you try to blink away your tears and contain your sniffles.

you nod against him, and satoru kisses the crown of your head.

and, finally, his gaze strays. it falls farther down the street, until it lands on a certain man — shifting from one foot to another. watching you both in silence.

the calamity inside his chest rouses from its slumber, once more.

satoru makes sure to keep his hands on you, still rubbing your back with one steady palm cradling the back of your head. keeping your face hidden in his chest, safe and secure.

then he raises his head, back straight, full height on display as his eyes meet the stranger’s. he can tell they do, even with the distance, the darkness of the street.

and satoru knows he looks menacing. he knows the light of the lamppost illuminates his figure perfectly, framing his tall stature and broad shoulders. and he knows the moonlight caressing his skin illuminates his face, his cold eyes — blue and uncanny, glowing even brighter than the moon. staring daggers into the man’s soul. if looks could kill, there wouldn’t even be any remains left to find.

the man stiffens, visibly, and satoru delights in it. he doesn’t leave, though, and for a second satoru wonders if he’s really intoxicated enough to come closer — 

but, sure enough, all he does is stagger a little. then he walks away, grumbling under his breath, hands in his pockets.

and satoru isn’t satisfied, with this conclusion. not in the slightest. he wants to run up to the man, wants to hold him up by the throat, wants to tell him off. because he has the nerve to terrorize someone like that, stalk them with intentions he knows can’t be anything but revolting. the nerve to do that to you, of all the people in the world —

satoru doesn’t know if he’s hated anyone quite as much. 

and a part of him wants to make him cower. make him fear for his life, just to make sure he never does anything like this again. leave him with a fear so great it’ll linger for as long as he’s alive.

(and a more animalistic side of satoru, one he doesn’t want to acknowledge, wants to do things that are much, much worse.)

— but you come first. without question, and without exception. he refuses to leave you alone, and refuses to make you look at the man for even a second more. 

so he’ll focus on you, entirely.

he can tell you’re still shaken up, heartbeat pulsating against him, little flutters of life prickling his skin. there’s a desperation in the way you hug his waist, like he could disappear at any moment. like he’ll slip away if you don’t keep him close. the sight tugs at satoru’s heartstrings. 

his first priority is to soothe you, always and forever. so that’s exactly what he does.

satoru smiles. it’s small, in the wake of the situation, but awfully sincere. fingers reaching down to trace over your jaw, he gently urges you to look at him; when you do so, hesitant, he cups your cheek with his palm.

your teary eyes feel like daggers to his heart, an unmistakable proof of his failure. his failure to protect you, to keep you safe and happy. but at the same time, he’s glad, from the bottom of his heart — that you’d let him see you like this. even after everything.

you look very meek, blinking the tears away as you look into his eyes. they’re bright, and comforting. you wonder if he left the shades at home, if he rushed over here so hurriedly that he didn’t think to bring them with him. you’re happy, in any case — the effect they have on you is undeniable. 

you can’t bring yourself to look away, consoled by the flickers of white inside his irises, like fluffy clouds in the blue sky. ever-lasting, never-changing.

satoru tilts his head, smile sweet and understanding. ”that was scary, hm?” 

his voice is tender, somehow so mature. like he’s some older, wiser being, comforting a scared child. it’s so soothing, so very grounding.

squeezing your eyes shut, you can only bring yourself to nod, as you nuzzle back into his chest.

”you’re okay now, honey,” satoru coos, smoothing down your back as you sniffle. an immense softness seeps through his whisper. ”i’ll always be here to protect you.”

there’s a truth to the statement, heavy and pious. like an oath, a pledge, something for you to believe in unquestioningly. you allow yourself to soak in the words, knowing them to be true.

you’re safe, now. there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. satoru’s here, and he’s hugging you, pressing kisses against your shoulder.

but you just can’t stop crying.

when you speak up, your voice is weak, barely above a whisper. close to breaking apart at the seams. too tired after everything to resist the guilt inside your veins, you sniffle, and part your lips.

”i’m sorry i yelled at you.”

satoru stills.

then, his gaze softens, considerably. he hears himself coo, softly, palm smoothing down the back of your head. 

his sweet angel. apologizing to him, when he’s the one who started this whole mess. when you’re still so shaken up. because he let you leave the house angry, because he made you angry in the first place. because he didn’t see how important the discussion was to you.

(“you’re not even listening.”)

yeah. he wasn’t. he didn’t really want to.

an acute sense of shame. an intense guilt. that’s what he’s been trying to push down, all this time. that’s the unnamed something. 

it’s hard for him. to be as sincere as you, as open with his feelings and emotions. as mature. because even in a situation like this, you can swallow your pride and frustration, and apologize. even when you aren’t in the wrong. you’re always the bigger person, always the one to give in first, because he’s too stubborn to do so himself.

next time, satoru pledges, he won’t let you. next time he’ll be the one to swallow his pride.

because, yes, being vulnerable and admitting that he was in the wrong makes him feel a little like he’s being skewered alive — but you’re important to him. he loves you. and he wants you to know how much he trusts you, how special you truly are. 

if he can show you that, by being a little sincere, a little serious, then any discomfort he feels in the process is a small price to pay.

satoru’s lips meet the crown of your head, as he encircles your smaller frame, arms reaching around your neck to pull you close. he rests his jaw lightly on the top of your head, breathing in your scent. ”you have nothing to apologize for, baby.”

a pause lingers between the words he’s already said and the ones he yearns to say, but can’t seem to pull out from within his throat. it takes effort, to squeeze them out; but every time he replays your own apology in his mind, it gets a little easier. he squeezes you lightly before opening his mouth, as if to give him strenght.

“i’m sorry.”

you blink. 

for once, satoru sounds sincere when he apologizes — almost painfully so. bordering on something you think may be nervosity. you try to look up, to catch a glimpse of his expression, but he keeps you hidden in the crook of his neck.

”i was being immature,” he continues, sighing. you don’t know if you’ve ever heard satoru sound so uncomfortable. ”you know how bad i am with this stuff. but i never want to — you know.” 

he makes a gesture with one of his hands, as if that will say the words for him.

“— i didn’t mean to upset you. honestly.” satoru inhales the cold air, in hopes it’ll make him more honest. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

you listen. intently, not missing a word, not a single tilt of his voice. it all sounds so genuine, almost foreign on his tongue. satoru seems to be trying to find the right words, grumbling a little under his breath. 

he’s cute, like this. kind of awkward, but that only makes him cuter. you nuzzle closer to him, comforted by his very existence.

”… i’ll work on it,” he whispers, at last. “i’ll listen to you. i promise. i really, really will.” 

you think satoru’s voice wavers, just a little, when he says his final piece. 

“so please don’t cry.”

this time, satoru doesn’t stop you when you attempt to lift your gaze, loosening his arms around you and raising his head from where it rests on top of yours. 

your eyes meet. satoru is smiling, weakly. he tilts his head, looking at you with something you could only ever describe as love.

”okay?”

such a lovely smile. so painfully genuine. his eyes are on full display, shining in the dark of the night, like splotches of moonlight. like someone stole the moon down to earth, and carved out little pieces to put in his irises. an ethereal hue.

he’s so gorgeous. hair just a tad messy, tousled from all the running he did to get here. cheeks a little red from the cold. when he smiles, his eyes crinkle. but he looks almost pained. 

(he was so, so worried.)

blinking away the tears clinging to your lashes, you simply stare, entirely mesmerized by the sight. satoru’s thumb goes to wipe at your glassy eyes, smoothing away the drops that threaten to fall. you want to engrave his expression into your memory, so you can never forget it. but it’s just a little too much.

so you hide in his chest, once more. the word that falls from your lips is tiny. “okay.”

satoru smiles, kissing the top of your head with a relieved exhale. bathing in your presence, still reeling from his show of vulnerability. he feels a little like he just cut himself open, let you peek inside his ribcage. the night air stings his skin. 

but you’re so warm, hugging him tightly, breathing and heartbeat finally relaxed. 

(he doesn’t mind it, not if it’s you — having you look inside his chest. if you asked, he’d let you build a shelter there. right between his fourth and fifth ribs.)

now that the words are out of his throat, they don’t burn at all. satoru feels a little silly, for being so scared to say them out loud. he knows you’d never use them against him.

all you do is snuggle closer, as if silently conveying your forgiveness.

you stand there for just a little while longer, wallowing in the tender atmosphere. finally, satoru makes a move to leave, and you begin to walk back home.

“sure you’re okay now, baby?”

you nod, exhaling a flurry breath. it turns into vapour in the cold of the air, drifting up and dissipating in the expanding starry sky. “yeah. thanks for coming so quickly.”

“of course,” satoru only says, choking back a yawn. 

your hands are intertwined, and he’s halfheartedly swinging them back and forth. it soothes your anxiety, and satoru’s protective instincts. you know neither of you will slip away, like this.

you shiver a little, subconsciously inching closer to satoru to protect you from the harsh bite of the midnight breeze. he notices, giving you a glance and a tilt of his head. “you cold?” 

“just a little,” you mutter, smiling weakly as you look up at him. ”i’m fine.”

satoru huffs. did you really think he’d be dissuaded by such a weak retort? there’s no way he’s letting you walk around all cold and shivering. 

so you come to a standstill, as satoru begins to shrug off his coat. he refuses to let go of your hand for even a second, making the process slower than usual — your heart flutters a little, as his fingers curl around yours, delicately. 

when he finally gets it off him, he wastes no time in draping it over your shoulders. it’s big on you, warm and soft, shielding you from the chilly air. satoru can’t help but giggle sheepishly, as he always does at the sight — you look so cute. 

“c’mon. let’s go home,” he grins, ruffling your hair teasingly.

satoru doesn’t feel cold, not in the slightest, as he holds your hand tightly. just your presence is enough to warm his bones to the marrow.

the silence between you is comforting and soothing, as you continue to walk. hand in hand, admiring the starry sky. you’re both too tired to speak — but satoru does so, anyway.

“i meant it, y’know.” satoru sounds sleepy, but earnest. ”i really will work on it.”

he doesn’t look at you when he says it, yawning softly and stretching his free arm. gaze fixed on the morning star. 

“oh.” you pause, squirming a little. sheepish. “thank you. i’m sorry that i — i mean.” a sigh. “i probably overreacted a little.”

satoru shakes his head, waving off your guilt. “nah. you’re right. i never want you to feel like i’m not taking you seriously.”

his gaze meets yours, tentatively. his eyes shine like wedding rings. “you mean a lot to me.”

the sincere words manifest themselves as a heavy pressure to your chest, closing in on your heart as if crushing it. it’s a pleasant sensation, though, overwhelming as it is. you’re a little scared that your knees will buckle if he keeps this up, but even if they do, you wouldn’t want him to stop — satoru’s love is terrifically overwhelming when there’s nothing to hide it, when it’s just love and nothing else.

but you’d never reject it. you’d let it crush you to death with a smile on your face.

all you can do is avert your gaze, afraid that you’ll fall into the blue sea of his eyes if you don’t. heavy thumps of blood resound in your ears as your heart beats, warmth spreading throughout your entire body.

“… you mean a lot to me, too.” you echo, holding his hand just a little tighter. warmth rises to your cheeks. “i just felt really frustrated, i guess. like you were looking down on me. i know you weren’t actually, though.”

satoru chews at the inside of his cheek, almost anxiously. “i know i can be a little much sometimes,” he says, tasting the words on his tongue. “and i appreciate you for putting up with that. i’m sorry i let it go too far. i’ll be more considerate.”

your heart stutters in your chest. you’re not sure what to say — the way he forms his words makes them feel so absolute. and you believe him.

“i’ll be more considerate, too,” you echo, looking down at the pavement. “i shouldn’t have blown up like that.” a pause. you mumble, quietly, a little embarrassed. “i shouldn’t have told you to go fuck yourself.”

satoru breathes out an amused huff, chuckling lightheartedly. his eyes carry a teasing glint when they meet yours. “i probably deserved that. no worries.”

“still,” you pout. satoru giggles. 

“we’ll both work on it, then,” he hums, tilting his head to find your gaze. “right?”

you blink. a small smile breaks out across your face. “right.”

satoru swings your hands back and forth, looking awfully happy with himself. you’re proud of him. really.

“oh —“ he says, breaking the sleepy silence once again. “and i’ll stop leaving wrappers around, too.”

this time, you’re the one who huffs out an amused breath. “thank you,” you grin, looking up at him. he thinks the sight is terribly precious.

a yawn leaves your lips, drowsiness sneaking its way into your bloodstream. you’re not sure if it’s due to the dark, or if you’re just a tad exhausted after all the arguing and panicking.

satoru notices, and gets an idea.

“you tired, baby?” he coos, eyes teasing but soft around the edges. “d’you want a piggyback ride?” 

when you give him a look, sleepy and kind of exasperated, satoru grins. you huff out an amused breath, just a tad embarrassed, but it only spurs him on.

so he crouches down, one knee meeting the pavement, letting your hand slip from his. you blink, tiredly, at the loss of contact. you can’t see his face, but you know he’s wearing that lovesick, smug little grin of his. 

”c’mon. your big, strong boyfriend’ll carry you.”

satoru’s feeling playful, you can tell. that’s usually a bad sign — but you can’t deny that you’re tired. and the prospect of getting carried all the way home is eerily tempting. 

your gaze falls on his back, and his broad shoulders. silently, you walk towards him, and wrap your arms around his neck. satoru holds you up by your thighs, and then stands up, jostling you a little; he does so without a hitch, and you’re reminded of how strong he really is. his grip is secure, and you trust him not to drop you, no matter what. 

you let out a content sigh, basking in the chill of the midnight air as you nuzzle your cheek against his soft hair. satoru chuckles.

”my sleepy lil’ sweetheart,” he coos, voice a tad raspy. ”lucky thing you’ve got me, huh?”

there’s a softness to his voice, despite the teasing tilt obscuring it. you can only huff out a breath, somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff, and cling to him tighter.

satoru will get you home safe. he can be annoying, outright insufferable, and he can be bad with emotions — but you can always, always trust him on that. 

so, with his coat shielding you from the chilly air, and his back warming you up as he carries you back to your apartment, you allow your eyes to flutter shut; enjoying the cozy feeling his presence brings you.

he’ll always be there when you need him.

[dyns33]

Flufftober 2024 - 29 Eddie Brock / Venom

Y/N had met Vee during a Halloween party.

A little intimidated by the crowd and not knowing anyone, she had stayed in her corner for a good part of it, until this giant with his incredible costume came to talk to her.

It would be a lie to say that she had not found him adorably charming, and she would have liked them to be more than friends, if he had not spent most of the time talking to her about his Eddie.

It was obvious that there was something strong and unique between Vee and this Eddie, even if he did not seem to appreciate him at his true value.

"He never agrees with me… He wants to control everything !" he had sobbed against her shoulder. "He says that I won't even be good at cleaning toilets."

"That's not nice. Maybe this relationship is not very healthy."

"But I love Eddie. He takes care of me and even though he's a stupid loser, he tries a lot. Maybe… Maybe I'm too hard on him."

"It's normal to have expectations from your partner. You need to sit down and communicate, to see what's wrong and find solutions."

"You're right, little morsel ! You're a good friend !"

Obviously very busy, Vee kept in touch with her by calling her almost every night and sending her messages, but never having time to see her.

He used Eddie's phone, while he slept. Before meeting her, Vee had never seen the point of having one, and he contacted her secretly because he found it funny to have a secret all to himself.

"But I'll tell him at some point, because we share everything. We're in symbiosis, we're one."

"That's cute. Do you think he'll be angry ?"

"No. Scared maybe."

"Oh." she wondered. "Is he the jealous type ? He'll be afraid that I'll steal you from him ?"

"I'd rather be afraid that he'll steal you from me, I think he'll love you a lot. And that's why he'll be afraid for you. He'll think I want to eat your brain."

Sometimes she didn't understand everything he said, but she found him funny and considered that he simply had a particular sense of humor.

But after several months of talking to him, he finally ended up running into him while a guy was trying to take her purse in an alley.

Vee jumped from a rooftop, growled at the thief, grabbing him with one hand, before biting his head off. Then he turned to Y/N, smiling.

"Eddie, she's my friend."

"Y/N ?" a voice that seemed to come from inside him asked. "Great, Vee, she's not going to freak out at all because you just killed someone. I already told you to go get some chickens if you were hungry."

"You never let me do anything ! He was mean ! He was attacking my Y/N !"

"Let me talk to her, okay ? So I don't traumatize her more than necessary."

In the end, Venom was an alien, and Eddie his host, a man not as horrible as she had imagined, simply trying to keep his symbiote from doing too much mischief so that they wouldn't be spotted by the government.

They fought often but they couldn't live without each other. Literally for Venom, even if they also loved each other too much to want to be apart.

As he had expected, the human had panicked a bit when he learned that he had a friend, that she didn't really know what he was, and that they were therefore putting her in danger just by talking to her. But Eddie had understood that she was important. He had felt it.

When Vee said that they shared everything, he was dead serious.

"I showed him a picture of you. He got an erection."

"Vee !" Eddie shouted, trying to silence the head floating next to his shoulder. "Shut up ! Those are not things to say ! Excuse him."

"Why ? I like Y/N, and you like her too, and she likes us. Her pheromones don't lie."

"Vee ! You're making everyone uncomfortable, stop."

"See ? He never agrees, he controls everything."

Y/N saw clearly, now understanding many things that had seemed a bit strange to her. She could have run away, but despite this surprising discovery, she really liked Vee, and Eddie seemed as charming as he was.

So she suggested that they spend the next Halloween, all together this time.

[hoshigray]

Had the most random thought, but what if you caught Miguel by surprise and sneaked a kiss on the back of his neck when he's stressed out?

An: Don't mind me, just feeling soft for Miguel because he's corrupting my brain at the moment, lol. Also, wanted to write this to distract me from the fact Pleasurable Practice got smacked with a community label ffs. But, tysm for the love on that fic <33, and [MAYBE] I'll work on pt ii for next week! Thanks again, you lovelies, and enjoy!!

Edited Note: Also, here's an ATSV masterlist I made earlier for your convenience!!

Cw: Miguel x reader - fluff - stressed Miguel bc when is he not - you give him a kiss on the neck - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love) - just you and Miguel being adorbs and him being whipped hehe~

Wc: 902

"Aaaaaarrgh!!!"

You snap away from what you were doing to find where the noise came from. Not to your surprise, it's from your boyfriend — Miguel O'Hara, who's expressing his dismay by throwing another tray full of empty containers you got from the cafeteria.

The man is descending from his [godforsaken slow-ass] station, tapping his feet and huffing by the second. His brows are furrowed in anger, and he moves a hand to soothe his forehead with his fingers. When his post finally stops, he jumps down to sit on a chair and groans into his hands.

That was the third time this week. A villain was supposed to be captured and brought into the Spider Society to be sent back to their own universe; however, that was two days ago. And for some reason, this evil-doer has been hopping in and out of multiple universes. It's been a hassle for the other Spiders to grab hold of them; Lyla has to have eyes on them within every minute of every hour, and Miguel...Obviously, he would like to have this matter taken care of already.

You get up from where you're sitting and walk up behind Miguel, whose face is still covered by his hands with inaudible curses that you can tell are in Spanish. "You okay?"

The rise and fall of his broad shoulders entail a huge sigh seething out of his system. "No, mi amor." He frees his face only to rest his forehead with a hand propped by his leg. "This game of cat-and-mouse has been going on longer than necessary, got Spiders who're tired of the chase — I'm tired, yet there's more stuff piling up and—" He stops himself with another deep sigh, and you place your hands on his shoulders. "I just can't right now...."

All you can do is hum aimlessly while massaging his shoulders, his trapezius and deltoids tense with stress. You understand that a lot is going on for Miguel, giving him his space and letting him do what he does best: being a hero. But of course, being a superhero isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and you're bound to get hit with obstacles that'll hinder your progress. Annoyingly so, if you're a leader of an organization like your boyfriend.

Nevertheless, he's only one man, and you know he forgets this fact when he's too wrapped up in work. He's dedicated to protecting his peers, his home, and you. And although you appreciate the sentiment sincerely, you wish he'd remember to not go too hard on himself before he's burnt out.

You sigh through your nostrils, your hands kneading out any remnants of tension while Miguel indulges before storming back to work. That's when an idea hits you when your eyes land on the back ends of his hair, a smile creeping in slowly. Your hand brushes the lower tufts of his brown strands, and you lean down to press your soft lips on him after pulling his suit to expose his neck.

Immediately, Miguel goes rigid at the feeling of your lips on him. And his breath hitches when your hands wrap around him, pulling him closer to you as you lay your chin on top of his head (which you realize is a rare opportunity as he's taller than you).

"Mi lindo araña," You chuckle to yourself when you notice hints of red sneaking on the lobes of his ears. "The more you stress yourself, the more you look like a grouchy face."

"A grouchy face?" His tone holds slight confusion. "You've been hanging with Peter B. too much, amorcito." He shakes his head while you giggle, and you two sink into each other's presence for a little while, taking in the silence outside of the calming breaths Miguel takes. If he were to confess, it's as if almost all his fatigue has vanished into thin air when he's in your embrace. But he doesn't say anything — he doesn't have to. Because you already know.

You set your lips on his temple. "Feeling okay now?" His body vibrates from a tiny purr, and you remove yourself to stand up straight. "Alright then, I'm gonna go to the cafeteria to get something to share. Because you clearly need a snack. And while I'm gone, pick up that tray and those empty containers off the floor before Lyla has another reason to call you a 'grumpy man-child.'"

His face molds to a deep scowl from the mention of his pixelated peer's name-calling. "I am not a man-child."

You give him a look. "You kinda are."

"And what gives you that—"

"Muñeco," Miguel quickly refrains from arguing when you call him by his nickname, the name only you can use. "If you're not a man-child, why haven't you stood up and done what I asked yet?"

The man opens his mouth, yet no words dare leave. Reddish-brown eyes are honed in on your figure as you survey his reaction, and he exhales in defeat when he stands up from his chair. Your smile flourishes. "I'll be back," is what you say as you turn to exit his domain and head to the cafeteria.

Miguel watches you leave until you're out of his line of sight, unable to fight the twinge of his lips while he moves to pick up his mess like you instructed him to.

"Sólo tú puedes darme órdenes, mi alma."

[desperatelyseekingcannibals]

Telling Hugh Dancy about trans masc Will and more...

As some of you already know by now, I went to Boston Fanexpo this past weekend for another stop on the unofficial Hannibal 2024 Reunion Tour.

I had planned to do autographs on the Friday before the Hannibal panel and had brought some gifts for Hugh which included a copy of Adapt. Evolve. Become: The Genderqueer Fandom of NBC's Hannibal, which I compiled and edited last year. I also got him to sign my own copy (above).

It all moved quite quickly, but I did have the chance to explain that it's a volume by and about trans, non-binary, and genderqueer Fannibals that includes art, fics, essays, and personal pieces. He seemed intrigued and I said I hope he'd have the chance to read it and that the art isn't explicit/sexual but some of the fics are - he laughed and said he appreciated the warning.

It was all quite the whirlwind, especially after coming all the way from the UK, so I was absolutely mortified when I remembered the next morning that I had talked with a few trans Fannibals who had specifically asked me to let him know that he/Will is a trans icon. So I went back up to see him again on the Saturday morning when it wasn't too busy (and get more stuff signed) and this is what happened:

[I wrote notes down right after so this is as close an account I can get without having filmed it!].

Me: I saw you yesterday Hugh: I remember (smiley-friendly) Me: I gave you a book Hugh: I remember (smiley-friendly) Me: well, I forgot to tell you. A few trans Fannibals reached out to me to tell you that Will is a trans icon to them and we all love you for it. Hugh was surprised (in a nice way) and I was pretty much going to walk away then - job done and feeling like time for me to stop bothering Hugh lol. But before I could walk away he sort of held out his hand to stop me and said something along the lines of - I don't mean this in a disrespectful way, don't take it the wrong way... I'm genuinely curious- I get that it can be about identity- but what is the connection to Will and being trans? Luckily - my essay in the book is exactly about how Will can be read as trans, so I sort of gave him a summary of that. I explained that (obviously) both Will and Hannibal can be read as queer, and that - especially as both characters have dominant masculine and feminine traits, it's also easy to read them both as trans or in some way genderqueer. He was nodding and agreeing, so I further explained that with Hannibal, he is fully formed - he's already whatever he is - which Hugh also agreed with. But that Will is still becoming, still transitioning and therefore can be more relatable to trans fans who see that journey in themselves. So although it's not necessarily the same journey - there is enough to it that it resonates with trans people. I said that in the show there is also the added bonus of Will being seen and accepted for who he is, just as trans people wish to be. He was nodding along and agreeing with me and then he thanked me for explaining that. It was pretty quiet previously but I'd been there a few minutes so the queue was building up a little but he was so focused on me - so genuinely intent on hearing what I had to say and learning more. SO I CARRIED ON. (lols) I explained to him that it goes further than the show, that we have found a community in the fandom and that many trans people have a catalyst in their life that sparks their journey - like Will had in his friendship with Hannibal. For us it might be a person, an event, or even a TV show. I explained how the fandom are so supportive of trans people - that we are SEEN. That I for one wouldn't have been able to afford top surgery without the kind donations of Fannibals back when I was not in a good place (mentally or financially). That we all help each other and for some of us that has been life-saving. He did the hand on heart thing and said "wow" and was clearly moved. I said to him that so much of this is in the book, that I completely understand if he doesn't want to read the fanfic, but I really hope that he will at least read each of the personal pieces - that each of the fics and art also have a little write up from their creator about what the show and/or fandom has meant to them and their gender journey - how important this has been in our lives. He repeated a couple of times that he would definitely read it. I thanked him and he held out his hand and gave me the most genuine hand shake I've had in my life.

I want to really stress here how much this was instigated by Hugh. That he really wanted to know more and understand and didn't even look at the slowly growing queue but was instead intently focused on knowing more about the trans Fannibals and about why this show and the characters mean so much to us.

I then went off and spoke with a few Fannibal friends in the queue before getting around the corner to another Fannibal friend and having a bit of an emotional moment/breakdown. I can't even explain how grateful I am that he gave me the opportunity to explain all this to him. And I was especially glad I got to tell that Will is a trans icon because I'd have felt terrible if I'd have not done that after people had asked!! Thank you for trusting me to pass that message on for you!

💖

I know for many of you Adapt. Evolve. Become: The Genderqueer Fandom of NBC's Hannibal might have gone a little under the radar. So here is some more about that >>

It was compiled last year for Trans Hanni Day, edited by Max Turner of (and in conjunction with) A Coup of Owls Press - and published under Max's ACoO imprint.

It features essays, personal pieces, fanart and fanfic by and about trans, non-binary, genderqueer and otherwise non-cis Fannibals.

IT IS FREE TO DOWNLOAD, however we ask that if you do that, please consider donating to one of the linked trans orgs if you can afford to (or a similar organisation/charity of your choice).

It can be purchased on Amazon, however, as the proceeds go to charity, and Amazon only gives royalties, more is earned/given if bought directly via Max's shop.

Dearest trans Fannibals, please know that YOU ARE SEEN!

[jeonscatalyst]

I mean, I get that they use communal showers, but please, bro just HAD to mention they sing this very obviously romantic song "WHILE SHOWERING AND STUFF"

Do you also wash his hair while you sing it, Koo? 😗

He could have just told us that he sings that song with Jimin all the time and that would have been good enough but my man had to go into details and made sure we knew that they sing it when SHOWERING TOGETHER!

This might be a bit off-topic, but one thing I truly admire about Jungkook is his approach to communication. When he decides to share something, he does so with intention and clarity. I appreciate that he either chooses not to share certain information or, when he does, provides it in such detail that there’s little room for misinterpretation.

It’s rare for people to take Jungkook’s stories out of context because he doesn’t leave much space for others to twist his words or manipulate the narrative. While some might still try, their efforts are rarely taken seriously.

You can often tell when Jungkook isn’t interested in discussing a particular topic he either avoids it altogether or directly states that he doesn’t feel like talking about it. But when he does want to share, he goes all in, and I love that about him.

One thing I especially love is how much he loves talking about Jimin…it’s a topic he never seems to tire of, and that enthusiasm is so endearing.

[contentloadingandstuff]

(NSFW) Perfect Match - Tighnari x Fem!Tighnarian!Reader

A/N: Here's the third fem reader post for the few that happen to be on this blog. It's been some time since I last wrote a fic like this, but it's always nice to have a switch of perspective. As usual, and especially with this one as fem reader is not my forte, I'd really appreciate any thoughts and feedback you might have. Enjoy! CW: Tighnari is a little feral, reader and Tighnari go into heat, the usual smut.

Tighnari is such a contrast. Daily, he's quiet, patient and gentle (unless the circumstances demand something more than words), but when the heat grows, he turns just a little bit feral with you. 

The reason? Simple - he loves you. Oh, yeah, and the hormones also play a part in melting his needy brain. 

You've been together for some time now and Tighnari's instincts gave you the tag of his mate and he acted accordingly long before really acknowledging this. And, speaking honestly, he doesn't mind acting a little instinctual as long as you're fine with it. 

Keeping you close and protecting you is what he is meant to do with you as his female. Tighnari frequently takes the initiative in simple, everyday matters. Need to get out of a crowd? He's already holding your hand and guiding you safely through the people to a quieter place. When cuddling in bed, he always shifts to be the big spoon, security your smaller, warm body in his hold, close - just as you should be. If there is any imminent danger, you'll quickly find yourself gently pushed back behind him by his arm.  

He'll get possessive at times too. When he notices any other male forest rangers eyeing you with the curiosity you've got accustomed too - ears and a tail as beautiful as yours draw attention, obviously - his hand will make its way to your hip and stay there. When it's the heat season, Tighnari will also get quite defensive with you. If anybody is as little as unkind to you, he will step in to get them off your back. With all this comes a little bit of obvious suspicion, but simple communication is always enough to ease his worries about any of the other men you’re colleagues or friends with. 

Does it all bother you? Oh, not at all! How could it when every inch of him just radiates this unexplainable male allure you can't get enough of? 

There's something fascinating about the way he carries himself that you can't quite explain. It's how decisive he is, it's in the unique tone of his voice, it's in his subtly dominant nature. Your eyes pick up seemingly trivial things that you can't help but marvel at. You love how strong he is, be that due to his Vision or just how he is - nothing makes you more excited than being picked up (and pinned down too!). He does this with such ease too…

Being a young hybrid, Tighnari has his needs that, if not satiated, make him grumpy and quite irritated. If you're not feeling like it, he'll understand - as any good partner should. Which doesn't mean he won't be disappointed, mind you. A horny Tighnari significantly increases your chances of stumbling upon him furiously stroking himself or hearing his needy moans in the night as he blows another unsatisfying load. 

Even though his hand was enough to keep his lust at bay, it was hardly satisfying. Luckily, the days of jerking the edge off are gone now. Why cum into a tissue when he can empty his balls inside you? Compared to his hand your fertile, warm and wet pussy feels like absolute heaven…

… And his fat, pulsating cock is the ideal extinguisher for the fire in your womb. Your hybrid nature leaves you just as prone to bursts of irresistible arousal as him. Your heat might be a single month at the start of the year, but living alongside a fellow tighnarian makes your brain buzz with hormones. 

Between the two of you, there's a simple rule - when you're horny, you fuck. He knows well that when his thoughts wander, there's no way of fighting them off. That's when he'll signal his needs to you. Looking at you with those smug bedroom eyes, for example, is a clear sign that Tighnari would like to see you on the bed head-down-ass-up in the immediate future. 

Usually, it's your smell that catches his attention. His sensitive nose can pick it up flawlessly each time. Your scent is gentle, with only the slightest hint of musk included in the mix. You'll find Tighnari cuddling especially tightly in the mornings or after physical activity when your pheromones are at their strongest. It won't take much time for his hands to wander and his cock to harden. 

His scent is the perfect moisturizer for your pussy, yes, but it's also a little bothersome. Because. It. Is. Everywhere. On the pillows, on the couch, on the chairs, inside every room from the bedroom down to even the closet. In the first two months of the year it's just straight up impossible to ignore it or distract yourself from your husband's pheromones. Sometimes you're wondering if your ancestors were idiotic enough to not breed by themselves,  forcing evolution into giving them this neuron activation upon catching a whiff of dick or pussy. 

For example, doing laundry is tricky to do without getting flustered or horny. Tighnari’s musk is, obviously, the strongest on his clothes. So whenever you pick up one of his shirts or boxers and your sensitive nose finds just how strong his smell is, you suddenly become flustered and very interested in what's under the pair he is wearing right now. 

Luckily for you, Tighnari is a good husband and will fuck his cute little wife senseless when she needs it, and you’re more than glad to return the favour when he is in need. It's a simple instinct. You're his mate, and he is yours. Your scents are impossible to ignore, sending the more primal parts of your brains a simple message - you're both young, beautiful, healthy and ready to breed. Around him, your pussy clenches at nothing, your womb longing to be filled with baby-making cum, and around you his balls ache from all the creamy, virile seed he is making for you. 

This awareness, awareness of you being ripe for the picking, makes you irresistible for him. 

Although Tighnari's cock might be average in size, what he lacks in length he makes up for in sex drive and pure ferocity. He can fuck fast and he can fuck hard. He won't be stopping himself from manhandling you - you'll surely be surprised by just how strong a male like him can be. Whatever playful resistance efforts you may make and regardless of how much force you put into them, Tighnari will just growl and pin you down every single time. 

Primal play always gets him hot and bothered. In bed, he's the natural lead. He's the hungry predator, and you're his cute little prey. Struggle all you can, but at the end there's no escape from a thorough breeding. His hybrid stamina lets him cum again and again with barely any downtime between powerful orgasms that fill your insides with warm cum. 

His go to position is prone bone. Having your smaller, feminine body pinned under his weight, your hands locked under his and your pretty mouth desperately biting the sheets as he forces his swollen knot in and out of you drives him positively feral. Doggy style is also quite fun. Grabbing your tail and pulling it away to reveal your tight little asshole and drenched pussy lips is extremely satisfying. Sometimes he grabs your head and pulls it back, thoroughly enjoying the sight of your long ears folding in submission. 

While he isn't too much into receiving oral, he won't ever pass up the opportunity to feast on your pussy. If you give him the chance to, you'll find Tighnari greedily lapping at your folds, drinking up your scent and arousal like a parched man. When you sit on his face, you'll have a nice view of his cock, swollen, twitchy and overflowing with precum, just waiting to nestle in between your warm lower lips. How can this sight make you anything but absolutely crazy for his dick? You'll often find yourself locked in a sixty-nine with both of you furiously licking each other with your rough tongues. If he couples it with a passionate fuck afterwards, you'll be lucky to have your pretty legs work in the morning. 

But it is in January and February when your lust really makes an appearance. These two months are usually taken out of the calendar for you two - being apart from each other during your heat after having tasted what having a mate feels like is torture. Not even the best toys can replace him - they won't ever mimic his warmth, his desperate and frustrated groans, his arms locking your body in place or his ears, trembling and folding from the pleasure as he breeds you. 

His instincts tell him to pump a litter or two into your womb, and he'll announce his needs to you, whether you decide to go through with it or not. A condom or a pill is an absolute must if you want to be safe - it's usually very difficult to keep yourself from letting the lust take full control. It's absolutely not because your pussy milks him and throbs so much, desperate to suck him in just that millimeter deeper and get absolutely pumped with his baby making milk and end up leg locking him. 

Mornings with Tighnari are always fun, regardless of the season. You'll sometimes wake up to the sensation of him rubbing his length along your ass, moaning your name softly into your ear and asking, begging to be let in. You usually let him - it's not like you're not guilty of blowing him awake either. Whoever is the “waker-up”, they can certainly expect a wonderful, lazy morning breeding.

Thanks for reading!