gennabi

[gennabi]

sea dragon! levi wip (except he's not turned into a dragon yet in this part obviously)

[gennabi]

possession horror where the thing possessing the autistic character causes them to behave in a more neurotypical way. autistic possession horror where the thing inside you is easier to communicate with than you are, the thing inside you doesn’t have a flat affect, the thing inside you doesn’t let your body stim, the thing inside you is how you were told to behave and you can only do it when you are no longer you. autistic possession horror where you will never forget that everyone liked it better than you before they found out something was controlling you. autistic possession horror where they know what’s inside you isn’t you and debate whether it would be easier for everyone to leave you like this anyway. you agree. reblog.

[gennabi]

went to a local queer event last night. i shared about my experience w identifying as poly (i'm more ambiamorous but the topic was specifically abt poly) and how i've always had multiple crushes since young and my friends would nickname me 'whore'. anyway, after the event ended, one guy pointed to me and said "you're valid." which at first made me '???' lol but i think the kid!me needed to hear that so it was really sweet.

[gennabi]

[gennabi]

0.613CM ( caleb x f.reader ) — caleb’s chest got bigger and you can't keep your hands off, can you? | suggestive . shameless ogling . groping . reader is a simp . we all love big hearted caleb .

You’re standing in the kitchen, aggressively mixing your overnight oats, when Caleb walks in fresh from his shower, towel draped loosely around his hips, chest glistening with stray droplets of water.

And holy mother of all things sinful.

Your mixing spoon freezes mid-stir. Your jaw goes slack. Because his chest… his chest looks bigger. “Morning, pipsqueak—” he starts, but you’re already striding over with murder (lust) in your eyes. You poke his pec with your index finger, frowning deeply.

“Why is this so big,” you demand, giving it a firm squeeze. It’s rock solid under your palm, warm from his shower. He blinks down at you, confused but amused. “Uh… training? It’s only like… 0.613 cm bigger, relax,” he chuckles, wrapping one large hand around your wrist, but you ignore him completely.

“ONLY?! ONLY 0.613 CM BIGGER?!” you shriek softly, your voice breaking as your hands cup both pecs fully. “Caleb. Caleb. Caleb. Do you even realise what you’re doing to me right now?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Enlighten me,” he says with that stupid cocky smile. So you do. You bury your face right into his left pec, nose smushed against his soft skin, inhaling deeply like a deranged cat. “Mmmhhh,” you moan, absolutely shameless. “They’re like boobs. Big, warm, muscular boobs. Everyone loves boobs. I love boobs. Your boobs.”

“They’re pecs, pips,” he corrects, voice strained as your hands knead into his chest, thumbs brushing over his nipples. His towel slips a little lower on his hips. He sucks in a sharp breath. “Nope,” you mumble against his pec, lips pressing sloppy open-mouthed kisses along the curve, biting down lightly just above his nipple. He chokes on a groan, gripping the counter behind him.

“Baby…” he warns, voice low and gravelly. But you’re too far gone. You continue your shameless assault – kissing, biting, licking lightly to soothe the bites, leaving soft pink marks across his chest. Finally, you pull back to admire your masterpiece, lips swollen and eyes glazed.

You snuggle your cheek against his pec with a dreamy sigh. “So comfy… I could sleep here forever.”

“You’re insane,” he laughs breathlessly, his free hand cradling the back of your head as his chest rises and falls rapidly beneath you. His towel is hanging on for dear life. “My insane little pipsqueak.”

“Mmhh. Your pipsqueak who loves your boobs,” you murmur sleepily, hugging his waist tighter. “Now shut up and let me snuggle them before I go to work.”

He just shakes his head with an exasperated fond smile, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your hairline. “Whatever makes you happy, baby.”

And you fall asleep right there, standing, face smushed into his pecs – because honestly, it’s the best pillow you could ever ask for.

[gennabi]

you get injured on patrol. 𖥔 ꒰ ྀི sfw ⋆ not proofread ⋆ fem!reader ⋆ comfort fic ⋆ mutual pining ⋆ reader is alone and scared for a bit! ꒱

You’ve really gone and dug yourself into a pit of trouble this time.

The poster stapled to the far left of the bulletin board in Gandharva Ville lists “staying calm in an emergency” somewhere near the top — you vaguely recall from the times you’ve recited the safety precautions aloud as punishment for your carelessness (you usually have to repeat them three times until you’re free to go).

That bullet in particular was never something you were very concerned about — not when Tighnari reminds you time and time again that you are all too calm for your own good.

You’re more like the type he scolds for trying to feed a spinocrocodile half your lunch because it was looking at you in a “hungry way,” or the type to cradle a potentially poisonous mushroom in your bare hands just to get a closer look. The type to always say: Aww, c’mon, it’ll be just fine, ‘Nari! No need to worry. Noo need to worry.

But then again, you’re also not the type to snap something in your back like this, either.

You’re not sure exactly what happened.

A medium-sized log blocking a pathway in the Avidya Forest wouldn’t typically be a problem for you to simply lift and haul over to the side. It’s nothing too heavy — not for you, and yet — what was that sudden pinch you felt beneath your lower back?

You’ve lost track of how long it’s been since you first stumbled over to rest your weight against a nearby tree, but it’s likely been at least several hours since you started replaying the scene in your head to figure out what happened. From your memory, the initial pinch had already been painful enough to cause you to drop the entire log back onto the dirt. Then, the paralyzing ache kicked in immediately after — similar to the pain from pressing a bruise, but amplified.

Amplified by quite a bit, truthfully. And the pain has only worsened since then, going from a dull ache to something akin to a piercing throb.

It’s enough to convince you to think up an organized summary of your situation, as Tighnari probably would have done if he were in your shoes (You should always keep a level head, he’d say. Or in this case, perhaps it would be his first time ever telling you to stay calm).

1) Your ability to stand, even like this, will not last much longer. It seems as though your legs begin to violently tremble under the weight of your own body, so taking a step forward seems entirely impossible. Even leaning against a tree isn’t enough to relieve the stress.

2) You cannot sit. The pain you have becomes that much more agonizing the moment you start going through the movements, and you think sitting will put more pressure onto your injured spot anyway.

3) You’re approximately 300 meters away from home.

4) The sun is starting to set.

5) You’re alone in the forest.

And 6) it really, really hurts now.

About another half hour goes by, and your plan to wait it out gradually seems less and less like a good idea, paired with the fact that your pain is only continuing to worsen and the trees have begun to cast their shadows over you.

You grit your teeth and make the decision to lower yourself into a seated position of sorts anyway. Maybe if you take it slowly. Maybe if you help your breath. But the moment your knees start to bend, white-hot pain sears from your back down to your hips, and the sound that tears from your throat is halfway between a sob and a gasp.

Ow.

You slam back against the tree to regain yourself, weight now at least successfully split between your trembling legs and your left hand. Tears begin to blur your vision before you can stop them — and you press the back of your hand against your mouth.

Stubborn. You always are. Refusing to cry in the middle of the Avidya Forest even when you’re all alone and helpless at dusk.

But the fear creeps in anyway.

After all, what if no one notices that you’re not back yet? You’re usually quick on your patrols, so the other rangers don’t typically spend their free time worrying about you. And what are you to do if you can’t walk at all after this? …And — just long will you be stuck out here — ”

“There you are.”

“…N-Nari?” You blink rapidly, and through your blurry vision, you see him — ears slightly twitching at the sound of your troubled voice, tail swishing the way it always does whenever he’s worried. He looks at you, eyes scanning for any visible signs of injuries, softening only slightly when they meet your face.

“It’s late and you haven’t returned, so naturally, I came to look for you. Are you hurt?”

Your throat tightens, and you can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes. “…I’m okay. Just a little tired.”

His ears angle back. “Don’t lie to me. You wouldn’t be sprawled out on the ground in the middle of the forest doing nothing, especially at this hour. You know good and well that you should be back home by now.”

You’re quiet. “S-sorry, it must have slipped my mind.”

“Hm,” you feel his gaze on you, “then let’s head back together. There’s still leftovers that Collei made for you, so you don’t need to worry about cooking at this hour.”

“Oh. I’ll tell her thanks when I see her then..!”

You don’t move from your spot, or rather, you can’t — and he picks up on this in an instant. “Your hips… or possibly your legs. I see now. Be honest. You can’t even stand in this state, can you?”

So he knew from the start.

You only shake your head, embarrassingly, not able to choke out another word from the way your throat tightens in on itself. You think your tears are on the verge of spilling anyway, from the way even your lips have begun to tremble under the searing pain.

There’s a small sigh he lets out in front of you, and then, more firmly: “Come on. Get on my back. I’ll take you back home.”

“Ah, but…”

He’s already crouched in front of you before you can manage to protest. “No buts. Get on.”

“Sorry…”

You loop your arms around his shoulders with a slight wince, hugging him tightly when his hands hook beneath your thighs. Under a different circumstance, his hands being on you and your chest pressing against his back would have flustered you to no end, but today, you only feel guilt instead.

Guilty for worrying him, and guilty for getting hurt on top of that.

“Sorry, ‘Nari,” you murmur, voice muffled against his shoulder. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Hm. No need for apologies. You’ve likely sprained the ligaments around your sacroiliac joint,” he starts. “I assume you only went to pick up the log over there, right? Well, that joint stabilizes your spine. If it’s irritated… it could have very well caused the pain in your hip and the trembling of your legs.”

You only give a weak nod against his shoulder.

“But we’ll talk more once you’re home. Hold tight.”

The rest of the walk passes in complete silence, broken only by the occasional “one moment” as he readjusts his hold on you. If he notices your crying (and you’re certain he does, given the way you’re crying only an inch away from his big ears), he doesn’t mention it. By the time you’re both home and he’s laid you onto his bed, it’s nearly dark outside.

“So, tell me,” he says, kneeling at the bedside. “Where exactly does it hurt now?”

You swallow. “My… um. My hips. The front of them hurt the most right now.”

He hums, removing one glove and setting it aside.

“But w-wait,” you stammer quickly, heat rising to your cheeks at the implication. “I’ll be just fine though!”

His brows raise slightly. “Had you been fine, I wouldn’t have carried you all the way here on my back. I’ll only be massaging the area in pain for a moment. Is that acceptable?”

Your throat goes dry. “Okay then… s-sure…”

His hand is careful as it brushes along your hipbone, fingers grazing you so gently that you nearly shiver underneath it. He’s warm, too. Warm enough for you to feel it through the thin fabric of your shorts — and you feel his breath near your face when he leans closer to see your expression.

It’s enough to make your stomach flutter.

Tighnari presses gently at first, mapping out different spots on your hips with precision. He’s always like that, you’ve learned, though — with each spot his fingers press into, your pulse trips faster. He drags three fingers along the front of your hip, then presses into it — and you jolt.

“O-ow—!”

He stills. “This much pressure hurts?”

“Yes, a little bit… sorry.” You bury your face in his pillow, hugging it close to your chest to mask your embarrassment and the way you’re near tears all over again. “Is that… bad?”

His voice softens. “No need to apologize. You’ve clearly strained more than a muscle.” The touch on your hip eases, much softer now, his thumb grazing over the aching bits of your hip. “It will hurt, but I need to ease the tension before it worsens. Do you trust me?”

You nod quickly, eyes squeezing shut.

The next press is deeper, slower, and your heart skips a beat. The pain in your hips gradually fades from sharp and hot into something akin to relief, you think, similar to a knot loosening. Your lips part on their own, a shaky sigh leaving you before you can think to stop it.

He’s really good with his hands.

The mix of pain and warmth makes your eyes sting, and you’re not entirely sure whether it’s from your ache or the way you can feel his fingers so clearly through the fabric of your clothes.

Still, tears slip free. “‘N-Nari — hurts —”

“I know.” He moves closer, until he’s seated right beside you on the edge of the bed. “Breathe for me, okay? I’m right beside you.”

Another surge of pain makes you whimper, and instinct takes over — you reach for him blindly, grabbing at his sleeve, then pulling until you can hide your face against his shoulder. You’d be burning with embarrassment under any other circumstance, but he only leans towards you, letting you hold him more easily. One hand continues to massage at your hips, the other moving to cradle the back of your head.

“You’re keeping still. That’s good,” he soothes, tips of his ear brushing against you. “There’s no need to hold yourself together here. You can let it out now.”

He lets you cry into his shoulder while he presses into your hips a little harder, and before you realize it — the sharper pain begins to dull, now reduced to a heavy, manageable ache. Your body loosens under him, and his ears perk up.

“…Feeling any better?” He asks softly, tilting his head to look at you.

You nod, cheeks still hot, and your voice feels small. “Yes… a little. Thank you, ‘Nari.”

His tail flicks once and lightly brushes against you. “Good. We’ll start your treatment tomorrow then. For now, you should rest here so I can monitor you more easily.”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to move around much on your own tonight.”

[gennabi]

On the subject about parents needing to control their child's reading and invade their privacy in order to "protect" them from "inappropriate material:

Until I was in....college? At least? The vast, vast majority of the books I read were either a) assigned by my school or b) (the vast majority of my reading) provided to me by my mother.

My mom is a librarian. She filled our rooms with books, picked especially for us. She pointed out books on the shelves in our home library (separate from our bedroom shelves) that she thought we would like. She bought us books for birthdays, Christmas, and just stacks of recommendations. She once paid me $10 to read one of the Cirque Du Freak books because she said I needed "to be exposed to bad literature."

She respected my privacy in room, didn't go through my belongings. She explicitly pointed out to us that she wouldn't know if we took a particular book of the shelf, as long as we returned it, if we didn't want her to know we were reading it. She purposely brought us books that she didn't care for herself, because she thought we might find them valuable or enjoyable.

And if we wanted to read something she thought might upset or disturb us, she would explain why. She wouldn't stop us from reading it - just ask us to check in with her, to talk through it.

And so when I read something that upset or disturbed me, I would go to her. She would listen and talk through it with me.

If she said she didn't think I would like something, or that a book might disturb me, or that she thought I should wait until I was older, I listened to her.

She didn't need restrictions or control to protect me. Because she proved I could trust her.

Controlling kids is never about "protecting" them. It's just about control.

[gennabi]

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sheep getting in an elevator. idk man i made this account in 2010 ive made every other post already

[gennabi]

"This is your creation, born from immense effort and passion. I would never let my curiosity harm it in any way."

The tree would bloom eventually, even if you wouldn't be there to witness it. And when Barbatos would be standing under its branches, looking at the tender blossoms, he'd be glad that you had the kindness in your heart to stop him from hurting it. Because even if you wouldn't be by his side, he would be able to feel your love through those blooming flowers.

BarbWeek Day 5: Under

1.3k words | Barbatos/Gen!MC| Fluff

A legendary tree that grants eternal love and happiness to whoever professes their love under its branches. Nobody has seen it for a very long time, but it seems that Barbatos knows exactly where it is.

Thanks to @2many-art for organizing #barbweek!

AO3 link Part 1: Exchange Part 2: Ropes Part 3: Meme Part 4: Suit

"Look, Simeon, it's a nice legend, but I don't think that this tree actually exists."

"What tree?" you asked, entering the classroom. Simeon and Solomon turned to you as soon as you spoke up. They smiled as you settled on a chair next to them, ready to participate in their conversation.

"There is a legend that somewhere in the Devildom grows a beautiful tree, the one that can rival all the plants of the Celestial Realm with its beauty." Simeon sighed dreamily; his eyes were full of excitement and confidence. "The flowers on its branches only bloom once in several hundred years. I was researching this tree for quite some time, hoping to find its location. The number of books that mention this tree certainly suggests that it exists."

"You would've found its location by now if it was something more real than local folklore," Solomon frowned, clearly taking a more skeptical approach. He turned to you with a polite smile. "Most of the stories Simeon found are just fairy tales. And the main gist of them is if someone proclaims their love under this tree when it's in full bloom, their feelings will last forever and there will be nothing but happiness in their relationship."

"Solomon has a surprising distaste for the romantic stories," Simeon grinned at you, earning yet another grumpy glare from the sorcerer.

"I think it's important to stay grounded in one's research. Otherwise, it's easy to start chasing nonexistent ghosts." Solomon huffed and turned to you again. "What do you think of this nonsense?"

"I don't know," you mumbled, resting your head on your hands. "The Devildom is full of strange things, so this tree could potentially exist. But it sounds way too powerful. Eternal love and happiness? Just from standing around under some flowers? Relationships are built upon a lot of hard work and compromises. It's not exactly something you can secure for eternity with magic."

"And that's why you're my best apprentice!" Solomon exclaimed joyfully, ruffling your hair. You only smirked and moved away from his hand, dodging another series of headpats.

Simeon smiled gently as he watched you two, opening another book. "Well, regardless, I'm not giving up yet."

***

"It exists," Barbatos murmured calmly, cutting off long leaves of some poisonous plant.

"Wait, what?" You almost dropped a pruner to the ground from that sudden reply. The plant you were working on sensed your vulnerability and started to entangle your arm with its vines.

You were helping Barbatos in his greenhouse when you decided to mention the legend you heard earlier that morning. But you certainly didn't expect him to confirm Simeon's theory.

"Do you wish to see it?" Barbatos' fingers grabbed the naughty vine and tore it apart, making the plant twist in pain and retreat to its pot. The butler quickly inspected your arm for any injuries, not letting go of your hand even after confirming that you were fine.

You looked him in the eyes, unable to contain your excitement. "You seriously ask whether I want to see the legendary tree?"

"Indeed, how foolish of me." Barbatos smiled softly and tightened his grip on your arm. A portal manifested itself behind him as he stepped into it back-first, pulling you by the hand. You followed him without hesitation.

You heard the rustling of leaves before you saw them. Barbatos teleported directly under the tree, allowing you to see long, flexible branches swaying in the wind up close. This tree was similar to a willow, with the same structure of leaves and branches. The leaves looked like they were made out of glass. Their transparent forms were letting through the moonlight, making the silver light reflect on shiny foliage. If it were sunbeams, that would be an unbearably bright sight. But the gentle moonlight of eternal night allowed you to watch the ethereal show without any discomfort.

You noticed numerous flower buds among the leaves. They were closed, sleeping, and gathering strength to bloom in several hundred years. You didn't expect to be lucky enough to witness the full beauty of this tree, but you couldn't help but wonder how it would look while blossoming.

"Thank you," you whispered, unable to look away from the magnificent view.

"I'm glad you like it," Barbatos replied just as quietly. "I've planted this tree myself. It's very delicate and requires a lot of attention, but it's one of my most beautiful creations." He gestured to the side, showing you the dark, muddy landscape around. "It can only grow in a swamp area, which makes it impossible for anyone to get here without a portal. This place is very dangerous even for the most powerful demons, so, unfortunately, the beauty of this tree turned into a mere legend over time."

"Maybe it's for the best," you said as your fingers gently ran along one of the leaves, feeling its lightness. "At least nobody can hurt it all the way here. I know at least one demon and a sorcerer who'd butcher this tree for ingredients for potions and profit." You turned to Barbatos, meeting his relaxed gaze. "But it would be great if you considered showing this place to Simeon. He knows how to keep secrets."

"I'll definitely consider it," Barbatos nodded. You couldn't even recall when the last time he disagreed with you on something was. It sure seemed that he was willing to do anything you'd ask of him. "But it's not really the tree from the legend you heard of, is it? At least not in its current state. You must've been disappointed by the lack of flowers. But worry not, I'll make them appear in no time."

"How?" You cocked your brow, intrigued by Barbatos' lifted hand.

"I'll reverse time for this tree. I believe it was in full bloom 47 years ago. Just give me a moment…"

"Wait!" You grabbed his hand before he managed to cast any spell. Barbatos turned to you with clear surprise on his face. "You were just talking about the fragility of this tree. What will happen to it if you reverse time? You were the one who taught me that it's important to be careful with spells around plants."

"It may sustain some damage, I admit." The demon nodded calmly, intertwining his fingers with yours. "But it doesn't matter. What is the point of growing something if I can't show its true beauty to the one person I love? It doesn't matter what will happen to it as long as it brings you joy."

"No, I don't need this," you shook your head, carefully hugging Barbatos. He sank into your embrace immediately, wrapping his hands around you. You planted a little kiss on his cheek as you held his gaze. "This is your creation, born from immense effort and passion. I would never let my curiosity harm it in any way. It's already beautiful. Even if the legends are true and the flowers of this tree grant eternal love and happiness, I'd rather earn them myself. I don't need magic to know that I'll be happy with you."

Barbatos looked at you tenderly, cupping your cheek with his hand.

"I love you," he whispered as he planted a kiss on your lips.

"I love you too," you breathed out into a kiss, letting the rustling of thousands of transparent leaves and the warmth of Barbatos' body lull you into complete tranquility.

The tree would bloom eventually, even if you wouldn't be there to witness it. And when Barbatos would be standing under its branches, looking at the tender blossoms, he'd be glad that you had the kindness in your heart to stop him from hurting it. Because even if you wouldn't be by his side, he would be able to feel your love through those blooming flowers.

AO3 link Part 1: Exchange Part 2: Ropes Part 3: Meme Part 4: Suit

P.S. The art doesn't belong to me; it's official art from Shall We Date: Obey Me! (An Enchanting Evening card)

[gennabi]

I was just thinking about demon forms, and how some demons have parts of themselves that can shed or fall off. These could probably be very rare, very valuable parts of a demon, and for someone to possess these kinda things is super significant - considering they come from their body and all. How do you think Lucifer, Levi, and Belphie would react to an MC who wants these kinds of things from them, and carries them everywhere on their person once they receive them? As some examples, a pair of earrings made from Lucifer's feathers, a bracelet made with some Leviathan scales, and a locket containing some hairs from Belphie's tail

Lucifer

At first, he’s suspicious of your motives. “You want my feathers? Do you even know what that means, MC?”

When you show him you only want them to keep him close, his pride swells.

Seeing you wear earrings made of his black feathers makes him strangely possessive—like you’re marked by him, and everyone knows it.

Mammon

“Wait—you want somethin’ from me?!” He’s shocked, because he’s used to people wanting money, not parts of him.

Gives you a feather or a fang without thinking too deeply… until he realizes how meaningful it is. Then he gets flustered.

Brags to everyone: “See that bracelet MC’s wearin’? Yeah, it’s from me. From me, got it?!”

Leviathan

Turns beet red when you ask. His scales are his treasure, and he doesn’t hand them out lightly.

When you make jewelry out of one, he can’t stop staring at it whenever you wear it.

It makes him feel like the MC in one of his otome games—except it’s real, and you chose him.

Satan

Raises a brow at first—“You’re aware demonic parts are valuable, right?” He thinks you might be messing with him.

But when he sees you treat the gift reverently, he softens. He’ll give you a claw sheath or a tuft of fur from his tail.

It deeply soothes his inner rage to see you treasuring something born from his more feral side.

Asmodeus

Absolutely thrilled when you ask—it’s like the ultimate romantic gesture to him.

He’ll hand over a jewel-like fragment from his horns and even help you design the accessory around it.

Seeing you wear it makes his heart flutter—it’s proof that you adore him enough to carry him everywhere.

Beelzebub

He’s hesitant, worrying his claws or fangs look too intimidating to be worn.

When you insist, he carefully selects the piece that feels safest for you.

Watching you wear something so “Beel” on your delicate form makes him both protective and proud.

Belphegor

He smirks when you ask, pretending to be nonchalant—“So you want a piece of me, huh?”

Gives you some fur or tail hairs, curious if you’ll really keep them.

When he sees you carry them in a locket, his teasing stops—it tugs at his heart. “You’re ridiculous… but I like it.”

Diavolo

Absolutely delighted by the request—it flatters him that you’d want something so personal.

He gifts you a fragment of his horn, polished and glowing faintly with his power.

Every time he sees you wearing it, he beams with genuine joy. “You honor me, MC. Truly.”

Barbatos

Taken aback—you of all people, asking him for such a thing?

After some thought, he presents you with a delicate green-tinted scale from his demon form.

Quietly watches how you care for it. When he sees it crafted into jewelry, he smiles subtly: “You never fail to surprise me.”

Solomon

Immediately fascinated by the symbolism. “You’re aware, right? That demons don’t just hand these things over lightly.”

He’s proud of you for obtaining them—it means the brothers trust you more than they trust most beings.

Low-key jealous, though. He’ll tease: “Now when do I get to give you something equally precious of mine?”

Simeon

Angels don’t shed parts the way demons do, so he’s amazed at the concept.

When he sees you with demon-made jewelry, he admires your devotion but also looks a little sad.

He tells you softly, “You must be so important to them for them to give you something that rare.”

Raphael

He disapproves at first, muttering about how reckless it is to carry powerful demonic remnants.

But when he realizes it’s out of love, not greed, he relents.

He won’t say it aloud, but watching you wear them makes him respect both you and the bond you’ve formed.

Mephistopheles

Snorts when he sees it. “Hah, so you’ve gone and made yourself into a walking trophy case for them?”

Pretends to be unimpressed, but his eyes linger on the way you carry their pieces.

Secretly touched—it’s clear you mean more to them than you ever will to him, and that realization makes him oddly quiet.

Thirteen

Whistles when you ask—“Wow, you’ve really got guts, don’t you?”

Thinks it’s badass you’re bold enough to want such rare parts.

Jokes about giving you one of her bones to wear around your neck, then laughs—though the idea of you carrying her like that makes her strangely flustered.

[gennabi]

Also very frustrating as a show producer in certain cultural arts when you are trying to advertise tge show and people feel like they're not allowed to come because theyre not from the culture.

Please come to the drag show even if youre cishet.

Please come to the bellydance showcase even if youre not Middle Eastern.

Please come to the Asian Festival if youre not Asian.

Please dance at the drum circle if youre not African.

If the event is being publicly advertised, you're invited. We want you to come if you intend to come respectfully. If you are asking 'am I allowed,' youre probably bot gonna be disrespectful. Please fill the seats. Cultural events have trouble with attendance sometimes because people who would be curious to go get shy about it. Please go to things that are curious to you. Your presence is not a burden.

I have yet to be kicked out of anything (unless you count the bathroom at a gas station that one time.)

[gennabi]

Big smile

[gennabi]

itching to draw others' beloveds sooooo.... commissions are now open~!! ☆ (>ᴗ0 )

more info under the cut

a share would help me out so muchh, thank you in advance 💖

[gennabi]

we talk a lot about sex positive asexuals on this site but i never see much discussion about sex repulsed allosexuals. if you find people attractive yet can't enjoy sex for whatever reason, i wish you a happy comfortable life. you're not broken or missing anything. i love you.

[gennabi]

[gennabi]

what? oh sweetheart no, you're not weirding me out at all. you're weirding me in. keep talking, freak

[gennabi]

Just for tonight.

Pairing: Wanderer x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: you sneak into the Wanderer’s bed while he ‘sleeps’

It wasn’t the first time you watched him sleep. Or rather, pretend to sleep.

The Wanderer didn’t need rest, and you knew that well. But lately, he’d been lying down for a few hours every night. Closing his eyes, staying still. Almost like he was imitating something human. Maybe it was a habit. Maybe he did it for you.

You wanted to touch him. Not in the romanticized way stories tell it. You just wanted to be close. Run your fingers through his hair. Lean on his chest. Feel that he was real. Tangible.

But you never really did.

His presence always felt distant. Every time your hand got too close, he’d stiffen. Sometimes he’d give you a cold look. Other times, he’d pull away like it was nothing. And you’d smile, pretending it was fine, even though your chest tightened a little more every time.

But tonight... tonight felt different.

The house was dark, windows shut against Sumeru’s warm night. A light breeze moved the curtains. You stepped into the room quietly, holding your breath.

He was already lying down, facing away from the door. One arm under the pillow. Completely still.

He didn’t move when you came in. Didn’t say a word.

It was his silent way of saying, “You can stay.”

You moved closer slowly, sat down on the edge of the bed carefully. His dark blue hair spread messily on the pillow, soft and a little tousled. His face seemed calm, or maybe just empty. Distant, but close enough to feel the energy he gave off.

You wanted to touch him.

With all your heart, you wanted to.

But you were afraid to ruin the moment.

You lay down next to him, slow and cautious. Close enough to feel his body’s warmth, but careful not to press too much. Your heart pounded in your ears, your hands shook.

You didn’t dare reach for him. Not yet.

You watched him secretly. He looked relaxed. His shoulders weren’t tense. No harsh words. No rejection.

So you took the risk.

With the delicacy of someone crossing a sacred line, you stretched out your hand.

Just your fingertips, grazing the sleeve of his pajamas. The fabric felt cool.

He didn’t move.

You got closer. Your hand slid gently down his arm. The touch was light, but your chest tightened.

Minutes passed. Your breathing slowed. You rested your head lightly on his shoulder, your arm wrapped around his waist. And when he still didn’t move...

You let your fingers glide respectfully, touching the fabric, running through his hair, tracing the curve of his shoulder. You wrapped him in a silent hug, with gentle strokes and everything you’d held back for so long.

And finally, comforted by the closeness you’d always longed for, you fell asleep.

He didn’t open his eyes right away. But he noticed the difference immediately.

Your weight, soft and warm, pressed against him. Your steady, slow breath. Your hand clutching the robe like a promise.

He could have pushed you away. He could have said something cold, like he always did.

But he didn’t.

“So impatient,” he thought. “And yet so silent.”

Your face was hidden on his chest, a leg lightly tangled with his. It was disarming—how your body fit against his like it was part of him. Natural. Human.

It irritated him.

It unsettled him.

And yet... he didn’t move.

He stayed there in the quiet room, staring at the ceiling, listening to your breathing rhythm.

Trying not to feel anything.

But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so bad.

Hour passed.

You slept without moving. Your body curled around his. Trusting. Defenseless.

It tightened his throat.

You didn’t realize how dangerous that closeness could be.

But you were his. And a part of him, even if he’d never admit it, had to accepted it all.

He let you sleep.

Longer than he expected.

Longer than he wanted to admit.

And when he finally decided to wake you, he didn’t do it with words.

He slowly lifted a hand, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. Then he bent down and kissed your forehead.

Then your temple.

Then the corner of your eye.

And finally, on your lips.

His kisses were light but intentional, each one like an old secret carefully revealed.

You moved a little, still asleep.

Your eyelashes fluttered, your breath shifted.

You blinked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Mmm…?”

He stayed there above you, watching you.

His purple eyes were calm, but beneath the surface was something deeper, something he didn’t want to show.

“You slept on me,” he said in a low, flat voice.

You tried to sit up, clearly embarrassed. “I-I didn’t mean to-”

His hand gently pushed you back down.

“Stay down,” he said. “I’m not done waking you up.”

And he kissed you again.

On the cheek. Then behind your ear.

Then he rested his forehead against yours, closed his eyes, and breathed slowly.

He didn’t say more. But it was clear:

“Don’t get used to this.”

He would never say those words out loud.

But in the way he let you sleep.

In the way he kissed you now, like he’d counted every second you were asleep...

You already knew the answer.