#code gender

[sour-ice]

Codedgender

[pt: Codedgender /end pt]

→ A gender that acts like computer code. This gender can be accessed, edited and re-coded by anyone for any need, be it the being with the gender or someone connected to them.

→🥤Archive tags: @radiomogai

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

historical drama/sitcom where two gay best friends (woman and man) get lavender married--and proceed to spend the Fancy European Honeymoon their parents paid for acting as each other's wingman

[cheriecoke]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

[kechiwrites]

wake up; reader getting fucked from below by neighbour!Simon who keeps your hands pinned behind your back while he bullies the thickness of his cock inside you, just a little too deep. All too happy to let you drool on his shoulder as he drives into you again and again, watching the reflection of your ass bouncing heavy and fast over his lap on the black screen of your television. Scarred and tattooed arms sinking into your sides, anchoring you to him, implacable, insatiable. He was only supposed to pick-up a package mistakenly delivered to your front door, too heavy for you to bring it over yourself. Only supposed to have 'a cuppa, if you have it, pet.' Only supposed to take a kiss, soft, fleeting. Only supposed to 'touch it, over yer clothes, promise.' Only supposed to rub against the outside, slotting his ruddy, leaking tip between the already soaked lips of your pussy. Only supposed to pull out, come against the curve of your ass.

But Ghost can be neighbourly, he can go above and beyond. If it's for you.

[clumsypuppy]

@heropartnerweek 2025 day 4 - beach at dusk

[ace-and-ranty]

No, but the implications of Ran and Moraine's talk is so INTERESTING, because.

Everyone in this age thinks the submit/dominate dichotomy when using the One Power is a gendered thing. Women submit, men dominate. As is, I understand, the case in the books.

But this conversation implies the divide is not actually gendered, it's about the quantities of power involved. Once there's too much power in a weave, you need to be in control of it, or it washes you away. And this would be extremely significant in explaining why the Aes Sedai have gotten so much less powerful; they think they need to submit to channel always, so they simply can't handle more powerful weaves.

[scurvyboy]

miscellaneous fiddlestans because i got many requests to draw them and also they are my favorite

[werrrrrrrrrrrrrrrcat]

CW: Suggestive

Pretty girl, put down your pen, I'll show you how it's done

[zilanthix]

she wants to keep the kitty

[max-1mum]

Ena oc. I suppose

[merlucide]

Dan heng is literally your big-complicated word translator—like you’d be all squinted eyes and curled lips, just completely lost.

“The diameter of the interstellar conduit is undergoing severe destabilization! The inter-dimensional feedback loop has a high likelihood of triggering spontaneous elemental resonance!”

‘Just what was this guy saying?!’ your mind screeched, each word passing by like static in your brain.

The engineer, frantically pacing infront of you and Dan heng, continues to ramble, his words a blur of technical jargon

Dan Heng leans down slightly, his breath ghosting just above your ear. “If they don’t fix it, there’s a high chance the station could explode,” he whispers, before straightening back into his neutral stance.

You nod slowly, mouthing, ‘ohhh, okay’ before leaning up to whisper, “Why couldn’t he just say that?!”

Dan Heng looks at the engineer, then back at you, his tone calm and steady. “The Express will assist. No need to worry.”

The engineer visibly relaxes, nodding as he moves on to other tasks. You follow Dan Heng, giving him an exasperated but fond glance. “It’s so unnecessary…”

Dan Heng’s lips twitch in a slight hint of a smile

You can always count on him to make sense of the over complicated nonsense~♡

dan heng x us is cannon yall and this is so us yall wym

made March 28th 2025

[lazy-ahh]

THE SOUND OF YOUR LAUGHTER

pairing phainon x gender neutral reader

sometimes, love feels like déjà vu. phainon isn’t one to believe in past lives—until he meets you. from the first moment you laugh at his jokes, something clicks into place, like a half-remembered melody. battlefields become stages, market strolls turn into something sweeter, and suddenly, he’s rewriting all his old rules.

phainon had always been one for theatrics—flourishes in battle like a performer on stage, dramatic declarations that sounded more like poetry than strategy, jokes delivered with a smile just a little too pleased with itself.

he was a man who sometimes spoke in metaphors, who turned even the simplest observations into something lyrical, much to mydei’s exasperation. most people either rolled their eyes, sighed in exasperation or awe, or just ignored him entirely. mydei certainly did, his patience for phainon’s antics as thin as the edge of a titankin's blade.

but then there was you.

it happened during the chaos of nikador’s attack, the city trembling under the weight of the titankin’s assault. phainon, ever the showman even in the face of danger, spun his weapon in a wide arc before slamming it into the ground, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the earth.

"and here we have the mighty mydeimos," he announced, voice dripping with exaggerated grandeur, as if narrating some ancient gladiatorial match, "facing down the beast with all the enthusiasm of a man reading tax reports!"

mydei didn’t even dignify him with a glare, too focused on the fight—but then, cutting through the clamor of battle, came the sound of laughter. your laughter. bright, unrestrained, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

phainon turned, just in time to see you wiping a grin from your face before shooting back, "ah, careful, sir phainon! i'm afraid if you make this spectacle even more interesting than it is, then this arena might become overflowed with guests! though honestly—" you dodged a swipe from a nearby enemy with an easy spin, flashing him a look that was all mischief, "—at this rate, the rest of us might as well be background dancers in your grand performance."

the battlefield clamor faded for a heartbeat as you twirled your weapon with a flick of your wrist, enough to catch his eye. "though..." you punctuated the word with a sharp strike against an enemy, clean and efficient, "...i must admit—best show in town." your voice softened just slightly, the tease giving way to something warmer as you fell into step beside him, shoulders brushing. "wouldn’t trade my front-row seat for anything."

the admission slipped out between breaths, genuine beneath the playful lilt, and for once, phainon’s answering smile wasn’t performative—just soft, just for you.

the sharp clang of dan heng's (temporary) spear striking titankin armor rang out nearby, followed by his trademark sigh—the kind that said 'i'm surrounded by idiots' without a single word.

"they're really putting on a performance, huh?" the trailblazer called over the chaos, their voice dripping with amusement as they parried a blow. "what's next, matching outfits? poetry under the stars?" their teasing lilt carried even through the battle's din, punctuated by the trailblazer's poorly suppressed snicker.

phainon could practically hear the eye-roll in dan heng's voice as he deadpanned, "focus. unless you want to be crushed before you could beat that level you've been so determined to beat in the simulated universe." but the slight upward tilt at the end betrayed his own reluctant amusement—not that he'd ever admit it.

meanwhile, you—completely unbothered by their commentary—just flashed phainon another grin, your blade carving a neat arc through the air as you quipped, "what can i say? some things are worth the audience." your voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as you stepped back-to-back with him, "though between you and me? they're just jealous they can't pull off the dramatic entrance like we can."

your voice was light, teasing, but there was something underneath it—a warmth, an admiration that slipped through despite your playful tone. like you weren’t just humoring him, but genuinely enjoying this, his antics, the way he turned battle into something grander. like you saw the poetry in his movements, the rhythm in his words, and couldn’t help but dance along.

(and if your cheeks flushed just a little after saying it—well, you could always blame the heat of battle.)

something in his chest tightened.

it wasn’t just the sound of your laughter—though stars above, he could listen to it forever, could bottle it up and keep it like the rarest of wines. it was the way you matched him, quip for quip, your words sharp and playful, your eyes alight with mischief. suddenly, he was the one caught off guard, the one laughing, the rhythm of battle momentarily forgotten.

but that wasn’t the end, no.

even after the battle with the false nikador, after the dust had settled and the adrenaline faded into something quieter, you stayed. the market bustled around you—vendors calling out their wares, the scent of spices thick in the air, sunlight filtering through colorful awnings—and yet, phainon found his attention drifting back to you again and again.

you weren’t just cheerful; you carried joy like it was something natural, effortless, like sunlight. when he pointed out a particularly garish trinket with a dry remark, you laughed, not out of politeness, but because you genuinely found it funny.

when he mused aloud about the impracticality of amphoreus’ winding streets, you countered with some absurd observation about how it was clearly designed by someone who loved getting lost.

and something about that—about you—settled in his chest like warmth after a long chill. it was unfamiliar, this careful attention to his own words, this sudden awareness of how they might land.

he’d never second-guessed a joke before, never lingered on the shape of a sentence, wondering if it would make you smile. but now? now he caught himself measuring pauses, weighing words, chasing the sound of your laughter like it was something rare and precious.

(he didn’t know what to call it. he just knew it felt like standing at the edge of something vast—something bright and terrifying and beautiful.)

and phainon couldn’t shake this strange, lingering feeling—like the echo of a dream half-remembered upon waking. it wasn’t just familiarity; it was something quieter, something older.

as if in some other life, beneath some other sky, your laughter had been a constant thing. as if your paths had crossed countless times before, written in the spaces between stars, only to converge again here, now, in the golden haze of amphoreus’ sunlight.

the thought settled in his chest like a secret. how strange, to look at you and feel the weight of centuries. how wonderful, to meet you anew in this lifetime anyway.

and as the days unfolded—as he watched you grin at street vendors, as he caught the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed, as he memorized the rhythm of your footsteps beside his—phainon found himself whispering silent prayers to titans.

not for victory, not for glory, but for this: that whatever comes next, whatever lives may wait beyond this one, the universe might be kind enough to let him find you again.

phainon thinks—no, knows—that if there was one thing carved into the very core of his being, one thing that would survive the collapse of stars and the turning of ages, it would be the sound of your laughter.

not just the sound, but the way it unfolds: how it starts as a quiet huff against your lips before spilling over, bright and unguarded, like sunlight breaking through stormclouds. the way your nose scrunches just slightly, the way your shoulders shake when it really takes hold of you, the way you sometimes press a hand to your chest as if trying to contain the joy of it.

he’s a man built on dramatics, on grand gestures and louder words, but this—this undoes him completely. every time he coaxes that laughter from you, it feels like stepping into the holiest of temples.

like catching starlight in his palms. like if he could just live in these moments forever, curled around the warmth of your joy, he would ascend to something greater than any godhood.

(and maybe, in another life, he did. maybe he knelt at altars built for quieter things, prayed to the curve of your smile instead of any titan. maybe he’ll do it again, in every life that follows.

the thought doesn’t scare him. it feels like coming home.)

a quiet little offering for you today—this one’s shorter than my usual works (holy, 1.3k words??), but sometimes soft moments don’t need many words. just phainon, hopelessly enamored with the sound of your laughter, spinning poetry in his head like a man who’s never known devotion until now. there’s something longer simmering in the drafts, but this piece felt ready to slip into your hands first. and if you have any phainon cravings of your own? consider this an open invitation. my ask box is always listening (PLEASE I AM BEGGING THERE IS ONLY SO MUCH MY TINY BRAIN CAN THINK OF). mark grayson’s 28 pending requests might side-eye me for this, but—well. the heart wants what it wants, and mine is currently orbiting amphoreus's puppy of aedes elysiae like a lovesick fool. (truly, what’s a writer to do?)

[zevrra]

foaming at the mouth why didn’t i think of this sooner AAA

modern!jayce wearing those grey sweatpants. the ones that fit him perfectly, hanging off his hips effortlessly, catching every eye within a 10 mile radius. not to mention the so very obviously dïck print along the seam in the front and god did the sight make your mouth water.

he had just finished his own work out, shirt off, sweaty, and wearing those goddamn sweatpants. and you swore he did it on purpose, just to tease you. he was your personal trainer and you really shouldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts about him but there you are, staring at the way his biceps flex when he picks up any sort of equipment. how his chest tightens with every movement or the way he effortlessly throws around large sums of weight. the sweat that beads and rolls down his toned abs, curving down his v line, going lower and lower into that happy trail of his— just to disappear under the sweats he wears.

those damned sweatpants would haunt your dreams.

and when he catches you staring, he’d slide one side of his headphones off of his ear, glancing at you with a little concerned glint to his eyes before he realizes what you’re staring at—oh lord—he probably smiles. all soft and “innocent” like as he makes his way to stand in front of you.

“you ok?”

“uh…yeah, perfectly fine.” you’d lie; trying your best to avoid his eyes.

he’d probably laugh a little because he knew better. his own face flushed a little red as he practically towers over you. and if you point out the blush across his cheeks, he’d definitely lie and say it was just from his work out; nothing more.

“you sure about that?”

if his words didn’t make you blush, his hot, heavy hand trailing along your arm, squeezing your shoulder, and pressing his fingers gently into your neck lights your face on fire. you were still in public and he was this bold? you were definitely in for some trouble. and just as you thought; trouble comes in when he’s bending just the slightest bit down to catch your adverted gaze once more, your faces merely inches apart now, as he whispers: “let’s work on some core techniques with a private lesson today.”

[soft-pine]

people will be like looking for subtle evidence for queer dean like oh he's in bisexual lighting here, he's referencing this niche queer media there.

meanwhile dean is just like "he was my gay thing" no further elaboration.

[jays-bookmarks]

Slapping his ass >:3c (ZZZ boys x gn!reader)

It was recently brought to my attention that Harumasa has CAKE underneath that jacket of his 👀 so this idea became a thing..........

Summary: You let the impulsive thoughts win... these are their reactions (ft. Harumasa, Lighter, Lycaon, and Seth). Implied relationship/close friendship. Bulleted hcs. Words: 100 (Harumasa), 116 (Lighter), 117 (Lycaon), 110 (Seth) Warnings: none :3

Harumasa:

Literally yelps and then turns back to you looking SO VIOLATED

Giving you sad wet cat eyes. You slap the Harumasa? You slap him on the butt like the volleyball????? 🥺

When you innocently explain that you just wanted to see his reaction, he gets so dramatic about it

Why would you do that to your dear partner? Don't you know that he's fragile??

But he gets his revenge when you least expect it—i.e. in front of the rest of section 6 (minus Soukaku bc we must spare the innocent baby). You'll never forget that smug smile on his face…

Lighter:

Bro doesn't even flinch. You're not even sure he felt it until he lowered his sunglasses and looked back at you like "oh?"

You don't even have a chance to sheepishly explain yourself before he does it right back to you. Zero hesitation

But he forgets to control his strength and almost leaves a bruise :') Immediately panics and starts apologizing and asking if you're okay

You're fine, but you play it up just to make him squirm. That really hurt, after all >:(

You make him carry you around for the rest of the day to make up for it 😌 he doesn't complain ofc. He loves a chance to show off his strength for you

Lycaon:

Gracefully dodges out of the way

He thought you were trying to touch his tail and was getting ready to explain that, while he isn't opposed to you doing so, he'd like some time to prepare before—

Oh. You wanted to… slap his ass?

He just stares at you without saying anything. You start to get nervous thinking you'd upset him but mans is just buffering

After a moment he coughs into his hand, looking uncharacteristically shy, before saying that as long as the two of you are in a private place, he'd be willing to indulge you

Just pretend that you didn't see his tail wagging as he said that. He'd completely melt from the embarrassment

Seth:

Literal catlike reflexes. Catches your hand and then looks at you like "wtf????"

When you explain what you were trying to do, he only furrows his brow even more

He doesn't get it. Why do you want to slap his ass in the first place? What purpose does it serve?? Do you seriously derive enjoyment from slapping him on the butt??? It doesn't make sense :/

Unfortunately he will not give in to your puppy dog eyes no matter how much you beg :(

If by some miracle you get him to agree to let you do it, he'd just stand there and have absolutely zero reaction. Very disappointing 😔

[gakbang]

I just think she’s neat :)