#I like the idea that she didn’t know she was trans until coming out of the chrysalis

[onsomekindofstartrek]

I ship Delenn/Susan, but like, in the alternate timeline of the pilot, where Delenn was a trans woman that presented as male in season one and then transitioned at the same time as becoming human in the triluminary chrysalis.

It puts such a different cast on the scenes where Susan is (mostly offscreen) bathing her, teaching her how to take care of her hair and so on. Idk maybe it goes along with a trans!Susan headcanon, which isn’t something I’ve really thought about but actually I kind of love it.

[oceanxveiined]

 Genshin Verse Side Muses:

*Mentions of abuse, dysfunctional families, manipulation, torture, violence, experimentation, ableism, transphobia, and death, not necessarily all present/to various extents depending on each bio, ahead.

1) Chang Da’Lun (500+/appears 23): Half-Adeptus, born some time before the Cataclysm. He can shift into a smaller birdlike form at will, though it does take a bit out of him to switch back. It doesn’t stop him from shifting into it on his own or a friend's whim though.

          His father was a Yaksha named Wuye, alias Caligo, who had inevitably become consumed by his karmic debt and became more akin to a malevolent demon. Though admittedly, the adeptus had already possessed quite the cruel streak, even long before he’d fallen. Being driven mad by the karmic debt meant his slaughters turned to fellow adepti and humans alike, which had also grown to be far more frequent and brutal. Each consumed opponent led his power to grow as he’d absorb their vitality and any abilities they possessed.

          By contrast Da’lun’s mother, Anhe, had been fully human, having been with a group of treasure hunters who’d taken her from her family in ransom when they’d strayed too close to the maddened Yaksha’s territory. When they had realized and tried to sneak away, she risked her life to draw Wuye out and betrayed them all in a desperate bid for freedom and power. She offered them all to be slaughtered and devoured by the corrupted Yaksha, as well as to offered to lure more to satisfy his bloodlust for incentive to make him spare her own life. She even offered to be his mate as well, to let herself be used by him as he saw fit, sparing no expense to give anything and everything she could to ensure she survived this encounter. He conceded out of convenience, taking her as promised and continuing his slaughters about Wuwang Hill with her aid.

          Anhe delighted in having his favor, even with how terrified of him she’d been at first, growing more and more sadistic herself with every massacred he’d rend, every death scream that filled her ears while she remained unscathed. The thrill of power and having a mate so powerful to keep it was too alluring and far too intoxicating, she would never dream of ever parting from him.

         Only for her to end up alone and powerless anyway when the former Yaksha was killed shortly after the birth of Da’Lun.

         Much of his childhood had been Anhe relentlessly tormenting him, using him as a scapegoat for how her life had fallen apart and due to having been affected by his father’s karmic debt as well ( both in her continued presence alongside him up until that point and in stubbornly lingering at his lair where the miasma was all concentrated rather than returning home with him gone ). Da’Lun took the abuse without protest, wholeheartedly believing her and his own guilt. He spent his whole life striving to ‘make up’ for his existence, in bringing her gifts and attempting to make her life easier every way he could. To protect and provide for her as his father had intended.

         It all came to a crashing stop when his mother at last succumbed to the cursed energy infesting their home. Or so he tells himself and anyone who ponders of her fate, not wanting to admit he himself had killed and devoured her. It had been when she’d tried to end his life first and the resulting corruption of them both had his adeptal nature spiraling out of control during the struggle. His Electro Vision had been what had ultimately murdered her, bestowed upon him during his struggle as she denounced and cursed him, which he hadn’t realized until the morning after.

         Plagued with guilt and fear, and knowing he must have taken on her share of the karmic debt's influence, his father's ability considered, he traveled Teyvat to distance himself from his former home for a few years. For 500 years, he witnessed beauty and horrors alike throughout it all, before he decided to settle some time in Sumeru. His main aim had been to learn all he could on humans and their histories ( learning from each Darshan over the course of the centuries he’d spent there, changing his appearance every time he’d reapply ), as well as to pass the time in a way that would not aggravate lingering traces of his father’s influence. It was while he learnt from the Amurta Darshan when he met Danae. With time to spare, and admittedly intrigued by the utter madness of her ideas and her equally frenzied determination to see such impossible fantasies made reality, he signed a contract to assist her in any endeavors she may undertake for them, as she would his own, per its terms. They would maintain it dedicatedly before briefly parting ways when her illicit studies were discovered.

         He himself remained at the Akademiya mere weeks before deciding his life had dulled too much without her odd ideas and eccentric ( not to mention at times exceedingly cruel ) methods, setting off to travel again in search of her. Traveling through his homeland, he would come to meet Ozzy, whom he would follow to Mondstadt, after he’d found him interesting company, especially when the man would encourage him to not feel so wary of the karmic debt’s influence. There, he would become a founding member of his gang when it resulted that the man’s interest had been likewise piqued and thus given him the invitation to stay.

          Ozzy was able to locate and drag Danae into his business thanks to Da’Lun’s scheming and using the terms of their contract to rope her in.

         What could he say? He would be a fool to let one of his favorite toys go. Just as he would the chance to see what would come out of putting so many volatile little components together.

           Surely the end result would be most spectacular indeed.

Oswald “Ozzy” Beauregard / Ásvaldr Bjornsson (appears early 20s): One of the remaining survivors of Khaenri’ah, though he keeps that card very close to his chest, having fled the nation after the surviving the Cataclysm. Only Da’Lun is actually aware of said fact, due to their shared longevity and closer bond compared to many of the others. If asked of his origin, he will always give the half-truth that he is of the Sumeru region. He currently gets a kick out of pretending to work for himself at his little tavern named Fleur de Nuit, from where his gang operates under the guise of a legitimate business.

         Stricken with immortality, Ozzy tends to push the limits of what said immortality will do for him, especially since his perception of pain and danger has been skewed severely by his curse. For the longest time, he had wandered about the desert and Sumeru’s forests, picking fight after fight using the very Abyssal energies he’d been corrupted with. Even with no formal combat training outside teachings he learnt as apprentice mage ( these very learnings being the reason he was was to maintain his appearance as it was, without succumbing to the curse of wilderness ), his increasingly frenzied manner tended to allow him to prove a match for the hilichurls, Eremites, and Treasure Hoarders he encountered, leaving brutalized corpses and wreckages in his wake, and plenty a scar to mar his own body. Some of which healed worse off than others due to his inability and gradual lack of real want to properly care for himself. Eventually, he would be found and formally taken in by the Fatui when he had too grievously injured to fight them off.

Not that he would have wanted to even if he could, considering how much they piqued his interest.

        He had been with them long before Danae had joined, having willingly surrendered himself to be experimented on by Dottore out of boredom and curiosity to see what the man could get out of it. As well as a vain hope to possibly stave off his Erosion and keep his mind with the Abyssal energies eating away at it when his own treatments would prove increasingly inefficient. Needless to say, Ozzy’s sanity had still taken quite the toll throughout the centuries he’s been alive, and the outright torture he faced through the time he’d been with them had truly not helped in the least. Especially not while being injected with god remains had steadily twisted up his mind, more and more. The Abyssal energy he’d already been afflicted with had ironically been what helped keep himself through it though, allowing him to fully assimilate the god’s lingering energy into himself and steady his condition.

         When Danae had decided to desert the Fatui, she broke Ozzy out from containment and left him an experimental Delusion to have him serve as a diversion so she could escape, figuring he would have some exploitable grudge that would prompt him to seek vengeance. And he served his purpose well, slaughtering Fatuus after Fatuus he encountered with the three tail-like, bladed chains he could manifest from it. He did so with great delight and utmost zeal, damn near like an animal in frenzy. But in truth, he really cared not for getting even. He rather merely wanted enrichment, as he called it.

         While Danae had figured the Delusion would simply kill him in the end, his own longevity and the god remains he’d assimilated allowed him to use the Delusion so freely without truly debilitating consequences, though still at certain cost to his body after particularly prolonged usage. It severely aggravates the place with the god remains had been injected, low at his right side where the Abyssal energy was at its highest concentration. Due to it also being the place of his most severe wound and one of the ones that truly never healed properly, it leaves him feeling as though something had been gouged right out every time he’d stop its use. Still, in the moment of that first use, all he could think of was the thrill of the fighting and being able to run about, free at last. To this day, that very thrill is what keeps him using it, even knowing the painful consequences.

         The euphoric high he felt back then lead him to completely destroy the location all together, both in his own kills and in tampering the delicate machinery that would consume the rest of the location along with it in the ensuing explosions. He himself made his getaway before the destruction caught him up along with everything else, after finding and bringing along a fellow victim ( not that he consciously saw himself as such ) of the Fatui experiments.

         After hearing tales of Monstadt, her homeland, the idea of a nation whose Archon had no real say in its ruling appealed to him greatly, Thus, he would hijack and man a Fatui ship to gain leave off Inazuma, heading to the Southern side of Liyue, and making their journey back to Mond that way.

         Ozzy’s aim in making the gang had solely been to collect interesting people to surround himself with, nothing more nothing less. Something to help stave off ennui and keep his mind sharp; a little pet project he could maintain or ruin at his leisure when the time came. It only became a formal organization incidentally, but he finds it a decent pastime to run it and especially the business he and Da’Lun came up with as a front. Especially when he genuinely ended up attached to a certain select few, though he maintains it is only out of how entertaining the lot of them are, themselves and with him.

          Due to past experiences, particularly what he witnessed during the Cataclysm, he has a mild to severely violent visceral reaction to fire based abilities; which is only worsened by his love of deliberately avoiding triggering his own phobia and habit of gambling with extreme stakes, typically involving fire in some way.

         What sort of gambling man would he be if he let something like that stop him, after all?

Elisabeth “Eliza” Merrimack (18) - A Mondsadt-born girl whose family lineage traces back to the Imunlaukr clan, after the clan had broken up due to a schism. Originally Visionless, she would gain a Dendro Vision ( chronologically set late in the events of the Sumeru Archon Quest ) and take up Catalyst-based combat.

         The eldest daughter of her main family at the time, she had a horse riding accident in her youth that left her paraplegic, exhibiting little to no movement in her legs even after treatment at the church. The fact that it had taken them some time to get her there, seeing as she had been lost for days, was probably behind it. Regardless, her family despaired at the incident, frantically trying everything they could to heal her, even as the church insisted nothing could be done. Even as she herself tried to reason it was alright; that she didn't need to be, having accepted their verdict when her family could not. And they never truly did.

         When she was fifteen, the Merrimacks ultimately accepted an offer from the Fatui to aid them ( though in hindsight, Eliza couldn’t but wonder if it had been seen as an excuse to have them take her off their hands ), and carted her off far from home. Betrayed at her family giving her away so easily, especially after she realized they would not check up on her or visit, Eliza at last fell into despair after seeing what awaited her at the hands of the Fatui. Her parents had been lied to, after all–Eliza had not been taken in to receive care, instead becoming subjected to experiments with god remains like every other subject they got their hands on.

          And no one would be aware of that to come save her. Assuming they would even care to try if they did.

         Things began to change years later after meeting Danae, who was assigned to oversee her. To be precise, Danae had at first been in charge of her post-op treatments, ensuring the effects of the experiments didn’t disrupt her vitals and in keeping her alive overall. They began to know more of each other and interact after the then Fatuus had been promoted and would have her as an exclusive subject, due to her ideas and personal project.

          Even with how callous Danae could be, she and Eliza eventually came to get along well due to Eliza coming to understand Danae’s wordless gestures and tough-love care after the former had begun to get attached to Eliza. Said care usually being in the form of snuck treats and material comforts. It wasn’t until later on in their friendship that Eliza learned it had been because she reminded Danae of her younger brother, that she had specifically requested to oversee her treatments because she wanted to help her like she'd intended to help him. Learning why and how she intended to do that did embitter Eliza rather than endear her though.

That said, they truly became each other’s first real friend and confidante after Eliza had been–even if gruffly–encouraged by Danae to start speaking up for herself and the first thing Eliza did was tell her off for thinking she ought to ‘fix’ her and any other person, for that matter. It had been a gut reaction based on Eliza’s own resentment of how her family regarded her as well as the god remains in her acting up due to her agitation.

         Still, even while the burst of temper had startled Eliza, it had been enough for Danae to not only respect the girl, but also to begin to doubt her own goals. Most notably, it was enough to prompt the Fatuus to pick up her old ideas anew rather than continuing the original experiment plan she’d had altogether, choosing to help make amends in fashioning Eliza a special wheelchair to take her out for enrichment. Not that Danae would ever admit that’s what it had been for, even in present day, but Eliza understood and was grateful for it all the same.

            The day Danae broke out, she had actively tried to reach Eliza to bring her along, but was unable to in the chaos she’d wrought and severely underestimated. Thinking her dead, she prioritized her own survival and left without a second thought.

           Eliza hadn’t realized she’d been abandoned once again, rather had been merely confused by the happening and chaos around her. She patiently awaited Danae to come, trusting the Fatuus to soon fill her in and protect her if need be. Instead, it was the newly freed Ozzy who had found Eliza and offered to bring her along after having slaughtered her guards and in hearing her request to see the stars outside before he ‘put her out of her misery’ had moved him.

          And especially because she then tried to cut his throat the instant he got close enough to try and carry her.

          After convincing her he did want to bring her along, not kill her, she at last conceded and let him take her away from the wreckage of the lab. Eliza's tales of her home nation had been the reason Ozzy had chosen to settle there, and she was more than happy to return with him, though flares ups of the god remains in her did pose some problems both were unsure of how to handle. Not that he trusted anyone in Teyvat to be able to take care of her as they should, especially considering how she’d ended up in the Fatui’s hands in the first place.

         Still, she is grateful he took it upon himself to allow her to stay by his side as his ward, even while she couldn’t offer him much in return in terms of fighting skill, money, or knowledge besides that of her home. When he founded his gang, she did find purpose in aiding with the logistics aspect of running the front for his gang, using the learnings of her youth. Without her, it would have fallen apart from the start, Ozzy would always say, leaving her giddy with excitement and her heart full. After finding and enacting a solution to quell the unstable god remains in her ( taken place post-Sumeru archon quest, story-wise ), she would start taking a more active role in the gang as aid to their resident healer. In addition, her wheelchair would be adapted for combat, to suit her needs and her Vision’s abilities.

          She is well aware that elemental concentrations worsen the god remains' extreme and dangerous flare ups, but she still constantly insists upon staying with everyone else in the gang and utilizing a soothing device relying on Elemental energy anyways. She’d rather spend it in comfort and with her friends, even the lot of them encourage her to when she frets what could come out of it ( even Ozzy telling her the risk of that danger is exactly why they are so comfortable was a twisted solace that wound up giving her more confidence to accept her wants to be with them ). Once the traces of god remains in her would be sealed off enough, she is able to head out with them with her wheelchair from that point on, as well as set at ease her fears of hurting them. She still feels chronic flares up of pain due to her affliction, but with less risk of it going out of control and killing her dear friends, she can bear it a lot easier.

          After all she’d been through, this was nothing. Nothing, in the face of being able to smile and delight in her life to the fullest once more.

Durene (19): Hailing from Natlan, Durene is a demigodess, born from the union of a mortal man, Jevaun, and a nature godess Jaladri, whom he had ensnared with a talisman along with several of his friends and fellow warriors when her tempests had threatened their home village. She had fallen for him when he had been watching over her, and had been the kindest of her captors, eventually conceding to be his wife after enough time in his company, as well as certain courtship of his had won her over.

          Even while bound to human form, Jaladri had been content in their union at first, up until her husband began to get exceedingly paranoid and possessive of her following being imbued with several of her blessings that granted him great strength and renown in his tribe. She began to grow miserable, cursing Jevaun and unable to do much to fight him as he was, as her powers had become considerably weaker compared to his over the years, especially after Durene’s birth. And it didn’t help that it was especially so because the man kept her away from the sea, an important source of vitality for her. Still the goddess did not fault her daughter upon her birth, teaching Durene the ways to be a soothsayer and healer so she could properly go through the initiation process and her actual training in the village once she was of the apt age. At the same time, Jevaun had taught Durene the art of war and trained with her every chance he got, hoping his daughter could bring him renown and glory with her exploits in the yearly games.

          Durene took to both her learnings quite well, eager at the thought of being able to contribute to village and her family this way. She particularly excelled in serving as an herbalist and healer, though she did work hard to improve her skills when it came to divination to impress her mother. It always did seem to put Jaladri in a far better mood whenever she did, as well as when she would listen to her mother’s tales of gods and places she’d been, of her life prior to being confined to mortal form. Of their Archon, and her great deeds. More than anything, she loved singing for her mother, songs she learned from her and the others in the village, seeing how her voice seemed to bring the goddess some semblance of solace, when she felt her weakest.

         At twelve years old, Durene had bonded with a Koholasaurus she'd named Aje, who helped her gather materials from the seas and magma caves, often keeping Jaladri company whenever Durene would gather from the land, or while she worked to make her treatments or to preserve her supplies. Around that time, she also learned the full story of her mother’s plight. Horrified and moved, she would elect to repay her mother all she’s taught her in concocting a clever plan to gleam out from her drunken father the location of each piece of the talisman needed to complete the needed ritual and free the goddess. With this knowledge, Durene was able to find and bring them to her mother with Aje's aid. The goddess would aid her in completing the necessary steps once it had all come together. As her bonds would break and her strength returned, Jaladri lamented being unable to take her child with her. Promising to return with a means to ascend her as soon as she could, the goddess would transform into a pillar hundreds of crabs that would scatter into the sea and leave Durene standing alone at the outcropping. Bittersweet and all-too brief as their parting was, she felt content in knowing her mother would be happy at last.

          The good mood would not last long, as Jevaun flew into a deadly rage in realizing what had happened when he awoke to the sounds of a howling sea storm after she returned home.

          His rage did not frighten her, even as he demanded answers. Did the she not care about their village? Of what the goddess would do to them, now that she was free? Of why she’d been confined to mortality in the first place?

Durene truly cared not, insisting Jaladri had borne and suffered enough under his suffocating hold. If they were all to be destroyed in her vengeful wrath, it was for the slight they’d done against her, and thus truly fair.

          Her answers would brand her a traitor in the eyes of her father and, to his claims, their people. To ensure the goddess wouldn’t completely destroy them, he killed Aje and locked Durene away, making made sure Jaladri could never find her and that no one else would in turn ever think to help free her, as no one else would be aware of where she'd 'disappeared' to. As far as anyone knew, she and her Saurian companion had been killed while gathering materials.

          She couldn’t say how much time had passed since he’d left her there. Days, then weeks, then months went by languishing in her prison, in the presence of no one else but her father, whenever he would stop by to bring her food. If her refusal to concede to his pleas to betray her mother and attempts to break out didn’t enrage him enough to leave her to her own devices the next few, that was. It wasn’t until she’d exhausted every desperate, rage and grief-stricken attempt at escaping that Durene formulated a proper plan to escape.

          The next time Jevaun came to see her, he found his daughter seemingly unresponsive. The man freed her from her bonds and frantically attempted to wake her, only to find his daughter conscious after all, taking advantage of his closeness to grab hold of him. The man was only able to catch a brief glimpse of her newly bequeathed Anemo Vision mere moments before she would sap the breath from his lungs. Her face, twisted in every trace of hatred and resentment she felt towards him, was the last thing he’d ever see as he would succumb. Durene would hold no remorse for her actions, even as the village people would come to find her and try to seize her in retaliation.

          Escaping their clutches and leaving them to the mercy of her mother’s wrath, Durene would take to travel about Teyvat as a wandering soothsayer, making a pretty coin on divination and healing. Truly, that whole time she had been seeking a way she may ascend to join her mother, sparing no expense wherever she may go. She'd even forged a binding vow for herself, giving up her tongue, and thus ability to speak in exchange for power. Through her journey, she fostered a particular resentment born in her in Sumeru and the way the Akademiya had gone about managing knowledge at the time ( such as the reason they had rejected entry for her, thinking her to be of the desert folk ). Which lead to her resolving to ensure that place would be the first she may pay a visit to once she reached her goal, to tear it asunder for the offense, seeing as its god would surely not be able to match her when the time came.

          It was in being found by Ozzy in Liyue and being requested to come with him, Eliza, and Da'Lun along the way that she came to have company once more. The final founding member of his gang, she would happily settle in Mond with them. But by no means does this mean she had given up on her goal. With Da'Lun and his influence, as well as the addition of Danae later on, Durene would find use in the team’s members to further seek the information she required for her own ultimate goal. Who knew, perhaps she would just need to be a little more patient, just a little bit longer.

           Well, fine by her. That, she had plenty practice in.

Jaeda Purmizra (18): The daughter of an affluent family in Sumeru and the most recent addition to Ozzy’s gang. She joined them after running away from home and continuously hitching rides on caravans then later merchant ships that guided her to Dorman Port in Mondstadt. From there, she hid among a lucrative-looking delivery, which lead her to Ozzy’s tavern, where she would be promptly caught for having stolen foods from the convoy and attempted to make off with other items to try and sell in the main city. Danae had nearly left her bound and at the complete mercy of Treasure Hoarders as punishment, had Eliza not intervened and personally pleaded her case to Ozzy. He accepted to take Jade in as well, only because he knew it would anger Danae in the process, and because he was intrigued by her Vision in particular,

          Born male and then named Jahar, Jade had been the family’s sole heir and was raised into the role accordingly ( read: impossibly strict ) by her mother. It was thanks to a young servant girl who tended to her every need that she even began to experiment with and realized her actual gender identity. All because the girl had wanted to play dress up and needed a friend to help her, not realizing all the decorum she was breaking in daring to ask the heir, of all people, such a thing.

          It had been quite the relief in realizing it, though, even when she hadn’t been actively searching for it. But to her, it meant everything from then on. And it meant despair, as she continued to masquerade as her mother’s precious only son and heir. She didn’t want to upset her mother, after all, especially since the woman banked so much of her bid for power as head of the family upon her. So she kept that her little secret, playing with the girl and growing up happily alongside her over the years.

         Up until she and the girl had been caught playing.

         The girl had been punished severely for her ‘crime’ and Jade was forced to bear witness to the bloody ordeal for humoring her. Only after the girl was left near death did Jade face her own punishment, the horrid humiliation her mother enforced upon her before an audience of the woman’s closest friends and advisers.

          The anger she felt in seeing the life dwindling in her friend’s eyes and the cruelty she faced ignited a single-minded determination to make every last person in the room pay for her beloved friend's pain, enough to for her to black out, coming to only when her mother had screamed.

Snapping back to consciousness, Jade felt bloodcurdling horror and cathartic relief in realizing she’d burnt her mother’s lovely face beyond recognition, every other cruel person who’d participated in her torment left as naught but charred corpses in her wake. In spotting the gleaming, blood-red gem clutched tightly in her hand.

          She didn’t stay long, stealing her friend away and running away from home with an intent to bring her along. They could make a life together away from them now, she was sure of it. She had a Pyro Vision after all, she was no longer powerless to protect them!

            With the severity of the girl’s wounds though, her friend had little time left. With her last breath, the girl made her promise to live life for the both of them and to be happy. To stay safe, and never let anyone dictate how she may live her life ever again.

          That day, Jahar died along with the servant girl. In his place and bearing the name of that girl to carry on her memory, Jaeda would set off to find that happiness she’d promised.

Mako du Raie (16): A Visionless young heir to a prolific merchant family in Fontaine, and the member who had joined the Snake-Eyes gang before Danae and Tua had. His father, Benshi, had been a doushin from Inazuma and met Mako’s mother, Marie, while she learnt the trade from her father, prior to the Sakoku Decree being fully enacted. Mako is their illegitimate child, though he was claimed to be his mother’s younger brother to save face for the family. As such, he was raised primarily under the strict watch of his grandmother and even stole the title of heir to the family from Marie, due to the story they’d given him.

         He took to his studies like a fish to water, being quite bright and precocious for his age. And in his eagerness to pursue his grandmother’s approval, he went far above and beyond the efforts his mother had ever put into her own. The family agreed he was definitely a far more suitable heir than she as a result, though he avoided his mother’s jealous wrath by asking she be involved in everything he did. Like this, the woman’s temperament was appeased, her going as far as to even take credit behind his talent and boast of him to all who would meet them.

          In all honesty, he would have been content enough handing her the reins of the family, had a business venture to Mondstadt not changed his mind entirely. His mother’s boasting lead to drawing Ozzy’s attention, the man having been seeking a nice, convenient little liaison for his gang’s front. With the boy being as young as he was, not only would he be easy to exploit, but his talent and influence would absolutely prove worth the effort to draw him in, just as he'd hope.

          As such, Da'Lun would be the one to meet and gain his trust. To persuade him to join Ozzy’s gang as their merchant contact. And, to ensure Mako’s position and control over his family’s affairs, Da'Lun would even go as far as to encourage Mako to eliminate each and every family member that could possibly stand in his way of managing it all himself.

           Mako couldn’t help but give in, even with how complacent he’d been before. Even being fully aware of the horrific task he would have to taken on to ensure his control over the family's business and finances. All it took was being given the affection and doting he always wanted, rather than lauded praises for his potential and saccharine-sweet yet ultimately empty words he knew better than to believe. It took one friend, who cared and spoiled him so, to make him turn his previous wishes of simplicity and contentment from before and pursue a more ruthless ambition without a qualm. Even as he gazed into his mother’s dulling eyes, frozen in horror and anguish, he would only feel a strong sense of satisfaction as he stepped over her without a qualm. As he would make his way over to Da'Lun, who would fondly ruffle his hair with genuine praises aplenty before carrying him back to Ozzy’s little haunt.

           He knew full well he was to be used by Ozzy’s group, having realized it early on in Da'Lun’s attempts to worm his way into his heart. But once he’d met with the others in the gang and Ozzy himself, there was no longer a single trace of lingering doubt in his heart that his brutal choice had been in his best interest. Looking at the lot of them gathered to see him, all varying shades of proud of what he’d accomplished, no matter how horrific, he determined the excitement and validation that came with what they did was a lot better than living his life within conventional rules.

            Where else could he feel like he was at the top of the world like this?

Tusitala / Tua (20): Originally hailing from a coastal village in Natlan then migrating to and eventually settling in Liyue due to his father’s relentless pursuit of riches and lack of interest in the wars that ravaged their nation, Tua had been a Treasure Hoarder well before his coming of age. He is rather proud of the fact, too, often boasting of his own successes compared to other factions, especially after he’s fought his way through a group of them in a show of his own Natlanian battle prowess. 

At first it had been at his father’s urging that he joined and stayed with the Treasure Hoarders they’d met up with on their way to Liyue Harbor. It was only to serve as something to make for a side hustle while his father took care of other business dealings at first ( taking care of logistics for that gang while Tua himself got to take on the more dangerous aspects, as he also managed an artifact appraisal business with things Tua and the gang would bring in ), then it became Tua’s sole obsession as his own greed grew, right along his addiction for every victory and bounty he secured them.

         Tua was quite content with this life, thinking himself the luckiest man in the world to have this chance. Even if he did have to surrender near all of his share of their spoils to his father, to quell the man's avarice ( and to ensure the man didn't try and take it all from him, by force or outright theft ). But with what he was allowed to keep or what he managed to squirrel away to pass off as such later, Tua would take to decorating himself handsomely to show off his successes. As such, he’s got several piercings ( many of which he did himself ) along his body, as well as bits of gold embedded in his skin, particularly about his shoulders. He also has a few tattoos to commemorate his victories and his comrades, which glow whenever he uses his Vision.

          Speaking of, his Geo Vision came to him during a show of his conviction to protect his Treasure Hoarder ‘family’ by all means and any costs. In this case, it had been in protecting them from a squadron of Milileth by the skin of his own teeth then later its aid, having chosen to cover them on his own to ensure they could make off with a particularly rich score. Because of it, he became quite popular among them, with the lot thinking he would lead them to the greatest successes and eventually take over rival gangs and become their overall leader.

          The thought strongly appealed to him, enough that he resolved to make it a reality. As leader, he would have a greater right to a bigger share of the spoils, and he could be independent enough to break away from his father, too. And of course, being able to protect his closest comrades and look after them with greater responsibility and authority. That was his greatest desire above all else, one he would swear before them during the celebration of his blessing by the Lord of Geo.

          Though he did eventually fail to keep his promise to them when a conflict with Fatui, and severely underestimating them, left his group all slaughtered or near death, himself included. With his last lingering traces of full consciousness, he lamented not being strong enough to protect them all, and expected to meet his shameful end along with them.

          However his survival had been ensured when Danae had stumbled across the massacre. Though initially focused on eliminating the injured and resting Fatui and with her own hatred of Treasure Hoarders having her near ready to ditch them all as it was, it was due to her having determined his potential usefulness upon noting his Vision that prompted her to nurse him back to health.

          Deliberately leaving all the others to their fates, as she didn’t need them.

          When Tua would ask later after awakening, she would swear they were all goners by the time she had found him. That Tua had supposedly been the only one strong enough to survive because of his Vision.

          Grief would take hold, but he wouldn’t linger on that feeling too much. Not enough for it to consume him, anyways. Not when his savior made him an offer to come with her, a suggestion to carry on in his comrades’ names and honor their memories in continuing to plunder and seek the treasures they'd so craved. Feeling both indebted to her and a thrumming need to protect someone once more now that he was without a family ( he dared not return to his father nor join up with a new Hoarder faction after such a harrowing defeat ), he would choose to follow Danae to Mondstadt.

          Along the way and upon reaching their destination, they would take up mercenary work and end up wrapped up in the group they currently associate with now, after participating in an attempt on the young head of the Snake-Eyes gang alongside others like them. Said hit actually having placed by the young head, Ozzy, himself, using it as a ploy for recruitment to test if Danae had been worth Da'Lun's recommendation to his group. Tua likewise making it out alive alongside her and having demonstrated his immense strength and capabilities had been the icing on the cake. He was more than happy to accept the offer to join after that, no need for incentives or anything.

          Well, okay, maybe the pay grade and further chances to seek riches while with them was a pretty good incentive. That, and being able to take part in a whole new gang he could protect and grow stronger with helped convince him, too. There was something reassuring about being able to protect them them of all people, those who didn’t need to depend wholly on him and could defend themselves should his strength fail them. But would still rely on his skills to add to their own, and truly ensure they would all be okay. And he will make sure they would be. He refused to lose any one of 'his own' ever again, swearing the very same oath he gave his late comrades before.

          He will protect his newfound family, with all he has. Whatever it takes.

Mason Ennosigaeus (17): Sidon’s actual biological child. He was stolen away from his family by Morjena when she had found out of his existence, snatching him during the chaos she'd set off after tricking Eremites into looting the caravan the man's wife had traveled with on her way to the main city. It was a move meant to ensure Danae had no competition to being the man’s heir, especially after the woman and her attendants had been killed in the ensuing struggle. Danae was supposed to kill Mason upon being left with him, as Morjena had thought she’d thoroughly beaten the heart out of her. When it turned out that she hadn’t and even wound up with an attachment to the boy, Mason became an opportunity for Morjena to ensure Danae stuck around, regardless of the abuse she faced, regardless of how much harder she became to control the older she got.

           Mason himself was frequently abused by Morjena while Danae was gone and quickly came to rely on the latter for everything. Not that it necessarily meant he was entirely helpless. His weak constitution left him frail as it was, sure, but in truth, Danae never failed to endlessly dote on him every chance she was home to see him, even going as far as to sacrifice her own meals for his sake. She would even forgo sleep to guard him against Morjena as best she could, and when she did, she would deliberately sleep in a way that if the woman pulled anything, she would be the one to take the brunt of her mother’s abrupt assaults. Every little thing he could ever want or need and THEN some was his at his command, and without hesitation. He need only ask. She couldn't offer him comforts like reassurances and gentleness, but this, this she could do for him. And he was wholly all for it, appreciating the one good thing he had amid the horrid life he was stuck in.

             Inevitably, her boundless devotion and their environment twisted him up as badly as it had her, albeit in a different way. The one who truly wound up heartless and cruel, through and through, just as Morjena was, had been him.

          He may come off as shy and unassuming but in truth, he is twice as vicious and self-serving as Danae, behind the gentle demeanor. He is the one person who can ask of her to do anything at his whim, no matter what it is, no matter how hurt she would end up in the process. And he's used that, time and again to sic her on whoever it was he so chose, be it strangers for his own amusement or even people he's realized she started to get a little too close to, in selfish need to ensure she wouldn't start giving away her loyalties. To test that she truly did mean her loyalties to him, and act accordingly if she hesitated or doubted. In his eyes, he still needed her to survive, after all. Especially after an encounter with hilichurls had nearly taken his life, and had cost him his legs just above his knees, even after being rushed to Birmastan.

          At the same time, he is also the person others could use to strongarm Danae into damn near anything if they hold him captive, as any threats to him lead her to be all to eager to comply for his safety ( though woe betide those who lose him as a bargaining chip at any point during ). He is the One and Only Thing she has left to lose, but the feeling is not mutual. It hasn’t been from the moment she’d left him at the Akademiya on his own.

          Even having been left in the lap of luxury when she'd been forced to flee, being torn from her side and the endless doting, from his greatest asset, left him stewing in a resentful rage. His bitterness and broken heart earned him a Cryo Vision amid the enraged outburst within his room, gleaming enticingly within the wreckage of her final gift to him. That Vision, however, he deemed the greatest gift of all, and one he thoroughly believes was the Tsaritsa’s personal wish to him and show of support.

         As such, as of earning his Vision, he swiftly abandoned the idea of staying at the Akademiya. Instead, he sought to join the Fatui, using his power as incentive to be kept of use to them alongside the Cicin Mages. Though he was sure to mask what he did, telling Danae he got to travel for his studies so she never suspects. So her constant stream of money and gifts from afar never end, having them brought to him by agents he roped into his whims that happened to be stationed in Sumeru.

          In learning she had also once joined the Fatui only to abruptly disappear, he knew before any of the lot that she was still alive, and elected to keep this fact to himself, to ensure none of his comrades could seek out and find her. However his intentions are far from protective out of any genuine concern. He has full intentions to personally hunt her down and make her face the full consequences for abandoning him. And the Fatui, too, of course. But if possible, he would like to be the one to bring her end himself. To look her right in the eyes as he would use his Vision to make of her a pristine statue for himself to keep.

         Maybe then she’ll actually keep her promise to never leave his side.

[darkcircles4lyfe]

What are your thoughts on the recent chapter?

This is a pretty vague ask but I’m pretty sure I received it yesterday. If not… oops?

I’m actually so excited for the next—that is, the second to last—chapter as someone who was deeply affected by chapters 391-395 and who just loves Toga Himiko in general, so so much. I’ve really grown to love Ochako’s arc too and I’ve come to trust the process here. I didn’t know about everyone freaking out until after I read 428 officials yesterday, and I’m not worried like that. We’ve been in this type of cliffhanger situation multiple times before.

The news that the end of Himiko’s and Ochako’s fight wasn’t recorded hit me hard, just like it hits Ochako, because the world doesn’t get to know who Himiko really is. There’s nothing Ochako could say on her behalf that would compare to actual footage of her pain, anger, joy, love, sorrow, and sacrifice.

…which is to say, Himiko does not serve as a martyr, a tragic, cautionary example. I’ll remind you that that was what the PLF reporter wanted her to be, and she was controlling and patronizing. Let’s think about this as a choice Horikoshi is making, to discard the only ammunition he had to make Himiko into an example and have it be even remotely compelling and satisfying. Boom, gone. There’s no footage. Why?

On the other hand, this is actually an advantageous turn of events if it turns out Himiko survived, because more calculated actions can be taken to keep her safe. I’m starting to see this as a turning point not necessarily for society as a whole, but for the hero profession and its purpose, wherein under Hawks’ leadership the hero commission could become the exact opposite of what it was. It’s no accident that the first half of this chapter is devoted to showing how the next generation and the public were both ~so inspired~ by class A’s actions in a way that mimics the chain of inspiration that motivated class A to begin with. Only this time, Ochako and Izuku are deeply uncomfortable with it! They don’t want this chain reaction to keep going the same way forever. These people look at them and have no idea what they’re actually going through or what they’ve seen. Future heroes who don’t know the real story. That’s very upsetting. Now they are starting to see firsthand how a pattern of collective forgetting is perpetuated. It won’t change until someone like Himiko is actually saved. No bright future without a place for her in it.

I’m excited because this chapter directly confirms Ochako’s awkward, overly cheerful mask for what it is, as it finally starts to crumble. In hindsight, she’s probably done this a lot in the past as well. It casts her whole character in a new light. She and Himiko are so much alike in this way.

I still have high hopes for this storyline because of how much it resonates with me as a queer allegory. Of course, Himiko is also literally queer, but I mean the symbolic stuff about her quirk and her family’s rejection. As a trans person who spent a long time in the closet convincing everyone around me that I was a normal, happy girl, whose pain and rage only festered and grew stronger, who was perceived as selfish and destructive, who was determined to live for myself but still doubted if I had any future at all… I see Himiko’s story as so perfect, so real, that I can’t imagine it ending poorly. And it doesn’t have shit to do with canonizing that ship, either. I’m not worried.

[tanadrin]

Imagine one day a new social trend starts spreading. It’s something unbelievably dumb. Not harmful per de, but truly silly to believe. Let’s say, I dunno, healing crystals start going mainstream. Everybody’s talking about their crystals. It becomes impolite to criticize people who believe in healing crystals. They become a big part of people’s personalities, and people on TV start talking about them, and one day years down the line politicians are debating funding for crystal-based medicine. And through it all you are sitting there going, what the fuck is happening. I thought we were all on the same page on this. You want to get along and be friendly and open minded but you cannot pretend to believe in healing crystals, this is nonsense, and when the topic comes up you refuse to lie about it. This eventually starts to have social consequences—they’re that popular!—but what can you do? You cannot pretend a lump of quartz can cure the flu or whatever. It’s just all so unbearably embarrassing.

I think what the centrist/liberal/center-left reactionary turn driven by culture war stuff feels like. And I think the key emotion is probably cringe. Not hate, not fear, though those emotions may reinforce the turn. I think in a lot of cases people who imagine themselves pretty open minded and flexible have as part of their worldview something they thought was bedrock social consensus—on the level of “healing crystals are silly woo”—so bedrock maybe that it didn’t even need to be a conceptual boundary they actually policed in their minds.

For instance, when she started her anti-trans turn, JK Rowling made a big show of not being really anti trans, just arguing that Some People Had Gone Too Far. She wasn’t a frothing religious reactionary, after all. And I believe that’s probably true! I think Rowling probably did have a mental model of sex and gender with a little bit of give in it—of the “we can humor the odd weirdo” type. But as the discussion of trans rights in the UK got more serious over her lifetime, trans people went from “the odd weirdo” to “a recognized minority,” and eventually this ran against a bedrock belief that on some level men are men and women are women and never the twain shall meet. To act otherwise was just too embarrassing. And she wasn’t going to embarrass herself in the name of political correctness.

Other people whose brains have been eaten by the anti-woke mind virus (as @eightyonekilograms calls it) have something going of the contrarian in them, who enjoys yelling “up yours, woke moralists!” or w/e. Im thinking of ppl like Glenn Greenwald here, or Dave Chapelle, people who seem not to feel alive except when people are mad at them. That’s a separate but interesting dynamic. And there are people like Graham Linehan who become totally unhinged through this process of auto-radicalization, moths drawn ever closer to a particular source of validation within their chosen reactionary subcommunity, until they are truly parodies of themselves. That is also an important dynamic, but it’s one that only takes hold after the initial turn has begun.

I think the role of that feeling of cringe, that refusal to entertain an idea because it is too embarrassing (even if it does actually have a decent body of research behind it, unlike crystals) is important to think about, because I am interested in how to get people over it. I know that feeling has affected my own thinking over my lifetime. I wasn’t raised particularly conservative, but I had to learn not to cringe at a lot of feminist thought before I could appreciate it and learn from it. I explicitly didn’t have that cringe when it came to gay people for whatever reason, so it never entered my mind that it might be a problem. I remember being surprised to learn when I was very young that some boys wanted to marry other boys, but my response was “huh. Go figure.” Because for whatever reason I had not picked up that this was something I was supposed to be grossed out by. A general doctrine of empathy, of trying to understand people on their own terms, can help forestall some of this stuff, but it’s not foolproof in either direction—I don’t want to believe crystals have healing powers if it becomes socially popular to do so, just because it is socially popular to do so! And if they do, I don’t want to not believe they do just because it is socially unpopular!

(Obviously the crystals thing is not a one to one metaphor for the trans thing, so don’t read too much into that. Maybe astrology would have been a better analogy. Also I’m not talking just about people whose reactionary turn is predicated on trans issues—I think this dynamic applies to everything from gay rights to the Tridentine Mass. But trans issues are a handy example bc, as the adage goes, somebody posts once about trans people and they never post anything normal again. I think the classic rapid-onset trans derangement syndrome is closely tied to the fact that gender norms are a really deep element of many people’s social-consensus-based worldview, and so challenged to that worldview are felt as really cringe.)

I’m curious if other people who grew more liberal in their thinking over time had a similar experience of having to overcome what was basically a feeling of embarrassment at certain ideas.

[onedeadkitty]

Mizus Gender

He/him they/them she/her pronouns for Mizu

I know the writers of the show wrote blue eye samurai with Mizu as a woman disguised as a man in a way similar ish to Mulan but uh

They accidentally made it deeper than that ??

If you removed like 2 lines of dialogue in episode 5 you could even make an argument for trans masc Mizu. Or at the least gender queer.

Being transgender is not a concept in this time period. But trust. People have always wanted to be other genders, probably for the entirety of human history. And how someone would go about being trans in a world with no true understanding of the concept, might be similar to what Mizu IS DOING RIGHT NOW.

Living as a man. PERMANENTLY. Not temporarily to achieve some near goal like Mulan and the many other stories with this concept. Mizu has lived as a man nearly their entire life and no intention to ever live as a woman in the future.

Mizu admires their freshly binded chest in the mirror as a teen.

When alone Mizu refers to himself as a man.

When alone with Ringo, (someone who knows the secret) Ringo also refers to Mizu as a man.

Mizu threatens to straight kill Ringo at the the very use of the word “girl”.

When, and ONLY when seeing 2 MEN kiss does he think of Taigen.

Not to mention madame Kajis indelicate insinuation of gay sex to Mizu, something I believe wasn’t for no reason. OR Madams iconic line “you are more man than ANY come through my door” (I’m convinced she has an idea of Mizus true sex but doesn’t care to accuse or call them out for it)

They HAD lived as a woman in the past. Only for about a year, and they did it to get married for her mothers sake. To save her from a life of prostitution. She was able to be happy, because it IS POSSIBLE to be happy while not presenting how you like. It’s a strain and some can never be happy doing so but it’s possible and people do it all the time to make their lives easier or to keep the peace with family or for many other reasons.

Episode 5 gave HUGE VIBES of going back into the closet when living with your parents or just visiting. And Mizu looked SO uncomfortable and awkward in woman’s clothing and doing “wife things” (partly cause they have never done that before) and maybe it was my own projecting but I felt so uncomfortable FOR Mizu.

These things don’t necessarily mean being a transgender man specifically. Gender is actually really complicated and has ALOT to do with what society deems it.

Mizu is a masculine person. Being what Japan wants women to be isn’t in line with what Mizu is. A violent, practical, stoic, cold, masculine, confident and capable warrior.

dressing up as a woman with the makeup ONLY to try and make her husband happy. She didn’t WANT to. “To soften her husbands heart, the bride… danced” performed femininity FOR HIM. Only for Mikio to betray her for, in his eyes, being more masculine than him, by beating him in a physical fight.

Mizu is both the ronin and the bride. Mizu will be whatever they need to in order to achieve their owed deaths. They HAVE to be a man to get their revenge but that doesn’t mean Mizu WANTS to be a woman. (To be fair who WOULD in that time but I digress) and it doesn’t mean they WANT to be a man. They WANT their revenge. Everything is secondary to that.

Mizu is so different from other characters…

I grew up in a kinda misogynistic place and my mom really didn’t let me “do boy stuff” or dress masculine in any sense until my late teens. I my self don’t know if I can even call myself Trans. But I’m masculine, I like looking like a man and dressing as one but I don’t WANT to be a man necessarily. But I don’t WANT to be a woman. I feel like we as a society put to much distinction between the two and the people who don’t fit either side get left out at times.

Mizu is such a relatable character to me, like no other characters complicated feelings about their own sex and gender have ever come close.

They are for those who don’t have a strong sense of their own gender. Especially those who are biologically female and hesitant to lean into their sex because of the societal baggage.

Once people realize that how you dress, how you act, and what you do in reality have nothing to do with your bio sex and everything with what society has forced people to do based on factors out of our control is the day we can finally stop having these conversations.

Do what you want, gender is fake.

But Mizu is forever 🫶

[0o-junebug-o0]

I know you don't see Emily as anything but a lesbian but could you possibly do a trans reader? It can trans non-binary or masc like a demi boy, but they're afraid to come out to Emily because she is very open that she's gay?

Here you go!

genre: angst and fluff, hurt/comfort

cw: coming out, trans masc!reader, no use of y/n, panic attacks

wordcount: 1.2k

You pace back and forth across the living room, taking deep, steadying breaths to try to calm yourself. You groan in frustration and sit on the edge of the couch, burying your head in your hands. You can feel your hands shaking.

You’re terrified. You’ve been dating Emily for almost two years. You live together. How do you tell her you’re not the girl she started dating? And you have no idea what it will mean for your relationship when you do. Emily is a lesbian. She likes women. And you’re not a woman. 

You lean back and run your hands over your chest, reveling in the flatness. Your binder arrived three weeks ago. You had made sure it would be delivered while Emily was on a case. You immediately hid it, and have only worn it while Emily is out of town and there’s no chance of her seeing it. 

It makes you feel so incredibly guilty.

She’s your girlfriend. You shouldn’t be hiding stuff from her. 

You adjust the binder with a grunt. It’s still uncomfortable to wear since you haven’t gotten used to it yet, but it’s worth it. You check your watch. Emily should be home in a few minutes. You don’t want to ambush her with this the second she walks through the door but you’ve been hyping yourself up all week and if you don’t do it soon, you’re not sure you ever will. 

Still, you’re scared. What if she breaks up with you because you’re not a woman? What if she gets mad that you didn’t tell her sooner? What if this makes her hate you?

A panicked sob bubbles up your throat and you curl in on yourself, hugging your stomach to try to calm down. You can feel your heart rate picking up as you gasp for air. 

You force yourself to take deep breaths and the shakiness of each inhale is audible. Then you hear Emily’s key turning in the lock and your panic increases. She’s here, she’s going to see you like this, she’s going to hate you. 

She calls your name from the entryway as she moves around and even though that’s still the name you use, the sound causes a sob to tear from your chest. You hear Emily freeze. You clap a hand over your mouth, and though you desperately want to get up and lock yourself in the bathroom to hide, your body won’t cooperate. 

You hear Emily’s footsteps coming toward the living room and your breathing picks up until you’re hyperventilating and gasping between sobs.

“Woah, hey, hey,” Emily says softly, sitting beside you on the couch. “What’s going on? What happened?” She rests her hand on your back and starts rubbing soothing circles.

You practically shove your body against hers, not caring that you're staining her shirt with your tears, just desperate to touch her in case this is the last time you can. “P-please don’t hate me,” you wail.

“Oh, sweetie,” Emily mutters kindly. “I could never hate you.”

You curl your fingers into the front of her shirt and cling to it like a lifeline. “You don’t—you don’t know that,” you sob.

“I do know that,” Emily reassures you.

You sniff and pull away, untangling your hands from her shirt. You look her in the eyes for a moment, noticing the clear concern written on her face. You lift your hand and hold out your pinkie. “Pi-pinkie promise?” you stutter. You feel like a child for asking, but you’re so desperate for her answer that you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Emily removes her hand from your back and curls her pinkie around yours. “Pinkie promise.”

You sniff again and unlatch your pinkie to rub your face. Emily’s hand returns to your back. 

“I—“ you start. You can feel your chin wobble and you bite on your lower lip to stop it. You bow your head, too afraid to watch the changes in her expression as you tell her. “I’m not a girl.”

You feel Emily’s hand still for a moment before it starts moving again. She doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m non binary. Or at least that’s what feels like it fits. Pl-please, don’t be mad! I understand if you want to break u—"

“Woah, hey,” Emily interrupts. “I’m not mad, I promise. But do–do you want to break up?” Her voice is wary and it shakes slightly.

Your head shoots up to look at her. “No! Never!” you insist. “But I–I thought you might want to.”

“What on Earth could make you think that?” Emily asks. There isn’t a hint of malice or annoyance in her voice. Just curiosity and concern.

“Be-because you’re a lesbian. And I’m not a girl,” you mutter.

“Oh, sweetheart. I don’t care about that,” Emily coos. “You’re so much more important to me than what I call myself. I love you for you, not for your gender. I don’t care what you identify as, I will always love you.”

Tears stream down your cheeks and you wipe them away violently. “Th-thank you,” you gasp.

“Oh, honey.” Emily pulls you against her chest, holding you close and moving her hand to rub up and down your arm. “There’s nothing to thank me for.”

“Yes, there is,” you argue, your voice muffled against her.

Emily presses a kiss to the top of your head instead of arguing. “I do have some questions I want to ask, though, if that’s okay.”

You nod against her chest and tilt your head to look up at her.

She smiles down at you kindly. “Do you, um, do you want to go by a different name?” she asks awkwardly.

You shake your head. 

“What about pronouns?”

“I like they/them, but I’m not sure,” you admit. “And I don’t like being called a girl.”

Emily nods. “Okay. That's good to know. I, um, I might mess up sometimes at first but I promise I'll be doing my best.”

“That’s all I want,” you whisper, and press a kiss to her chin. 

She smiles and lowers her head to catch your lips for a brief kiss.

“How long have you known?” Emily asks softly.

You hum and furrow your brow as you try to think back. “Maybe five months,” you say. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Hey, I’m not upset about that. I could never be. Coming out is hard.”

“I bought myself a binder a few weeks ago too,” you admit.

Emily’s brow furrows in confusion. “A binder?”

You nod. “It’s a compression garment, kind of like a beefed up sports bra, that flattens your chest.” You lean back and run your hands over your chest to show her. “See?”

“Impressive,” Emily says with a slight laugh.

You laugh in response. “Yeah. I, um, I really like it. It makes me happy. And feel right. If that makes sense.”

Emily nods and pulls you in for another kiss. “It does. And I’m glad.”

“You’re the best,” you whisper against her lips.

“I know,” she teases. 

You laugh and lightly bat her shoulder and Emily laughs too.

“I love you, sweet thing,” she mutters. 

You hum. “I love you too. And I like that nickname.”

Emily chuckles. “Better than 'sweet girl'?”

“Much better.”

_____

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[zoeythegoodgirl]

Coercion

TW: dubcon/noncon I was really hesitant to post this because I was afraid of feeding into negative stereotypes about trans women, and also because it explores CNC to a degree that I personally find uncomfortable. I couldn't get the idea out of my head until I wrote the story, however, and decided to share it with you. Please be kind.

You’re running late for an appointment and, in your haste, decide to take a shortcut through an alleyway. You’ve taken this route before, and never seen anyone else, but today appears to be an exception. Parked on one side is a van, and there is barely enough room to pass by it. You sidle through, expecting to see no one on the other side, but are caught off guard by a woman’s low voice calling to you.

“Hey girlie,” she says, “you know a little thing like you shouldn’t take these routes. Never know what kind of trouble could find you here.” You jump, startled at her warning. You hadn’t even noticed she was there. You look over at her, noticing that she looks quite dishevelled, but also beautiful in a strange way. She’s wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans, both covered in stains. In contrast, she seems rather clean, though her hair is quite messy. She’s thin but muscular, wiry, with broader shoulders than you would have expected. She could easily overpower you, in spite of her short stature.

You gulp, timidly thanking her for her advice, and attempt to move past. This is quickly cut short as she puts her arm out against the building next to you, standing in front of you to block your path. “Now, now, Missy,” she teases, “I never said I wasn’t the trouble, you know.” You look down and notice a smirk on her face. A breeze blows through the alley, rustling her shirt. Your eyes dart downward momentarily, and you notice she isn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts are smaller, but large enough to fill your hand. You swallow and ask her what she wants. Her response is just to advance on you, causing you to retreat slowly. As soon as she gets to the passenger door of the van, she throws it open and gestures for you to climb inside. You look inside and see that all the back seats have been removed, and a thin mattress has been laid out instead.

 “In,” she demands. The rough tone in her voice incites a tingle between your legs, and you find yourself climbing into the van without thought. You come to your senses just in time to see her closing the door behind her. You beg to be let out, which she responds with only a giggle. “Babe, why are you protesting? We both know you need this.” You want to say no, but the puddle forming between your legs betrays you. She grabs your chin and gives you a light kiss. Even in this mild gesture, her strength is readily apparent.

Suddenly, her hand is up your skirt, pulling your panties down swiftly. “Aww, you poor thing,” she coos, “let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” She tosses your panties towards the very back of the van, and you blush bright red. “You said you didn’t want this,” she says, “but look at how wet you are for me. Raise your skirt and show me how much of a slut you really are.” You obey unconsciously, showing off the wetness between your legs. “Good girl,” she praises, and you whine in response.

“I think you might be ready for this. Lay back for me,” she commands. You obey, eager to be fucked. Just moments ago, you were begging for release. You ask yourself what happened, how you could be coerced so easily by a stranger, but dismiss the thought in your neediness. You look over at your new benefactor and see a sight that makes you just as scared as when you were trapped next to the van. She’s pulled her jeans down, revealing her cock. It’s thick, far more so than anything you’ve ever taken before, and a stream of precum is pouring from it like a faucet. A vein on the underside is popping out from the strength of her erection. You try to retreat, but she grabs your ankles and holds you in place. “Don’t run, sweet thing. Remember, you want this. I’m just giving you what you want,” she says.

You lay back, resigning yourself to what will happen next. She raises your shirt, exposing your breasts, and pinches your nipples tightly. You whimper, but the arch in your back shows the truth: you’re beginning to enjoy this, much to your own chagrin. She giggles before lining her cock up with your dripping hole. She teases you with it, and you whine, almost trying to sink down on it in your needy haze. But you hesitate, still reticent to take something so thick.

Suddenly, she shoves herself inside you, forcing her way in down to the base of her shaft. You whine loudly in pain; the stretch necessary to take her was too much, and it hurt. But it doesn’t seem like she cares. In fact, you can see her throw her head back in pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” she moans. Her thrusts are slow and deep, and slowly you relax enough to take her. You even begin to enjoy it yourself. You relax your grip on the mattress and let yourself enjoy yourself. Your own moans begin to mix with hers, and her thrusts begin to pick up speed.

With three rough final thrusts, you feel her cum inside you. Because of her girth, there’s not much room for her cum, and it leaks out from the sides of her cock as more and more jets from its head. Your own orgasm surprises and overtakes you, and you feel yourself clenching hard around the cock you didn’t think would even fit in you. After catching her breath, she finally pulls out, and a stream of her cum flows out of you, forming a puddle on the mattress. “Look at what you did,” she giggles, “I’m gonna have to get a new mattress now, you whore. Couldn’t keep it inside you?” She grabs your shoulder and pulls you up before shoving you face-first into the puddle. “Lick it up,” she growls. You hesitate for a second, but start lapping up the cum like a kitten drinking milk from a saucer. It tastes somewhat creamy to you, sweet, but with a hint of salt. It seems almost addicting, and you find yourself sucking on her tip to get the last bits you can.

Your face turns red with embarrassment, and she giggles in response. “See,” she teases, “I knew you wanted it.” You hide your face in your hands, and, when you open your eyes again, you find the door to the van is open and she’s stepped outside. Her pants are still on the floor of the van, though. Hurriedly, you scramble outside, but you’re stopped right at the door. “Aren’t you forgetting something,” she asks, gesturing to her still mostly erect cock. Embarrassed, you give the tip a light kiss. You begin to step out, but remember your panties in the back of the van. As if sensing your thought, she pulls you from the van and closes the door. “Those are mine now,” she says, “Now, I think you had somewhere you were going?” You begin to head towards the street, and hope no one notices the cum dripping down your legs. The last thing you hear before you turn causes you to clench and blush:

“Same time tomorrow?”

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Who is Mew Anyway?

I realized we are over halfway through Only Friends now, and that I have only talked about Mew once in my write ups. Which…makes sense for me, all things considered, until now he’s kind of been a blah character in my eyes. And I am leaning in to and really appreciating how intentional that is beginning to feel on behalf of Jojo and co. 

When you think about it, until literally halfway through the show we have known almost nothing about Mew besides the fact that he is the table keeper for his friends, he is a hotel management student, and he’s a virgin. If you asked me to list any other facts about Mew’s life or his role in life, I would not have been able to answer much of anything. 

And that’s because Mew isn’t really anything. Personally, I feel like Mew thinks he has a strong sense of self and the second that something comes along to question that, all those illusions he has of himself start crumbling. When I look at Mew’s character, and I mean start getting in to the nitty gritty of Mew’s character, I don’t think Mew has any idea who he is. Which, for a show about college students is fucking brilliant. I thought I knew who I was in college, and then I graduated and promptly became queer and trans. I thought I knew what career I wanted, and then I ended up going to grad school for something outside of my initial plans. I know @waitmyturtles mentioned something similar about trying on different personalities in college in her Episode 7 Review. 

Think about Mew’s apartment, it was his mother’s old place. He took it over after she moved out. He didn’t choose this place, we can’t be certain this is the type of apartment or the location that Mew would actively decide to be in. When he brings Top home the first night they meet, Top comments on the place:

“Your room is nice, it suits you” 

To which Mew replies ‘It’s my Mom’s old room. I decorated it using ideas from the internet” 

Which says to me that Mew’s own personality, his own interests weren’t even involved in the creation of his own personal space. He decorated it based on inspiration from what other people had done to their own places. And Mew’s apartment fascinates me further, as a color-coder in BL kinda person. Because Mew’s apartment is all over the place in its decoration. 

On one wall we have striped wallpaper, in orange hues.

On another we have light blue walls with white and golden patterning. A yellow couch, a blue bookshelf. 

In his room he has a wall that is painted a solid green

And I can’t quite get a good image of it, but the opposite wall in his room is painted a dark turquoise with white patterning, which is different from Ray’s house, but still evokes a similar visual point of comparison.

Even Mew himself, when we first meet him is alllllll over the place with his colors. He has lines all over his shirt, with squares of different colors. His second look of the show is a solid light blue shirt over top of a striped shirt with orange, green, yellow.

His bed sheets are similarly stripes with dark gray, green, yellow, and orange.

Which is to say, at the beginning of our time with Mew, it is hard to pin down who he is as a person. He doesn’t have a color, he doesn’t have a pattern, to associate with his character. He fluctuates between rich, saturated colors and light, washed out pastels. 

When I think of Mew, I think of all the outfits he’s worn that have a strong green tint to them, but honestly, looking back through his wardrobe, Mew has a broad range of colors he chooses from. 

(Now, I recognize that all of this could be because the costuming department does not actually care about color coding, and that the eclectic styling of Mew’s apartment was just how it already was. And that’s fine, but I’m here so I’m gonna overanalyze it.)

All this to say that, Mew’s colors, Mews home, Mew’s pattern choices are all very disparate. All this to say that as a result I am now assuming that Mew does not know who he is, and neither do we. He could go any number of ways. Mew could go orange, yellow, green, blue. He could be complicated (with complex patterns) or straight forward (with solid colors). But none of us know at the beginning of this show quite where he will go. 

Truthfully, the only aspect of Mew that I have seen be steadfast throughout the show, is Mew’s moral superiority complex. Everything else is mutable. Mew has throughout most of the show, regarded himself as a good person. He doesn’t drink much, he doesn’t dance much, he doesn’t sleep around at all, and that somehow in his mind, grants Mew the opportunity to talk down to his friends. 

He’s not an alcoholic like Ray who he has no problem lecturing in the bathroom about how he is  going to be dead by 30, despite knowing that Ray is/was suicidal. He’s not a slut like Boston, who is far too obsessed with Mew’s virginity, etc. etc. etc. Mew fucks with Top, deciding that he is going to wait to have sex with him for awhile. And that is his right, but Mew doesn’t say he’s waiting because he isn’t comfortable with sex. He tells Boston and Cheum that he is waiting to have sex with Top to make sure that Top is serious about their relationship. Because if Top is serious about dating Mew without sex being involved, that means that Mew is worthy of the top tier because he is top tier, and not because he is an easy lay that Top can use for bragging rights (bagging a virgin). 

And I would have previously entertained a conversation around whether or not that is true, but unfortunately for any dissenters to my read of Mew, now that Mew has decided to #embracethenasty, there is no convincing me out of my observation that Mew does not know who he is. 

Why? Because the second that Mew starts retaliating against Top, the second he decides to ruin Top’s life, to stoop low, to be the lesser person…Mew starts dressing like Ray. I am certainly not the first person to notice this, it has been circulating in multiple different forms across my tumblr page, but.

Gif from @firstmix

Mew doesn’t know who he is, Mew doesn’t know how he fits in to the world now that he has decided to make Top’s life a living hell. I am not convinced Mew is capable of seeing himself as a bad person, because he isn’t a slut or an addict or a cheater. [As an aside here, this is Mew’s thinking, not my own personal beliefs on what makes someone a good or bad person]. So, of course, if he wanted to become a bad person. If he wanted to play at being as toxic and terrible as the people around him, it makes sense Mew would don the wardrobe of his “best friend”, Ray. Ray, who Mew looks down on for being an alcoholic, for not valuing his life. Who Mew has told time and time again to love himself, and to quit drinking and doing drugs, as if that is going to cure Ray’s addiction. And who in under five minutes just took a blowtorch to everyone’s relationships. 

Why? Because Mew is so self-righteous that he looks down on others around him. Mew isn’t ready or willing to look at and acknowledge the nasty, flawed parts of himself, so he adorns the nasty, flawed parts of others, to abstract himself from his own behavior. He uses Ray’s clothing, Nick’s methodology, and Boston’s personality to retaliate at the people he feels wronged by. 

Mew uses Boston against himself, wielding Boston’s sexual prowess, his willingness to fuck, his Hunter charm to get himself in to Gap’s apartment. He uses Nick’s methodology to steal the video of Boston and lords the knowledge over Boston’s head (like Nick did to Top), and again, he is wearing Ray’s clothing. But while Mew is trying to be a chameleon in his behavior, his appearance, his strategy to get back at Top, Mew’s own flavor of flaw starts becoming ever more clear. 

Mew has a superiority complex.

It is absolutely, unbelievable shitty and vile to threaten to out Boston to his father. To treat Boston’s privacy and safety with such disdain. Boston records others and he keeps those images as evidence, so Mew steals Boston’s MO. Mew takes the recording of Boston, looks Boston in the eye, and makes Boston think that he is going to hold on to that for evidence.

Now, right before this, Mew does actually draw a comparison point between himself and Boston. 

“You and I have something in common.” he says

“We’re both gullible” 

Mew makes Boston beg. And after he has made Boston sweat sufficiently, he throws the flashdrive on the ground. He says: “I’m kidding. No matter how much I hate you, I won’t do it. Because I don’t betray my friend like you did. 

“Then I’d be just as filthy as you are.”

While Mew is able to identify a potential flaw of his own, being gullible isn’t a fundamental aspect of Mew’s personality or character, being gullible isn’t who Mew is. It’s a flaw that he is pointing out only because he is still reeling from allowing himself to be fooled by Top and Boston. It’s a flaw that he is point out so that he can weaponize his superiority complex. 

In other words: “You and I have something in common, but I am better than you because I don’t betray my friends”  As if he didn’t just threaten to publicize Boston’s sex life to his father, the implications of which could have a national impact.

And while it is ultimately unsurprising that Mew channels Ray in doing all of this, it is interesting. Interesting because Mew is using Ray. Mew not only knows that Ray is capable of fucking up his own life, and the lives of the people around him, he also knows that Ray is the least liked by both Boston and Top. Boston’s distaste for Ray is subtle, as his obsession with Top and Mew has been more at the forefront of his interactions with his friends. But we have seen from the very beginning of this show that Boston does nothing to care for Ray. Boston is assigned to take care of Ray and make sure he is safe when he’s been drinking too much. Boston literally never once helps Ray when he’s drunk. Boston sees Ray and Sand crossed, cuddling, and generally having a good time, and Boston goes and airs Ray’s dirty laundry. Ray is the first person to confront Boston about cuckolding Mew. 

So wearing clothing that is reminiscent of Ray when Mew goes to Boston’s house to threaten him is a flavorful undertone for how Mew is hoping Boston will see him. 

At the points in which Top and Mew interact during the episode, Mew is not dressed like Ray, but he sure as shit does lord Ray over Top just to fuck with him. When Top comes to apologize to Mew, Mew asks Ray to find a new designer, literally asking Ray to replace Top. When Ray helps treat Mew’s injury after the group fight, Mew decides to use Ray as a rebound. To use Ray’s feelings for him as a way to experiment, once again, with the type of person he wants to be and the type of person he wants to be with. We end the episode with Ray and Mew dancing together at the bar, Mew dressed in a very Ray style

Because Mew is trying Ray on for size, trying his fashion, his company, his lifestyle (as we see from the promo for next week) and that is prone to make RayMew crash and burn, because Ray is self-destructive enough as is, and I don’t think Mew is going to do well with treating himself with Ray’s level of self-care.

Mew doesn’t know who he is, Mew doesn’t know what he wants, the only thing Mew knows is that he’s better than everyone around him, and he can only stoop as low as them is by pretending he is them, rather than facing the fact that he's just as terribly human as the rest of the group.

[xtraordinaryfangrl]

S3 Allison Hargreeves is NOT Canon!

—

I finally bit the bullet and watched Episode 5 of TUA S3 - the episode where Allison borderline SA’s Luther and I have no idea what the writers were thinking when they wrote that into the script.

Actually, no, that’s the problem! They weren’t thinking!

Up until that point, I was genuinely enjoying this season. The Sparrows were annoying but intriguing characters. The Diego and Stanley dynamic was everything and seeing him as a legit father in the final season will break my heart. I loved Viktor (or V, as I affectionately call them) and his transition as well as everybody’s reaction. Especially Allison’s, and her comradery with him in those first few episodes made me feel things. BITTERSWEET THINGS. Their relationship has always been so interesting to watch and I’ve grown fond of them as a duo despite the tension and angst they’ve displayed throughout the show.

I felt the desperation Allison had to get her daughter back, the way it boiled and bubbled up to rage. I understood her motive and empathized with her pain, even agreed with her and the rest of the Hargreeves pack on the Harlan situation. I could see her delving deeper into her “Wandavison Era” and I was ready to side with her on everything, then THAT scene happened.

Her relationship with Luther always creeped me out because of their romantic history. They were raised together before they got together and called the same man father - which is just another weird layer to the incest trope. She forces him to kiss her when she could have just… threatened to rumor him? Or at the very least show she could still control one thing at that moment by making him stand still?? That would have driven her point across just fine, WITHOUT Jedi mind-tricking a non-consensual sexcapade???

What’s worse about Allison’s character assassination is that she most likely doesn’t see anything wrong with what she did, and neither does Luther because like the doe-eyed himbo he is - he immediately skips off to see Sloan as if he’s the male lead in some early 2000s rom-com! They didn’t see an issue with what happened because the writers didn’t see an issue, and that’s MY issue with this.

Nowadays, no matter how a story is told, everything is up to the audience’s interpretation. But sexual manipulation, depression, and other important topics that real people experience should not be treated as an ambiguous “oh it can be taken multiple ways” plot point.

If St*ve Bl*ckman or whoever mapped out Allison’s S3 journey was a competent screenwriter, they would have refocused her contempt on The Sparrows. And if they REALLY wanted to make her past with Luther a central point, they could have put her “you’re blowing me off for some knockoff you’ve known for five minutes?” line to good use by making Sloan her target instead of Harlan.

—

I don’t know. This was a whole rant and maybe none of it makes sense. But aside from the few good things to come from S3 (such as V coming out as trans and Diego/Lila pre-parenthood shenanigans), nothing else happens. Any “canon storyline” after S2 is an acid-laced fever dream as far I’m concerned.

[speedforce-zoomies]

“Can I ask you a question?”

Janet turned to face her semi-regular visitor, an alternative version of her son, and boy, wasn’t that a sentence?

“Different from the ones I’ve been asking, I mean?”

“Oh course, birdie.”

It had been rather awkward for the both of them the first time Janet had instinctively used a pet name that she used for her own Tim, one that his Mother had also used for him.

He had blinked away tears so quickly that if she hadn’t known all versions of her son so dearly she would have thought she had imagined it.

From that point on she made sure to only call him Tim or Birdie, a pet based off his hero identity, (and it still took the breath out of her lungs to think about any version of her baby fighting criminals with nothing but a belt full of tools and a metal staff. Her fear for him was not at all canceled out by her pride). The name deemed safe since her own Tim was a civilian.

Though, even “Tim” got confusing sometimes when trying to differentiate between her son and the son of dead version of herself.

She had asked if it would perhaps be better to call him Jackson and he had frowned at the suggestion, suggesting Alvin or Carl as alternatives instead with a sudden, sly smirk and a snicker when he saw her expression.

He smiled at her now, a soft, gentle thing, that spoke of comfort but his eyes were sad.

“Do you think…” he paused, “Do you think, if things were reversed between our worlds and you had passed, sorry, this is, uh, um a pretty heavy question...”

Tim trailed off, eyes glued to the bare white wall across from him and Janet walked over and sat beside him, not touching, just silently offering support.

“It’s okay, it’s obviously burdening you, let me carry some of the weight. What’s on your mind, Birdie?”

“If it were you that had die-passed, and your Tim had access to trans-dimensional travel, would it… would it make you sad or hurt your feelings if your Tim was to visit my mom?”

Janet paused, thinking it over.

Tim didn’t look at her, allowing her to consider her words carefully.

“A little bit, I think. Not hurt, but sad, because of course my preference would be to be a part of his life. However, even if it would make me a little sad, it would mean the world to me that another Janet was able to open up her arms to my son, that he had found a way to ease his pain, even if just a little bit.”

He smiled at her and it was watery.

“You know, when I come to visit, I take the information you give me and I go though my Mama’s stuff, almost like I’m gathering clues here and putting the pieces together there.”

He paused, trying and failing to not fidget.

“I had no idea, about the Emily Dickinson poem, until you told me and then I went home and she had used that poem in a couple of her poems and social media posts.”

He leaned in to her space.

“It’s nice, getting to learn about her, even now that she’s gone… I appreciate you, you giving me the chance to do so.”

Janet gently bumped shoulders with him, “Of course, Birdie.”

“It also kind of feels weird,” he confessed, “to investigate my own mom like this.”

Janet hummed, and took a chance, “Well, you are two anthropologists’ son, investigating the dead is kind of in your blood.”

Tim choked out a laugh, “Yeah,” he huffed out, voice low and rough but still amused, “guess you’re right.”

He leaned back against the sofa, “She’d love that, I think, being an anthropological revelation.”

“I’d be flattered, certainly.”

Tim snickered at that.

“Do you think your Tim is gonna be an anthologist. Like you and his dad?”

Janet hummed, “Maybe. He enjoys coming out to digs on holidays and summer vacations. But he also enjoys his photography and he keeps making jokes, that I’m not entirely sure are actually jokes about becoming a professional skateboarder.”

Tim snorted in amusement, “Well, I’m rooting for him if he goes for it.”

Janet grinned. “I will too, if that’s his passion in life, though I will expect him to have a backup plan, of course.”

“Of course.” Tim agreed.

“Anything but vigilante!” She shook his shoulder gently, “I already have one of those to worry about!”

He laughed, and he didn’t sound like her own Tim when he laughed.

He sounded like her, or well, she thought, another version of me.

——

I wrote a lot of words just to say I’m not over Batman (2016) #134 & I never will be ^.^

[garfunklefield]

Carnation of the valley

18+ viewer discretion is advised

trans!sub!omega!Sanji/dom!alpha!Zoro Roronoa Warnings: Omega verse, dom/sub undertones, bratty Sanji, induced rut, oviposition, ovipositor Zoro, please google that, making out, intense breeding, poorly timed love confession, balls deep L bomb, implied Mpreg, knotting, abrupt ending, goodluck Word count: 3611 DESC: Zoro was never sexually active until he was much older. Some could call him a late bloomer but he preferred to say he had interest in other areas than women. For the longest time, he had assumed he was asexual or something, because how could beautiful women not tempt him? When he would see a woman or a sword, he’d go for the sword. Being gay or anything of that nature never crossed his mind until his friend Sanji was over.

The only thing I've written in the past 48 hours has been Zosan I'M GETTING TO YOUR REQUESTTTS

NOTES: I had this idea last night about ovipositor alpha Zoro and I had to make it happen! If you don't know ovipositor means an insect or fish that has an organ that deposits eggs, but it's also a fetish where you use a sex toy to shoot eggs inside ya - or at least I believe that's the name of the fetish. I've been dreaming about Sanji as an omega for so long you don't understand!! I've read so much omega Sanji I NEEDED to come up with my own thing! I might also play around with this ovipositor alpha thing and write more about it, maybe not this universe but something else regarding it. Also I love how its kind of just universal: Sanji IS AN OMEGA!!!!!!!!

Zoro was never sexually active until he was much older. Some could call him a late bloomer but he preferred to say he had interest in other areas than women. Besides, when it came down to it, women did not satisfy him in ways that a nice cold sip of beer could. No matter how many times they complimented him, or rode him till the cows came home, he never finished. It wasn’t their fault, his mind was always busy. Busy with life or busy with anything other than the naked women in front of him. 

For the longest time, he had assumed he was asexual or something, because how could beautiful women not tempt him? When he would see a woman or a sword, he’d go for the sword. Mainly because, in this day and age having an extensive sword collection was a bit of a flex. He enjoyed keeping his swords all around the walls of his house, in glass casing, and showing off every blade with a different story behind each one. Their craftsmanship was stunning, way more interesting than breasts. They were just … plumper pectorals. He enjoyed seeing men with bigger pecs anyway, it meant they had gained something he was working to achieve. 

Although the moss head did have to admit he stared a bit too long at the Calvin Klien billboards when he would walk past, or shirtless men on their runs in his neighborhood. To him though, he chalked it down to admiring their physique and aspiring to be like them, even if they were on the scrawnier side. Being gay or anything of that nature never crossed his mind until his friend Sanji was over. 

It was a day like any other, he was having girl troubles and coming over as an excuse to lay it all on his friend with no consequence. The other man didn’t mind, he had nothing better to do. Besides, what’s funnier than hearing the omega womanizer having issues with his alpha girlfriends? Why was it he so attracted to alphas in particular? No matter who it was it was always brought up that she was an alpha. 

Zoro sat himself down beside his friend on his couch, leaning back as he listened to him ramble, “And she doesn’t even call me back, but then she wants me to call her back! I just can’t with women sometimes.” He scoffed, although they both knew he’d be calling her back later that night. He was so obvious when it came to women, and women were just complex. They weren’t like swords or men, men were more interesting to read. Men never liked to open up right away, making him want to dig deeper to find the jewels beneath the surface. Men made him feel funny when they stared too long or touched his muscles. But truthfully, the man never liked it when anyone would touch his arms without asking. So he ruled it out as purely that, nothing more. As for the staring? He had no way to rationalize it.

“What if you just… I dunno, dated men?” He asked, looking up at his ceiling. It was never something he considered for himself, but for Curly, sure! He could see it for him 100%. It would fix all his issues, aside from being obvious. No, men like Zoro [not that he considered himself a candidate for Sanji] took a lot more effort to uncover. But that was the best part. Just like finding a sword on EBAY, the elusive reward was very profitable.

Sanji sputtered a bit, the few words he was going to say dying on his tongue. To say he looked horrified was an understatement. Had he said something wrong? He didn’t know his chef friend was an omega and homophobic. The blonde's cheeks raised with red burns of embarrassment and his eyes glared holes into his friend's skin. Was it wrong to say he should try men if women were so damn hard for him? If he found them to be difficult, go to something that would be easier on the brain. A more soothing puzzle. Zoro found men hard to figure out in a way that was mentally stimulating not outright annoying. 

“What are you implying … Moss?” Was all he managed to say, trying to hide behind a mask of horror when something else lurked deeper. And he knew there was something else behind those blue eyes. 

“I mean, go for a better chase than something confusing,” he clarified, again, not thinking much about it at all. 

“And what do you consider a better chase?” There was something different in his tone that made Roronoa stop and slowly blink a few times, before focussing his eyes on his friend's face. Well if he wasn’t gay he was definitely questioning it now. He had to admit, there were times when his mind would wander during … self-pleasuring activities [especially in his rut], and he would find himself imagining Sanji bent over and begging for mercy. But, that had to be normal in some way. Everyone had thoughts about their friends every now and then. 

Yet, this voice Sanji was putting on, was doing something to him. Not to mention that stare. It was something unsure, but it said ‘If you’re down, I’m down’. Down for what exactly? Exploring each other? Pleasuring each other in ways he knew he could? Even if he never finished with women he always intended that they would. Putting people's pleasure above his own was something Zoro did even in his personal life. He couldn’t help but serve others as a way to make himself feel good. There was a word for it but he could never remember it.

“Well…” His voice was low, trying to be seductive. But the moss wasn’t very good at being flirty, especially in this new territory. I mean, were men just like women when it came to flirting? Did he just have to use the same lines but switch ‘nice tits’ to ‘nice bulge’? “…A man is a better chase, I feel.” He ended up spitting out, pressing his lips together. 

Vinsmoke was looking at him, waiting for him to make a move it was obvious. God, he was submissive too, wasn’t he? Was that why he wanted all alpha women? So they could toss him around and let him be their little sex slut? He didn’t want to admit it, but thinking about that was doing a number on his breathing. It was labored and border lining on mere pants between breaths than actual, well, breaths. All he could see was his friend before him, staring at him with a level of thirst he had never seen before. All by a simple misworded error. And yet he was willing to risk their friendship on that for some fun? Hell, if he was down, Zoro was down. 

It wasn’t until then, that he had decided his next move that the pheromones hit him. Slowly, they began to fill his nose and pretty much soon his whole house would be bulging with that scent. It was citrus and honey- no sweeter than that. It was something he’d find in a bakery, of course with the chef everything came back down to baking or cooking. It was easy on the senses. Almost like an instant relaxer.

“Curls-” He went to speak but was interrupted by an impatient, “Oh my god, do I have to ask?” Roronoa blinked at the man before him and he let the other continue, “Do you want me to hold your hand while I ask you to fuck me or are you gonna grow some balls and do it?” 

Oh right, he was an annoying pain in his ass. 

He was wondering now, even through all his thoughts and fantasies, what was the most satisfying part? What was it that made the image of his friend being pounded into oblivion, hot? The fact that he wasn’t just an omega or a sub, but the fact he was a submissive bratty omega. Something about how he ground the moss’s gears was getting him off in more ways than he could count, probably eliciting a wave of pheromones from his body. He knew his scent well, something musky and warm rather than that sweet shit Sanji was practically oozing. And he knew just a bit of an Alpha’s smell was enough to cause an animalistic urge to grow in an Omega, even if he didn’t want there to be. 

Zoro felt his body lean forward, almost on its own before he spoke, trying to have that air of dominance he knew women liked so much, “Oh you want me to fuck you now, huh?” Then he smirked, just a small pull at the corner of his lips. Just enough that it looked effortless, rather than a calculated move he had practiced in front of the mirror before a date. It was something women liked, and Sanji liked women, so he would probably like that too. 

Sanji swallowed, another fierce blush rushing up his cheeks and down the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t expected that, had he? He was all bark and no bite. All those words, all that taunting, and all that bullshit was just that, bullshit. The Omega was a brat but more importantly, he was a sub, and what did subs always do? Submit. 

The green-haired man continued to lean, before he knew it pressing his weight into his hands to hover. Hover just enough to get into the cook's space and just enough he was able to get the rest of his body onto the couch. So, like a predator to prey, he began to inch forward, a hungry look in his eyes. This was arousal. This was something he hadn’t experienced with someone else to such ferocity. With women, sure, he’d get horny. But he wasn’t itching with lust, or oozing with pheromones that it was stifling. The air was thick and they hadn’t even touched each other. Were words really just that powerful? 

“M-Moss…” Vinsmoke trailed off, leaning backward, evading his touch just for the thrill of it. When Zoro finally did touch him, it was fire. His hand brushed against the other’s side and he couldn’t help it, leaning down to brush their noses together. It was more intimate than he intended, this whole thing was way more intimate than he ever meant for it to be. If this was supposed to be a hookup, it felt more intense. There was a flame that had been ignited, a flame that had been dormant for so long. Something that had always lingered, waiting to be struck. 

“Have I grown some balls yet, bitch?” He smiled, almost tauntingly as the man pulled back. It was a teasing move but he couldn’t help it. In some way, the moss liked to see his friend pout and get all worked up. It was kind of … cute. Yeah, cute. 

Sanji let out a huff, just as expected, lifting his hand to gently smack his friend's cheek. He went to speak, but his hand lingered for too long and it was sending the Alpha into shock. Had he always been this soft? This warm? And not to mention the Omega’s hair too, it was so radiant. Full of life, color, and texture, even in this position. 

Zoro pressed his nose into his friend's cheek, just inhaling before he spoke, “That’s what I thought.” All bark no bite, just the way he liked it. Then, like a bottle to his lips, their mouths connected. Sparks, practically, flew from his mind as they melted together. It was slow, but it was making something build deep inside him. Just the action alone, of skin on skin and lips on lips was sending shockwaves down his spine. Then he heard the blonde begin to whimper into the kiss, opening his mouth for more leverage and bucking his hips up just enough for some kind of stimulation. But when the other man moved his knee in between the Omega’s legs, he didn’t feel a bulging press to his thigh, but instead a warm wetness. The swords collector pulled back from the kiss, blinking a few times. Oh. 

“Something to tell me love cook?” He raised his eyebrows knowingly, although they were far from being all judgy. In all fairness, he couldn’t care less about genitals or what anyone had going on down there. Whether it was balls or a clit, if it was a guy he’d fuck it. Oh … so then he was gay. 

It dawned on the man; It was just women that he wasn’t into. 

“Surprise, Marimo. What? I thought you’ve had sex before. Is this too strange?” Sanji teased, voice dripping with want and desire. They both knew they were far too horny to care about each other's parts. Instead, he focused on that tone, god, that tone. It was gravaly, just low enough to be a murmur. It was driving the moss absolutely insane how wrapped around his finger he was. 

As an answer, their lips met again, pulling and molding into one. He was on fire, in a way he had never been. Worse than a rut or … Was this what a true rut felt like? To be so fucking horny you could barely think? To only want the Omega beneath you who was causing it? All the while they kissed, that sub was grinding his clothed wetness against Zoro’s mid-thigh. It was clear, it was involuntary. And, god, that made it hotter. He wanted to fuck him so bad, he wanted to be inside his cunt and pump him deep with eggs, thousands of eggs. Get him so pregnant and full that he couldn’t even move. God, that would be nice, right? Making Sanji such a perfect father and making sure he’d never have to move a finger.

He could just imagine a life with him, a life with … Sanji. 

“Sanji,” he forced out, straining against his pants and pulling back from the kiss. Their faces were pressed together, sweat mixing and breathing heavy, “I think… I like you.” Then they kissed again, teeth on teeth and tongues on tongues before he pulled back again, “I mean it… I think I really want to impregnate you.”

“Mm Marimo… I like you to- what.” The cook put two hands on his friend's shoulders and pushed him back so they could make eye contact. His blue eyes were staring back into the man’s dark and brooding ones, trying his hardest to search them. Roronoa was being genuine. I mean, he hadn’t thought about it until that very moment, but he really cared about the blonde. He cared so much for him, and they had practically known each other forever. He couldn’t remember a day going by without seeing him, or even texting him. 

“You want to… impregnate me?” Vinsmoke finally whispered, looking with intensity in his eyes. I mean, when was the last time they were reckless? If they both loved each other, why didn’t they start a family? It almost felt right at that point to be with him, it always had. He was right. He was always right. 

“I think.. Yeah, yeah I do.” He nodded slowly. It was silent, no noise but their breathing as they watched each other. Was this the wrong thing to say? Did Sanji not feel the same? Was this just going to scare him away instead of inviting him in? 

Sanji swallowed and let his eyes flutter closed, “Do it.” 

“What.”

“Impregnate me!” He opened his eyes and frowned at the moss, “Do it before I change my mind, idiot.” Well, he didn’t have to be told twice. That was it, on an impulse decision and an impromptu rut, they were starting a family. Their lips met feverishly, pecking a few times before Zoro took the Omega deep in his mouth and groaned at the sensation. He was doing something with his tongue that was utterly making him leak in his jeans. He needed to get them off and put himself deep in the other’s wetness or there’d be trouble. 

They kissed, slobbering all over each other as his hands wandered. Big and burly, they fumbled a bit with Sanji’s jean buttons before the smaller one slapped him away to do it himself. If he wasn’t about to explode, he would have cared. Instead, the green-haired one focused on his own pants. They slid down to his knees and off came his underwear. The air was cold on his cock, as it sprung from its confinements. Already, it was leaking a bit of precum with soggy eggs floating from his tip. Each time they passed his urethra he struggled to breathe out, hitching in his throat and moaning gutterally. 

“God, Zoro… You’re so hot…” Sanji smiled, pulling from the kiss to wipe his mouth. His hips lifted ever so slightly to pull both his jeans and underwear down. If the Alpha got sight of that pretty pussy he knew he’d have the hardest time pulling himself away, forcing his mouth onto his swollen clit. Just the thought made him groan. He needed to be inside him it started to hurt. Not just in his dick but in his skin, in his face, everywhere. If he didn’t have that blonde cook he was going to lose his damn mind. 

“I need…” Zoro pressed his face down into his friend's shoulder, letting his hand trail to his dick to align it with the other man's entrance, “To.. to be inside you.. Bad.” And once his tip touched that warm wetness he nearly came. God, it was so warm and plush, expanding to fit him as he thrust forward. 

“A-ah~” Sanji gasped at the sensation, feeling his Alpha’s cock stretch out his cunt. He wasn’t hung by any means, but safe to say his dick wasn’t small. The smaller one’s arms wrapped around the moss’s head, pulling him in and gripping bits of green hair. “D-da.. ah.. Damn, Marimo.. You mm.. F- fuck!” 

And Roronoa pulled himself out, just to slowly sink back inside him. Slow, that’s the pace he wanted to take. He was going to savor this and press their bodies together, feel skin upon skin as he fucked him. Every inch of his penis was inside his friend- no lover's pussy, squelching slightly. That’s how it was, as much self-control as he mustered, he made his strokes painfully slow. It was perfect for the blonde, making him squirm with pleasure. Every moment, every touch of his tip was pleasuring the Omega’s G-spot. His cockhead was kissing it slowly and gently, brushing against it in a way that he never wanted to end, making him cry out in ecstasy. But when his lover started to pick up the pace, it wasn’t long before he’d spill all over the Alpha’s throbbing cock. 

Zoro couldn’t stomach going slow anymore. He had to cum, he had to get Sanji pregnant. It was basically embedded in his DNA, every moment of his life was leading up to this orgasm. Every second he breathed was another second he was balls deep inside his lover. Someone he really cared about. When he heard the cook whimper, it was sending shivers down his spine. As long as the other one was pleased, he’d get off. And that’s what started to push him over the edge into a prolonged orgasm, something that was starting to swell at the base of his dick [literally]. 

The Alpha pushed himself back, so he could be face to face with Sanji, who at this point was a snivling mess. He was crying out in pleasure at every second he could, every stroke and every thrust. When Zoro started to spill, splattering bout after bout of white eggs into Sanji’s womb, was when he let out a cry, “I.. I love you.. A-ah f-f.. Fuck!! I.. a- ahah.. Mmm.. S-..shit!” He thrust forward, letting the sensitivity of his urethra overtake him in pure bliss. Every time an egg [and these were very small, so like 50 at a time pass through each splatter] would pass through his slit he was closer to losing his mind and closer to passing out. 

I haven’t even gotten to Sanji. 

He was sobbing, tears rolling down his eyes as he came to his bliss. When his lover started to breed him, fully knotting him deep with his cum, he was done for. He climaxed almost instantly as he was filled, thrusting his hips forward to ride out his waves of pleasure as best as he could. 

The sensitivity didn’t subside for either of them, as Zoro’s cockhead’s leakage slowly began to turn to a dribble, rather than an open faucet. Of course, now that he was knotted, they were stuck for a bit. He let out a breath of air as he came down, a relaxing buzz filtering through his mind. So that was what sex was like. No wonder his blonde was such a pervert, sex was amazing! It felt as though he was one with Sanji without even trying. He molded their souls together in a way that could never be undone, never be touched again. The bigger man rested his head against his Omega’s neck, trying to steady his breathing. Vinsmoke’s eyes were closed as he was inhaling, almost purring through his breaths. It was relaxing as the two rested against each other, trying to come down from that high. 

“Zoro,” he heard a faint voice whisper, “I think I love you too.”

[waywardwritesstuff]

Could you do a trans reader comfort scenario for misgendering with Wolverine?

Logan x Trans!MaleReader

I am very happy to deliver this fic to you friend. i hope one day you feel safe enough to share all of who you are with the world. But until then I hope this story can bring you some comfort. Love you brother

Summary: Being a mutant was hard enough as it is, but being on trans on top of that. Well, you might as well be cursed. Luckily Logan has your back when it counts the most.

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: misgendering, dysphoria, transphobia, comforting, fluff, slurs

You were in charge of the supply run for the school this week. It was always strange carrying around Charles’ credit card, over the years he had been able to invest in stocks- knowing when they would dip and rise, he had amassed money from government funding and social projects, as well as working many jobs over the decades he has been alive so he had more than enough money to provide for all of the children at his school, but still the sum baffled you.

But if it meant that the school could stay stocked and at the highest capacity to care for the children, and the teachers living in the school then you didn’t think on it too hard.

You went about grabbing what you needed by the handful and stocking your trolley. Even grabbing a few extra things for you and Logan. Any time you had been on shift to go for the supply run you made sure to grab some extra snacks for Logan and you to keep in your room. You grabbed a bag of Skittles for yourself and some Recess cups for Logan (you had no idea how he could stand eating those).

As you were grabbing some breakfast cereals to stock the cabinet with you overheard a group of people whispering behind you. You turned and out of the corner of you eye saw them pointing at you as they continued to talk

“Why does she look like that? She looks like some cringe teenager?”

“Who does she think she’s fooling with that hair cut?”

“She was probably in prison and is growing it out”

Their voices were hushed but sounded like thunderclaps in your ears

She

She

She

You dropped the box of cereal you were holding, it made a skittering sound as it crunched on the floor. Your heart rate increased as their words reverberated around your mind, your chest tightening and not from your binder. Why today?

“Young miss? You dropped this” A middle-aged lady come into your view as you stared at the box on the floor, its bright logo staring you in the face. It’s mascot smiling gleefully. Her hand came into view as she picked up the box and handed it back to you. Trying to snap your self out of your downwards spiral you smiled sheepishly at her but the smile didn’t meet your eyes.

“Thank you” you took the box and shoved it into your cart. She smiled back at you and continued with her own shopping

The group from before were now snickering at you, before you could grab the last box you needed and head to the checkout the tallest boy in the group threw a packet of biscuits at you and said “Hey tranny, shouldn’t you be in the circus or something?”

The whole group laughed but you just stared. You turned around to face them, glaring them down with as much hate you could muster. All of it was controlled like a grenade ready to explode, the blast steadily building with each second passing as the chemical reaction grew inside the chamber.

Right now, it was anger, bubbling and building but never exploding. All the rage being pent up as you walked towards the checkout. Your feet felt heavy, your footsteps echoing more than last time as you stomped down the isles. Your heart beat fiercely but you looked on blankly, your eyes seeing but not processing what was in front of you. You just wanted to get out of here and get home. Go back to the school and hide away.

Deep down you just wanted to be seen. Being a mutant was hard enough as it was, having to keep a secret from the world and everyone who would ever know you outside of the school. And now, no matter how hard you tried the world still didn’t see you how you were. As a young boy, just like any other human.

But you weren’t, you weren’t and you would never be. Because society decided to define you based on your internal organs and bone structure. Just thinking about it made you irritated. That notion occupied your thoughts quite often and it angered you, all this hate and bigotry towards a group of people because they were simply different. Why did everyone else get to decide your fate? Why did they get to decide who you were and who you were supposed to be? It was bullshit.

As you drove back to the school you anger leaked out. It showed in the whites of your knuckles as you gripped the steering wheel. In the crease at the top of your nose in between your two brows. In the speedometer on your car screaming higher and higher as you broke the speed limit two times over, your foot flat to the floor on the pedal.

As you pulled into the gravel driveway the car screeched to a stop as you cut the ignition and yanked of your seat belt, opening the door with more force than necessary and slamming it shut with equal strength.

You began grabbing bags out of the trunk and bringing them to the kitchen. Leaving them with a few of the kids who smiled and thanked you as they began unpacking the bags you placed on the bench. Their smiles were genuine and warm as they helped you put the items away. You went back for the last bag and as you shut the boot and took a step away from your car you turned and came face to face with Logan. Almost bumping directly into him. You jumped and almost dropped the bag

“Jesus Logan, we need to get you a bell or something”

He chuckled but looked playfully disgusted by the idea.

“I’m not a cat” he laughs at you

“Well you already have the ears and the claws” you say pointing at the curls in his hair.

He laughs and gives you a punch in the arm as he reaches forward to take the bag from your hand. But you don’t let him take it. Usually you would have let him help you but today you didn’t.

It was stupid really, the reason you held onto he bag. The masculine clique of being strong and being able to provide had entered your mind on the way home, all the overcompensating masculine cliques imaginable had played out in your mind as you tried to combat the dysphoria that was consuming your brain.

He tilted his head at you when you pulled away from him but he didn’t press you any further. He walked along side you as you took the last of the groceries to the kitchen and put them away with the help of the few kids that were still unpacking the bags. You moved through the kitchen in a whir, putting things in their place at record time and then depositing the bags back into your car before walking back inside.

Now with nothing to do you felt to wired, to unoccupied. You didn’t want to talk about what was on your mind. You were to mad about. But slowly that anger began to dissolve. The feeling hollowing out your chest, taking up space and crushing your organs.

You had managed to evade Logan in your flurry around the kitchen, not that you meant to but you just weren’t thinking. Your mind was so full but blank. Like TV screen playing static. Numbly you walked to your shared room with Logan, you pulled off your shirt and looked at yourself in the mirror with your binder on. There was a slight pudge out the arm holes from the extra weight your binder couldn’t hold. You didn’t get it. You looked like a boy, like any other man you might have seen on the street. So how did they know? How were you still being misgendered? The thought made you angry again and you glared at yourself in the mirror, getting mad at your own face for betraying you. You pulled your binder up over your head. But because you hadn’t been careful to pull up from the arms first it got stuck, with your arms caught at an awkward angle

You tried to grab at the binder but couldn’t pull it up and over your head. You heard a knock on the door, and you ducked out of view, turning around so that your back faced the door as Logan’s voice accompanied the previous knocking. “Hey, you good?”

You sigh frustratedly, how was this the third time this week you had been caught like this “No…I’m stuck, again”

The door opened and clicked shut quickly as you heard Logan walk up behind you.

“Trying to get it off, or back on?”

You contemplated telling him you were putting it back on, but you had been wearing it for 6 hours already and you ribs were hurting, you knew you were pushing your limits. You sighed and told him to help you take it off.

Gently he grabbed onto the fabric and pulled it over your head, making sure to keep his hands away from your skin as much as possible as he freed you from your predicament.

You snatched your hoodie off the end of your bed and pulled it back on. Adjusting it so your body underneath was hidden, and your curved figure became blocked out and flatter.

He looked at you as you adjusted you hoodie with a sad and now knowing smile on his face.

“What happened” he asked softly

You stopped fussing with your shirt and you looked at him. All the anger from before was completely gone, and instead, the was replaced with the sting of sadness and the feeling of tears welling up behind your eyes.

You bit the inside of your cheek hoping that it would deter the tears in your eyes, but it didn’t. You didn’t know how to explain it, you didn’t want to say it to him. You felt pathic and you were embarrassed, but your heart ached.

It shouldn’t have bothered you but it did, and you didn’t know how to tell him

“Why don’t they see me” you couldn’t explain what had happened but you didn’t need to. He got the gist of it.

He pulled you forward into him softly, holding you against him and locking his arms around your back. Keeping you pressed closed to his chest. Your head resting right over his heart. The organ beating rhythmically and acting as a metronome that was grounding you.

The sound of his life brought you calmly back to earth, bringing you here into the moment, pulling you out of the hole you had been spiralling down. His deep long breaths added to the grounding atmosphere that he had created between the two of you. Those negative feelings were slowly fading away from you, the same way that mud and filth dripped down your fingers as you washed your hands clean of it.

It fell away from you and left you feeling clearer, lighter and calmer.

You closed your eyes and breathed deeply following the rhythm he set naturally and took it in, leaving behind the past hour and reveling in the comfort of this moment. Appreciating every moment you could take with him, basking in the glow that radiated from him whenever the two of you were together.

And in this moment, everything faded away except the two of you. And all of that pain and anger and fear melted away.

He placed a kiss on the strands of your hair and then rested his chin on your head.

“You will always be one of the strongest, most capable men I’ve ever met. And anyone who doesn’t see that is a joke”

You pulled away so you could look at him, and your eyes softened, you could see the pure unbridled love in his face as he looked at you. He cupped your face and pulled you in for a kiss, and that last bit of negativity slipped away from you.

Who cared about what other thoughts of you, they didn’t know you and they didn’t matter. Logan knew you, and he loved you however you were. He would never let you forget that because when he had met you at Charles’ school there was no doubt in his mind that you were the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

And that feeling never changed, each time he saw you no matter what state you were in or what you were wearing, each and every time, you would always be beautiful.

It didn’t matter what your body looked like under your clothes; it didn’t matter what society said you were supposed to be. All that you were, in its truest form, was more than he could have ever asked for in a partner. It didn’t matter to him that you were transgender because you were you. And that was enough for him, he hoped one day that you would be enough for you too.

This one goes out to all of my trans brothers out there, keep fighting boys. You've made it this far you can keep going!

And once again, I take requests. If you would like a one shot like this one or any of my other works then send me an ask!

[scribble-brain-aced]

for pride month, i have:

a list of how the hazbin hotel had their gay awakening. (or lesbian, or bi, or trans, or aroace, pan, etc)

Charlie: she watched Sleeping Beauty, the year after it came out. she looked at Snow White and thought “wow, she’s so pretty.. but also Price Florian.. wait.” because this was in 1938, she didn’t know what bisexuality was, but she knew and accepted her feelings, because it wasn’t a big deal to her. in the 1970s, she found the label for it— bisexuality— and thought “OH THERE’S A NAME FOR THIS, YAY!” and that was that.

Vaggie: when she was still alive, in 2010, a friend sent her a photo of a genderbent character from some TV show, and her first thought was “oh, okay, i see why everyone’s in love with them now. …wait.” she spent the next 20 minutes looking up female versions of characters and realizing “oh. OH THAT EXPLAINS SO MUCH” (based on my own story)

Angel: honestly, he can’t really say. he just kinda knew from the beginning that men were just hot, and he’d marry a guy if he could. molly just assumed he meant “yeah, men are just better than women” and went along with it, even though she personally thought both were radiantly beautiful. (she found out what pansexual meant in 1972.)

Husk: he has no idea. if asked, he just shrugs and goes “any hole is a goal, i couldn’t care less.” at one point, Angel just shoved a poster at him, Husk read it and was like “oh. i guess that’s me.” pretty chill reaction, just continued his normal day, but kept thinking “okay, wow, that’s ME.”

Sir Pentious: he just thought all people liked both men and women, but because of societal rules and whatever, they had to wait until they had a crush on the opposite gender. ..what do you mean thats not what being straight is. (he only found out what bisexuality was after he came to the Hotel and Charlie had a bi flag pin. he asked her what country that was, and she had to sit him down to explain the concept of LGBTQ+, and no, it is ABSOLUTELY NOT a mental illness, wtf, you’re fine, buddy, go be happy.)

Alastor: post-season 1, like three people separately wished him a happy asexual awareness week and he was so confused, he asked Angel to look up ‘a sexual’ on his phone because he couldn’t find anything at the library. (he was looking at the outdated library in cannibal town.) he read the definition, and locked himself in his room for the rest of the day. if anybody heard muffled screaming and somehow-happy-sounding swearing, nobody mentioned it.

Vox: pfft, what? no, he’s not gay! he’s perfectly straight! is it gay to say that men are just as good at women? …Val, what do you MEAN ‘no but yes’? (Valentino explained the entire history of LGBTQ+, stressing bisexuality. Vox just said “okay, okay, hear me out.. there’s a whole month for them, right? their whole thing is rainbows? what if we paint all of our logos rainbow-colored? they’d buy it!” Valentino gave up, because Vox just COULD NOT comprehend what he was trying to say. but he keeps sending bisexual memes to Vox.)

Valentino: he just always knew. come on, everyone’s hot, unless they aren’t. even better if they can be exploited. that’s all there is to it.

Velvette: pfft, she grew up with social media, she’s known about this shit since she was a kid. fuck love, fuck fucking, she’d rather pester Vox into making cheesy garlic bread. the guy’s a bitch, but he makes good cheesy garlic bread.

Baxter: back before he and sir pentious became bitter enemies, they were both talking about.. whatever. at one point, they got on the topic of clothing, and Baxter— then Bella— griped that he hated how dresses felt. too heavy, too annoying, and it made him feel sick, anyway. suits were just better, not just because they’re lighter. man, he wished he were a boy. pentious asked if he wanted to be a boy in general, not just for the suits, and after a moment, Baxter excused himself quickly to go find something in his library, shooing Pentious out of the house. a couple days later, he came out, transitioned, all that. the only reason he doesn’t cut off his light-lure thingy is because it’s useful. other than that, he avoids looking at it as much as possible.

[befemininenow]

Deconstructing the sissy in you (part 2)

This is a follow-up to a previous post. For the first part, click here: https://www.tumblr.com/befemininenow/720872897613283328/note-this-note-contains-a-lot-of-sissy-captions?source=share

You tell your mistress that something has been bugging you: your feelings are changing and desire to go further into feminization. To her excitement, she starts to write about how you need to be more “sissified” by doing more brave tasks. But before she can write more, you cut her off and say you don’t want more tasks: you want to be woman. Permanently.

Once she read that, that’s when she suddenly changed her ideas and began to forward you a “glimpse” to your future. Believe it or not, she loved your idea and was proud of how you broke your masculine phase. To test you, she sent you this picture:

If the previous pics and hypnos didn’t break you, this one surely shattered your past self. Look at her. Luscious curves, sexy pink dress, beautiful hair, cute face, nice and long nails, juicy legs and big boobs, thick and plump lips, big enough to suck d.... you got so lost into the imagination of being her, that your wildest dreams seemed vivid. Once you snapped back to reality, you realized that something changed in you. These were once the type of girls you would love to bang and brag about. Now, you seem to have envy of her and out of nowhere said, “I can look just like her, or better!”. Just saying that flooded you with shame and excitement at the same time. It didn’t help the subliminal messaging in the pic triggered hidden thoughts. But now, you can say that your attraction to women was simply envy and/or jealousy. What you really wanted was to become like them. The looks, the dresses, the heels, the makeup, the curves, the moves, the boys even! Then, your mistress messages you back with a pic and says, “What do you say? Are you ready to go further into your transformation?”

She’s right. All of those sessions and tasks made you realize what you truly wanted was to become a woman. Not just in looks and acts, but in body and features. You know it will be hard, but the task will be well worth it. Unhesitant, you reply back with confidence:

“I’m ready”.

At first, your change looked okay. You started to go towards feminizing your looks and routines and your tasks involved coming out all feminine. Your friends and family started to question your transformation “What’s happening to him?” “Are you gay?” “He’s not for real.” “What a sissy! LOL!” You didn’t mind the misgendering or the questions: in your thoughts, you were doing something right! You were letting your inner woman out!

It’s as if becoming feminine was so addicting...

...because in reality, you are feminine inside. It just took you that long to accept yourself and come out. Everyone learns and messes up on their first time. Everyone.

It felt so right! Your transformation was happening for real! Soon enough, you started to get everything you wanted: boobs, long hair, soft skin, attraction to guys, etc.

All of those affirming captions felt resonating. Your feminization felt deep. It seemed that there was nothing that could stop you. But then...

You saw that picture and loved her looks, her hair, her dress, her face, her femininity, her smile. But how, and why are you envious if you’re already “feminized”? It wasn’t until you looked at the mirror that you realized: you weren’t the same as her. She may have looked like a doll, a ballerina, an idol, etc. The difference is that she became a woman, cis or trans. You, on the other hand, became a “sissy”, or someone who is a sub to a dom and is subject to humiliating tasks such as dressing as a girl. But dressing as one isn’t the same as turning into one. You didn’t dress as a girl for humiliation. You dressed because it affirmed who you are inside. In your mind, feminization is the same as a transition. But to the group you belong to, “feminization” means something else.

(stay tuned for part 3)

[dream-meister-translations]

PERSONA 5 : THE PHANTOM X

PERSONA 5 : THE PHANTOM X BETA - PART 10

━

RUFERU : To think you’re spacing out in a place like this… What’s going on?

WONDER : …Like an idol group…

RUFERU : That… Doesn’t answer my question…

RUFERU : Or maybe you’re just speaking a language far beyond my comprehension? …Or you’ve given up on talking to me entirely…

RUFERU : You looked tired…

RUFERU : Spending all day at school only to be attacked by Shadows the second you get out… Must be tough…

RUFERU : In that case, lemme do you a favor.

Ruferu does a backflip, landing in a cool guy pose with his arms, uhh… wings? Crossed. 

RUFERU : Consider this an honor.

RUFERU : ‘Cuz you’ll be the first human to ever lay eyes upon this form, Wonder.

RUFERU : Trans… Form!!

A gust of wind seems to envelop Ruferu as he leaps into the air, a flash of light wrapping around him before a small Renault 4 lands between the rails of the train track.

RUFERU : Phew! All set!

WONDER : Ruferu? Is that you?

RUFERU : You remember what I told you, right? About how people’s perception can impact the metaverse?

RUFERU : Well, there’s actually a very prevalent notion around here that animals also serve as a means of transportation.

RUFERU : As for why I look like this in particular… I have no idea…

RUFERU : Come on, get in. Even a living car still needs a driver.

Wonder gets in.

WONDER : I’ve never driven a car before…

RUFERU : Oh, it’s easy. Just start the engine, hit the gas, and steer til we’re where we need to be!

RUFERU : Don’t worry. I’m always here to help!

RUFERU : See! Exactly like that! Okay, let’s get going!

RUFERU : Next stop! The deepest depths of cognitive space. Once we're close to our destination, I'll let you know.

They set off deeper into the tunnel, following the train tracks until another group of Shadows spawns from the ground to block their way ahead.

RUFERU :  Shadows ahead! And so is our destination, so get ready. We’re gonna have to blast our way through.

RUFERU : Their numbers are fewer than before but that doesn’t mean we can let our guards down!

As the fight begins, the newly manifested Phantom Thief Idol appears alongside him in the battle, much to the confusion of Ruferu.

RUFERU : Who’s that? A new kind of enemy?!

WONDER : They’re my Phantom Thief Idols.

RUFERU : Seems you have it all figured out. So I’ll leave them under your command. For now, let’s take down these Shadows!

With the aid of the Phantom Thief Idol, Wonder and Ruferu make short work of their assailants.

RUFERU : Okay, coast is clear.

RUFERU : So what did you call them? Your idol?

WONDER : Phantom Thief Idol, yes.

RUFERU : Hm. You say that like they hold some significance to you. Oh, well, not like it’s any of my business.

RUFERU : Oh? So you’re saying they’re a Cognitive Entity with powers akin to that of a Persona user? Have to say, I didn’t expect you to employ such a creative strategy..

RUFERU : In any case, it’s as I said earlier. I’ll leave the management and command of these Idols to you.

With that, Ruferu turns back into a car. Beep. Beep.

RUFERU : Okay, let’s keep pushing forward…

━

Meanwhile in Shibuya, Motoha and Tomoko are standing in the town square, next to the statue of Hachiko, a Japanese Akita whom, for nine years following the death of his owner, Hidesaburō Ueno, continued to wait for Ueno to come back home.

MOTOHA ARAI : Is this about a guy?

TOMOKO NOGE : U-Um…

MOTOHA ARAI : Who is it? Anyone I know?

TOMOKO NOGE : About that…

Tomoko clasps her hands together nervously, as if in pleading prayer to Motoha.

MOTOHA ARAI : I knew it. You’ve always been easy to read Tomoko. So you’ve finally found someone you like half as much as you like baseball, huh?

TOMOKO NOGE : I-I wouldn’t go so far as to say I like him! I just said I’m KIND of interested in him… That’s all!

MOTOHA ARAI : Okay, then why don’t we find somewhere to sit and chat rather than standing here?

Tomoko follows Motoha’s lead as she guides them to one of the benches in the town square… However as the camera pans, it reveals Kiuchi, who catches sight of them…

TAKEYUKI KIUCHI : Oh?

TAKEYUKI KIUCHI : That girl… It’s her…

━

Meanwhile, back in the Cognitive World, Wonder and Ruferu can be seen approaching a miasma of black and crimson energy.

RUFERU : If my intel’s correct… Then it should be right around here…

WONDER : And if it’s wrong?

RUFERU : I was born in this world. I’ve learned a thing or two about its structure in my time.

RUFERU : I can hear their heartfelt desires calling out to me from the rest of society’s collective consciousness.

RUFERU : Of course, as a part of that collective consciousness, you can’t hear these voices, but I can use them to gather vital information that will help us in our investigation.

RUFERU : And the voices are telling me… It’s right around… Here… Oh?

RUFERU : There we go! Kiuchi’s Palace should be right up ahead.

WONDER : Palace?

RUFERU : Even in the vast expanse of the Metaverse, it is possible for one's distorted desires to materialize in this realm, given enough power and influence over society.

RUFERU : From the perspective of the human Shadow driven by the cognition of their own desires, they may also see this as a ‘stronghold’ for seizing and protecting themselves from the erroneous desires of others.

RUFERU : Within the grounds of his Palace, Kiuchi is an absolute tyrant, ruling over even the Shadows manifesting within.

RUFERU : As such, this Palace is our destination. That is to say… We have work to do.

RUFERU : Come, Wonder.

Continuing to lead the way, Ruferu steps inside the miasma. Wonder follows as they step inside the Palace of Takeyuki--

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Hey. I’m tired. I guess you are too. Do you – do you want some H/V fluff with trans girls? I think we could all use fluff with trans girls. Let’s go.

*

Through the Mirror

Before accessing Villainess’ lair, you had to step in a hall of mirrors. It was like entering inside a huge crystal ornament. Knowing the owner, Heroine supposed it was meant to have some symbolic sense, something like “dare to know yourself before daring to catch me,” or some pretentious message like that. Granted, it was confusing for the potential intruders. Heroine used to hate that hall. Now, she was pleased to find out it was nearly reposing. There was no guard in that part of the lair. It was just her and her hundred twins. She secretly thought that all of them looked quite good. Her stance was so much more self-assured than before. Her brand-new suit was better, too. Dull colors like dark green or blue or gray had worn out their welcome. She was a Heroine, she wanted something that popped. The costuming department had grumbled, lectured her a bit about the seriousness of her mission, but she hadn’t budged. Eventually, they complied. Now a vivid pink and blue skirt floated around her tights.

“Nice look,” said a voice from the hidden microphone.

“Thanks.”

“Come on in.”

One of the mirrors shuddered. Heroine pushed it back and entered.

Villainess’ hidden place looked like a comfortable but plain living room. Pale brown walls surrounded a large table covered with notebooks and sheets of papers, another table with a TV on it, and a huge, old couch who had seen better days. That was all. Villainess was there, arms crossed behind her head, laid down on the couch. She examined Heroine with a critical look, then raised an eyebrow.

“White boots,” she said. “Bold choice. Is that some kind of message? Something like “I’m so skilled I won’t even dirty them with the blood of my foes?”

Heroine clasped her hands behind her back.

“ The message is I liked them.”

“Ah.”

“Not everything has to have subtext.”

“Most things do, though.”

Heroine pulled out two bottles of beer from her belt:

“Fine. So if I have two of these with me, can you deduce the meaning of their presence?”

Villainess held out an arm. Her guest sighed and stepped forward to give her the bottle.

“Can you spare a bit of strength to scoot over, or is it too much to ask?”

The dreaded woman that made cities tremble in fear didn’t answer, too busy to open the bottle without exercising any actual effort. Heroine shook her head. Taking upon herself to move the long pair of legs on the couch to the ground, she sat on the free space.

“Give me that.”

“No, wait a minute. I need to prepare myself psychologically for my inevitable sitting up.”

“Didn’t we fight for hours last week?

“Yes, that’s the consequence of that.”

Seven days ago, Villainess had suddenly threatened to explode all the banks of the cities, which was news for everybody. Until then, she was only used to rob them blind. Some bankers had taken offense of the sudden abruptness. Heroes had been called, even Superhero, but no one could catch her. At a last resort, the agency had remembered that Heroine had always kept her in check.

“So, how are you enjoying your last victory against me?”

Heroine took her own bottle into her hands, fidgeting with it:

“It’s nice. Most people are kind to me now. Superhero even told me to keep doing whatever I was doing with my hormones if they made me that much better.”

“Idiot.”

“He really has no idea how it works.”

She sighed:

“But yeah, seems like people is okay with the new me. All it took was a whole afternoon of fighting with collateral damage all around.”

“Eh, you know how people are; morals are nice, but spectacular is better. I had to make one building or two collapse to prove a point.”

“Which is?”

“I’m awesome. And so is the woman able to stop me.”

Heroine blushed.

“Not really. We cheated.”

“Nah. I just told you my plan in advance and you just told me when the other heroes were trying to ambush me. I’m calling that good planing. Cooperation is so much better than competition.”

It was true that it was her motto. None of the banks could have been robbed without the active help of several employees. Heroes were still trying to decipher the genius way she was infiltrating the security system while someone else was just opening the door for her. It was said employees who had helped the evacuation of the buildings before the official fight. No casualties. There was no need. There was never any need.

Heroine knew that since long ago, but since she had better fish to fry and villains who actually murdered people to stop, she generally looked the other way. They were warily avoiding each other, until the day Heroine had officially announced she wasn’t Hero anymore. The quality of the news coverage concerning her had wildly declined until she’d received a text from an unknown number:

I have a plan. Let’s show the world who you are.

It’d worked.

With a weary sigh, Villainess pushed herself back up. Their fight had not been faked at all, and she still was bruising everywhere. Heroine looked at her tossing back her long hair and finally opening her bottle.

“Thank you,” she said.

Villainess shrugged:

“Hey, you’re welcome. You were there when I came out. You gave me that doctor’s address and voila, it’s going to be five years on hormones in two weeks.”

“How does that feel?”

“I’ve never been happier in my life.”

Heroine smiled and raised her drink:

“Here’s to you.”

“Here’s to us.”

*

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