#they get in the way and don’t feel gender

[plaidos]

ooh! people got big mad when we said ''maybe dropout should have more transfem people who aren't in drag-focused episodes or series'' and sent us suicide bait abt it so. you know. Extremely Normal response to very low-level transfeminism discussion.

yeah, the same thing happened to me — it’s because Dropout has curated its content & hosts in a way that has made the Dropout & Dimension 20 fandoms structurally hostile to trans women/transfems specifically. like a transfem friend of mine who is actually a data analyst posted graphs literally showing the dramatic gap between even transmasc and transfem content and she was told to stop whining, and that the data was objectively wrong, and that she hated men etc.

When pretty much every gender demographic except transfems get regular and recurring appearances across multiple dropout shows, but transfems get majority drag queens and maybe a guest appearance of a trans woman a couple times a year (if we’re lucky) then naturally you’re going to collect an audience of people who are comfortable seeing every gender demographic except transfems.

we really should be asking for better, and it really isn’t acceptable that transfems asking for better and more consistent representation are consistently treated as shit-stirring, bitter, jealous haters. in fact, it’s pretty obviously a (trans)misogynistic stereotype. all we’re doing is pointing out that we feel uncomfortable where things are at. i don’t see any reason that should make anybody uncomfortable if they aren’t a bigot.

[hazymoonlinh]

Tracing the sun

Phainon x reader.

(Reader is mage this time. Gender neutral.)

I can’t help but screams Kevin when he was released 😔

Phainon sat in silence, leaning back against the cushioned chair, his shirt discarded and his well-built form illuminated by the soft glow of the lantern in the room. You straddled his lap, the pointy mage hat tossed carelessly onto the nearby table, forgotten in the moment. A jar of medicine sat in your hands, its faint herbal scent mingling with the warmth of the room.

He had gotten hurt again, and though he had insisted he was fine, you had seen the wince, the tightness in his movements. And so, despite his protests and teasing smirks, you’d pulled him aside to tend to his wounds.

His chest rose and fell with an easy rhythm as you gently dabbed the ointment onto the cuts on his shoulder and abdomen. His skin was warm beneath your fingers, and you tried not to get too distracted by the defined lines of his abs or the way his muscles tensed slightly under your touch.

“You’re lucky I’m nice enough to do this,” you muttered, trying to maintain some sense of composure.

“Nice?” Phainon’s deep, playful voice was tinged with amusement. “You’re enjoying this far more than you’re letting on.” His blue eyes sparkled mischievously, and that signature playful smile tugged at his lips.

You scoffed, though your face betrayed you with the faintest flush. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Once the medicine was applied, you reached for a clean cloth to cover the deeper cuts, but your gaze lingered. Your fingertips hovered over the faint scars that crisscrossed his skin, and before you could stop yourself, they traced a line along his abs, following the curve of muscle.

Phainon didn’t move, though his gaze grew heavier, more intent. His smile remained, but it softened, watching you with an expression that made your heart flutter.

Your touch wandered further, brushing over his chest, the smooth expanse of his collarbone, and finally the sun tattoo on his right neck. You lingered there, the intricate design catching your attention.

“Does this mean anything?” you asked softly, your voice almost a whisper.

Phainon tilted his head slightly, giving you better access. “It’s the mark of light—a gift that I have been born with. But right now,” he said, his tone laced with humor, “I’d say it means ‘please continue.’”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, but your fingers didn’t stop. They moved to his face, tracing the curve of his jaw, the sharp edge of his cheekbones, and finally his eyelids, as if trying to memorize every detail of him. His blue eyes, so clear and bright, stared back into yours, unwavering and almost… mesmerized.

“Your hands are softer than I expected,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, the teasing edge replaced with something gentler.

Your fingers paused for a moment, resting lightly on his cheek. “Phainon, you—”

Before you could finish, his hand came up, gently covering yours, holding it against his face. “I know,” he said simply, his smile returning, though this time it was softer, warmer. “And I like it when you fuss over me, even if you’ll never admit it.”

You shook your head, trying to hide your flustered expression. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re perfect,” he countered smoothly, leaning slightly closer. “You’re also stuck here, straddling me. So, are you going to kiss me or just keep tracing me like I’m one of your magical artifacts?”

You let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, your hand dropping to his chest again. “Maybe both,” you muttered, though your voice wavered just enough to betray your emotions.

Phainon’s grin widened, and he leaned back further, hands resting casually on your hips. “Take your time, my little mage. I’ve got nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Don’t push your luck, deliverer.” You quietly mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed.

After a moment of playful silence, Phainon’s hand gently glides up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading softly through your hair.

“You’re so mesmerized by me,” he teases, his voice a low murmur, “should I be flattered… or concerned?”

Before you can reply, he pulls you closer, his face mere inches from yours. His intoxicating blue eyes search yours for a fleeting moment before his lips capture yours in a tender yet confident kiss. It’s unhurried, like he wants to savor the moment, his other hand resting lightly on your waist.

When he finally pulls back, his smile deepens, softer this time. “You’re such a dangerous distraction, you know that?” he whispers, brushing his thumb against your cheek.

The air feels warmer, the tension between you both charged with something undeniable yet comforting. It’s a moment you wouldn’t trade for anything.

.

.

.

(Changes will be made if I see new lore about the tattoo on his neck.)

(Requests are open.)

[philistiniphagottini]

Flustered

Hiya, I wanted to do a little writing practice for Sunday so I wrote some fluffy little piece. I know it has probably been done a hundred times before but I also want to tease his wings a little. Positive feedback would be appreciated if you want to see me write more for Sunday.

Comments/reblogs highly appreciated

cw. fluff, established relationship, gender neutral reader, chubby reader, minors do not interact with me or any of my works

Sunday didn’t expect you had ulterior motives when you beckoned him to move closer to you. You were sitting side by side in the parlor car, a respectable space between you both yet close enough orbiting in each other’s company that you were clearly something more than just friends. You were completely alone with each other, late into the evening while the other crew members had retired to bed only a short time ago. You could speak freely without having to lean in so close but Sunday decided to indulge you. 

The book Sunday had been reading closed with a soft thump as he placed it to the side, beckoned closer to you by the crook of your finger. You were bold enough to scoot closer to him, your plump body almost squished against his side as you leaned closer. Sunday tilted his head to the side as you cupped your hand around your mouth, signalling you intended to whisper something in his ear. Your plump lips puckered softly as you leaned in close, until you could smell the scent of his cologne invading your senses, before you blew a puff of cool air against the small bend in his wing. 

To say the Halovian got flustered was an understatement. His reaction was instantaneous when he felt the air you produced ruffle his feathers, the unexpected huff of air sending tingles to run straight down his spine and make the base of his skull tingle from the unexpected jolt against his wing. He immediately wrenched himself away from you like you had stung him, the feathers of his wings puffing up in sordid content. He slapped his hand over his mouth, hoping to stifle the pathetic noise that tried to crawl out of his throat. His attempt failed and the sudden sharp rasp of air that whistled through his teeth cut through the sounds of your delighted snickers. Your ears perked up to the sound and you stopped laughing, blinking at Sunday with wide, doe eyes as he continued to shrink under your gaze. 

“What was that?” you questioned. 

Heat crept over Sunday’s cheeks, the tips of his ears burning red hot as the heat even started to creep down his neck. The collar of his shirt suddenly felt too tight and he continued to burn under your inquisitive stare. You suddenly scooted closer to him once more, now invading his personal space as you continued to poke and prod him for answers. He vehemently tried to fight off the cherry red tinting his cheeks as he twisted his head away from your view. 

“What was that just now, Sunny?” you questioned again. 

He averted his gaze, trying to hide his flushed expression behind his hands but being thwarted when you grabbed his wrists and pulled them away. 

“Please, don’t call me that” he mumbled. 

There was no malice to his words and he was finding it harder and harder to fight you off as you practically crawled into his lap by now, your plump body perched on his knees as you grabbed at him with soft hands. Your soft giggled made his ears ring and head feel dizzy as you tried to get a closer look at him. He refused to look at you, his wings coming to cross in front of his face and hide his flushed cheeks when you leaned in closer. A small pout tugged on your lips when you wrestled his hands away, only to find another obstacle in your way. 

“Come on, I just want to have a peek~” you cooed playfully.

“Why?” Sunday asked, chancing a peek at you over the soft flutter of his wings. 

You continued to smile down at him, fingers intertwined with his as you gently squeezed his hands. 

“Because I never see any expression on your face other than passive indifference” you complained with a soft whine. “Pretty please? I promise I won’t laugh.”

Pools of molten gold stared back at you. Sunday was quite endeared to you. He found it hard to deny any request you made when you spoke to him in such a sickeningly sweet tone it made his head feel a little dizzy. Many thoughts crossed his mind and it took a long moment for him to gather his composure before he decided to indulge you for the second time this evening and adhere to your request. His wings slowly lowered from his face, the soft, white feathers brushing against his hot skin as they revealed what lay hidden beneath them. His lips were pressed into a tight, thin line, red cheeks almost glowing in the dim lights of the parlor car as his fair lashes fluttered over his cheeks. You had never seen such a flustered look pulling at his soft features before and you couldn’t help the smile that tilted your lips. You leaned forward, kissing the tip of Sunday’s nose and causing the Halovian beneath you to fumble and stutter in a flushed mess. 

“Wh-What was that for?” Sunday asked. 

You continued to smile. “You’re really cute, Sunny~”

Sunday hadn’t been called cute since he was a child. He thought the word was a little childish, if he was being quite honest. But hearing the words fall from your parted lips? He liked how it sounded, his heart beating a little faster as the feathers of his wings puffed up in content. You traced the movements of his wings with your eyes, only for your gaze to be drawn to his mouth when you saw his lips twitch with a ghost of a smile. 

“Thank you. You certainly know how to flatter me.”

His gaze was still shy and it was slowly dawning on you that perhaps you had teased him a little too much for one evening. A soft hum stirred in your throat as you leaned forward and kissed his nose again, noticing how he leaned up and into your touch this time as he squeezed your hands close. 

“You should smile more often too” you mentioned. “Frowning will give you wrinkles.”

A soft huff breezed past Sunday’s lips., the heat in his cheeks dying down yet still making his skin simmer with warmth. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[levisrations]

Warnings: none, all sfw and it’s gender neutral for reader.

Notes: based off me drawing and not getting proportions right and crying about it. Then hopping on tik tok and laughing with tears down my face. Like a maniac

Levi walks in with the dinner he ordered for the both of you and sets it in the kitchen. He’s calling for you but you don’t answer. The odds of something being terribly wrong is low but it still makes Levi anxious. So he goes to find you and he starts with the room you’re always in, your studio. The studio Levi built for you so you can have your own space to be creative and be as messy as you want. Although Levi would come in and clean up for you if you let him.

Anyways he finds you on the floor, face down. Arms straight on your sides. He sighs, this isn’t new with you. Anytime something you’re working on doesn’t go your way you for some reason just, lay on the floor. “What’s wrong now?” Levi asks with his hands on his hips. You turn your head towards him, tear stained. Yes, Levi has dealt with your dramatic attitude, he knows you’ll be fine in minutes but it still sends a pang through his heart seeing you so sad.

You’re pouting at him from the floor and he goes to investigate the reason you’re in distress. You’ve been into ceramics for the past year and you’ve gotten pretty good at it and gained some confidence in your skills so you decided to experiment. Well, you tried to make a cool, funky mug with an unusual handle, spent hours on it shaping and then painting it. It exploded. A mug is something you can make with your eyes closed but you did such a detailed paint job on it that when you opened that kiln and saw it in pieces you immediately laid down and started crying.

Levi took a tool to pick a piece of it and he saw the detailed work and understood why you’re doing upset. He sets it down and crouches down beside you and strokes your back and your hair. Giving you a speech to the best of his abilities to encourage you to keep practicing and to not let these things get to you since it’s not gonna be the last. You sniffle and sit up and let out the most pitiful “Ok”. He puts his hand to the back of your head and brings you closer to him so he can give your temple a kiss. Then your cheek, then your neck and shoulders. Finally a kiss on your lips while wiping your tears with his thumb.

He adores how dramatic you can be. He knows he’s the only one that can put you back together. “We okay now?” “Yea” you answer, almost like a toddler after a tantrum and has calmed down. “C’mon I got us sushi from our favorite place”. Levi then pulls you up by your hand and wraps his arm around you and walks you out the studio. During dinner you’re like as if nothing happened. Laughing and joking around. Feeling grateful Levi puts up with you.

[sungiescheotluv]

mirror muscles ⭑.ᐟ na jaemin

pairing: na jaemin x gender neutral reader

word count: 2.7k

tags/warnings: fluff, established relationship, suggestive, gym talk(?)

summary: doing your new resolutions with jaemin has always worked in your favor, most goals ticked off your lists. however, when you mention going to gym, jaemin's enthusiasm reaches new heights.

notes: hiyaaaa! it feels like forever since i last posted (two days omg 🙄) but i do hope you pretty stars enjoy this very indulgent fic! as an aspiring gym girlie, i'd do anything for this kind of princess treatment (particularly from jaemin 😋) also, the title of this is based on the soft play song with the same name (emo jisung, lemme give u some music recs). ok, i think i'm done here. wishing u all the best, much loveeee! <3

Note to self: never, under any circumstances, tell Jaemin your New Year’s resolution. Because one peek at your ambitious list and Jaemin will pry you from your warm bed, at the ass crack of dawn (might you add) to go to the gym because ‘nothing beats a morning pump.’

If you weren’t stupidly in love with him, you would’ve dropped a dumbbell on his toe.

How you get to this point is a lot more wholesome. Since the start of your relationship, once snow trickles down for Christmas, you two sit at your dining table with your laptops opened on Pinterest and pin-point what goals you'd like to achieve the following year. This way, you’re not shouldering your ambitions alone, having each other every step of the year as you tick off box after box. So far, you’ve managed to complete most of your goals. Go traveling, learn a new language, cook more home-cooked meals, limit screen time (still working on that) and many more. Jaemin was also progressing well: dedicating more time in his photography, reducing his coffee intake, going to bed earlier and visiting his mother more. 

For this year’s moodboard, while collecting pictures of your next set of goals, fitness content shows up in your recommendations. People in pilates studios in their pastel pink gym-sets. The aesthetic draws you in, how content people feel moving their body besides getting their 10k steps a day in. More photos start showing up, people sculpting their pride in the gym, sharing personal stories of their fitness journey and how the gym has taught them so much about themselves. What they’re capable of, what they never thought they could do and what opportunities lie await now that they’re happier in themselves. It all seems promising, even more so when you reconsider how bright your best friend’s life’s become since making the choice. She’d rarely accompany you to a game of badminton and now she’s pioneering her own run-club, amassing a social media following the size of an army.

You’d have to ask her how to get started once she’s back from her influencer trip (maybe content creating is something you needed to hop on). Then again, peering over your laptop screen to Jaemin’s glowing face, you could simply ask him. He’s been consistently going to the gym for a while now, to the point where you fake-pleaded for SM to close their gym because your boyfriend's become too buff for you to function. He’s always been gorgeous, with a face that could charm a snake, but now that he’s carved like a Renaissance sculpture, you couldn’t form a coherent sentence around him. Of course, aesthetic reasons are what lured him into the space, but he relays it’s become a lot more than that for him.

“I want to be strong, not only to build my confidence but to also protect my loved ones,” he looks directly at you, a serious hue to his eyes that has you breathless. “It’s another form of self-love, is my thinking. Showing up for myself, proving I can do hard things, even when I don’t want to. That I can step out of my comfort zone, trying new things and ultimately, living a longer life. Because at the end of the day, as much as I do this for me, I also do it so I can help you carry groceries. So that I can move furniture around when we move in together, be the one that my family calls if they need something physically demanding done,”

Fondness curves his lips, a flicker of timidity dart his eyes down to the desk before they flicker back up at you, astoundingly earnest as he says, “I’d also want to keep up with our kids. Carry them when they’re tired or run after them in a park. Those are my reasons.”

Something stutters in your chest. Then, leaps. Over the course of your three year relationship, it’s only natural that topics like this are mentioned, like marriage and children. Heck, you two shared a Pinterest board of decor ideas for the shared apartment you’d been on the lookout for. So, it shouldn't phase you but it does. How far into the future he sees with you. How he shares a bit of himself so effortlessly, in a way that lacks pressure and possesses good faith. Love and promise. All prominent themes throughout your relationship, one you thank your lucky stars for.

As a consequence, you flush. Folding like the early days of your relationships. “You’re getting bold these days. We haven’t even moved in together.”

“All in good time, angel,” he grins, looking a bit lovesick. “In any case, if this is something you wanna do, I’d be more than happy to help. Go to the gym with you so you don’t feel anxious, show you how to use the machines, get you workout clothes - whatever you want.”

You could marry this man.

You extend your arm across the wooden table, hand finding his as your fingers interlace, the same song and dance you’d hope you’d spend your life doing. “Thanks, baby.”

And now? Now, divorce weighs heavily on your mind.

In an effort to avoid the New Year’s crowd, Jaemin wakes you up early in the slum of days after Christmas where time doesn’t exist, cuddling into your half-sleeping figure with a gentle voice. Coaxes you to get up, slip on the new gym clothes you’d spent on his card (his treat, he said) and somehow, here you are, stinging eyes squinting under fluorescent lights with some EDM track playing faintly in the background.

“Oh, baby. Don’t look so down, you’re in good hands,” Jaemin coos, hand squishing your cheeks under your chin before pulling you into his chest, warm and comforting. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Couldn’t this wait until,” you glance at your fitness tracker, your own treat to yourself. “Midday? No one needs to be here at 9 am.”

“Maybe, but it’s a good way to start your day. Or get it out of the way,” he chuckles, spinning you out his arms before he wiggles his eyebrows. “Plus, who doesn’t want to see my muscles first thing in the morning?”

He drives home his point by kissing his bicep, something that should make you cringe out your skin or disappear without a trace, but no. Perhaps you’re still sleepy, shielding a snicker with your hand because of how lame (said adoringly) he is.

“You said you’d usually start off with thirty minutes on the treadmill, right?” You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll go with you. I’ll run for fifteen and row until you're done. So you don’t constantly have me in your ear.”

You laugh, because as grumpy as you’d been on the way here, you could never grow tired of him. All his carefree and mischief nature, his sweet and generous manner - you couldn’t even if you tried. 

Few people populate the modern gym, near to none in the cardio section as Jaemin refreshes your memory on all the buttons before you begin. Beside you, he does sporadic sprints, no heavy breaths clouding his chatter with you. You, on the other hand, keep it relatively reserved for your first time, upping the speed when you want to challenge yourself, surprising yourself with the distance and time that flies by. Soon enough, Jaemin’s squeezing your hand and moving a few rows back where the rowing machines are, leaving you with your walking playlist.

Again, in a flash, time passes by, upbeat songs blaring in your headphones that make you dance through the next fifteen minutes, a simmer of sadness coming when you’ve reached time with a whole host of songs still in the queue.

“You can listen to them next time,” Jaemin winks before leading you into a dark, LED room dotted with mirrors and yoga mats. This is one of the rooms booked for classes, but for now, it’s your stretching area where you cycle through some stretches and Jaemin jokes about folding you like a pretzel. 

The one other person in the room - a woman in her thirties - coughs, before smirking your way, the heat of your embarrassment migrating to your cheeks as you swat at Jaemin. He simply laughs, stretching to reveal his happy trail and suddenly, you forget why you’re even mad. 

When you’re finished, he shows you different sections - an assortment of cable machines, the weights area and then to an area with more machines. There’s a few people occupying the machines, immersed in their own world with flushed cheeks and sweat seeping into their clothes. It fills you with relief, that no one’s focused on you and your sweating figure as if you had ‘gym newbie’ written across your forehead. Jaemin shows you some of the machines he uses, depending on what he wants to work out but for the most part, lets you decide what machines you’d want to use - if any.

“Why do I need to put on muscle? You putting me in a headlock is good enough.” You fake-complain, feeding off the gentle approach Jaemin’s taken in trying to convert you to a gym rat.

“And you say I’m the dirty one,” he tsks with a matching grin. “You don’t need to do anything. All I’m doing is showing you the options you have. The more things you try, the more likely you’ll find something you lik-”

“Is that the slut machine?”

Jaemin’s head jerks back, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. “What are you talking about?’

“This one,” you approach the machine closeby, pointing to the photo attached along with its actual name - hip adduction. “Isn’t this the one where people like, open their legs like crazy?”

Jaemin shakes his head, amusement in the smile he swipes with his hand. “Yes, it is. Wanna give it a go?”

“Hell yeah,” you climb into the machine in a rush, finding the experience more exciting than scary as Jaemin makes sure everything is in order. “This is gonna be hilarious.”

“I’m setting it to a low weight. If it’s too easy, we’ll move it upwards and try and find your range,” he comments, looking at you through his silver hair. “You ready?”

“Ready,” and you go, the weight moving like nothing, so much so that when it sets back to its original position, you’re more caught off guard by how far apart your legs are spread. “This is so raunchy, ohmygod.”

“Good thing it’s facing the wall,” Jaemin laughs at you shielding in between your legs. He ups the weight, the number looking a lot scarier than anticipated. “Let’s try this then. You should be able to rep 10 of these.”

You shuffle, a bit unconvinced. Taking a breath, you engage the machine, exerting more effort than before but managing to do one rep. Then two, then three all the way up to ten. Enough to challenge you, but not strain you.

Jaemin howls, pinching your cheek as he says, “Look at you go! That was great.”

“Thank you,” you huff, the tingle in your thighs somehow the source of the happiness in your chest. “That was really fun, actually.”

“Isn’t it?” Jaemin smiles, using some paper towel to wipe after the machine for you. “Usually people do about three sets of those. Reps depend on what you want to do - build endurance, muscle strength, all that. But that was really great, I’m so proud of you.”

And you feel proud of yourself too. Having tried something new, feeling unsure but leaning into the feeling. Letting yourself see how far you can extend yourself, pleasantly surprised with the distance. 

So, this was what Jaemin was on about.

You continue your morning like this, getting a personalised tutoring session in how certain machines works and what areas they work out. Jaemin runs through his leg day, since you two were on the hip adduction machine, enjoying more exercises like leg press and goblet squats. By the time you get to the hip thrust machine to try, someone’s occupying it. Jaemin suggests using the squat rack, the scary thing with a long barbell and weights attached to it. Sensing your apprehension, Jaemin lets you know he’s got you, coaching you through the exercise and any queries you may have about movement or positioning. Eventually, it’s your turn to lean against the incline bench and despite your fear, you work your way through 8 hip thrusts. You don’t nearly enjoy it as much as people online talk about it, which Jaemin says,

“That’s perfectly fine. There’s so many exercises that work the same areas. You’ll find one you prefer.” 

Finished for your session, Jaemin asks for you to hold tight while he does some deadlifts. It’s maddening watching him pick up such heavy weights, concentration knitting his eyebrows together with his exposed arms flexing under the tension. Wearing a sleeveless top for the gym in theory is great, but for your mental health? Bad, so bad. 

Because even if your body rings with exhaustion, the kind that’s refreshing and ensures a peaceful slumber, you’re about ready to jump his bone. 

Ill with lust, as you’d joke. 

Jaemin snickers, snapping his waist belt off with one hand, which shouldn’t be sexy but is. Your eyes then trail to the barbell, the memory of Jaemin’s set vivid in your mind.

“Did you wanna try it?” Jaemin asks, reading your mind. “We can start off with no weights. Just the barbell. There’s also different variations of a deadlift, let’s see which one you prefer.”

Out of the three, you pick the most conventional one to start with, teeth sinking into your bottom lip at what you’ve gotten yourself into. Particularly after Jaemin loads weights on each end when you've rehearsed with the barbell.

“Think of the barbell cutting your feet in half - not standing too close so that your shins are touching it and not too far away that you have to lean to grab it,” Jaemin coaches, your feet shuffling into the right position. “Nice. Let’s move onto the hinge movement,”

From behind you, his hands settle onto your hips, pulling them back with him. He pats them, a chuckle left in his wake as he steps to your side to demonstrate without overly being horny. 

Bastard.

“Like you just did, you’ve gotta hinge your hips backwards until you can’t hinge anymore. Then, you’ll move a little into your knees, like a squat almost so you can grab the barbell,” you follow along, the barbell cold against your hands as you blow a breath.

“Great. Keep your body tense, engage your core and glutes. No arch,” his hand hovers over the arch of your back, something teasing in his smile. “Show your chest, keep your head up straight and lift the barbell up. Remember to keep it close to your body before you lower it down with the same hinge movement and movement into your knees.”

You puff out another breath, the same fear you’ve conquered throughout the session whirring in your chest.

“Don’t worry, angel,” Jaemin smiles, moving behind you again with hovered hands around your figure. “I’ve got you. You’ve got you.” 

Again, his words dawn on you. All the power in your hands, a feeling your heart wants nothing more than to run towards as you lift up the barbell, strength personified as you wait at the top of your stance, smiling at the “Let’s fucking go, you’re doing it! You’re doing it, angel!” in your ear. You hinge backwards, the weight knocked down to the floor with no tension on your back as expected.

Once you’re upright again, Jaemin engulfs you in a backhug, lifting your figure off the floor and kissing your neck, drawing giggles out of you. Joy moves through your body like warm light at his excitement that exceeds your own, belief not setting in quite yet.

“I can’t believe you,” he coos, the mirror ahead of you capturing the embrace he holds you in, the elation in his eyes as he does nothing but adore you. Like he’s always done. “Actually, I can. You’ve got a laundry list of things you’re good at. Can you believe it?”

“Not originally,” you admit, the confession somewhat bittersweet. “But after this, I think I’d better have more faith in myself.”

Fondness finds itself in his lips again, a kiss against your cheek as he gently guides you out the way, lifting the barbell onto the rack with his gaze in the mirror directed to yours. 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

And you fall into laughter, helping him slid off the weights before flexing in the mirror like you wanted, finding a different strength in yourself with Jaemin by your side.

[certifiedsexed]

i’m positive you’ve answered this before, but what is a stone identity (if so you can just put a link if you don’t want to explain again)? and is there a more gender neutral term for it? like as in “stone butch” “stone femme” (those are just the two i immediately thought of) but for more gendernonspecific people?

i’m genderfluid, and personally don’t like the labels “enby” and “nonbinary” because of how fast my gender jumps around, like ill feel pretty lenient one day and then everything BUT this one pronoun feels gross and wrong (sometimes nothing feels right and ill seriously contemplate going by no pronouns). it feels sometimes i am within the binary (feeling very masc/manly for example) and then other times nothing can even describe my gender. the closest i can get is “creature” but that’s still far off. so its pretty hard to find terms to describe me sometimes, especially with the two more common gender neutral labels out of the running from the start 😬

thinking i may fall under the stone label because i don’t exactly like the idea of being pleasured myself (in the context of sex with another person), i moreso am interested in pleasuring the other for their reaction/expression. like i don’t even find erogenous zones very appealing but i would adore seeing/making a partner feel good like that, i dunno.

Well, I feel like some of the posts in my #Stone Education tag can explain it better but to put it simply, it's an identity that communicates sexual boundaries.

There's a lot of nuance to it, so take this definition with a grain of salt but for a lot, it means having specific boundaries around receiving/giving sexual touch/pleasure and penetration.

As for a gender neutral version of stone, there's Stone Top and Stone Bottom! What you're describing sounds like Stone Top, where you prefer/only top and don't like receiving sexual pleasure/touch.

By the way, your gender sounds very cool! I hope this helps. Let me know if you have any other questions! <3

[rins-batcave]

Little realization cus what the fuck

I take myself way to fucking seriously

And I think it comes from like a need for respect and for people to hear me out

But I think because of that

I can’t have funny

Or be silly

Or feel emotions

Because I don’t want people to think I’m weak

Or stupid

Or just some little girl

And like

I fucking hate the my presentation

Dictates how people treat me

And how my teachers talk to me

And how people interact with me

People don’t respect me because I’m a girl( well to them at least)

They don’t respect me because I’m a teen

They don’t respect me because of a lot of things

But I think it’s just made me stop letting myself be true at school

Because I need to be serious

And work hard

And follow rules

And I lowkey want to deface a bathroom until I get a fucking gender neutral one

[writing-mlm]

We’re alike… aren’t we?

Summary: Jason gets help getting bandaged after being stabbed, you get help after your fear of needles stops you from taking your HRT Pairing: Jason Todd & Trans!reader Wc: 960 tags/warnings: gender neutral reader, can be nb/ftm/mtf, stitching jason up, taking HRT, mentions of being tortured, trans blues, no romance but can be seen as such

based on a tiktok by @/blood_converse

—

Jason doesn’t understand why you stay around even after everything he’s done. You know his past, you know his present, and for fucks sake you probably see where his future is heading. But fuck, you’re still there. You’re still letting him in at one in the morning after he crashed through your window for the millionth time that month, all with open arms. 

You’re still giving him the good blanket because it’s the middle of winter and his suit isn’t all that good at keeping him warm. You’re still lowering the music because he’s bordering on a concussion. You’re still staring at him as if he isn’t a serial killer, crime lord, zombie!

He doesn’t understand that you get it. 

In your own way, of course. 

You know what it’s like having a family that mourns you even though you’re right in front of them. You know what it’s like to feel as if you’re in the wrong body, missing parts that you’ll probably never get no matter how hard you work because it’s not the same. It just isn’t. You understand all too well what it’s like when your family looks at you, not looking at the adult you’ve grown into but the child they once had. The child you can no longer be. The adult that cannot bear to accept because it’s not what they had in mind for you. 

You know what it’s like to be set aside, to be considered wrong. 

You both don’t like mirrors, broken enough that you’ve gotten bad luck for the next three lifetimes. You both get nervous when getting intimate with partners because what if they think your bodies are gross? You’ve both gotten fucked over by your fathers. 

“Did you take your shot?” He asks as you hand him a water bottle and a pill for his pain. 

“No,” You sigh, looking away from him. “I chickened out again.” He doesn’t laugh, but you see the twinkle in his eyes as he takes the pill without the water chaser. He still drinks it, though. It’s non-contaminated water, it’s like the holy grail for fucks sake. 

“Get it, I'll do it.” It’s no use putting up a fuss, he’d just get up and find it himself. Besides, you could really use the help. The needle thing still freaks you out and your insurance is moving slow to move you to something better like gel or auto injections things. 

When you return, he’s washing his hands and putting on a pair of gloves. Not to mention in one of his shirts he keeps at your place, something about having too many germs on his clothes to be next to medical equipment. He’s forgotten pants, you note. Probably because he’s bleeding from his outer thigh. 

“I’ll get the medkit,” Setting your box of HRT supplies on the coffee table, you ignore his protest. Getting the kit you’d gotten after the first time he crashed at yours needing medical attention but refusing to go to a hospital or Bruce’s. Which, for the record, is more often than you care to think about.

When you return he’s sitting on your floor, a small pool of blood collecting on his discarded shirt. You replace it with an old towel and clean the spot. He doesn’t wince, but you see his thigh tense as you wipe the area and begin stitching him up. He’s used to getting stitched up, it hardly affects him these days unless it’s a bad wound. Thankfully this is a small stab wound, it’ll heal in under a week if he doesn’t open the stitches. And he probably will at some point. 

“All done,” Grinning at your work, you wrap it in bandages and then put a pin to secure it. He’ll check on it once he can but he trusts your handy work, it hasn’t failed him yet. 

“Your turn,” He says when you remove your own set of latex gloves. You wince at the idea but begrudgingly let him do it. He moves you to the couch, lifting your shirt enough that he can see your stomach and has you hold it up. You do, knuckles pressing against your skin so much your hand starts to shake.

“You’re a lot better at stitching me up and putting a needle in your stomach,” He humors you as he’s grabbing an alcohol wipe, eyes flickering up to yours. He cleans the vile first, carefully setting it on the table when he’s done. 

“You try getting tortured by needles,” You mutter, blinking down at his hand as he wipes the area. It’s cold against your skin, even more so when he fans it for a second. “Fucking hate Joker,” 

“Don’t we all,” He grabs the bottle and a 1-millimeter syringe that makes you inhale and look away. “You’re good, you got this,” He mutters with his attention mostly on drawing the liquid into the syringe with a careful eye. He switches the needle before checking for air bubbles and pinches at your skin once he’s sure it’s perfect.

“Ready?” He asks. “You can squeeze my shoulder.” You can only muster a nod as you prepare yourself. He works slowly, watching as he carefully slides the needle into your stomach and then watches your face as he slowly injects it. He doesn’t like it when he helps you; the panic in you makes his stomach hurt but he also doesn’t want you to not take your HRT or have a panic attack trying to do it yourself. 

He pulls the needle out and wipes away the drop of blood before putting on a bandaid. 

“All done.” He smiles, snapping his gloves off. You drop your shirt with a sigh, running your hands over your face as you relax.

[garez19]

yandere! best friend’s brother x reader (pt.2)

notes/warnings: sibling abuse, gender neutral reader, english is not my language, i have ABSOLUTELY no idea how to use punctuation, not proofread

i really hope this one’s turned out okay. im pretty new at this whole blogging concept so… bear with me.

wc: 1.6k

[part 1] [part 2]

six months had passed since you graduated. you had been trying your best to find the common ground between iris and emil for six months.

as you both pursued your education further, you and iris had already picked different career paths, which meant your schedules weren’t as aligned anymore. however, you were still her best friend, and you were always going to be her best friend. iris, the master of destroying everything she’d ever touched, somehow couldn't break you, no matter how hard she tried. and for that, she felt blessed. you must’ve been a gift sent by gods, a reminder that she was, in some ways, truly special.

yet you weren’t sure if she'd still think that once she found out you started hanging out with emil. it shouldn’t have been such a big deal, but it was. hell, it wasn't even your idea.

it all started 6 months ago, the day you’d met in the coffee shop—desperate, looking for salvation in his demolished mind, and about to break. ready to collapse, something his sister wasn't able to cause. the reason he took the lead. the only thing iris wasn’t able to accomplish, which was why he took the lead—slowly, trying not to startle you.

“mind explaining why you’re telling me all this?” he asked as you took another sip from your coffee. he had reason to be confused, and you couldn't really blame him when he implied you were doing all this to feel about yourself.

“because, like I said, you don’t deserve it. and because I know iris is better than that,” you answered. he let out a loud sigh while contemplating leaving, not wanting to communicate with someone who idealized iris to this point. then he imagined the look on her face when she realized you were not her very dear friend anymore. he decided to pursue you a little bit more.

“okay, thank you, appreciate it,” he replied indifferently as he leaned in closer to you, “and how are you going to help me exactly?” he mumbled. were you going to try and fail miserably again? you pulled back to regain space. “I will try and talk to her. and then–” he cut you off, “I don’t want you to.” he was so certain about not wanting help, which certainly pushed you off.

“emil, you need–” you tried once more, yet he interrupted again, “look, I’m the one who has to deal with her when you’re done lecturing, and I don’t want any part of it, okay?” he took a deep breath. “I’m not a child anymore.”

you were so much like iris in the sense that you only did whatever seemed the best for you, and never looked back. he could sense that, hell, he could see that. and you seemed confused—like a spoiled kid who wouldn’t take no as an answer, like it was your first time getting rejected. and it seemed you needed some guidance, as you kept opening and closing your mouth.

“hang out with me.”

you were baffled by the sudden request. because, from what you’d seen, emil made it very clear that he didn’t like you any better than his sister. you looked at the dessert—a slice of cheesecake, untouched.

“if you want to help in some way, just hang out with me. I don’t have any friends, and I'm feeling quite bored.” he added. and you highly doubted it, given that you had seen him with a handful of people. but you did not really have the guts to turn him down, especially when he put it like that. he put the cheesecake right in front of you, as if he was getting ready to leave.

“well, sure.” you answered before he said anything. “should I keep it a secret from her?” you asked. you still didn’t want iris to cause him –and you– a headache. even though you still felt like she deserved knowing, no matter what.

“yeah, ideally,” he affirmed. dealing with iris was not quite the biggest problem, but her realizing the toy she’d adored so dearly was about to be taken wasn’t something he wished to happen so early. not when you were still a mere puppet of iris. (no matter how hard you tried to act like a saint) not when you were going to crawl back to her the moment she called out your name.

but no matter what, if she wasn’t willing to share her toys, he was going to carve one out for himself, one that is almost identical to hers.

***

you failed to understand how your best friend was cruel to such a person. you failed to understand why the two were never able to get along when emil was nothing but compatible all the time. he was okay with everything, not because he didn’t want to upset you –or anyone, for that matter– but because he never seemed to have any strong preferences for anything. he liked going around the town for new adventures, but if you wanted to sit down and drink a cup of coffee, who was he to say no?

“have you decided what you want to study?” you asked as he was absently scribbling down some song lyrics of an old band, wearing only one earbud. “I’m thinking of medicine,” he replied, still seeming unbothered. emil had a knack for biology, and he liked exploring the world studying it. he looked up at you when you didn’t give him a reaction, “how are your studies going?” you grabbed your book on the table and put it back in your backpack. “not bad, I guess.” you muttered. you two, seemingly bored with your little studying session, had agreed to study together at least twice a week. it felt nice, and although emil and iris didn’t resemble each other personality-wise, they still brought a similar type of comfort to you.

and they brought a similar type of suffering.

“your phone’s going off.” emil said as he looked at the phone on the table.

iris🤍

you took a peek at emil. he seemed still, not looking at you but the phone. he didn’t seem upset, bothered or disappointed. and it was as if he simply was not there. he just observed the whole scene as a spectator.

you took the call. and to be fair there wasn’t anything new. she kept going on and on about how busy she was, and how much she missed you, and if you were available anytime soon. you truly missed her too, but there was some weird sting on your stomach—like it was making sure you remember you keep secrets from her.

and well, it felt so stupid, if you had to be honest, because at the end of the day you didn’t do anything wrong.

“do you still only talk to me because you feel sorry?” he said, making you snap out of it.

“pardon?” you were taken aback by the sudden question.

“are you still trying to feel better about yourself?” he accused once more. still not a visible expression on his face, as if he simply asked out of curiosity.

you didn’t answer, more like, you didn’t bother to answer.

“it’s not like I’ve done anything I should feel bad about myself.” was all you told him. and when it was time to leave and you finally saw an expression on his face–a sour one specifically– you smiled.

“sure, there were times I felt bad, but I’ve never done anything out of pity.” you said genuinely. and you then saw another expression again, one you hadn’t witnessed until that moment: he was surprised.

then you left. to meet iris. your loveliest friend.

***

emil was intrigued by how honest you sounded. you didn’t try to hide anything, nor did you feel the need to sound sympathetic. it was a short, silly sentence. it was the sentence he wished he had heard six months ago, as it gave him a different type of rush—a different kind of validation. you weren’t running out with him for redemption. you liked his company–to a degree, at least.–

he didn’t care about iris, her stupid mind games, or his parents’ unconditional love for her, her promising future, or even her petty rivalry with him. because after all, it’d be a funny scene to watch when she found out you were, in fact, not hers.

however, he was still going to remove that white heart next to her name once he got his hands on your phone.

***

the more you’d spent time with him, the more anxious you started to get. you liked emil’s company, that much was true, but you were also frightened whenever you imagined iris’ disappointment.

you were not doing anything wrong. you were not. you were not. you

“you’re definitely going to fail.” emil said while he took notes on his book. damn, it really felt like you were cheating on your spouse sometimes.

“yeah, whatever, I’m bored.” you whined. “you still haven’t got any friends?” you suddenly asked; not realizing how that sounded, nor what came over you. he turned to you quickly. oh, welp.

“and what if I have?” he blurted.

“what? I was just wondering.” you said, laughing awkwardly. your nervousness made him snap back.

“just for the record, I haven't,” he chuckled. “I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me for a little longer.”

although you hadn't noticed the tension, his firm grip on the pen very much proved he wasn’t feeling that humorous today.

another study session had ended. you were stretching your back while emil put your stuff in your backpack.

“come over for dinner tomorrow.” just when you were ready to go, he hit you with the offer.

however, having dinner with emil and iris as a friend of both of them was not the idea you’d had for tomorrow. definitely not.

[toxicangelrobotyuri]

The only thing I like my boobs for is crop tops

[cabeswaterdrowned]

Sorry (not) but I find anyone who acts like Blue is making something out of nothing when she’s mad Adam’s first question is about the kissing to be like. Deeply suspicious. Of course she is mad that’s the first thing he asked her! They’ve been walking on eggshells around each other and not really communicating since the last aborted kiss attempt which is on both of them to some degree, but when he comes around to her it’s only for this and when she has so many fears and insecurities about not properly belonging in the gang because she’s a girl (which is founded based on the fact aside from Noah they’ve all been misogynistic towards her at some point even if it was passive) and not being respected, when she’s also an outsider at home because of a different thing she can’t control. And you can not say that her feeling Adam is treating her like a thing to have and not a person he connects with is unfounded he again literally “I got Blue without you!” screamed at Gansey, consistently going to her after they fight (he did it end of TRB after repugnant too) to validate himself or just generally when he’s falling apart looking for validation from her like in the apartment scene. It’s not a bad thing to seek validation from your partner and in TRB before I’d say the last quarter I think Blue and Adam were genuinely connecting and developing a friendship while also exploring their feelings/attractions to each other, which did always have elements of seeking escape or validation for both of them in different ways, but it’s dissolved into that so much now. And I do think Blue is to some degree mad at Adam because he’s here and available to be mad at when she’s also mad at Gansey for it (I don’t think they’re *in the wrong * for not inviting her but they are in the wrong for not even considering she could want to go or at least want to be in the loop, also even though it’s Gansey’s party if Adam is trying to be her *boyfriend* it was kind of his place to ask her) so she’s conveying anger at Adam when the anger is for both of them, and also more general factors she’s frustrated by, but also Adam has the exact same response of channeling emotions that aren’t solely about Blue through their fights (and to his credit he is self aware that he does this) so again crucifying Blue for it is whack imo. Also to check myself on shipper-brain for the Adam-Gansey aspect of it, well obviously I read that here as a factor because I’m me, but for arguments sake on the premise Adam has No feelings about Gansey that are anything other than platonic Blue would still have a right to be mad about him prioritizing his platonic male friends over her and treating them with more respect, obviously, because misogyny exists (also these are not two contradictory readings in that I think they’re both factors. Signed an Adam Stan).

[captain-lovelace]

[clawsextended]

dating selina like—

[alpinelogy]

.

[loveguts]

i’m not a transandrophobia truther in the slightest don’t get me wrong, but i think some people on here really need to realize and comprehend the fact that cis women, way WAY more often than not, hold extremely significant social and political power over trans men the vast majority of the time in our day to day lives

[queer-reader-07]

something about finding the people who sit through your info dumps with joy on their face and enthusiasm for your passions. something about finding the people who info dump right back at you because they know you love hearing about their passions. something about finding the people who manage to sum up your being in one niche, oddly specific sentence that lives in your mind rent free for the rest of time. something about finding the people who not only accept you for who you are but embrace you for who you are. who not only tolerate your quirks and differences but love and cherish them.