#and he's trans so he chose it for himself

[viria-virtual]

Things I’ve learned about Danny Phantom after finally watching it as a person who avoided watching it for months and read fanfiction instead. 👍🏻✨

Spoiler warning, just in case!

They call themselves the Phandom. (Super cute, I love it, 10/10)

Everything, and I mean Absolutely Everything I’ve learned, is a fucking Lie. (Not fun. I have to rewrite my entire understanding. I feel betrayed. Offended. Gobsmacked. My flabbers are mf gasted. -5/10)

The show is actually really funny. (I enjoyed my experience. 9/10)

Fuck Phantom Planet. (What the fuck was that shit? Um, rewind, redo, no thx, give me back the ghostie boy please. I genuinely didn’t even finish the episode, I got to where he un-died and had to turn it off. I refuse to watch it now. 0/10)

The Phandom was right to steal canon and make it our bitch. (Trans Danny? More Dani/Ellie screen time? Actual plot and lore for the show? Actual in-depth thought to ghosts and their culture? Um, yes please. 1000/10)

Frostbite actually is a doctor. (I don’t know why, but I thought it was another thing the Phandom made up. Love to see it, 10/10)

Wes Weston deserves his own episode. (What do you mean he doesn’t actually exist. What do you mean I don’t get my LGBTQ+ undertones. This is homophobic /j. -10/10)

How do you tell when a ghost is intangible, invisible, or both?? (The show doesn’t have a differentiator between the two, so I’m always confused if people can just see him floating through walls. 3/10)

Guys in White literally do nothing but be annoying. (Another case of the Phandom Lying to us. I love it though, they make really good antagonists. 7/10)

The Fentons are stupid and mildly aggressive, but they do love their kids. (I read a lot of vivisection, child neglect, and general Bad Parents fics so excuse me on that front. 8/10)

Danny didn’t actually beat Pariah Dark? (I love the Ghost King Danny fics, so to find out all he did was shove him into a sarcophagus was a bit of a bummer. He struggles more with Undergrowth than the actual king, like?? 6/10)

He can reach inside himself to take things out. (He ate a spoon in one ep and just reached inside himself to take it out. Pretty cool. 9/10)

Is he actually dead? (Phantom Planet makes it seem as if he just got a bit too high a dose of ectoplasm in his system and it fucked him up, how else could he have just undone the damage? But, most of the Phandom says he legit died in the portal, in which case he could not have gone in and just un-killed himself like he did in Phantom Planet. I think he died, personally. More trauma and angst for my writing. ??/10)

Clockwork appears a lot less than I thought he would. So does Frostbite. (I thought with how much they appear in the Phandom, they must have really important and constant roles, but no. They appear very rarely. Sad face. 5/10)

Vlad sucks. (Vlad fucking sucks. 0/10)

Dani/Ellie is much younger in appearance than I thought. (I looked her up for reference when I first started reading the fics, but she looked 14-15. She actually looks 6-7 years old in show. They literally call her a kid. 8/10)

Dani is what she chose to be called, not a funny joke the Phandom played on itself. (I though it was a silly little haha moment. Nope. The show just… named her that. I think Ellie is the Phandoms choice in calling her?? 8/10)

Why is Danny obsessed with Paulina even while crushing on Sam? (He is actively blushing and flirting with Sam and then they’ll turn around and he’s jumping at the chance to talk to Paulina?? Hate it. 0/10)

Danny and Dash don’t actually date. (I saw this circle around the Phandom a bit, thought it was cute if a bit weird, and then it didn’t happen? 6/10)

No obsessions, no cores, no real reason for the ghosts to be terrorizing Amity Park. (I legit thought it was real in-verse stuff, I’m so disappointed in the lack of it in the show. It could have been so good. 3/10)

Danny doesn’t actually become friends with his ghosts. (They don’t really get along, ever. They don’t talk outside of fighting, except for those who actually like him. Missed opportunity. 4/10)

His Space obsession is actually just a few mentions of him wanting to be an astronaut? (I thought he genuinely had an obsession with the stars and we’d see a lot of him stargazing or word-vomiting about his hyper fixation, but no. Sad. 4/10)

He does go stargazing (maybe?) and flies around when he’s not fighting. (We see him going off as Phantom in the episode where Jazz finds out about him. There are no battles and he looks like he’s having fun flying around. 10/10)

He was called Inviso-Bill?? (Hilarious, I love it, why did no one ever tell me this. 7/10)

He says “Going Ghost!” every time he transforms. Every fucking time. (It’s annoying, it’s ugly, I hate it. I am so glad no fics mentioned this or used it, I think I’d go insane. -1000/10)

That’s all I got for today, and probably for a while. I just wanted to write it down for fun, but I might post more like this eventually.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Would it be too wild of me to ask for plastic man because my autism chose the silliest guy to be my favorite 💔💔

I dont think this is too insane but I'm literally desperate for any content I'm going to explode I don't even care if it's just headcanons sfw or not or anything I will implode into confetti

this would obviously be with male reader but I don't mind if it's ftm because I am trans so uhmm do whatever

Patrick “Eel” O’Brian

Sfw alphabet

Plastic man has a special place in my heart too, so I get it. have an alphabet.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

It depends on who you are, but assuming that you are his romantic partner, then I could see him being very affectionate. Both physically and emotionally. Since he doesn’t age or has the ability to die, Patrick would hold onto you and love you as much as he could, since there will be a day where he is gonna lose you. Shows his affection mainly through physical affection, its not unusual for some part of him to be coiled around you whenever you guys are together.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Patrick would be a great best friend, he’s ready to square up with anybody who crosses you, always batting for your team as long as you aren’t extremely in the wrong. He has moments where he would be quite insightful as well, if that’s what you needed. The friendship probably starts because you are a hero, villain, etc, too. Or because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Pat loves to cuddle, he wraps himself around you like a blanket most nights. He will keep human shape if that’s what you prefer though, he just loves to be completely wrapped around you and just squeeze you close.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I could imagine part of Pat wants to settle down and just live a normal life, but its hard when you have the powers he has. he would be willing to give it a try though, if that’s what you wanted too. I’m not sure I can imagine him as the greatest cook out there, but I also don’t see him as someone who’s against doing chores and manual labor.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It depends on why you guys break up. If it was something like to keep you safe, then he might come up with some cover or excuse. But if it was for some more painful reason like cheating or something along those lines, then he would be a lot more blunt and just tell his partner to their face that its over and why its over.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Like settling down, I can imagine part of Pat really wants to get married. Hes loyal to a fault when it comes to the one he sees as his one and only, and it all depends on his partner how fast he wants to get married. I could see him as the kind to have dated for a short while and think “yup, I’m gonna marry them”, but he doesn’t want to rush you.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

I think Pat would forget his own strength sometimes, resulting in too crushing hugs or you getting thrown around from he’s excited, but he always apologizes whenever it happens. Hes also gone through quite a lot in his life, so he would have a lot of insight in emotions, but I could imagine its hard for him to talk about at times.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Yes I think Pat doesn’t just like hugs. He loves hugs and he would hug his partner any chance he gets. Just being close to you is a blessing for him, especially if it’s after that time he was “dead” and putting himself back together for thousands of years.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It depends. Some might see Patrick as somebody who would drop the L-word immediately after you guys start dating, but hes also been through quite a lot and has lived a long life with a lot of experiences, so this is an area where I could imagine he takes his time since it’s a very serious word for him.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I don’t think he gets jealous super easily, since hes sure in his relationship with you. That doesn’t mean he never gets jealous, just that he doesn’t get jealous by small or everyday things. He still get jealous if somebody else flirts with you, which ends up with him hooking an arm around you and butting in in some way.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Like hugging, Patrick would love to kiss. He kisses you all over, littering you in pecks all over your face, neck, hands, etc. but when it comes to kissing you on the lips, Pat would take his time to really put his love in it. he loves to kiss you pretty much anywhere, but he does prefer on the lips. Which is also why he likes being kissed on the lips the most. He comically melts every time you do, since he has the ability to do so.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

In the comics, Plastic Man has a kid or kids, but it all depends on you if you guys have any. I do imagine he’s great with kids though, taking his time with them and letting them feel safe and heard, especially since he grew up with an abusive father. He wouldn’t want kids to feel unsafe around him.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Pat is one of those people I can imagine wakes up refreshed and bright eyed, or is it goggled in his case? Hes always more refreshed than you, but he likes to just lay and admire you for a while. Being stereotypically romantic, Pat would probably also bring you breakfast in bed if you guys have time for that. Likes to wake you up with kisses before your alarm goes off.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

When he’s really tired, Pat will just start outright melting or deflating and collapsing on the floor or on top of you, sighing and complaining about how tired he is. Ends up with you dragging his deflated body to bed where you guys can cuddle, which is one of his favorite times of the day. Because of his powers, I don’t think Patrick needs much sleep, but he wants you to get a healthy amount of sleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He comes across as a very easygoing and bright guy, but I think it would actually take quite a while for Patrick to open up about himself and his past, like his childhood or how he used to be a criminal, unless you somehow already knew that, like if you were a hero too. Things would get told little by little over time as he starts to feel safer and deeper connected, most stuff you learn being from comments or things he does without thinking too much about it.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

When it comes to you and everyday things, I think Patrick would have quite a lot of patience. Why get angry about not being on the same page about dinner, or who needs to do which chore, especially when you can live and have lived as long as Patrick. He would get frustrated and angered if you put yourself in danger though.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He shocks you by remembering quite a lot about you, remembering small details you have mentioned maybe once or twice. He tries to remember important days too, but he never feels bad if you don’t remember it in return.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When you agreed to be his partner, or if you guys are married, when you said yes to marry him. Other than that, his favorite moments are the small everyday domestic things, like going shopping together, cooking together, or just sitting and watching a movie.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Being a superhero, there is a level of protectiveness in Patrick, especially with the kinds of baddies he fights and the kind of rivalry he has going on. He doesn’t joke about your safety, and would also make sure you teach you how to defend yourself, or get you in contact with other heroes that could keep you safe if he couldn’t.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Goes comically over the top, its honestly charming how much he cares. Like the type to set up a whole thing on the beach with balloons, roses, candlelight and the works. If you don’t like huge shows though, Pat would do something more lowkey but just as meaningful.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I could see a bad habit of his being not telling his partner when he goes on missions, or dangerous missions. I don’t think he does it on purpose most times, it just slips his mind since its such a normal part of his life. He always makes sure to apologize and make up for it though, and he does try his best to remember.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Pat would act like he doesn’t care too much about his appearance. But I think after a while of dating you, he might start doubting himself, seeing as he has one outfit and one color scheme. Hes pretty good at hiding it, but you’ll figure it out at some point where you reassure him that it doesn’t bother you.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He would. Those times he’s gone longer periods without his partner always left him feeling hollowed out and like something important was missing. This is also why he does his best to live life to the fullest with you, since he knows there is gonna be a day where its just gonna be him. He doesn’t want to think about it, but he lays awake at night sometimes thinking about it.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

A cat person. He doesn’t hate dogs, he just likes cats more. He always jokes that they’re long and loose like he is, and that like cats, he’s a liquid too.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

If you were a judgmental person, and didn’t believe that people could change if they truly wanted too. With his background and experiences, I couldn’t see Patrick dating somebody who looked down on others, especially if that other person was in a bad spot.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Clingy sleeper, like you don’t need a blanket because he just turns into the blanket and wraps around you like a burrito. Better get used to not being able to move too much at night, it’s like a sleeping bag, or like a bat with its wings wrapped around it.

[anantplayingdnd]

In honor of pride month I want to hear about how queer you made Barovia please and thank you.

For my game:

Strahd is an obvious bisexual king.

Rahadin is asexual, but not in like, an ace kind of way. Like in a single-celled organism kind of way.

Ireena is aroace! A decision partly inspired by a certain pool of water (iykyk), and also because she’s a little bit my self-insert. A PC hit on her in like session four and was immediately told, “Do not ever speak to me that way again.” She’s iconic and I adore her.

IZMARK. IZ. GAY. And madly in love with the druid. Unfortunately Izmark does not know he is gay. He believes it is very normal to lovingly stare into your homie's eyes and look down at his lips and imagine what it would be like to kiss him. And it is very normal to comment on how attractive your homie is, cause that's just what bros do.

Vollenta is a beautiful lesbian who refuses to let the fact that she is married to Strahd change the fact that she is a lesbian and nobody will tell her or her pile of bodies otherwise.

Ludmilla is on the ace spectrum. I mean, come on. She's with the guy for power and grant money. She says she loves him, and they're definitely intimate, but she's the kind of girly to take notes before during and after, you know?

Escher. What even needs to be said about Escher. He's Ravenloft's resident twink and proud of it. He's a little lonely and can't stop thinking about the boy he was in love with when he was young, who is now old and grizzled from age, while Escher himself remains the same age he was when he betrayed his lover and chose Strahd instead, but like... he's also pretty and immortal, so who cares?

(Escher Bonus Content: Two moms! They loved him very much and were upsettingly supportive of his decision to become Strahd's newest consort)

Anastrasya: idk she's dead pre-campaign in mine so if you came here looking for commentary on her you will not get it.

Ezmerelda is a trans lesbian! She's gorgeous and I adore her. She's just so confident that she can kill Strahd on her own and I think she's right for that. I knew I wanted her to be a love interest for one of my PCs, and it just so happens that the player in question has a type.

Danika is also bi, and she's very happily married to her wonderful little husband. This hasn't come up in the campaign at all it's just something I know to be true in my heart.

The Abbot: Gender! Fluid! Call them whatever you want. He/him when you want to play on ideas of masculinity in religious circles, they/them when you want to make them seem undefinable, she/her when you want your PCs to reflect on how much mom trauma they all have :)

Sergei is straight but that man loves the queer community so much and he deserves an honorable mention.

Arrigal is gay and very pissed that the party keeps knocking on his wagon door at 3am. His ex-husband/current boyfriend has been coerced into co-parenting a child with the cleric.

There's definitely others but these are my versions of the little guys. I am so interested to hear other people's takes on them.

[foxycleric]

newish boy, Kit Morgan, with a lot of baggage and personal shit going on, but mostly he's just emo about his elven lifespan

[avernine]

A weaver of dreams

[zincbot]

skip trans moments

[chompe-diem]

SORRY JUST GOT TO THE MOST SUPREMELY TRANS SKIP MOMENT

[happynewyear-99]

human karkat doodle

[methcheese]

i learned today that rocketman (the song) was abt drug use?? and i feel dumb for not catching that sooner but my thoughts when listening to rocketman are usually “oh this song sounds so good” and “fuck this dude GETS it” bc i mean?? “im not the man they think i am at home” really resonates w me as a trans dude. like the whole vibe of the song being like “im so lonely up here away from everybody but even if i go back im not who they think i am or who they want me to be” like holy shit so true elton john. and bc you face the same issues as a gay man i was thinking “yeah this was likely written w sexuality struggles in mind.” i love tho that even tho i was wrong i still think the song can be interpreted that way bc elton john songs are just Like That.

[danothan]

my biggest goal rn in my dc dive is to figure out who is trans and who is bipolar. i will lose my mind if someone is both

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for choosing my cat over my trans friend?

Some background about my cat first.

I (25F) have a pet cat named Max (not real name. It would be too identifiable if I used his real name). Max is a rescue. He had been abandoned by his previous owner because he would meow too loudly. This had happened several times, so he has been in and out of the shelter a lot. None of the previous owners had tried to figure out why he always meows so loudly, so I took him to a vet. It turns out that Max is deaf, so I don't blame him for meowing so loudly. He can't hear himself! He is scared of strangers and tends to hide, so I don't try to force him to come out if he doesn't want to. I also don't usually take pictures of him because the cameras and phones scare him. I just do what I can to respect his boundaries. Max isn't just a cat to me. He is my treasured family who brings a smile to my face everyday. I can't imagine life without him.

My friend, Amelia (22F) is trans. Her folks are transphobic and were not accepting of her when they found out. However, they had not kicked her out of her home right away. They had given her a week to pack her things and find a place to stay. I'm not sure what they were trying to do with that but another friend, Nina (24F) thinks that they did that as a manipulation tactic to get Amelia to retransition and Amelia thinks so too.

But the week had passed and Amelia couldn't find a place to stay. Nina had said she would have offered, but she lives in a small apartment that hardly had enough room for two people. So Amelia had asked out friend Ted (26M) who had also said he couldn't because he was housing his younger siblings since their parents had passed and he was struggling financially.

So that left me. But Amelia said she wouldn't be able to stay unless I got rid of Max. Why? Amelia is highly allergic to cats. Whenever she had come over to my place in the past, she had to take allergy medicine to keep from having severe allergies around Max. The allergies are bad enough that they could trigger an asthmatic attack. I told her that I refuse to get rid of Max because of his past with being abandoned. I do not want to become one of the people he distrusts, not after it took so long to get him to feel comfortable around me.

Amelia is upset with me for this and says that she doesn't want to have to always take allergy medicine. She said that I should get rid of Max because he is just a cat and his needs are not as important as hers when she could become homeless soon. I argued that he wasn't just a cat and was part of my family. Max would be staying no matter what. Amelia ended up renting a motel room, but she couldn't afford to stay for more than 4 nights. Nina ended up taking her in, but that has made her own living situation harder.

Amelia and Nina are calling me an asshole for choosing Max over giving Amelia shelter. They are saying that I am being a horrible ally and friend by valuing an animal over a human life. I don't think I made the wrong choice by choosing Max, but it doesn't feel great that they are starting to tell some other friends that I am being transphobic for not choosing Amelia. A part of me is saying that I should have chosen Amelia, but that same part is also saying I would fee guilty for being one of the people to also abandon Max if I chose to do that. Amelia and Nina barely talk to me aside from saying that I am being a transphobic asshole for "choosing an animal over a trans person's livelihood." I am thinking about just cutting them off now, but I'm afraid that would just lead to more backlash.

AITA for choosing my cat over my trans friend?

What are these acronyms?

[catgirl-kaiju]

something worth pointing out in the case of Tumblr CEO @photomatt 's statement regarding predstrogen is the very clear side stepping of the conversation being had. the ask he chose to respond to as part of his statement was asking about tumblr's transmisogyny problem, and what he is commenting on is tumblr's transphobia problem.

transmisogyny is certainly related to transphobia, but the two are not the same. i've seen plenty of trans folks who are guilty of transmisogyny and have even been harassed by such individuals on this very website. he repeatedly refers to transphobia and accusations of tumblr staff being transphobes throughout the statement, but never once brings up transmisogyny. perhaps he is unfamiliar with the term, but he could look it up and read up on it before responding to a question directly asking about it. he is very clearly not doing his due diligence in addressing these concerns.

he mentions tumblr having "LGBT+ including trans people on staff," but this is not especially helpful in assessing tumblr's transmisogyny problem. based on this we don't know how many trans people, whether or not there any transfem or TMA folks (who might understand the nature of transmisogyny better than TME people) on staff, what positions these queer people hold in the company, or whether or not any of tumblr's queer employees are on the moderation team. and it's understandable why some of these specifics are left out; you don't want to put any staff members in danger of being doxxed or harassed, especially if they're vulnerable marginalized people. however, it seems to me a gross oversight to not mention if there are any trans folks working on the moderation team.

i think it's also a huge misstep to focus on predstrogen so singularly when the conversation about her account being nuked is part of a larger conversation about transmisogyny. what this reveals, too, is transmisogyny playing an active role in the decision to ban her for life. one of the aspects of transmisogyny is viewing transfem folks as especially and uniquely dangerous. i'd like @photomatt to ask himself if he would have taken "threats" like the one cited as seriously if they came from a cis person or a TME trans person. really reflect on that, Matt. i also put "threat" in scare quotes here because, frankly, it's pretty clear that said comment is a cartoonish and outlandish example of violence used to demonstrate that the intent to harm is not literal. i do this all the time both on here and in real life. telling a friend i'm going to "maul them to death" over a minor annoyance is a comedic way of expressing frustration in a way that communicates it's not actually a big deal. saying something like "i want them to explode after falling down the stairs when trying to evade a falling piano full of knives" about a public figure or someone who is negatively affecting your life works as a way of demonstrating the intensity of your feelings while not veering into territory where it sounds like you're literally planning an assassination attempt. if you're reading this, Matt, i hope you can begin to understand the difference between something like:

and a real actual harassment, like:

y'know, all actual comments and posts i've received on this website, and reported with detailed explanations for why i'm reporting them but never heard back from the moderation team about the situation. i have no idea if anything was ever done about any of these people sending me bigoted violent messages because no one ever does follow-up. the only time i've ever received follow-up on a report was when i reported an account for promoting self-harm in the form of anorexia. that's it. one time in the over a decade i've been on this website.

how does all of this sit with you, Matt?

[fungi-maestro]

Lately when I tell someone in real life about Roger, they end up asking about his gender. I think if you had to put a label on it, he would be genderqueer in some way. I genuinely believe that if you asked him, though, then he would just laugh really hard and not answer, change the subject through a series of stories and lose his train of thought, or shrug and just say something like "I'm myself, baby!" He uses he/him but his gender is unquantifiable to anyone except him. He gets it, though.

[running-on-coffee-and-anxiety]

Finding a Prompt

I think i forgot to add tags when reblogging it!

So the prompt is that Clark thinks Danny is a clone, and misunderstands when telling his name. Danny is trans, and just thinks that Clark had one hell of a topsurgen or something.

Like, Danny says his name is Daniel, Clark mishears it as Dan-El, assumes he's another clone and asks if he chose the name himself, and then Danny says yes but that he prefers to go by Danny.

Then he pokes at the offered food, asks if it's dangerous, and Clark flies over to eat a bite to show it was safe and Clark thinks he was labeled a failed clone and had been poisoned before.

I'll take anything that even remotely resembles this, I miss reading the notes so badly

[thedomesticanthropologist]

"I want to headcanon a character as demi or ace so I chose Astarion"

But Wyll is right there??? Astarion has a huge trauma arc about reclaiming his sexuality but here is Wyll who says he prefers dancing over sex and won't even agree to it until you agree to marry him like that is RIPE for some ace or demi headcanoning

"I want to hc a character as Trans and I chose Astarion"

Wyll is the most Trans coded character and even got kicked out of his home by his father for a choice he made about himself that he doesn't regret why not use that plot line hghgkvh

Why not Wyll I'm just

He's right there

Like u do u I'm not gonna rag on anyone's chocies but WYLL IS RIGHT THERE

I know Asty is popular I'm just flabbergasted that Wyll isn't the face of these headcanons and AU's and stuff he fits the archetypes so well ahsgdhdhdhdjfh

[eyesxxyou]

❝ nude bodies ❞ (artist!hobie x trans ftm!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. friends to lovers, a little bit of awkwardness, oral (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), reader has a t-dick, very sweet sex (bordering on love making), creampie, hobie gets a little sappy at the end. you've been long time best friends with hobie for years, both secretly pining after each other. you both think nothing will ever come of your feelings until hobie asks to draw you nude.

wc: 5k

The sun was hot on your face. The rough sound of pencil meeting paper tickled your ears. Hobie hummed a soft tune while his hand carved out the rough shapes of your face into paper. His eyes kept flicking from his sketchbook to you, his gaze lingering on your closed eyes before wandering a little lower to trace the shape of your honeydew lips.

He reached out, his hand tenderly caressing the side of your face to get you to turn your head to the slightest degree so that the sun hit your face at just the right angle to make you glow honey gold. He touched you like a masterpiece, one of the old greats, like you would crumble if pressed too hard. His thumb traced your lip and you shivered ever so slightly.

“Have ya ever though’ of letting me draw ya nude?” Hobie had a way of saying things. Careless or carefree, you chose because he doesn't have the energy to do it himself, too busy drawing or playing the guitar.

You open your eyes, a deep frown painting itself across your honeydew lips. “You want to draw me what?” You sat up on your arms and Hobie sat up with you on his knees, his hand on your chest to push you back down onto the smooth wood of his deck. “Nude. Was I no’ loud enough? Keep still, dove. ‘m no’ done.”

You sigh and relent, laying back in the sun with your head tilted towards him to catch the golden rays. Hobie settled back down beside you and began sketching again.

You won't say Hobie didn't rattle something within you. Nude was intimate, nude meant vulnerable, nude meant served on a platter with all your feelings splayed out so brazenly before him. You couldn't hide anything from him while naked, couldn't hide how every gentle touch of his warm fingertips made your heart leap and your groin ache with feelings you’re forced to call want. You couldn't hide from his wandering gaze powdered with the stark neutrality of someone who didn't care either way.

“Why would you want to draw me naked?” You try not to move too much while you talk, try not to make a big deal out of his request. Why would he want to draw your body? Your body didn't look like everyone else's, the crescent-shaped twin scars cupping your chest made sure of that. Not to mention all the changes gone on between your legs. You’re not the most ideal person in the world to draw nude according to every societal standard.

But Hobie wasn't one to care about a social standard. “Why wouldn' I? I draw ya all the time. Yer my lovely lil muse.” He touched his pencil behind his ear and set his sketchbook down closed beside him. He shifted himself, laid down right beside you with his head propped up on his hand, looking down on you as you lay below him.

Hobie reached out and pinched your cheek. “Jus’ think ‘bout i’. No pressure. I wan’cha to be comfortable with the idea.” He lied down completely beside you, just the two of you lying on the deck of his boat, shirtless, arms touching all the way from shoulder down to the backs of your hands. You could grab his hand if you wanted to. He could grab yours. Your finger twitches with the idea of it. But that's not what friends do.

“What would happen if I agreed?” You asked timidly. Hobie turned his head, eyes carefully tracing the lines of your side profile. “We’d wait a week before we did anythin’. Jus’ in case you became a chicken and wan’ed to back ou’.” He teased as he always did and that set you at ease as you turned your head to meet his gaze.

His deep-set eyes traced the contours of your face with dedication and admiration. If you hadn't known any better you might have said he did it lovingly. But he was an artist at the end of the day and your best friend. Any love he had beyond a platonic one was for what you do for his art. “You bring it to life.” He once said. He did not love you the way you loved him. You were sure of it.

“Lemme finish this piece then we can grab a bite, yeah?” Hobie sat up and placed his hand on your chest, patting you the way a friend pats another in the back. He doesn't let his touch linger even though every atom of your body begged and pleaded for him to just touch you, touch you anywhere, you didn't care where. Just let it stay there, let it linger a little longer, let it hold so you might know that he's real and he’s yours.

You consider it while he draws with your eyes closed and your hands resting on your belly, tracing imaginary lines and imagining it’s Hobie doing it with the tips of his nimble fingers. He wouldn't make it weird, wouldn't tease you about it for the rest of your lives, wouldn't embarrass you by telling others. That's not how he is. It would just be between the two of you, from one man to another.

Hobie sits beside you in silence, hoping he didn't ruin anything you two had, the soft progress you have made with each other years in the making. He’s been dropping hints for years now, the obvious ones only made in the last few months. Unnecessary lingering touches, brushing his hand against yours to give you the opportunity to grab on and stay that way. He holds your face so softly so fucks sake, leans in so close he might just kiss you but leaves it to you to make the final move. You never do. He called you his muse, told you his art is nothing without you and yet you still look at him with that blank, oblivious look in your eyes that makes him want to tell you straight up that he’s in love with you. You’d probably still tilt your head like a puppy, confused and unknowing.

His eyes lavish over your body, every piece of exposed skin being feasted upon by his greedy gaze. Your eyes are closed, you’d never know. He wants to trace his fingers along your scars, kiss them, kiss you, feel your skin on his and know you a little more than he already does.

“I’ll do it.” You concede. “You can’t show it to anyone though. I’d die of humiliation.”

“Never planned to, dove.” Hobie smiled. “It’ll just be between me ‘n you. It’s just anatomy practice.” Anatomy practice sounded good, sounded reasonable, sounded like he wasn't just trying to find any excuse to witness you naked. Did it make him sick, perverted, what he’d end up doing with that drawing as he did with nearly all his other drawings of you? Did it make him bad that he’d end up with his hand firmly wrapped around his cock, pleading for a single moment, a single chance? Did it make him wrong that he’d ruin the page with cum and would have to redraw it all over again?

You remind him, “I don't have regular anatomy.”

“I don't need regular, dove.” Hobie looks up from his sketchbook, flipping his pencil to erase a small imperfection in his work. “I just need you.”

-

Hobie gave you a week. An entire week to reconsider and yet you remained steadfast in your decision. It wouldn't be weird. Hobie has a way of making awkward situations completely comfortable with his light-heartedness. He never took anything seriously so why should you?

Boarding his boat meant accepting wholly that you’d be naked in front of him and a part of you, while nervous, was comfortable with that. If you were to be naked in front of anyone in the entire world, you’d want it to be your best friend, the person you trust most in this world.

Hobie was waiting for you inside, guitar in lap while strumming some cords to a melody he was humming. You kicked your shoes off at the door and let it slam shut behind you as if it were sealing you in. You can't back out now. You had promised.

Hobie put his guitar down on it’s display rack and tossed the pick into a small box of picks he had sitting on a small table beside his bed. “Mr. Punctuality ova here. I wasn' expectin’ ya fo’ anotha hour.” He hopped down from the ledge he was sitting on, stumbling a bit but ultimately landing on his feet. He came over and tossed an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his body for a half-hearted hug.

“You told me to come at 1.”

“But when I say tha’ I really mean 2. You know ion run on other people's time.” He offered a cheeky little dimpled smile across those dark lips of his that you adored more than you could ever say. He rubbed your shoulder a little before patting it and letting you go. You wanted to run back to him, to tell him to embrace you once more but fully this time. You didn't want to embarrass yourself by doing so.

“Are ya sure ya do this?” He offered you one last chance to back out before the two of you started. “We can always stop if ya feel uncomfortable,” he assured you.

You nodded slowly, lips curling into a soft, self-assuring smile. “I’m okay. Let’s do this.” Your heart beat so hard in your chest you could feel it in your throat and hear it in your ears. You balled your hands into fists, thumbs in your palms, squeezing with anxiety. You trusted him, knew he would do nothing to make you feel uncomfortable.

“I’ll be back in a momen’, you can get on the bed when you’re ready.” Hobie went to leave to afford you some privacy. You appreciated his thoughtfulness and watched him go with a shaky breath. You wrung your hands, grasping the hem of your shirt to sooth yourself before you began.

You started with your shirt, pulling it over your head and folding it up neatly before placing it on the edge of Hobie’s bed. That was soon followed by your pants, then your underwear. You’re not used to being naked, especially not in Hobie’s boathouse. You felt vulnerable, your hands immediately went to cup your love and cover yourself without so much as a second thought.

You climbed up onto Hobie’s bed and covered yourself with his duvet, waiting for him to return so that you can get this over with. You tell yourself it’s for anatomy practice, that it’s nothing more than that. But there’s something oddly intimate about being wrapped up in his planets, lying in his bed with his deep, musky scent permeating your senses and soothing your raging nerves.

You lay there with your face pressed into his pillow awaiting Hobie’s return. Your fingers gripped his sheets, twisting and fingering the fabric anxiously as you watch the door crack open and Hobie’s head poke inside to ensure you’re properly prepared. He saw you curled up in his bed and smiled with a tender softness. “You ready?”

You nodded, nipping at your bottom lip. Hobie came shuffling in, closing the door behind himself gently. He rummaged about his flat, grabbing his sketchbook and a sharpened pencil before coming over to you in his bed.

Hobie climbed in with you, shuffling over to kneel beside your covered body. He set his sketchbook down and carefully reached out to grasp the edge of the blanket you had covered your modesty up with. “May I?” His eyes were soft looking upon you, they ask for permission too, ask for you to let your guard down for just a moment. They ask for you to trust him

You do. You trust him wholeheartedly. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you nod subtly and let go of the blanket. You let him peel it away from you but your hands return between your legs to keep yourself covered.

“Jus' relax f’me, dove.” His slender fingers grasped your wrists, carefully and gently pulling them away from your tender lips. You don't resist him, you let him take your hands in his and remove them from the spot where you find yourself feeling the most vulnerable. There's something about his touches that feels more intimate than before. Your nudity amplified every caress of his hand against your skin. You could feel it linger throughout your body.

Hobie gazed at you, his eyes scanning down the length of your trembling body, hitching at your chest and groin for just a lingering moment. You don’t hear the way he murmurs soft prayers under his breath, a plea for strength, for the worthiness to admire such a sacred body in its most bare state.

Starting the sketch was the hardest part. Hobie was used to touching you, holding your face, dragging a finger along the curve of your jaw, his fingertips kissing your eyelids, tracing the underside of your lips. He was a physical learner and with time, he knew your face like he knew his own palm, all the lines and shadows that made it up.

But he didn’t know your body. Not the way he wanted to.

You could see the frustration crossing his face as he turned his pencil and erased his work for the second time, “Is there anything I can do to help?” Your voice was timid and beautiful, ringing with an air of genuine concern. You hadn’t expected Hobie to ask to touch you.

“F’r visual purposes only. I don’ – know ya body yet. No’ like I know ya face.” His hands wrung against his lap, refraining from making himself too comfortable with your pretty body. He imagined your skin would be soft beneath his palms, supple as he dipped his graphite-covered fingers into your flesh. “You don’t have’ta.”

“You can.” You say almost too quickly. Did he catch the desperation in your voice? Did he catch the way you leaned in just a little further, the way you crossed your legs at the mere thought of his hands stroking down the length of your bare skin. Had you given yourself away? Had you shown all of your cards like an amateur?

You watched Hobie place his things down and come over to climb back onto the bed with you. You sat up and let out a startled little gasp. Hobie was suddenly closer than you had expected, sitting beside you with his hands on either side of your legs to prop himself up.

“Jus’ tell me when t’stop, yeah?”

He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t help but to touch. Hobie started at your face, the familiarity of it offering you ease and comfort. His hand cupped your cheek. Brushing a soft thumb under your eyes, palm cupping along your jaw and his thumb moving up slightly to skim over your soft eyelid. The pads of his fingers move to your lips, tracing them left to right, right to left. His eyes flick between your lips and your coy gaze, too shy to fully meet his every time he looks at you.

His other hand skimmed at your waist. His fingertips touching at your chest, tracing your scars with such loving care. Hobie likes the way you shiver under his touch, likes the way your body rolls as he makes his way lower to your belly where your happy trail begins, leading lower and lower. He doesn’t go all the way though you so desperately wished he would.

His hand touches your thigh, the other trailing down your shoulder, to your elbow, to your hand where his fingers slip beneath yours. Before you know it, your fingers are laced with his. There was something so innocent about it, something so beautiful and soft. His hand on your thigh, tracing circles into your flesh felt just as innocent in the beginning. But his fingers were trailing .along your inner thigh, gripping the flesh there with something far darker that anything platonic.

It was hard not to melt into his touch, a touch so hot that it left your skin burning where he met it. Your chest burned with desire. Your gaze, a little more brazen now, showed as much. You swallowed thickly as you caught Hobie’s gaze and suddenly you were doing just the same as him, staring at that lip piercing that glinted under the dim lighting of his bedroom.

It was the same thought that crossed your minds.

“Can I kiss ya?”

“For your drawing, right?”

Hobie nodded slowly, leaning in with a subtle tilt of his head. His lips hovered slightly over yours, not exactly kissing you but not, not kissing you either. “Yeah…for the drawin’.” He whispered against your lips, taking them with his. He kissed you like he’s been waiting for this moment since he’s known you. Kissed you like he needed this, kiss you in a way that said “if you stop, I’ll die.”

He can't help the way his hands wander, touching you in places he'd never even dreamt of touching in the first place as his hands grow more greedy. His hands trail everywhere, feeling your skin grow warm under his touch as he commits every brush of skin against skin.

You could feel a heat pool between your legs, your pussy ached and your dick throbbed to attention with each inch gained by Hobie’s fingers closer to your wanton core. You spread your legs for him, silent permission for him to touch where he pleased and where you craved.

Hobie did not touch you there, not yet. His hand held your waist and his lips began to trace a trail down the side of your neck, placing sloppy, open mouth kisses on your exposed flesh leading down to your chest. He peppered kisses along the crescents of your scars, worshiping exactly where they cut into you and made you a little more of who you are.

His lips pressed kisses down your naval. His hand gripped yours tighter. “Lay back, luv.” His free hand pushed you back gently, coaching you to lie in the mess of pillows stained with his scent. Hobie held your smaller hand, pressing it into the mattress, his free hand still roaming and touching and studying your warm body.

How could he possibly go back to pencil and paper after this? His drawings could never satisfy him now that he’s gotten a taste of the real thing. His art was meaningless now, served no purpose now that your flesh was beneath his tongue, in his hands, gripping, touching, loving.

He’s come on your face a thousand times over in his mind, on his page. But he could not bear the idea of sullying your sacred body with such degeneracy. Hobie would only touch, only please. He would come last.

He settled himself between your legs, his hand parting them a little further until your pretty, wet lips parted with a nice, creamy sound. You turned your head away, embarrassed but Hobie found it quite lovely. You are hard and wet for him, your sweet, little cock firm behind the hood.

Hobie kissed your pelvis just above your t-dick, ending his journey to where you desired him the most. He glanced up at you and found your eyes cast away with what could only read as humiliation.

“C’mon, dove, look a’ me.” He kissed the tip of your dick and smiled as you shuddered with something of a pathetic moan. You willed yourself to look at him with timid eyes. Hobie kissed your tip again, his fingers pulling back your hood to give him more space to work. His tongue licked firm strokes between your soaked lips all the way up to your pretty cock which he licks then takes into his mouth.

He sucked on the engorged bundle of nerves, swollen and sensitive on his tongue. Hobie worships the way you cry a little, your back arching from the sheets, his tongue stroking lick after lick against the tip, each one sending jolts of pleasure throughout your heated body.

You placed one of your hands on the back of his head, not applying pressure but to give him a few encouraging scratches to his scalp. “Just like that, keep going.” Your body shows all its cards and you couldn't care in the slightest. Breathless moans and soft whimpers keep him going, keeps him sucking your pretty dick with his tongue occasionally lapping at your sweet little hole.

Hobie used his fingers to stroke between your pussy lips where you ached the most. It was easy to ease a finger in with how utterly soaked you were and with a few slow pumps, the second finger was not too far behind.

He took his time with you, unraveling you like a gift splayed out before him. He could rush, he could take what he needed but he wanted this to be slow, intimate. He needed to tell you just how much he worshiped his body of yours, how much he valued every piece of flesh you offered up to him. He needed to study you, inside and out.

Your hushed moans were beautiful and the whines the broke out between them were just the same. “My lil’ muse.” He hummed against your cock, kissing it and the flesh around it in an act of praise. His fingers worked in and out of you, curled in search of that gummy little ridge that would send you into orbit and make this all the better for you.

He knew he found it when you let out a nice, little, high-pitched moan and your whole body lept. Hobie chuckled softly, much to your dismay and rubbed you at your sweet spot right where you needed him.

“Why– fuck~ why are you always…so mean. L-laughing at me ‘n all.” You pant out, hips bucking against his soaked fingers, all your pretty, little parts rubbing against his knuckles.

“On the contrary, I think ‘m bein’ rather nice, don' you?” He kissed your belly, slowly making his way back up your body to find your lips again. “I only wanna be sweet wit’cha, luv.” His lips pecked yours once, twice, before he kissed you fully again. His fingers thrust into you, his thumb playing with your dick to keep you nice and stimulated. “You don't think ‘m bein’ sweet?”

You shook your head and he pressed his fingers into your sweet spot to make you gasp. “I-I think you’re the meanest person I know, Hobes.” You wrapped an arm around his neck to pull him in, your lips still stealing kisses from one another. “I think you’re mean peck ‘cause peck it’s your fingers inside me and not peck you.”

“I can change tha’. I can be so nice t’ya.”

You’re lucky he’s in his pajamas and not his entire getup. It’s easy to get him to pull himself out of his pants enough to reveal his length to you. He’s thick and long, nothing to make a passing statement at. He slips his fingers from your eager cunt and uses them to drag along the tip of his cock, spreading it down his length with a few sloppy strokes against his palm.

Hobie pulled you closer. You settled back against his pillows, whining a little when Hobie pulled his hand away from yours to brace himself against you. You toss your arms over his shoulders and around his neck. Your gaze is a bit more confident looking into his and Hobie kisses you softly.

You're dripping, trembling as he drags the tip of his thick cock between your soaked lips. He teased you, pressing the tip into your sopping entrance before pulling away. It coats him, your wetness, making it easier for him to slowly inch his way inside. He stretches you slowly and your nails sink into his back. You bury your face into his neck, muffling your moans.

His hands caress your body, holding you tight as if he craved that same warmth from you as well. His hips pressed flush against yours, his cock buried deep within you. He lets you adjust while he familiarizes himself with your tight cavern. Your walls hug him, imprinting every vein, every groove of him. Soft and welcoming like you've been waiting to invite him in since forever.

You two stare at each other, the warmth of one’s breath breezing over the other's supple skin. "Move." You encourage, nudging your nose against his. His hands tightened on your waist as he pulled his hips back until only the tip remained inside before surging them forward. He liked being soft with you, liked touching you like you were one of his drawings, like you would smudge if he pressed too hard.

You didn't mind slow or careful. It made you feel all that more special, like you were worth taking up that time where he could be doing other things. He kept his strokes paced, gentle. The soft slapping of skin mingles with your moans that fill the room.

"Hobie~" You claw at his back, leaving your mark on him in bright red lines that cover his skin. His cock filled you to the brim, pressing every point of pleasure along the way to his tip kissing your cervix. Hobie’s size was nothing to laugh at. He touched places never before discovered, his hips rutting into yours in firm, paced strokes.

He pressed his against the side of your head. Your shampoo was nice, lavender and vanilla he supposed. Hobie made a mental note to write that down in his sketchbook with all his other notes about you.

Hobie smelled like subtle cologne and natural musk. It's comforting, not overwhelming or violently invading your nose. You kiss his neck, along his sharp jaw, and over his prominent Adams Apple. Your teeth nip softly over his supple flesh, easily able to leave hickeys on his skin, smooth as paper.

Your moans are like music to his ears. High-pitched and uneven. With each thrust, he's rewarded with such a beautiful sound. You chew on your bottom lip in attempt to contain them but he doesn't like it. "Uh-uh, I wanna hear you. Don't deny me such a beautiful sound." He reaches up and pulls your lip from your teeth with his own. A spark.

Hobie took your hand with his much larger one and laced your fingers with his like before. He pinned your hand to the bed, rubbing off graphite onto your skin, his mark on you, his love on you. “Am I nice enough now?”

You nod, “so nice~”. You sighed out, pulling him in and tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “So good.” You murmured against his skin, sucking on that piece of flesh to calm yourself. His strokes were deep, solid, unquestionable in his dedication to his craft.

He kisses your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, then your lips, a innocent little kiss that belies the way he’s fucking you right now, his pelvis rubbing your dick with every roll of his hips.

His hand touches the side of your face, skimming it, holding it, worshiping it as if he were drawing. Your eyes fluttered softly, your lips parted to let out a shaky breath and your eyes admire him the way he admires you, like an artist looking at its masterpiece.

Hobie’s hand trails down the length of your body and reaches between your bodies to touch your dick. He strokes it between his fingers, smirking at the way you cry into the bend of his neck and take the time to bite. You sink your teeth into smooth muscle, tongue lavishing over smoother skin. You’ll undoubtedly lean your mark and he wouldn't have it any other way.

You were so sweet too, so sweet to tell him before you came in short, fast pants. You begged in soft “please”s for him to keep going. “Jus’ like that.” Your legs hooked over his slender hips to keep him in close.

Your mind went hazy with the rush of your climax, your body tensed and rolled with the waves of it. That pretty pussy of your clamped down around Hobie’s full cock, stroking him in beautiful subtly pulses that coaxed him towards his own orgasm.

“Ya wan’ me to cum wit’cha, pretty boy?”

You nod and whine, nails sinking into the back of his neck. Your legs tuck in and pull his hips closer and oh those silky walls of your milked him so nice and thoroughly he couldn't help but to cum.

Hobie didn't mean to cum inside, didn't mean to sully your body with his spunk. He didn't want to ruin you, ruin the temple of your body but God, he couldn't help it and you weren't letting him move.

And oh, he didn't mean to get so sappy, didn't mean to lift your intertwined hands and kiss the back of yours as he came deep inside, hot cum rushing to fill you to the brim. He sighed with pleasure and contentment and looked you in the eyes. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, luv. My lil’ muse.”

He rolled over with you still holding on to him, slipping from his little sanctuary between your legs with a wet pop. He readjusted himself, made himself decent before kissing you on the head.

God, what would this mean for your friendship? Would this become a regular thing? Did this make you something more. You were too afraid to say anything in fear of ruining the quiet serenity of the moment.

“You got what you need for your drawing?” You ask innocently, as if he did all of this for some damn drawing. Hobie scoffed against your scalp and pulled away to look at you. “Yeah, but ‘m no’ in the mood to draw anymore. Jus’ lemme hold’ja, yeah, dove?”

You could let him do that.