#theres something so... comforting about the fact that nothing changed between us

[tatoasting]

BAABYY. POUROVERTELL ME ARE WE CONCREETE WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITHOUT MY PERFECT COMP ANY TO YOUR UNDRESSED SPIINE?

[vveakfish]

do you have any thoughts about the core four whose gender(s) are basically just a trans fruit cocktail that you would like to talk about? because I would love to listen

oh boy DO I !!!

I have So Many thoughts about them Anon, so thank you for giving me an excuse to try and put it into words beyond “Damn, these bitches trans! Good for them.”

Honestly, there are so many different ways to explore these characters genders based on how you choose to interpret their life experiences, and their aesthetic changes, and their relationships with each other. I am of the belief that any of them could be trans in any direction

But, that said, I Do have particular gender headcanons for YJ that i am very fond of, so thats what I’ll be talking about today.

(Small disclaimer. I have not finished all of the comics referenced in this. I am using the information i have to inform these, but you know, i might come back to this post at some point in the future and look at it like “wow, i don’t agree with any of this anymore.” And i think thats okay.

I’m just here to have fun, and i thoroughly enjoy these little guys, and think abt them alot, so enjoy

(also if you dont want to read 4.1k words of blorbo gender analysis, or would like to avoid spoilers for Superboy (1993), Young Justice (1998) & (2019), and Red Robin (2009) in varying degrees of detail, or you just want to see what lables i assigned them, scroll down to the bottom <3))

lets get started.

Bart:

Bart's gender is the most complex, but his thought process about it is also the most simple. I think his view of gender would be very much influenced by the fact that he grew up in VR in the future like…

A body is just an avatar, do what ever the fuck you want with it.

That said, the lil guy has always given me transmasc vibes. These vibes, however, are by no means binary.

He understands that in the 21st century a lot of people do not have his sort of “throw things at the wall and see what sticks” approach to gender, so he’s okay with being put in the box of Boy™. But his gender is a lot more * hand waves vaguely *

Clothes don’t have gender in his eyes, they’re fabric you put on your body. Wear what ever you want forever!

Bart in skirts is something i have seen many people draw/talk about before, and its something i agree with wholeheartedly. He likes hair clips, and like, those loud (actually loud and visually loud) beaded bracelet type things that ravers wear. He like nail polish. He doesn’t grow facial hair, but he wouldn’t care if he did. He’s not on hormones, but he definitely considered it for the bit. “Gotta drink my boy juice” Kind of vibes.

For him gender has Nothing to do with performance, its all about comfort. About wearing what feels right, regardless of whether or not he’s adhering to expectations of masculinity.

Yes, he Will wear that god awful outfit out of the house, haters can die mad

Cassie:

Anon, I need you to understand how much i love early yj98 cass. She is everything to me — her process of coming to terms with herself, and being able to watch her start to feel at home in her own skin. It makes me absolutely feral.

lets see if i can explain why… succinctly

When we first meet her in yj98, her identity as “Wonder Girl” is this sort of amalgamation of What it Means To Be A Hero in her eyes. She has her party city blunt bob wig (Because Diana is who she looks up to), the gloves, leather jacket, goggles combo (that so clearly take inspiration from Kon).

At this point in her life Wonder Girl is not really her. Its very clearly a mask she’s putting on. which is what makes it the perfect avenue for her to explore gender expression without it having to actually be about her gender.

I think the part that specifically makes me feral though is her… we’ll call it admiration of Kon.

The girl is a self proclaimed Superboy stan + theres all the weird not-drama between Cassie and Cissie over wanting attention from Kon. (And i say Not Drama bc its like… Kon flirting with cissie (which like… have you met 90’s Kon?? he flirts with everything that moves) and Cassie being upset that he’s Not flirting with her. and cissie is just along for the ride. She’s not quite as much of a flirt as kon is, but she has her moments)

All of this to say i feel like its impossible to have a conversation about Cassie’s gender without also talking about her experiences with comphet and lesbianism.

At the beginning, Cassie sees Kon — this cocksure, conventionally attractive boy with powers that (at first glance) seem very similar to hers, and felt something about it. And, in the way of teen girls who have been told since grade school that they’re supposed to like boys, Cassie comes to the conclusion that what she feels for Kon must be romantic in nature, right?.

All of this, the jealousy over Kon and Cissie flirting, basing her costume off Superboy’s (intentionally or otherwise), the fact that she wont let her team see her without the wig and goggles at all for so much of yj98. To me it all reads as the tangled mix of undiscovered lesbianism and gender dysphoria that the poor girl simply doesn’t have the words to define yet.

So, then what IS cassie’s deal with gender???

i am so very glad you asked.

She, too, is a transmasc of the nonbinary variety.

I think her relationship to femininity is complex, and ever changing. She doesn’t feel comfortable performing femininity the way the world expects her to, but she is also part Amazon. And i think having a relationship with both Diana and Donna would greatly influence how she felt about femininity as a whole.

The Amazons are strong, their femininity isn’t about beauty, or being soft spoken — it isn’t about Men at all. On Themyscira, to be a Woman is about bravery, honor, skill, and in some ways, divinity. Getting closer with her Amazonian sisters would change her relationship to womanhood immensely.

But it still wouldn’t feel Right. She would be able to see that womanhood can be defined differently, but that wouldn’t change the connotations that womanhood had as she was growing up. She’d never be able to lean into it the way Diana or Donna do — they both grew up only having woman defined as strong and brave and confident. Their experiences are not analogous.

The baggage of growing up a girl under the patriarchy wouldn’t just… vanish because she sees that it Doesn’t have to be that way. In some ways, the knowledge that it didn’t have to be that way could make her dysphoria all that stronger (especially if she hasn’t quite deciphered that dysphoria is what she’s feeling).

but i think there would be a point where two things sharpen into focus for her.

fiirstly she has a big fat crush on cissie king-jones.

and second (which would only come AFTER realizing her feelings for cissie) is that what she feels for Kon is Not the same as what she feels for Ciss.

She didn’t want to be with Kon romantically, she just wanted his gender.

I could see her experimenting with wearing a binder, liking that she can get rid of her boobs if she isn’t feeling them that day.

She already has her short hair, and her leather jacket and jeans, and shes big and buff and strong (because she deserves to be butch!!! okay???).

I still think she would use she/her pronouns, but she wouldn’t be picky ab it (if she gets called sir while at the pizza place, she’s not going to correct them.)

But here’s the kicker — I think leaning hard into her masculinity would be EXACTLY what she needs in order to actually ENJOY expressing femininity again.

When putting on the mask that is ‘womanhood’ becomes something that she can Choose to do, rather than something that is being forced on her, it can be pleasant. Like playing dress up.

She has a new appreciation for it, especially since her friends respect her gender, and she knows at the end of the day, when she takes the makeup, the clothes, and the wig off, underneath it all she’s just her.

(Small addendum re: TT’03 Cassie’s fem phase. I have Many thoughts about this as well, and while they end up in roughly the same place, i exploring her experience with comphet and her decision to dress in a more traditionally feminine in that run is something id like to explore in another post (once i’ve actually read the run too.)

Cissie (bonus):

This one should be shorter than Cassies, mainly because my reasoning for it is much simpler.

YJ'98 (#11)

She lists all these names, all of them feminine except for Fucking Ralph. “One weird phase” she calls it.

To me, Cissie is a transgirl through and through. She has this huge list of femme names she tried on while she tried to find the one that fit best. She mentions ralph in this off handed way, as if its not important, and i think thats just her way of dismissing her deadname as something of little consequence.

(that said, i think there’s lots of fun to be had with transmasc cissie, or tried transing-her-gender and realized it wasn’t for her Cissie. But as a transfemme, tgirl cissie is So important to me <3)

Kon:

other people on here have made posts about Kon’s gender that are much more coherent than this will be, but i’m putting the words down anyway. bear with me.

Kon’s experience with identity (especially in his earlier years) is almost entirely about the external rather than the internal.

Kon has his whole life planned out for him from the moment he opens his eyes. It’s simple really — become Superman.

So you have this freshly hatched teenage boy, saving the world as Superman (not the Only one, but definitely the coolest one (Kon would argue)). All eyes on him, all the time. In some ways, performance is inseparable from who he is. From the very beginning, everything he does is on display.

He starts his life with a Name (Superman), a life path (…again, Superman), and all the confidence of a sixteen year old jock with nothing but wins under his belt. then it all gets taken away.

Turns out Clark ISNT dead, and the world doesn’t need its pint sized superman anymore now that its got the real thing.

enter Superboy

Kon’s entire identity, his whole purpose for being alive, was to step into the shoes of a dead man who is no longer dead. So where does that leave our genetically engineered test tube baby?

lost, and extremely confused.

But he’s good at using his charisma as a shield, and even better at keeping himself busy. His problems aren’t there if he doesn’t have the time to think about them, right?

and i think that’s true about his gender as well.

Similar to Cassie, his discovery and exploration of his gender feels incredibly tied to his sexuality (to me). If you’ve read sb93, you know Kon’s deal with women. He is cute & conventionally attractive & he's like superman with a fashion sense, so of course there are people fawning over him.

And he loves the attention. He likes that people want him, or that they are looking at him. The issue is he doesn’t have the life experience to realize that their reasons for paying attention to him are often very shallow, manipulative, or selfish.

He isn’t treated as a person very often. He’s a brand, a product, a tool, a weapon. He’s arm candy, he’s a photo op, he’s a headline, he’s a paycheck. And it takes him a long time to be able to tell the difference between someone Liking Him & someone Using Him.

For the longest Time, Superboy is all he is. He doesn’t have a name outside of that identity (except for the various pet names the women in his life give him (kid & pup, mainly)).

And even when Clark does give him his real name, Kon-El, its still Attatched to his identity as Superboy.

I dont think that he would really even be able to start dissecting how HE feels about his identity until he’s much older.

Part of this would come from the space to be someone else that gaining a civilian identity would give him. As Superboy, the goal has always been to stand out, to be seen, to shine like the sun.

As Conner Kent, he has to blend in. He doesnt want to draw attention to himself, or the Kents, or Clark. He has to fit in, which was never something he had to do as Kon. And i think it would kind of chafe at him — but he wouldn’t really know why.

I think he’d chalk it up to how different of an experience it is. Not being loud, having to be normal™. And so i think he’d just… continue to play the part. For a while anyway.

And like, part of being Normalest Boy Conner Kent would also involve actively un-queer coding himself for the sake of fitting into the ecosystem of Smallville High. and its like…

Young Justice, as a friend group, is SOOO queerplatonic. The lines between romantic and platonic intimacy are so blurred, and Prior to Kon’s YJ days he he was also like… living with these woman who he had complicated relationships with that also blurred the lines between platonic, romantic, and sexual (…looking at you, Knockout).

So learning where the line is when it comes to how he can acceptably interact with his civilian friends (particularly the boys) would Really open his eyes to just how close he is with Bart and Tim, and how similar his feelings for them are to his feelings for… lets say, Simon Valentine.

But i dont think That is what would actually tip the scale. I think realizing that these feelings for his friends aren’t considered ‘normal’ would make him shove them down deeper. As ‘Conner’ anyway.

from here it could go two ways, right?

Either we get Teen Titans ‘03 t-shirt Kon, who sheds his GNC 90s swag in exchange for adhering closer to traditional (read; boring) masculine gender roles.

or we get a Kon who leans Harder into his punk roots, but its a conscious choice now.

(this isn’t even digging into how he would feel once Jon comes into the picture, because while Kon cares for that boy Deeply, his feelings abt the new kiddo in the family could also be very complicated. But that’s a post for another time.)

Personally i prefer the second one.

Kon has always been a curious kid, i love the way he makes pop culture references, and how he bases his behavior off of 90’s teen tropes that he Most Definitely learned from TV. In his early days this wasn’t done in a research way necessarily, but he Did want to learn what it was like to Be a Teen™, and TV was the easiest way to figure that out.

(and, playing in the space of Kon adaptations, his love of media/pop culture, and just over all thirst for knowledge, are present both in the Reign of the Supermen Movie, and in his iteration during the n52 (which is one of the few things i personally have internalized from reading n52 Superboy/Teen Titans)).

But post gay awakening, i feel liked he’d be interested not just in behaviors, but also the context of them. Digging into punk as a subculture rather than as an aesthetic. Learning about its connections to queerness, and community, and self expression. And i think this would be extremely freeing for him. (especially if this were around the time of Jon becoming Superboy v.3, but again, not the point of this post.)

this all culminates in Kon being like yk? gender just… isnt for me. Like, it takes im a long time to get to this point, but realizing that the path that was set out for him is just one of the potential paths he can take, and while he might not know where this new path will take him, its his, that that matters.

And also like, Because his friends are who they are, he’s seen different versions of queerness, and transness, but i think it would take him a bit to see himself as someone who Isn’t Cis bc like… he doesnt have dysphoria in the traditional sense.

He’s still the beefcake he’s always been, but i think he’d start playing with makeup when he realizes it makes him feel good (he shows up the the cave one day with smudgy eye liner and Cissie is immediately like a) you look so good and b) can i Please do your makeup? (and then she does it, and he looks so pretty, and he gets these weird giddy feelings that he doesn’t realize is gender euphoria until his friends start talking abt gender euphoria)

His uniform starts to get more personalized too, like the designs where he has knee patches, and all his little belts, and stuff. maybe he starts experimenting with showing skin. bc he deserves it

(’its for maximum sun exposure!!!’ is the what he tells clark… he’s not sure if clark bought it or not)

And hey, exploring gender presentation more as Superboy might help him do the same as Conner. Cassie will take him thrifting, he’ll try of a flowy skirt or a sun dress or something and then its Over. Gender euphoria part two, electric boogagloo.

In the end, its about realizing that adhering gender roles (and truthfully, any socially imposed ‘rule’ about self expression) is something he can simply Choose not to do. And i think this freedom would be something that benefits him in his civilian life as well.

His gender is: literally what ever, man.

Tim:

Ok, here’s the thing about Tim and gender, right? I think he’s kind of just comfortable as he is. He’s good at playing the roles he needs to in what ever situation hes thrown into. ‘Robin’ and ‘Tim Drake’ (and even ‘Tim Drake-Wayne’ if you want to split hairs) might be masks he wears, but that doesn’t mean they’re any less him. if that makes sense. like…

Lets look at the differences between Bruce (or Brucie) and Batman for a second. They really are different people. Batman is who bruce is at his core, ‘bruce’ is this sort of liminal space between the cowl and his public persona, and then theres Brucie™, and well, you know how he is. These are personas that Bruce puts on.

With Tim its like he just highlights different aspects of himself when a situation requires it. (oh no, the autistic!Tim head canons are being loud today.) But like, he’s Always been masking. And i think this is something he would look at as like… getting a good grade in adapting. or something. He’s comfortable, all the roles he plays are ones he’s familiar with, and he doesn’t really question who he is outside of who he needs to be.

That is, until Caroline Hill makes an appearance.

I feel that the decision to go undercover as a woman was a wholly practical decision in the moment. It’s what the mission required, and therefore tim stepped up. Its just another mask, right? Surely this wont awaken anything in him…right?

But this is an entirely new mask. And i think it might like… shift the way he looks at/thinks about the other masks he puts on. He was able to step into a role that was very foreign to him, and it Worked. (and he felt pretty, which like… woah, thats a new feeling. and he kinda liked it? file that under ‘thoughts he doesn’t have the bandwidth to process right now.’ Bruce needs him back at the cave! its time to debreif! and he has a biology test tmrw! no time for gender scaries!!!).

I think it would take a while for him to be able to admit it to himself though. Because like… hes Not uncomfortable with his body, but he also keeps thinking about how good he felt dressed up femininely, and how he felt powerful, in a way. That putting on that mask felt just as good as putting on his domino.

Personally, i think itd be funny if instead of coming out right away, Tim doing undercover missions essentially in drag becomes a recurring thing. And i imagine some people give him a hard time. (not in a transphobic way or anything, i just mean like, teasing him fondly or what ever.) (Also, i like to imagine that when cissie Did kons makeup, bart and Tim jumped in there too bc like hey why not, and hoooooo boy, if Tims egg hadn’t cracked before then, it sure would have cracked after.)

The thing about him is, i’m not sure if he’d come to the realization himself. You know, that he would like to present femme sometimes, in a situation that has Nothing to do with a mission.

I could see Tim convincing himself that its a pointless or frivolous desire, which is Why he relegates his time presenting femme to when he can prove that it’s useful.

but i have this image in my mind, right? Of him, taking his makeup and wig off, and hes chatting with whoever is in the room with him (literally anyone else mentioned above… or Dick). And Tim’s just talking about how he wishes he could present this way in situations other than missions.

and the other person in the room is just like… i mean, you literally can.

and hes just like…. shit you’re right. i Can :0

I could probably go further into depth abt this, but i think this just frees him to start playing with gender more as Tim. and start to recognize when he’s feeling more masculine, more feminine, or somewhere in between.

His gender isn’t consistent, its this thing he’s constantly listening to, and trying to understand. but in the mean time, he can paint his face, and wear pretty clothes, or dress like just Some Guy, or be a hedgehog dressed in traffic light colors, or what ever his heart desires.

As far as like… how He describes his gender, i think he’d say something corny like bi^2 (bi of both the sexual and the gendered varieties). Or shrug, handwave, generally give a non-helpful vague description. Or tell who evers asking to buzz off.

(small addendum wrt Kon and Cassie in TT’03. I haven’t read this run yet, so i didn’t really include it in this post. But i Do have thoughts about what might cause the two of them (my gnc besties from my comics books) to lean sooooo hard into traditional gender roles after being So Queercoded in their other appearences. Before i talk abt that though, i want to read the comic. So, that will have to be a post for another time)

ANYWAY, heres that TL;DR i promised.

Bart: NB Transmasc Cassie: NB Lesbian (of the transmasc variety) Kon: Agender Tim: Fluid (bi-gender) + Cissie: Transgirl

Thank you soooooo much for giving me the opporrtunity to ramble abt the silles and how Not Cis i think they are. Love you forever.

[miggfo]

Cis Yet Not Cis: The possible intersection of GNC identities and being trans/nonbinary, and misconceptions about GNC people

Introduction

I think the best way to introduce this post is to simply present a variety of often-conflicting quotes from LGBTQ people about "gender nonconforming" people(like butch women and femboys):

"Femboys can take off being a femboy at any time, unlike trans people."

"The character expressed gender euphoria at being perceived as masculine, so they have to be transmasc, not just GNC"

(a butch woman speaking) "My initial reaction to getting called cis is to cringe... cis is viewed as the opposite of trans, so it implies I'm comfortable with conforming to my gender"

(a trans woman speaking) "What is the material difference between me and my HRT femboy friends?"

"If you take away lesbianism from being butch, then all you have left is dressing differently."

"GNC people are not queer, queer is only if your identity or sexuality differs, and GNC people are cis"

"Nobody is assigned femboy at birth- they're essentially trans."

"Theres a long history of some butch women getting dysphoria for not being masc enough, sometimes going on HRT or getting top surgery."

"Femboy is only an aesthetic descriptor, it has nothing to do with identity"

“We never see him dress masculine, he's ALWAYS dressing fem, so how can he just be GNC?”

These quotes, and many others, reflect varied, conflicting perceptions of gender nonconforming people among even some trans people. So I suspect that a significant percentage of LGBTQ people have a flawed understanding of GNC people, and so I wanted to make this post. I think most of you basically get it but since I see some weird statements every now and then so i figure it may be helpful to convey this breadth a bit better, and that may help solidify it for some people.

(Also, to clarify a definition: I'm using "gender nonconforming" here to mean "someone who's gender expression doesnt match society's conception of their gender identity", ie butch women, femboys, tomboys, etc. As far as I can tell, this is a relatively recent definition for GNC. It has been heavily adopted as the primary definition in many LGBTQ circles(probably because of the vacuum it fills), but theres still people who use the term as an umbrella term for trans+nb+etc(which seemed to be the meaning before the recent shift) or people who use it to mean something like genderfuck, so I felt I should clarify.)

Expression and Breadth

A source of the disparity in the quotes above is that GNC identities involve something like a spectrum. For example, for male-identifying cis femboys, you could lay out a demonstrative spectrum something loosely like:

1)A femboy who is arguably gender conforming outside of the fact that he enjoys the aesthetics of dressing fem. It has no emotional importance to him, he can "take it off" at any time, and his conception of identifying male has not changed much.

2)A femboy who is only modestly attached to being a boy(demi?), but doesnt identify as being a woman nor feels a particular pull towards nonbinary conceptions either. Feminine gender expression is important to him(cant "take it off" without emotional harm), much moreso than what gender he identifies as. His conception of male identity is loose.

3)A femboy who's combination of feminine gender expression and identifying as male is important to him. His conception of male identity has changed a lot from what was given to him by society.

4)A femboy who is very similar to 3), but has a much stronger need to be feminine and be perceived that way, going so far as to go on hrt to feel expressed and fulfilled. His conception of male identity has changed drastically from what was given to him.

These are just loose examples(multi-attribute things dont map cleanly to a linear spectrum anyway, the point is to just demonstrate some things), and of course there are those in between each point. I also suspect a significant % of femboys are somewhere between 2 and 3- feminine expression is important to them, theyve opened up their concept of male identity a lot but are also kind of winging it(which is fine) and are more attached to femininity than male identity, and just have some movement towards certain values in reaction to things like gender restrictions and toxic masculinity.

You can of course construct this sort of demonstrative spectrum for other gnc identities like tomboys, men who identify as gnc but not feminine, gnc people who specifically value a mix(tbh a lot of femboys are like this), etc.

This illuminates a few things especially when viewed alongside conceptions of being trans. For example, theres a difference between:

-simply having "gender expression" without it having emotional importance to you

-gender expression being indirectly important to perception as a gender identity(like being seen as masculine as a vehicle to being seen as a man)

-gender expression being important as perception of a more specific gender identity(like being seen as a masc woman, not just a woman, not just masc, and certainly not a masc man or a feminine woman- the whole picture is key)

Part of why I bring that up is because some people seem to think that expression is only a tool to reinforce/convey identity, rather than sometimes an inseparable part of what's important to someone. (Also, just to mention: gender expression isnt just clothing.)

Another thing the demonstrative spectrum points to is breadth. The quotes at the top of this post pretty much all focus on a subset of this breadth of gnc people. Because of that, that makes some of the quotes flat out wrong(because they only imagined that identity as a specific thing- or are just stupid) and others just sound odd when you dont realize the part of the range they're talking about. Most GNC identities are fundamentally quite broad, partially because they point to a "mismatch" between identity and expression, but expression serves multiple different purposes as mentioned, and thus these identities are naturally broad.

Labels and Conceptions

Now, imagine the above spectrum, but broaden it from "cis male-identifying femboys" to "cis men". Now you have some gender-conforming men at the start of the list. Or do the same with a list for women, from gender-conforming women to butch women.

Having those side by side in the same list brings us to the next question: Do the gender nonconforming people have the same conception of their gender as the gender conforming people? Do they have the same "gender identity"? Is a butch woman the same "gender identity" she was assigned? Is identifying as a woman the same for a gender-conforming woman as for every butch woman who deeply needs to be perceived as masculine? Obviously, there’s some relation, but what counts as “the same gender identity”?

Before I continue on this, theres often some assumptions that go into "Trans" and "cis", such as:

-Being trans means having explored what gender means to you, having worked through discomfort with whats assigned to you and restrictions, and having thought about what resonates with you

-Being trans means gender divergence has a special importance to you

-Cis is thus often positioned as the opposite of these- hasnt thought about gender, hasnt self-realized, hasnt worked through discomfort on restrictions etc

-Gnc people are cis, and therefore etc etc

Again, like that quote above from a butch woman: "My initial reaction to getting called cis is to cringe... cis is viewed as the opposite of trans, so it implies I'm comfortable with conforming to my gender."

For a lot of gnc people(i dont know what %, of course, and have biased assumptions based on the communities im exposed to), their conception of their gender identity is about as shifted from their AGAB's gender conception as a nonbinary gender. But the fact that they use the same label(and probably still have some type of conceptual connection with their AGAB) obfuscates this shift, it obfuscates that they mayve gone through introspection etc. Questioning, exploring and understanding your gender identity doesnt just mean going from two identities with visibly different labels, but also includes going between two identities that have the same label(woman->(butch)woman)

Reconstructing a house can involve as much work and decisionmaking as moving into a new house. The ship of theseus, except gender. Virtually no boy is assigned a conception of manhood that can include being a femboy, nor needing to be perceived as feminine. That is a fundamental change they made/something they discovered while self-investigating, and those different needs demonstrate the differences. If a GNC person cant "just take off" being GNC because it makes them dysphoric/upset/deprives them of gender euphoric feelings, that points to the change and the pursuit of that different conception, and is hardly different from, say, nonbinary genders. Just as there are nonbinary fems who are close to indistinguishable in behavior/needs from very fem women but in a nonbinary identity, theres the same for male-identifying fems.

The "Nobody is assigned femboy at birth" quote initially took me aback because it sounds silly to even say, and while the phrasing could perhaps be better there's definitely a point: Nobody gets assigned very GNC conceptions, they dont start with that, even if you put clothing aside.

Of course, this doesnt mean all GNC people have a different conception of their gender than genderconforming people- again, the demonstrative spectrum before. Some GNC men still harbor toxic masculinity. You cant usually tell from outside signals what a person has thought about with their identity or what their needs are- this is true for every group. And sometimes change is not consciously thought out. But in any case I do think a considerable % of, for example, “cis” femboys basically reshape what being male identifying means to them and are essentially a form of nonbinary/genderqueer.

In general on this topic, I think this comic from https://somethingaboutlemonscomic.tumblr.com/post/678523447463313408/4x10-4x11-4x12-last-update-chapter is relevant:

Conclusion

Ultimately, my main points are:

1)i think some people need a bit more understanding that “gnc” and gnc terms like femboy are pretty broad categories and include some people who have extremely similar needs to trans people, as well as people who are just average cis people with different fashion, and everyone in between.

2)Cis and trans have multiple meanings that are positional/relative- see nonbinary people who hesitate to use trans depending on context, because they associate it with "having gone through a lot of things binary trans people are associated with going through". Similarly, GNC people can have an awkwardness with being called trans even if they have in mind everything i've said about being called cis. Being called trans is assumed to be like girl->boy/enby, rather than girl->genderqueer alteration of girl. Both terms can be perceived as off.

3)Gender identity changes can keep the same label, which can mask the degree of change inside those gender conceptions

This post may come across as like “many gnc people should count as nb and/or as trans”, and maybe, but honestly I don't care much about that, those words are fairly contextual and multi-purpose anyway and have moved so much over the years. That’s only perpendicular to my points of trying to convey GNC people more accurately and move past some assumptions.

In any case, if the fact that i'm walking near that claim is Wrong and Concerning im totally open to criticisms of my thought process etc, and i absolutely dont intend to conflate, say, “gnc people who just dress different but its not related to their feelings/self-conception/etc” with trans people or nonbinary people let alone the degree of their struggles/oppression, which is part of why its necessary to convey that gnc people are a range.

Like Shel said in https://cohost.org/shel/post/1221440-some-wisdom-about-be , people tend to get very confident in their specific experience of lgbtq communities etc, and similarly can get overly confident in what an average person is like. So I just caution you to be aware of the limitations of your own circles and small data sets. Like if youre about to say something like “all the people I know are <>” then you should probably immediately tread with caution because it seems to me that gender groups are usually considerably heterogeneous in many ways.

A few clarifications and misc comments:

-I definitely understand that cis GNC people have privileges that usually help them avoid some problems trans people face. Like being able to avoid a higher amount of bioessentialist ire, less likely that medical gatekeeping prevents them fulfilling their needs, etc. I dont mean to downplay that. But I do want people to understand things like that butch women have faced intense hatred for a long time, and some of the most violent hateful fascist comments I have ever seen on the internet have been directed at femboys- these things point to important dynamics of how right wing hatred works.

-I used the terms butch/femboy predominantly in this post because I felt like they quickly convey the degree of GNC i'm talking about, but I dont mean for them to monopolize conceptions of GNC. Talking about GNC people is always messy compared to, say, talking about agender people. With "agender", afaik(correct me if I'm wrong!) almost noone who would be classified as agender dislikes the term and also it is very clearly about them specifically- it is both sufficiently broad and specific. In contrast, "GNC" is pretty vague, "Femboy" doesnt cover all very gnc men(such as ones who dont consider their expression to be fem), and "Butch" has very particular connections with lesbianism, etc. Terminology is currently avoidably sloppy for describing GNC people, no way to avoid it.

-As alluded to at a few points, you dont have to be male identifying to be a femboy, although thats usually who uses the label. An accurate, inclusive definition of femboy would be "someone with a very feminine gender expression but still aligned with a mix of masculinity in some way(ie usually, identifying as male)". Somewhat similarly, butches are definitely not exclusively women, I was just focusing on that subsection of butches for the purposes of this post.

-Theres simply a huge overlap between the experiences of, say, fem trans women and fem gnc men and fem enbies.(and the same for the masc inverse) Theres a tendency to see a set of experiences and go "Oh! Same identity as mine!!!!" and not see whats shared across different identities rather than is particular to a single identity. Seriously the experience overlap is fucking enormous.

-The positioning of 2) in that spectrum is partially arbitrary but thats what you get when you try to map 4+ things to a 2 dimensional spectrum

-"Genderqueer" can be used to convey the meaning of "having a 'queer' version of your cis gender", but its has a ton of meanings and is very often used to just mean "nonbinary/trans", so its pretty impractical to try to use it to mean specifically that concept

-I focused on cis gnc people to make my points and comparisons more clear(isolating the focus to GNCness), but a lot of what I said is relevant to understanding trans gnc people, who are extremely based

[thedawningofthehour]

thinking abt this because of the thing that im writing right now (im almost done with it holy shit)

the fact that donnies name gets changed once hes hypnotised is so important to me. names in general are something incredibly important to me for so many reasons. names represent identity, names represent the person who uses them. even if they are sounds we use to get each others attention, in a lot of ways, names are the summary of who we are. as a trans person, names gain even more significance to me even with that in mind.

when donnie get hypnotised and all his memories get removed, and his perception of himself and who he is gets so fundamentally changed that he simply isnt donatello anymore, he gets a new name. he is a new person, he is galois now. the name galois represents this new set of values, new identity, new perception of himself that he has. donatello is simply a different person, nevermind all the similarities between donnie and galois, nevermind the fact that theyre technically the same person. theyre different identities.

galois has a new set of formative memories. even if theyre altered versions of donnies memories. memories are the reason why we are who we are right now. if not for our memories and experiences, were nothing, no one (can you tell that im a strong proponent of the nurture side of nature vs nurture). and all of galois memories? theyre different from donnies. this fundamentally makes him a different person.

then theres the fact that donnies family refuses to call galois galois. galois used to be donnie, yes. but in some ways, donnies dead right now. maybe hell come back, if galois unlocks those memories (which he prolly will, its the only TRULY interesting thing, narrative-wise, no matter how much i thirst for a bad ending), but hes as good as fucking dead right now.

and yet donnies family doesnt acknowledge this. to them, galois is donnie, so theres no point in referring to him by the name that represents him. its an act of defiance. the name galois also represents the fact that draxum killed donnie and replaced him with a new identity. from their perspective, it doesnt matter if 'galois' doesnt remember being donnie! hes still donnie!

yes i do have the advantage of having seen galois perspective of all this, which does change my perspective on all this. because they dont know that galois barely know who this 'donatello' even is!

im gonna stop rambling here cause im just gonna start going in circles, but. galois having a different name is so fucking important to me. yes it happens in a lot of other similar fics to doth, but. i dont know, its just somehow different here, more Important. probably the fact that galois doesnt even have a notion that he was ever anyone BUT galois.

(keep in mind that this is all written from the perspective of someone who rly rly wants galois to stay with draxum because 1. plot, 2. i have no reasoning, i just like 'bad' endings lmao. i rly do treat galois as a different person from donnie because he is, to me at least)

(also i hope this isnt incoherent, i am very sleep deprive right now)

People have made parallels from Galois to 2012 Karai, and I feel like that applies here. Because it always really rubbed me wrong that Splinter kept calling her Miwa. That wasn't her name; she was not Miwa anymore. She'd been Karai her entire life and clearly felt more comfortable using that name. Yet Splinter just kept calling her by the name of his dead baby daughter, like he expected her to just jump back into that role. (I apologize if he does start calling her Karai later on, it's been a while since I watched the whole show through, but I don't remember him doing so)

And that just feeds into all the bullshit Karai feels about her identity after the truth comes out. She's quick to renounce Saki as her father, but is hesitant to embrace Splinter as such. She never moves in with the fam, despite still being a minor and there definitely being room for her there, since April lived with them for a while. And still, she claims herself as Saki's heir, taking over the Foot for herself after the Shredder is dead. She has a lot of complicated feelings about her past and her own identity, and Splinter calling her Miwa right off the bat must have been salt in the wound. The decision to go back to her birth name, to trade Oroku for Hamato, that should have been her decision, to be made whenever she damn well felt like it. It was not for Splinter to tell her who she is.

I don't want to spoil things too much, but a lot of that's going to come into play in Book 4. Donnie is going to have to come to grips with that fact that he is not Galois, Galois never really existed, but at the same time he's not really Donnie anymore. And he'll have to come to terms with who he is now and the roles both Donnie and Galois played in that.

I decided pretty early on that I wanted Draxumized Donnie to have a real name many of the above reasons. I didn't want to use 'Three' or 'Purple,' or just leave him without a name like some separated aus do. Slushie outlined it pretty well in hers-a number is not a name. A number or color could be easily set aside for his return to Donatello, because they were never really names at all. They're just denominations. Everything he was under Draxum could be easily swept under the rug, because that wasn't really anybody. Just Draxum's brainwashed slave, without a character, without a name. And that wasn't what I wanted his time as Galois to be.

I will say that his memories didn't alter his personality as much as it would have if he'd actually lived it all. Donnie already had a fully-formed personality when he went into the Galois machine, Gale wasn't built up from ground zero. He still does and says things based on how Donnie would have acted, even if it wouldn't make all that much sense for Galois. His middle-childness, for example, he's a shithead little brother to Cass a lot despite Galois being an only child and having no frame of reference for having siblings. Sometimes his implanted memories and his personality cross each other, however, and leave him very confused for a bit, so those Donnie mannerisms are fading and being replaced by Galois.

(Honestly, I don't think there's a single way for a 'Gale stays with Draxum' ending to work at this point. Maybe back during the Table Arc, maybe if Draxum had let him up then and swore to change his ways, maybe if they talked a lot and Donnie was able to ease the fam into forgiving him, then maybe they could have had that father/son happily ever after. But the brainwashing was a point of no return, Draxum can't pull back now and his mission is doomed to fail. Any bad ending at this point would just result in their deaths)

Part of the fam's reaction is denial, Donnie can't be as 'gone' as he seems to be. They'll pop his memory back in and everything will go back to normal.

But the other part is that they still love him regardless of what he's calling himself. So he thinks he's the son of an evil scientist and bites them if they try to give him a hug, big whoop. He's still the same soul. He's still their son, their brother. He's still family.

And family means nobody gets left behind.

[loversj0y]

im crying over techno again (this is long and sad im sorry)

i miss him so much man. i hope he knows how much he did for all of us. ive been rewatching old wilbur videos and seeing him in them brings me so much bittersweet joy. he meant so much to all of us. i hope he knows the ways he changed us.

he was my final push to start streaming. i was inconsolable the night he died. the week after i kept thinking about how long i’d pushed off the idea because i simply didn’t think i had the time. something about losing someone that you even just perceive as being close to you gives such a shift in perspective that i figured at that point it’d be stupid not to. and the thing is, he was so incredibly supportive. of every last one of us. he always supported the people in his community.

its a big thing in my life honestly to live in his memory. usually people say stuff like that in a negative connotation but i dont think its negative. i hold his memory close to me as a reminder of the things that ive lost. and its a comfort in a sense to let his deadpan mockery push me to be better and to do things i might fear doing.

he has a space on my ofrienda. i pray to him in the same way i pray to all the family i have lost because even without knowing him personally, he welcomed us all enough to allow me to feel like there was a family with him when my own felt incendiary and volatile.

i think about the fact that lovejoy is playing a festival with the killers. its a festival im incredibly excited to go to, but on nights like this when im crying over a lost brother i never had, i feel saddened in knowing how much he would have loved to have seen it. i think he will be there, watching. but the feeling wont be the same. i think of how wilbur must feel. knowing that he’s playing a festival with the same band that he’s not only loved, but that he shared his love for with techno, to the point that it made such a strong lasting impression on techno. i hope he knows how proud techno is of him. i hope that if he stays to watch the killers perform, he feels techno with him. because i know he’ll be there.

i have a lot of thoughts on how much he meant to me, to all of us, and im kind of just pouring them out in a stream not unlike the tears that wont seem to stop tonight. if i can be honest, ive been avoiding a lot of stuff related to techno. i took a step back from everything as a whole because it hurt too much and i didnt know what to make of it, not really. i keep finding myself mourning how little time i got to have as an active techno watcher, given how recently i joined the fandom and such, but i also know i should rather feel thankful for every second that i got to have. i find myself avoiding a lot of mentions of technodad still. he’s lovely and he means so much to all of us, just like his son, but i cant help but feel my chest reopen each time i hear him speak about his son. ive seen the feeling of watching a person you love mourn a family member who was taken too young personally. ive seen it in my own family with my cousin, and it all feels so heavy. i know there is this narrative of being thankful for the time we had with a person. but i still consistently find myself balanced on the precipice of anger and acceptance. i dont struggle with bargaining or depression, let alone denial. i know hes gone. i know nothing will change that. but i also will never be content in feeling appreciative of the time we had because we could have had more time. even if it was just a. second more. it wouldnt change things but maybe it would ease the ache in my heart as i think on all of the people who loved him who will live past him, myself included.

i keep coming back to the song life worth missing by car seat headrest. i cant quite explain where i find the parallels but i feel it in this delicate balance that i find in the song. theres this delicate balance between grieving and losing yourself in grief and im not that sure that ive found it. for a control freak, one of the things that always has hurt me is my lack of control in death. i cant change it. and all i can control is the way to cope but i simply dont know how to do that. and the temperamental part in my head is the battle i find myself fighting because i know how he wouldnt want this. he wouldnt want the heavy grief but i dont know how to not feel it. i find myself feeling the heavy grief or essentially nothing at all.

and theres quiet, kind moments throughout it all. when i think maybe i can hold his memory and move with it. but those moments dont last long. but they mean more than any other part of this whole process. when i hear him in my head, making fun of me for not putting myself out there. when i feel him supporting me as i feel unstable and shaky. regardless of your thoughts on religion or my own, i know that he is there. whether it is real or it is in my head, both are substantial enough to give me faith. and isnt that religion in and of itself?

i know that all the things we wanted him to know, about how he changed us, how much he meant to us, all of it. i know that he knows them. but i still am allowed to mourn that we never got to feel him know them. am i allowed?

i think im allowed. i think he’d allow it. i think he’d understand.

because when i feel whatever sense might lie in my convoluted ideas of religion and my strong sense of morality, i know one thing above all.

that he understands.

[nhasablogg]

hey! i'd hate to like...use your blog to ask questions to the whole community. so if in anyway this comes off as disrespectful pls disregard it. but i've seen somewhere on your blog that you've once trusted a friend with knowing this kind of personal interest in tickling about yourself. i was wondering how that conversation went, if you're comfortable sharing.

i have a best friend - friend for years and years and years and years and they're the most trustworthy and least judgmental person i know. they've also trusted me with their own more personal life without shame.

nobody really knows this thing about me and it's a tempting thought to just get it out there to someone i know will be in my life forever. at the same time i'm worried about it being a bit of an awkward overshare, seeing as it's not really anyone else's business. theres really no reason for them to know, and i'm fine either way, but i'm wondering how - if in any way - did telling someone affect things? is it better or worse, knowing someone knows?

for your love to replace your shame done changed my life, N.

hey dear ppl of the tkl community. for those of you who have told a friend, how'd it go? casual or serious? any advice is appreciated.

Hi!! I'm always happy to be used to speak to the community as long as it's not a controversial topic lmao

So the way I did it was very natural to the conversation. I never planned to do it. In fact I actively kept saying "I shouldn't tell you because I'm not sure sober me will be happy about it", but ultimately I trust him and I knew it wouldn't change anything for us. We were out drinking and were talking about sex and kinks and whatnot, because for him sex is a big and important part of his life while for me it's not a part of my life at all because I'm asexual, and I guess we're both really perplexed by and interested in the other's way of living because it's the entire opposite. But when we started talking about kinks I confessed that I do actually have one and he wanted to know what it was so I ended up showing him this blog actually instead of saying it out loud lmao. I don't get embarrassed very easily (or I guess I kind of compensate the vulnerability by being extra confident even if it's fake) so once he knew I kind of just started talking about it and about the community with no trouble (also I was pretty drunk which probably helped lmao). We do to be fair live in different countries rn so I don't see him super often, but we talk regularly and it's not changed anything between us other than that I kind of like that he knows? Idk it feels pretty nice to have someone actually KNOW, although I'm not really feeling the need to tell anyone else. I've been toying with the idea of telling a friend for years, but I think for me I knew it wouldn't be something I think I'd want my friends to do to me anyway so it never felt necessary. My friends and I don't really talk much about sex or kink in details (maybe because I literally have nothing to say lmao) so it's never seemed natural to bring it up like it did this time before. I'm not really a touchy feely person and I've only recently started, like, trying to let people in in that way. I like hugging people etc and I'm not AGAINST touch but I very obviously don't know what to do with it if it lasts longer lmao but I've recently started putting my arm around my friends when we're walking, leaning into them/putting my head on their shoulders or laps, or pulling them closer to me when we're sitting on the couch because I know that THEY like it, but it doesn't come naturally to me even though I know deep down I also crave it (I remember once a friend of mine kissed my head and I literally SQUEALED because I was so happy lmaaooo). But that is to say that I don't think I'd ever tell someone because I'd WANT them to tickle me, because I'm not sure I'd even allow that, but it IS nice to just have someone know without feeling like it altered anything at all.

However, I don't feel the need to tell anyone else because for me I don't necessarily see the point. So I guess what I'm trying to say here is that you don't HAVE to tell someone unless you want to. It IS nice to have someone know, but only because it didn't change anything at all and tbh I probably wouldn't have told them out of nowhere. But I also feel like he's the type of friend I feel okay being vulnerable around. He's seen me flustered and panic about things MANY times and I don't necessarily feel like any other friend has seen that side of me as much.

"for love to replace your shame done changed my life" NO BUT I just started thinking of this concept after this ask and I was like??? That's technically such a great way to live your life?? Thank you random Tamino lyrics I decided to use as the title

If anyone else has any input feel free to share!! And good luck with whatever you decide to do, anon <3 I'm here if you wanna talk more!

[thezeninclan]

suddenly telling them you’re in the mood ft. the naruto boys

naruto — “thank god!” he says, jumping so suddenly to his feet that you can’t help but jump too. “it’s been hoooours since we had breakfast. I’ve been dying for a good ‘ol bowl of Ichiraku’s!” he grabs onto your hand and pulls you to your feet, laying his cloak over your shoulders because he knows how you get chilly. the hokage seems so happy, pulling you all the way down the stairs and down the street, as he chats animatedly about what toppings he’s going to get and if he wants creamy or spicy, you realise you no longer care about correcting him. plus…theres always time after.

sasuke — sasuke stares at you blankly for a long moment. so long that you can feel your cheeks begin to darken and grow flush, and you seriously consider just turning over in bed, pulling the blanket up over your head, and pretending like nothing happened at all. so you do, but as you’re pulling the shared comforter up to your chin his hand catches it, and before you know it there’s a solid mass of hot, bare flesh pressed over you. your husband smirks at you, his fingers tracing a stripe down your jaw as he sets his lips over yours. “it’s fun to see you squirm...” he says cooly. “now let’s see you do it again.” 

sai — “the mood?” he asks, deadpan. his face is blank, as always— but at this point you’ve known the artist ninja so long that you recognise the micro-expressions crossing his face. he gives you a long, hard look, so firm and lingering that if you didn’t know him better you’d think he was reading your mind. “the mood.” he repeats again, hands twitching at his sides. for a moment he thought you meant the mood to pose for another of his paintings, but no, that couldn’t be it. he eyed you closely, seeing the glassy look in your eyes, the parting of your lips, the set of your brow, all paired with the fact that you were wearing the angelic white lace he had gifted you on the day you told him was your anniversary...smiling softly, he leaned forward to take your hand and pulled you into his lap. yes, he knew exactly what mood you meant. 

kakashi — “hm?” he says, eyes flicking up from his book. “did you say something, love?” your cheeks burn red as you stutter out the words again, suddenly feeling much less bold now that his eyes were on you, pinning you in your place. “huh?” he repeats, cupping his ear as though he had developed a sudden deadness. your cheeks feel hot as the fire burning in the grate, but you stand firm and repeat yourself for the third time.

kakashi laughs, a kindly laugh, and pinches at the foot you have resting in his lap. “maa, you don’t have to be so pushy! I heard you the first time.” he teases, coming toward you from across the sofa. you throw a fist at him, but he catches it easily, using the limb to pull you toward him from across the couch, and when he catches you between his legs and kisses you hard and fast, your irritation suddenly disappears.

yamato — he looks up from the paperwork piled up on his desk, eyebrows raised and lips parted. he had long ago removed his headpiece and uniform, at peace in the home you shared, leaving you free to run your fingers through his dark hair. you leaned your body weight against his chair, feeling his arm hot as a winter fire even through the layers of clothes that separated you. he looked up at you, dark eyes soulful and appraising, as though trying to judge whether this was a trick or not. but when he looked up to find you as naked as the day you were born, all questions slipped from his mind, and the only one that remained was how long it would take to get from his desk to your bed and between your legs. 

shikamaru — “quite a game, huh?” you ask the head of the nara clan, standing beside him as he looked down at the shogi board, so deep in concentration that anyone else might thing he wasn’t paying attention. but you knew him better than that, seeing the way his body language changed to reflect his attention toward you. 

“mhm.” he agrees, moving a piece on the board. asuma looks back at him, appraising, trying to plan his next move. 

“and will this match be going late into the night?” you ask, seemingly innocent, but shikamaru could sense something strange about you. 

“no idea.” says asuma, taking a long drag on his cigarette. “your husband here is a solid player, but I’ve been working on my strategy.” 

“now that is true.” you say, resting your hands on his shoulders as you stand at his back. you lean down to his ear, so that only he can hear your next words. “but I think I know something else you like the play with, and if you take any longer I might start the game without you.” 

a game of shogi had never been abandoned so quickly. 

madara — say less. literally say less. the second you turn to him, all bedroom eyes and supple lips, he’s already upon you. his palms are warm and strong as they pin your hands above your head, holdng. you barely even have to speak to get him to ravish you, let alone turn your eyes upon him, dark and lustful, compounded by the presence of silk and lace upon your body. you won’t be walking straight the next day, but that’s something you can very easily live with. 

hashirama — it’s fun to see him blush. the first hokage, undefeated master of wood style jutsu, and founder of the leaf village, and you can still make him blush like a schoolgirl with just four simple words. “t-the mood?” he repeats. you had seated yourself upon his desk in the hokage’s office, legs crossing and uncrossing to show how little was underneath your kimono. he cleared his throat, eyes flitting nervously toward the door, before he lay a big, warm palm down onto your bare thigh.

“yes.” you repeat, spreading your legs open on either side of his chair. you can see the flush rising to his ears and spilling down his neck and chest as you let your kimono slip down the naked flesh of your shoulders. 

there’s a grinding sound as a tree suddenly blooms in the middle of the office, its long, winding branches wrapping around the twin knobs of the hokage’s door, holding them securely in place. before you even have a chance to tease him, you’re snatched off the edge of the desk and deposited unceremoniously into your hokage’s lap, those big, hot palms appearing under your bare ass and squeezing gently. “let’s do something about that then, shall we?” he asked, lips winding down the column of your neck, and you were too breathless to do anything but nod. 

[havin-a-wee]

Doctor's Orders

pairing: gynecologist!harry x reader/doctor!harry x reader

word count: 2.3k+

warnings: smut, fingering

this is so long overdue i apologize but this is a request! i kinda love this piece so i hope you guys do too!

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

You sucked in a harsh breath as you heard your name being called from the front desk, the smiley old lady gesturing for you to follow her. You timidly walked behind her, your feet shuffling on the obnoxiously patterned carpet that lined the hallways.

You aren’t one to fear doctor’s appointments, in fact, you have never been apprehensive about going to one until right now. This appointment was something you’ve been avoiding for a while since you had moved to London, but there came a point where you couldn’t put it off for any longer. Back in the states, you were comfortable with your gynecologist, and you had no issue talking to her about problems you were having regarding your genitalia. But now that you were in a new city, you didn’t have the comfort that came with visiting a long-term doctor and faced new ones for the first time since you were a child. The rest of the doctor’s visits were pretty standard, but your private parts were something you struggled with understanding, Sure, you have seen porn and had sex, but it was never a fulfilling experience. In fact, you have never reached an orgasm. About a year ago you gave up on looking for men to help you and made it a mission to bring yourself to a climax. But alas, none of your efforts seemed to work. At this point, you were convinced that something was wrong with you, hence the gynecologist visit. Male gynecologist, that is.

Over the past month, you have spent a lot of time researching gynecologists in your area. The first one that came up was the one you are at now, but considering his gender you continued your hunt. But it kept leading you back to this one doctor, Dr. Styles, and that was why you are currently sitting in an exam room in his office.

You reassured yourself by looking up his name on your smartphone, scrolling through the 5-star reviews. The number of people who seemed to absolutely love this guy helped settle your nerves, so you read through them as you waited for a knock on the door.

That knock finally arrived a few minutes later, and you picked your head up and looked at the wooden door. “Come in!”

A head popped inside from behind the door as it was pushed open, and the doctor’s eyes found yours while he made his way into the small room. He’s tall, with a mop of chocolate brown curls on his head and bright green eyes accompanied by a friendly smile. He sat down, eyes never leaving yours until he placed his computer down and the screen lit up.

“‘Ello Darlin, m’Dr. Styles, but y’can call me Harry if you’d like.” He stuck out a hand, and your palm swiftly met his, the two of you looking at one another as you shook hands. His hands were enormous, and the rings placed on his fingers were cold to the touch. “Considering you’re a new patient, I took a peek at y’records and such, and I saw that y’ve always had a female gyno.”

You nodded your head slowly, opening your mouth to respond but getting cut off by Dr. Styles. “So I just wanted t’let y’know tha’ theres nothing t’be ashamed off, and I know what I’m doin’ so I promise you’re in expert hands.”

“Yeah, I was nervous, but I couldn’t ignore the amazing reviews people have given you, so I made an appointment.” You appreciated his reassurance a lot, and it really helped in the easing of your jitters. He turned back to his computer after nodding in response to you, clicking on a few keys before diverting his attention back to you.

“So what seems t’be the problem today Y/N?” An initial wave of shock hit you when he said your name, but it quickly dissolved when you remembered that he literally has access to all your medical information, so of course, he knows your name.

“This is a bit of an odd thing to come in for on my first appointment with you, but I think my vagina doesn’t work.” You let out a breathy chuckle at your own words. Dr. Styles seemed unphased by your forwardness, and you assumed he had heard a lot more abrasive things than that. “I’m a 22-year-old woman, but I’ve never had an orgasm. For the past year I’ve been focusing on doing it without a partner, but no matter how much time I spent or how many fancy toys I buy, I just end up feeling unsatisfied and disappointed.” He nodded along as you explained your issue, placing his chin in his hand while his elbow was placed on the desk.

“Have y’had any STD tests recently?”

“Yes, I had one last week, I’m clean and I’ve never had one in the past.”

“Is there any possibility tha’ you’re pregnant?”

“No, I haven’t slept with anyone in over a year.” You knew what questions he would ask, so to avoid wasting time you were giving him all the information he would need.

“When y’are sleeping with someone, do y’feel any sort of pleasure?”

“Yeah, but it’s just never enough, I guess.” His lips curled into an expression of concentration, and he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. The room was silent for all of around 30 seconds, but soon enough Dr. Styles spoke up.

“Based on yeh’ history and what y’telling me, it seems that y’just haven’t found the right bloke.” Your eyebrows lifted in surprise at his simple answer. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? “M’guessing y’can’t get y’self off cause’ y’tense and not fully relaxed. And the guys y’ve been with ave’all been doin’ a rubbish job.” He chuckled along with you, and you couldn’t help but agree with him. There was no one you could think of that had actually made you feel good the entire time and had actually focused on your pleasure and theirs. Most of the hookups you took part in were with frat boys who would stick their dick into anything with a hole. “But just in case, lemme’ check y’out just to make sure.”

He stood up from his chair and you swung your legs up on the cot, laying down on it. While you had waited for the doctor, you changed into the gown you were provided with, so there was only a thin piece of fabric between you and the curly-headed man that had taken a seat at the end of the seat.

It was now that you were faced with a dilemma that your anxious brain hadn’t even thought of prior to the appointment.

Dr. Styles was attractive. Like, really, really attractive.

Dr. Styles was attractive. Like, really, really attractive. And probably because of the nature of your discussion (and the fact that your body is severely desperate for sexual release), your core had been heating up since he first stepped into the room. So now, he would lift the skirt of the gown and see a pool of velvety wetness coating the inside of your thighs.

The back of the seat was propped up, allowing you to see him. This was a good thing for him because he could talk to you while he does his job, but it means you will have to look at him after he sees the mess you’ve made.

“May I?” His fingers gripped onto the edges of the gown, and you swallowed hoarsely before nodding your approval. While you know that he probably has witnessed much more embarrassing situations than the one you were in right now, it didn’t make the predicament any better. As you suspected, he kept a straight face when he lifted the flimsy material from your legs. Without taking a second glance, he turned to a bottle on his desk and pumped a dollop of lube onto his glove-clad fingertips. He used his other gloved hand to spread the lubricant, only turning back to you when his two fingers were both well coated in the substance. “Y’alright?” Once again, you nodded at his question. “Tell me with words darlin’, wanna make sure y’comfortable.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What kind of exam are you doing exactly?” That question popped into your mind right before it rolled off your tongue because you noticed he had never specified exactly what he was looking for.

“M’just gonna use m’finger,” he held his lube-covered fingers, “and feel around, just t’make sure everythins’ fine.”

“Ok, sounds good.”

“M’gonna start now, s’gonna be cold at first.”

You hissed when his fingers met your sopping hole, and you had to resist the urge to kick your legs while he slowly pushed his fingers inside of you. The feeling was strange, but definitely not unwelcome. The contrast from his icy fingers to your warm center was sending a tingling sensation down your spine. You could feel his fingers push around inside of you, caressing your walls. And you know you shouldn’t. But his fingers were hitting all the right nerves, and you couldn’t help but find the experience immensely pleasurable.

Despite your best efforts, a small moan of satisfaction escaped your lips. Immediately, you went stiff, and you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. You just moaned while your doctor had his fingers inside you. For a moment you thought he would ignore the sexual noise that you had just made. But he suddenly looked up at you, his eyes previously locked on his fingers.

“Well, if y’moanin’ just from that, y’more sexually deprived than I thought.” He chuckled, and you cracked a small smile, but that was before his words actually hit you.

Was he, hitting on you?

Maybe not flirting, but that definitely wasn’t something that doctors say to their patients very often. His smirk was also giving you the idea that he had certain intentions.

“Everything seem good down’ere, so I think tha’ problem is with the guys y’gettin with, not you. What type of people do y’usually sleep with.”

“When I was sexually active, it was usually frat boys, so I guess I should’ve known I wasn’t the problem.” You let out a small laugh, Dr. Styles seems to have found it much more amusing, as his chuckle came from deep within his chest. A small movement came with the laugh, which also reminded you that his fingers were still very much inside of you.

“It seems y’need someone who knows his way around,” he cleared his throat, and you smiled as you realized what he was hinting at. “and y’my last paitent of the day, so m’more than happy t’help y’out.” He looked down at his feet shyly, and you found it adorable how he was nervous about what he was proposing. But you were on the verge of tears from how hard it was to hold back your physical response to his touches. Your body relaxed when the words came out of his mouth, and you let out the whine that had been building up in your throat.

“Yes-Harry, god yes.” It was the first time you were using his first name, but the smirk on his face showed his approval.

He quickly removed his fingers from your heat, and you whined again, this time in frustration. Losing contact left you feeling cold, but that feeling only lasted a fleeting moment, as soon as he was pushing his fingers into you again, this time bare.

“Y’already so wet love, what got y’this worked up hmm?”

“Y-you, Harry, I want you.” You tripped over your words, but they came out clear enough for him to understand because he began moving his fingers at the encouragement. His fingers began to pump in and out of you, and you knew he must have been right about not being with the right guys before, because the simple movements left you as putty in his hands. You barely got any pleasure from fingering in your other sexual encounters, but you were already a moaning mess underneath the man. He lifted his other hand, which had also had the glove on it removed, and placed the pad of his finger on your puffy clit. You mewled loudly and his smirk widened.

“Any o’those boys ever make y’feel this good darlin’?” You shook your head furiously, and he smiled, rubbing circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You were already seeing stars, and you could feel an unfamiliar knot forming in your stomach. “Y’so pretty, did y’know tha’?”

You couldn’t muster up enough strength to respond to his second question, but the loud moan that you let out was enough of an answer for him. His movements sped up, fingers pumping in and out of you and his other thumb pressing circles on your button.

“Harry-”

“Think y’close darlin’? Ready t’come fo’ the first time?”

“Yes, yes..” Your voice trailed off when a guttural moan rumbled through your throat. Although you haven’t had one before, you were sure that he was about to bring you to an orgasm. There was a tight feeling in your stomach and you knew it was just about to burst.

“Fuck-”

The knot burst and your orgasm rolled through your body, reaching every nerve inside of you. The feeling was euphoric, and your senses were heightened as your body experienced this new feeling.

“Thas’ it, good girl,” he cooed, slowing his movements and removing his fingers from your now overly sensitive clit. He worked you through your orgasm until fully removing his fingers from you, and you let out a sigh as he did so. “Definitely not somethin’ wrong with ya’, I can tell y’that.”

He smiled up at you and you returned the gesture, your smile only faltering when he turned away to write something down. You took the opportunity to get up and change, quickly dressing while his back was turned.

He turned in his chair to face you once again, handing you a small piece of paper. You took it from between his fingers to see a phone number scribbled on it in black ink.

“Is Doctor Styles giving me his number?” You said it in a cheeky way, smirking back at him.

“Yes, and he’s telling you to text him when you get home. Doctor’s orders.”

[claythefriendlyghost]

We NEED to talk about why this recent episode cemented Stolitz for so many people

While this episode did not have many moments where Blitzø and Stolas were being explicitly romantic towards eachother, the singular reason this episode supports the possibility of Blitzø and Stolas becoming a thing is because...

Blitzø's attitude toward Stolas in this episode is... different...

So many people (myself included) were a tad bit put off from shipping stolitz because there wasn’t really any proof that the relationship was anything more than a mere transaction. The owl wanted to satify his perverted and fetishistic needs, and the imp hesitantly agreed, only because he would receive the book in return. while the former is currently still true, this episode shows that the latter may not be the case.

The bedroom scene

This scene displays the relationship between blitzø and stolas as the tamest its ever been. blitzø doesnt really direct much disgust towards Stolas himself and even says that this monthly meetup isnt something he 'fusses' about. this attitude Blitzø holds when he and stolas are alone contrasts what we've seen in previous episodes where the idea of spending time with stolas seemed to greatly irritate him.

They also seem strangely close in this scene, Blitzø being comfortable with Stolas's advances and them even sharing a cigarette.

Additionally, one of the pieces of evidence that i often see overlooked is that Blitzø did not have to agree to go to the harvest festival with Stolas in the first place. He knew what he'd be getting himself into, with his knowledge of the obvious and embarrasing flirting he dealt with at Loo Loo Land. despite this, not only does he agree to go, he says it sounds like it'll be "a blast and a half". And this time, there isnt even a promise of him being paid!! hes going purely because he wants to

Furthermore, his expression is very different from that which was shown in the original storyboards, showing that there was a reason the crew changed his attitude from "whatever i guess it could be fun 😒" to "sure it sounds like it could be alot of fun 😏"

2. The famed Millie/Striker scenes

These scenes on their own can be interpreted many ways, however, with the context of the opening scene, its quite obvious why Blitzø reacted the way he did in reaction to millie and striker here

Firstly his reaction to Millie calling stolas his boyfriend isn't what it'd be if there was nothing going on between Blitzø and Stolas. If Blitzø were confident in the fact that he had no feelings for Stolas, knowing him, he likely would've made a quip that prevented him from seeming at all insecure or embarrased. he likes to take control of conversations and not leave any room for his weaknesses to be revealed.

This is not what happens. he responds by simply saying he is not above hitting Millie in front of her father. he doesnt deny it. He doesnt make a fun jab at millie herself. he simply allows his embarrassment to be the butt of the joke. THAT DOESNT HAPPEN...like... ever.

Now for the striker scene. I'll l keep it short since many have talked about this before, but the very fact that Blitzø is caught stumbling over his words in an attempt to describe his relationship with stolas is VERY telling. Even in the case where Blitzø did have some feelings towards stolas, I wouldnt put it above him to simply lie and state that there is nothing between them. that wouldve been incredibly easy, and yet... he stumbles.

Even so, he didnt even need to clarify. Striker used the word 'conned' implying he already had the impression that the sex was merely transactional. Blitzø literally couldve ended it at "the short answer is yes" and let striker respond. the fact that Blitzø felt like it was some sort of elephant in the room that needed to be addressed shows how his realtionship with Stolas is on insecure ground and is something he is self conscious about.

Some people have said that this scene is him trying to seem cool in front of striker, but again...he couldve just lied. Lying in order to appear cooler in front of someone he admires wouldve been extremely in character for him, and yet he didnt. its obvious he's experiencing some complicated emotions towards stolas, complicated enough that he couldnt even state the simple lie of 'there is nothing between us'.

3. Blitzø saving Stolas from Striker

Here Blitzø claims that stolas is his easiest ticket to earth, but thats not entirely true. the Grimoire is his easiest ticket to earth. stolas does not need to be alive in order for Blitzø to steal the grimoire and all its power. in fact, that'd be alot easier for the gang as they could keep the book safe in one location as opposed to bringing it back and forth between stolas's place and IMP headquarters and additionally having to go through the trouble of sleeping with him.

Here, Blitzø has the opportunity of taking stolas out of the equation, which would undeniably make things easier for him, and yet, he doesnt take it. theres obviously much more to why he saved Stolas here, and could possibly imply that Blitzø does care about him.

Anyway, those are all the details I caught from this episode. I really do hope Blitzø's feelings in regards to stolas are explored in the following episodes, cause boy am I invested

[azucanela]

THIS DIDN’T HAPPEN | TSUKISHIMA KEI

HAIKYUU!! MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: Tsukishima Kei would never admit that he happens to like receiving affection quite a bit, only from Y/N L/N of course, and only if no one ever finds out about it. 

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: honestly i think this is cute, but theres some angst oops, pining, unedited, kissing, kinda sad if you can read between the lines, season three spoilers

A/N: tsukki lovers come get your juice. also if you can’t tell im in the mood for haikyuu!! and tsukki so... rip the wips and requests i said i’d get done but it’ll happen eventually 

“Can I hug you?”

How did he end up here? A fantastic question that he cannot find the answer for as he looks down at Y/N, who’d insisted he walk her to the girl’s dorm. He probably should’ve predicted that she’d ask about his sudden change of pace, but Tsukishima doubted he ever would’ve predicted she’d ask to hug him. Especially since he definitely hadn’t been the nicest to her.

“This didn’t happen.” 

That’s all Tsukishima says as he awkwardly winds his arms arounds Y/N’s form. She hums in response, and Y/N has a feeling if he could see the grin on her face he’d pull away almost immediately. Which is why she’d buried her face in his chest, arms around his body as they stand just outside dorms they’ve been residing in during their stay at the training camp alongside the other teams. 

Tsukishima doesn’t know why he agreed to this. He’s not sure he wants to as he feels Y/N’s breath against his chest, causing his cheeks to warm. During the walk she’d confronted him and he’d— for some reason — told her that he didn’t intend to get left behind Hinata and Kageyama; who’d improved quite a bit it appeared. Even if Volleyball meant absolutely nothing to him.

And then she asked to hug him. Y/N just had a feeling he could use one, though, if she was honest, Y/N had expected a hard no. She’d expected him to criticize her for asking such a childish question, she’d expected teasing and cruel remarks about how ridiculous the idea was. Tsukishima had never been affectionate, or at least openly affectionate. He was never involved in team hugs, hugs in general, not even a simple fist bump from Tanaka. 

And yet here he was, agreeing to a hug from Y/N L/N, one of the new managers of the Karasuno Volleyball Club. 

“This didn’t happen.” Came her response, her words of agreement were muffled against Tsukishima’s chest, but he’d heard her. They had an understanding. 

And he’d never admit it, but it was nice. Hugging someone. Holding someone in his arms. Tsukishima hadn’t actually accepted affection in a while, maybe it was because one of the only people he’d been close with in his life— the one person he looked up to — ended up being a liar. Maybe its because a small part of him wanted to maintain his reputation as a coldhearted jerk, or maybe its because he just hadn’t found someone’s affection he enjoyed.

Until now, of course. There was something different about having Y/N in his arms, something comforting about her presence that made him feel compelled to answer the questions she asked as she pried about his sudden change in attitude. It’s not like they were close, though he tolerated her when she’d simply started coming to club meeting; apparently she’d known Tanaka from middle school, and decided to visit him at the club, until one day it became a daily thing. They ended up giving her the title of manager after she to work alongside Kiyoko. Y/N had even helped tutor those idiots, Kageyama and Hinata, something Tsukishima somehow got roped into. After that, he had a newfound respect for the girl.

It wasn’t that he liked her. He would never like Y/N. She just helped manage the club, and Volleyball was just a sport. Besides, they’d never be that close again, never hug again, never exchange any affection at all, ever again.

He broke that promise fairly quickly. 

Yamaguchi had insisted that he and Tsukishima start joining the rest of the team on their walk home, mentioning how they could stop by Ukai’s convenience store and pick up some food if they so pleased. And maybe that was what convinced him— though Yamaguchi had a feeling the mention of Y/N’s name had a little bit of influence on the decision as well — maybe not. 

It didn’t take long for Tsukishima to realize that as everyone slowly branched off into their respective neighborhoods, Y/N had yet to do the same. Apparently she lived the farthest from Karasuno of the bunch, which is why Tanaka had tried to offer to walk her home. 

She’d rejected the idea entirely, seeing as he’d have to walk back home in the dark by the time she’d gotten to her home. The idea didn’t sit right with Y/N, so Tanaka had left Yamaguchi, Tsukishima and Y/N on their own. 

Y/N didn’t miss the look Yamaguchi gave Tsukishima as he remained by her side, tilting her head in confusion and the blonde waved his friend off and continued walking alongside Y/N. She decided it was best not to question it, they were already a questionable pair of friends and Y/N wouldn’t be shocked if they had some sort of secret code they communicated through.

When she suggested this of course, Tsukishima called her an idiot.

“That’s not very nice, Tsukki.”

If Tsukishima was honest he should’ve kept walking alongside Yamaguchi a while ago, and yet here he was, alongside Y/N. He was pretty grateful she had yet to mention it, especially since he didn’t really favor lying, and he didn’t really have an explanation as to why he decided to walk her home.

It just felt right. 

“Well it’s a stupid idea.” Came his response, nose scrunching up at the nickname. Only Yamaguchi called him that, not that he had a problem with Y/N using the nickname as well. 

Y/N raised a brow, “I don’t think so, you’re smart enough to make a secret code or something.” A smile found its way onto her face as she looked over to him, playfully bumping into his side as she continued, “you probably use it to write about conspiracy theories or something.” 

“I’m not a conspiracy theorist, Y/N.” He side eyes the girl, scoffing at her words as he pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose in an attempt to distract from the warmth that flooded his chest. 

Y/N hummed in reply, looking to him as she asked, “so you don’t believe that lizard people run society?” 

Tsukishima’s brows furrowed as he looked to her incredulously, “absolutely not.” 

“Sounds like something a lizard person would say.” Came her reply, a grin on her face as she came to a stop, likely in front of her home. 

“Did you just suggest that I’m a lizard person?”

“Maybe.”

There was no way he liked Y/N L/N. In that moment, he made another promise to himself, Tsukishima Kei swore he would never like Y/N L/N, someone who was apparently a lizard person fanatic and insisted that he was a conspiracy theorist. 

A silence encompasses the two as Y/N looks up at him curiously, eyes falling over his face as a small hum leaves her lips. Tsukishima doesn’t know why exactly he lets it happen, why he lets her gently grab his chin, bringing him close to press a kiss to his cheek, “thanks for walking me home, Tsukki.” When she releases his face, she turns on her heel, heading toward her door, but not before saying, “try not to get home too late, and text Yamaguchi— he’s probably worried about you.” 

Okay, so maybe he would break this promise faster than last time. 

“This didn’t happen.” He manages to call out to her, watching as she makes her way down the cobblestone path to her front door. 

Y/N looks over her shoulder, a smirk on her face as she offers him a wave, “this didn’t happen!” She called back in agreement, stepping inside her home and shutting the door behind him. 

A lot faster than last time. 

He has no idea why he didn’t stop her the first time, when she asked. And he doesn’t know why he didn’t stop her now, or the next time, or the time after that. Tsukishima probably should’ve known better, he should’ve stopped indulging himself with her presence.

And yet sitting on his bed, lying on his side watching her, he knows there was no stopping this. Y/N is smirking, clearly noticing his gaze on her as she continues to silently read from her textbook, writing things down into her notebook on occasion. He almost gets frustrated at the sight, brows furrowing before he returns his eyes to his own textbook

Tsukishima probably would’ve finished a while ago had it not been for her, it’s not that Y/N had done anything, but her presence only served as a distraction at this point, leaving Tsukishima wondering just why he invited her. He can’t remember the reasoning behind his actions, but he has a feeling it wasn’t worth the lack of productivity that came with her visit. 

“Have you done anything?” 

As much as Tsukishima admired how observant Y/N was, he currently despised this trait of hers as he slammed the textbook shut, “yes.” It was a lie, Tsukishima had never been so unproductive in his life, and he hated it. He hated everything about this stupid project, especially the fact that she was his partner. 

A laugh escaped her, earning a glare from Tsukishima, “you’re so scary.” She says, though its clear she’s teasing him as she comes to pat his cheek condescendingly, accompanied by a mocking tone and an annoying smirk.

“Whatever.” He grumbles, tossing the textbook off the bed before falling back against his bed. 

Y/N hums, eyes falling over his figure as she nods to herself. “I see.”

Tsukishima scoffs at her words, lifting his head up to meet her gaze with a glare, “see what?”

Her grin only widens at his words as she shuts her own textbook, placing it on the nightstand beside her alongside her notebook before allowing herself to collapse into Tsukishima’s pillows. “You’re grumpy—” She turns to her side, lifting her arm up, “because you want a hug.”

Tsukishima looks at her incredulously, rolling his eyes as he brings his hands to his face, causing Y/N to lower her arm as she pouts. “You’re stupid.” He mumbles, watching her push up onto her elbows.

“And you’re a touch-starved grump.” Comes her reply, prying his hands form his forehead to gently remove his glasses, reaching over him to place it on the other nightstand before returning to her side of the bed. She lifts her arm once more, looking to Tsukishima expectantly. 

He inhales deeply, looking away in an attempt to maintain some of his pride when he feels his cheeks redden. “We have work to do.”

“The project isn’t due for another two weeks, Kei.” 

Tsukishima finds himself trying to glare at her, though it fails when he realizes she’s said his first name and he can’t bring himself to be upset anymore, simply saying, “this didn’t happen.” Before his arms come around her waist, Y/N’s arm that was once hovering above her now wrapped around his neck as she pulled him closer. Her other hand coming to tangle her fingers in his hair.

“This didn’t happen.” She repeated.

That day, he promises that the next time they meet, they’re actually going to get work done. He breaks this promise too, quickly realizing that this is a theme whenever the promises are related to Y/N.

Tsukishima doesn’t really realize that he’s in too deep until the day his lips crash against hers and he finds himself whispering those damned words once more, “this didn’t happen.” His hands running down her sides as he tries to pull her closer because whenever he’s around her that cold that plagues him day and night seems to fade, replaced the warmth she seems radiate as though she’s the sun.

He hates that he compares her to the sun, he hates that she’s become something he needs, a presence he craves, because Y/N L/N was meant to be nobody and now she seems to be one of the most important people in his life. He hates that she understands him, that she can read his every move better than he can, that she knows what he needs before he even says it. 

He doesn’t realize he’s in too deep until he’s promising himself not to fall in love.

Because for the first time in a while, Tsukishima Kei wants nothing more than to touch, he wants to feel, even though he’s filled with fear of the unknown, fear of the feelings he so desperately wanted to avoid. For once in his life, he wants to let go, because he finally feels comfortable enough to do so. 

This time all she says is, “I know.” 

Because Y/N knows that falling for Tsukishima was a mistake, a big one. She’s well aware of the fact that the boy is emotionally unavailable and renowned for his rude attitude and crude remarks. She knows that even if they have these silent moments together, even if she’s held him in her arms at night, even if they’ve been closer than she’s even been with anyone else, this basically means nothing. Because its not like either of them would ever do anything about the fact that the few words they did share in moments like these, weren’t ones of denial that the moments didn’t happen, but something else entirely at this point. 

Confessions in their own right. 

But she knows that all she’ll ever be, is something that didn’t happen. Not a story of his first love, not the girl he talks about with his friends, not the one he thinks about, the one he saw in everyday life. She was nobody, because she didn’t happen.

She doesn’t know that she’s wrong. Very wrong. That Tsukishima spoke fondly of her— honestly, Yamaguchi loves Y/N, he really does, but he’d getting a bit tired of hearing about how the mundane things she does that Tsukishima happens to notice. That he thought of her frequently, that the smell of coffee reminded him of her now, that the sight of the sunset she fawned over every time they walked home together only served as a reminder of her.

It’s not until he’s crying out in victory because they beat Shiratorizawa, Karasuno won, he won. It’s not until he’s so overwhelmed with emotion that he finds his legs moving on their own, towards Y/N; who stands beside Ukai and Takeda, the pair had taken to screaming at each other in the midst of their excitement. It’s not until his hands are on her face, bringing her into a kiss, much to her surprise, that he realizes what exactly the warmth was.

“This didn’t happen?” She asks, trying her hardest to ignore the stares of the team—though many of them are still caught up in their own celebration— as she looks to him. 

Tsukishima simply grins, “I didn’t say that.” 

A/N: kei is my favorite person to write for and i cannot explain why and this has not been edited so oops

tags: @beifongsss @shawkneecaps @iwaizoom @therainroguefanfiction​

[manonblaqkbeak]

The Little Bookshop

here’s my contribution for day 28--bookshop au. just one more story to go and i’ll be officially done with rowaelin month!!

cw: very light mention of female infertility. and verrrrrrrry light smutty language. (if theres any i missed, pls dont hesitate to let me know!)

2.7k words

enjoy!! :)

Aelin woke up surrounding by the arms of a furnace. That furnace being her six foot four husband. Normally, she would love waking up like this, but with summer arriving early and the very fact that she could spend all day like this despite the heat and the million things they had to do today it was not something Aelin could love at this very moment.

Kicking off the cotton sheets, Aelin tried to leave the bed but to no avail. Rowan's grip tightened in his sleep and he mumbled something that might have been “five more minutes”.

Knowing very well that “five more minutes” could turn into another hour, Aelin told her husband that she had to pee, otherwise she was going to wet the bed.

That worked, and Rowan planted a kiss between her shoulder blades as he turned over, facing the curtains.

A small mischievous smile found its way to Aelin's mouth as she quietly walked over to the cream blackout curtains and yanked them back, flooding their bedroom with the bright morning sun.

Rowan groaned at the rude interruption, flopping over on his stomach to avoid the sun. But Aelin simply back over and took the sheets and his pillow away from him (and because she could, she admired his muscled back, but soon came back to reality when all the things they had to do came flooding back).

“It's too early to be tortured like this,” Rowan mumbled, his green eyes finding hers. “And I thought you were about to wet yourself.”

Aelin gave him her best simpering smile. “A little lie. Now, get up, because we need to get started on the day.”

Grumbling at the sun still blinding him and the fact that he wife was always far too energetic in the morning, Rowan put on his summer slippers and shuffled into the kitchen behind his wife, who turned into a pale pink blur as she whirled around the kitchen, taking out the slow cooker and the dry ingredients for their dinner, the pumpkins and sweet potato and the peelers, and the Brussels sprouts that had to be halved. She rattled on about the guest room and the living room, going on and on and on.

They had been married for five years, together for seven, and Rowan still had no idea where she got all this energy in the morning from—especially considering that she would often tell people that she was not a morning person. He couldn't even comprehend most of what she was saying until he had his water and coffee.

After downing his water and turning on the coffee pot, Rowan heard Aelin muttered something about the roof gutters needing cleaning as she peeled the sweet potatoes over the sink, Rowan gently placed his hands on her face and kissed her.

“Breathe,” was all he said.

“I don't have time to do something like that, there's just so much to do.”

Rowan kissed her again and again until Aelin relaxed to his touch slightly. “I know how important this day is to you,” he said to her gently, “for us and the store, but I promise that everything will be fine.”

Aelin dumped the sweet potato and peeler in the sink and wrapped her arms around his bare waist, hugging him tightly as she rested her head on his chest. Taking a deep breath, Aelin smelled the homely scent of Rowan. When she had first meet him, he had been a surly bastard, but she couldn't deny that he smelled good. It was the main thing that drew her to him, that he always smelled like home.

His personality, however, was abrupt as her own back then. But they had worked to better themselves, both individually and then as friends and then beyond, when that friendship turned into something more.

To this day, Aelin never thought that she would have married the scowling bookshop owner she met when she moved to Doranelle. That the man who she thought really shouldn't be in customer service would become the most important person to her. She often told people that Rowan was her soulmate, that there was no better word to describe what he was to her.

Rowan ran his hand up and down her cotton-clad back, the motion always making her melt. “It's just,” she found herself saying after long minutes, “this is such an important day not just for us, but for Elide. It's her first book tour and I want it to go well. I would hate it if something went wrong.”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Rowan assured his wife.

“Unless you've developed psychic abilities overnight,” Aelin said, her voice taking on her snarky tone when she was getting stressed, “there is not possible way you could know that.”

“No, I have not developed clairvoyant skills, but I know that things will work out because you were there every step of the way planning this event with Elide and her team, it will work out spectacularly.” He had helped when he could, but Aelin was best at planning things in their relationship. She knew when things needed to be better or more organised, her passion for creating eventful nights making them unforgettable—like his thirty-fifth birthday; months later and he was still finding eco-friendly glitter in their apartment. It was her passion that made the shop better, that made it inviting and comforting. Her passion helped Rowan to fall in love with the store he inherited from his late parents again. He had been weeks away from deciding to sell when Aelin first arrived, her golden hair practically blinding him from how brightly it shined.

Rowan didn't really like her at first (he didn't really like anyone back then), because she was just so damned loud and kept buying books that he loathed to restock because that meant dealing with people and orders and delivery drivers when all he wanted to do was to be left alone and look for work that didn't have to deal with the general public.

But things slowly started to change during her visits, when he was actually looking forward to her coming over instead of dreading it. Their friendship had started in the most unexpected of ways—the day that Aelin had purchased a book about living with infertility, and Rowan had sensed that if he said the wrong thing, then she would lash out from her vulnerability; so Rowan confessed to her that he had his own cousin, Sellene, had issues with fertility, but lived a completely well-rounded life and was happy.

The smile that Aelin gave Rowan when he said that...he would never forget it in a million years. It was full of relief, that he wasn't going to go on a tangent about how she wasn't trying hard enough to fix her fertility—all the shitty things he had overheard his older relatives say to Sellene.

And instead of leaving after buying her book, Aelin stayed and they talked until he closed, and hours after that, Aelin ordering pizza in the middle of it and they both devoured the food, and he walked her home. Aelin came over twice a day after that, until Rowan finally gathered the courage to ask her out, and here he was seven years later.

Rowan kissed her once more. “And if things go terribly wrong, then I'll help you forget.”

Aelin raised a golden brow. “And how will you do that?”

Rowan smirked and nipped her jaw. “With my teeth and tongue, Fireheart.” He chuckled at the sudden intake of breath from his wife and planted kisses along the column of her throat. Aelin leaned into him, but he moved away, grabbing his coffee to get the newspaper out front.

With a wink, he left his flustered wife, laughing under his breath when she called him a buzzard.

It was going to be a good day.

X X X X X X

It was the busiest Friday they had in several weeks, and Aelin wondered if it was because they knew that Elide was having her author talk that very night, and maybe some were hoping to meet her for free—but Elide wasn't going to be in the shop for hours. The last time Elide had texted her, she and Lorcan were going to lunch.

Sometimes, she couldn't believe her friend was a fully-fledged author. It was both of their dreams, and Aelin was utterly ecstatic that Elide had the courage to send her books out into the world. It was still Aelin's dream, but she was constantly doubting herself, and would talk herself down from pursuing that path.

One day, hopefully, she would learn to tell herself to shut up and reach out to potential publishers.

Finishing up her gift-wrapping, Aelin handed over the bundle of books to her latest customer when she overheard giggling.

It didn't take her long to find the source of the sound. Two teenage girls were currently ogling Rowan as he reached up to a high shelf for a short customer, his shirt rising up to expose a good amount of tanned, muscled skin.

Honestly, Aelin couldn't blame the girls. It was often she noticed this when she was on the shop floor, as she was often in the back dealing with the financial aspect of the business when she wasn't at her actual job at Doranelle University Library, but she had taken the last two weeks off to ensure that everything went well for this event tonight.

As long as adults didn't do it, she couldn't care less, otherwise she often felt like some damned territorial beast on the verge of baring her teeth and snapping at people to not undress her husband with her eyes.

Rowan liked it when she got territorial, and wished she did it more often.

Oblivious to the girls giggling, her husband kept reaching for more and more books, his skin on continuous display.

Maybe she should take more time off at work, since the views here were much better than looking at the faces of exhausted students.

Smiling, Aelin helped the next customer.

X X X X X X

Aelin's leg was bouncing anxiously next to Rowan, his wife fidgeting with her hands, swirling her emerald and gold ring around and around her finger.

In turn, it was making him nervous because seeing Aelin nervous set his whole system on fire—it was a rare sight to see her like this, but no matter how many encouraging words he would say, she wouldn't be calm until everything was done and went off without a hitch.

They were sitting in the front row, all the seats around and behind them full of eagerly awaiting fans to hear Elide talk about her new book in her series, their excitement-filled chatter reaching his ears. Lorcan was in the back, because Aelin had told him that while she liked that he was going on the book tour with Elide, his considerable height would be blocking people's view of Elide. To which he responded that people came to see Elide to hear her talk, not to look at her.

The scathing look from Aelin had Lorcan rolling his eyes but he went to the back, his considerable height no longer an issue—although Rowan did feel bad for the girl that was sitting behind him, considering he was six-four and broad, but there was no doubt that Aelin would let him move, so he stayed and would do his best not to ruin the night for those that he was blocking.

When Rowan noticed that it was 6:55, he brushed a kiss on Aelin's cheek and wished her luck as she went up to the spot where Elide would be talking, with Aelin asking the questions.

“Breathe,” he mouthed to her, and Aelin did, and as soon as she opened her mouth, the words came out smoothly and without a hint of her nerves—just as he knew they would.

X X X X X X

The night was a success, just like Rowan said and would be, and Aelin was still giddy hours later. After the talk, she helped take photos of fans with Elide, got out all the sharpies that she had purchased recently from the grocery store to ensure that Elide didn't run out of ink—because people wanted her to sign all of the books they owned by here and Elide was more than happy to do so.

Afterwards, Elide and Lorcan followed Aelin and Rowan into their apartment upstairs for dinner and Aelin was feeling just a little bit wine drunk, but she was just happy that everything worked out well and that Elide got to live her dreams.

Aelin and Rowan were currently down stairs, tidying up as they usually did just before they went to bed, with Rowan taking mental notes of all the shelves that were practically empty—because while people were waiting in line to get Elide's signature, they browsed the store and filled their colourful tote bags with mountains of books.

He wasn't complaining, but he still didn't like having to deal with restocking, but he would live.

Aelin was gazing dreamily at the cutout of the main character of Elide's story when Rowan came up next to her. “You could do it, you know,” Rowan said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“I know,” was all she said.

“Then why don't you?” He read her stuff all the time, and maybe he was biased because she was his wife and soulmate, but he fucking loved her work, loved the detailed writing and descriptions that made it feel as if he was in the world she made up. But she knew how much he loved her stories, so instead of repeating himself, he said, “Elide could help you. She's been in the industry for a while now. So I'm sure whatever question you have, she can answer.”

“I know,” she said again, still just staring at the cutout. She turned to him, a determined look on his face. “How about we make a deal.”

Rowan raised a brow. “Okay...?” it wasn't often that Aelin included him in her schemes, usually preferring to shock him into an early grave.

She gave him a smile that told him she had been thinking about her idea for a while now, and was just waiting for the perfect moment to reveal it. “You start selling your drawings and I'll talk to Elide.”

“What drawings?” he said instantly, the years of having to hide to drawings from his nosy cousins still annoyed him and any mention of them had him wanting to deny he ever knew how to hold a pencil—not that his drawings were ever crude but nothing was sacred in the Whitethorn house he lived in after the death of his parents.

Aelin scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I've been with you for seven years, I've seen you drawing—they even line our walls. You start selling them—we have plenty of empty frames hanging around—and I'll talk to Elide. Deal?”

It only took him a single heartbeat to realise why she was offering him this. Rowan's drawings were personal, as were her stories, so if Aelin had to open herself like that by giving the world her stories, then he could give away little pieces of himself, too.

“Deal,” he said because he would staple his drawings all over the city if it helped Aelin get her foot in the door, to help her with her dream that he knew she could achieve.

Her face deflated for just a second before she righted herself. Clearly, she wasn't expecting him to agree so quickly. But if she wanted to take her time, then he would give her all the time in the world.

“Deal,” Aelin said and even held her hand out. Rolling his eyes playfully, Rowan shook her hand.

When Aelin went to drop his hand, he lingered, and brought her closer to him. With a smirk, Rowan said, “I can think of a better way to close our agreement.”

Aelin raised an eyebrow. “And how would you do that?”

“With my teeth and tongue, Fireheart,” he said, repeating his words from earlier this morning.

Aelin crashed her mouth onto his, and Rowan closed their deal right in the middle of the shop floor, not at all caring that their friends were right above them.

Aelin thanked the gods that she had come into this shop over seven years ago to escape the boredom of her old apartment. Thank the rutting gods for bringing the ever-scowling man into her life.

[tommysparker]

Never Forget You [Chapter 4]

A/N: hey y’all. just wanna say sorry for the posting schedule change. life is about to get hella hectic with school and the move sooo yeah. every second Saturday I will be posting! it’ll defiantly give me a chance to write more as well so im not rushing out chapters. anyways ive rambled long enough, enjoy :) 

Warnings: angst. theres fluff too but its fluffy angst?? im not sorry hehe. long italic paragraphs = flashbacks. 

From an outside perspective, one would assume the four of them were deep in thought, perhaps even communicating telepathically via the Force. They would only be half correct, as all of the Jedi were indeed thinking, but none of their trains of thought overlapped.  

Anakin and Ahoska were in the pilot seats, glancing at each other every other minute or so. They could feel the tension build thicker with every passing planet. The only sound filling the room was the faint running of the engine that kept the ship moving. 

You and Obi-Wan sat across from each other, neither one daring to make eye contact. Apparently, he was quite serious about the “not speaking from now on” agreement. It’s for the best, you kept telling yourself. However, the awkward silence that filled the ship made it harder to believe that. 

Out of all the things that could happen to you at the moment, this was by far the worst. 

On Gyfil, you had grown quite used to the sound of silence. In fact, over time you began to prefer it as opposed to the buzz of the towns. However, this was a different type of silence, one that had you bouncing your knee in anticipation for Anakin to announce you finally landed. 

Master Yoda had called you all for a mission briefing. There was a supposed Separatist group meeting on Ostor, given the intel you received from a client on your previous mission. The four of you were sent to listen in on it. 

“Young Skywalker and Padawan Tano, back up you will be. Great risks on Ostor, there are. Careful, you must be.” He turned to Obi-Wan and You. “Master Y/l/n, guide them you must do. In charge of the mission, I am putting you.” 

A sense of pride filled your body but you quickly humbled yourself. “Thank you Master.” 

Master Yoda smiled and turned to Obi-Wan. “Infiltrate the meeting, you and Master Y/l/n will. Stay together, you must.” 

Obi-Wan would have laughed at the irony. Mentally he still is. Stay together, you must. After the last conversation between the two of you, he had doubts about how that plan would go. However, for the sake of the mission he was willing to lift the deal made. 

You stood quietly, not being able to handle the loud silence any longer. “I’ll be in my quarters until we land,” you announced, making a point not to look at Obi-Wan and keep all attention to Anakin and Ahsoka. 

You left without sparing a glance back. 

He waited until you were out of view to let out a long sigh, running a hand over his beard and hunching forward. 

Anakin was the first to speak. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever had to endure.” His shoulders shook as he made a disgusted sound. “Glad it’s finally over.” 

“Just focus on getting us there in one piece, Anakin,” Obi-Wan snapped, immediately followed by, “apologizes, I didn’t mean to sound so...aggressive.” 

“So much for being able to hide stress, huh?” 

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Some things are harder to deal with than others.” 

“Is Master Y/l/n ‘some things’?” Ahoska asked innocently. 

Obi-Wan pondered for a minute, deciding the best way to answer. “Master Y/l/n is...many things.” 

“Like what?” 

Gorgeous. Strong. Kind. Perfect in every way. “They are highly skilled, almost as well as I am, if not better. A fine Jedi and a valuable member to the Order.” He stopped there before he’d say something he’d come to regret. Best to keep professional thoughts. 

“I still don’t understand why the Council sent them away like that. Surely there were other Jedi that could have completed the mission,” Anakin commented. He knew his former Master wasn’t satisfied with the answer they were all given but would never admit it. He had to push him to find the truth. 

“Whatever reasons Master Yoda and Master Windu had for picking Y/n are between them. You must stop questioning the Council’s intentions, Anakin. It will land you in very big trouble one day.” Obi-Wan says as if he hasn’t second guessed the Order as a whole before. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. The less you question things, the easier life is. 

“That’s why I keep you around, old man,” Anakin said in a teasing manner. Hearing Obi-Wan let out a light chuckle made him feel a bit better as they settled into silence once more, this time more comfortable and light-hearted. 

A bit more time had passed before Ahsoka spoke up. “Why don’t you ask Master Y/l/n what really happened?” 

Obi-Wan sighed. He should have known better than to believe she would drop the topic. Like Master, like Padawan. “It’s none of my business. Frankly, it’s none of ours so I suggest we leave the subject alone.” 

His answer, apparently, wasn’t good enough. “I’m gonna go ask them.” Ahsoka stands up to leave but is stopped mid-movement by Obi-Wan’s protests. 

“No!” He looked at Ahsoka’s slightly stunned face, and chose to ignore Anakin’s smug look. “Fine, I’ll ask them. But only once, and if they don’t want to indulge me then that is the end of it. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Crystal.” 

Meanwhile, you sat alone on the bed in your chosen quarters. It made you feel relaxed, in a way. Before leaving, you were extremely extraverted, always going out of your way to make acquaintances with everyone around you. The life forces around you at night kept you alive, it gave a sense of warmth and comfort to lull you to slumber. On Gyfil, there was none of that. You had to rely on your own warmth to comfort yourself to sleep. No lush trees or animals to provide even the smallest bit of connection. It was just You and the Force. Sleeping for the first time in the Jedi Temple after returning felt like a sensory overload. Everything was loud, and rough. You could feel it coursing through your veins at the speed of light. No matter what you did, it was too much. 

You didn’t sleep the first few days. Eventually you got used to the noise, but not enough to get a decent amount of rest at night. There was one sound that sometimes made it impossible to sleep, one Force signature that kept trying to break through the walls you put up to protect yourself when you’re most vulnerable. What scared you the most was the fact your own signature subconsciously fought back against the walls you put. You refused to acknowledge it, choosing to fall into a deep meditative slumber and stay alert as opposed to any actual sleep. Whoever it was would not get into your head so easily. 

Knock knock. Obi-Wan stepped into the room once his presence was made known, gently shutting the door behind him. “Y/n…” 

You looked up and squinted at him. “I thought we agreed to not speak?” 

“Yes, well, that proves to be a bit tricky now doesn’t it?” He smiled tightly and crossed his arms over his chest. 

You huffed out air in a sorry attempt at a sarcastic laugh, shaking your head a little. “What do you want, Obi-Wan?” 

It was neither hostile nor endearing. It was simply his first name. To him you sounded tired, and judging by the way you sat on the cot, leaning back against the cold metal wall with your eyes half opened, he presumed his assumption was correct. He spoke gently, “Anakin estimates we should be coming out of hyperspace and landing soon.” 

“I figured.” It wasn’t your intention to be stoic but that's how you’ve been training yourself to speak to the man in front of you. The faster the conversation ends, the faster he leaves. 

Obi-Wan, however, was not having it. “How are you feeling? I know it hasn’t been that long since you returned from your previous assignment.” 

You shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m fine.” 

“No one who says that is ever truly ‘fine’ Y/n/n,” he says, taking a step closer to the bed. “I know you. What’s on your mind, darling?” 

You slowly met his gaze, debating whether to open up or keep yourself closed off. On one hand, the idea of exposing your anxieties to someone didn’t feel right to you, letting someone know about your weaknesses and insecurities. However, you knew in order for the mission to succeed you would have to be willing to work with Obi-Wan and to do that a sense of trust had to be built. Rebuilt, technically. 

“If you wish not to speak, I understand.” He hesitated turning his back to you, “excuse me.” He was about to make his leave before you interrupted. 

“Obi-Wan, wait,” You sighed, shifting so there was room for him to sit on the bed. “Sit.” 

He did as he was told, eyeing you carefully. “Honestly, I don’t mean to pry.” 

“It’s fine.” You knew his intentions and as pure as they were you cannot bring yourself to tell him the truth. “I admit that I...am slightly concerned about the mission.” 

It wasn’t the answer Obi-Wan was hoping for, but he was willing to hear anything he could get out of you. “You have nothing to be worried about Y/n/n. You’re an extremely capable Jedi and I have no doubt in my mind you will lead us through it.” 

You smiled, only slightly but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He smiled back. 

Your eyes locked tight with each other, and everything around you became emptiness. A void surrounded you both and the presence of the other was all that could be felt. 

“Staring competitions are pointless.” You rolled your eyes, sitting up straight and attempting to return your meditative state. 

“No they aren’t!: Obi-Wan argued from his spot across from you. 

“All you do is stare at each other until someone blinks. Waste of time.” 

“Nuh uh. Master Qui-Gon told me that--” Obi-Wan stood up, “--‘The eyes are a window to the soul’--” you laughed at the bad attempt he made to mimic his Master;s voice, “--therefore staring competitions can be a very good battle tactic.” 

“Jedi don’t do battles, remember? We’re peacekeepers.” You looked up at your friend. “Besides, you just want an excuse to get lost in my eyes.” 

Obi-Wan grinned. “You know me so well.” 

So much has changed about the man in front of you, you could hardly recognize him. You never allowed yourself the pleasure to examine what you missed out on. One moment he was a young man who looked like he could take on the universe, and now all you could see was one tired man doing his best. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, is what the old You would have teased. But post-living-ten-years-by-yourself You was different. In a way, you understood. Although you didn’t fight any life-threatening battles and put yourself in the line of fire every week, you have worked tirelessly towards the same goal. 

Peace. 

Like this moment. 

For once, it was quiet. You felt yourself relax slowly, focusing on the one noise that soothed your anxious mind. It felt warm and...close. Something you haven’t felt in a long, long time. 

Obi-Wan leaned closer, his heart reacting faster than his brain. He felt a warmth he had been longing for over a decade. When he reached out, he no longer felt desolate. He wanted to hold on to the feeling and never let go. 

But alas in time of war, small moments of peace only last for so long. 

“Hey! We’re here.”  

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[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

Wine tasting with Diluc

Diluc Ragnvindr | Genshin Impact | Wine

The taste of wine always held a special place on your heart.

It was different, to say the least, something meant to be enjoyed and shared- for evenings alone in the comfort of silence, for gatherings of family and friends in celebration, for those who wanted to bask in each other's presence. Wine seemed to always play a part in these little blips of happiness and immersion, from parents allowing their children a sip to watch the digest on their faces, a chorus of laughter in response usually followed, or the long, agonizing, life lessons about the responsibility that comes with any drink of its type.

So in this new world, this new land, with nothing but two new friends by your side- wine seemed to hold the same meaning it did back home.

And he was always there.

Diluc Ragnvindr of Mondstat.

A man of few words, usually secluded, preffering the company of few and far between- a falcon being one of the lucky ones. Distant, is what you would have described him at first, walking into the tavern with Aether and Paimon by your side, watching how he spoke, the way his body moved.

Soon enough, you found yourself thinking of him in a different light: dejected.

The small dips in tone whenever you spoke of your family, downhearted sighs when the topic of siblings was brought up, the tense, choking, air whenever your father was brought up.

And now, he's something else, and you don't know where to put it.

You're wondering what it is, what it means, he means, as the cup of wine sits next to the half empty bottle. The deep ruby stained the glass held in your hand, held close to your curled up form, the warmth of the fire across from you only made his presence in your mind fester.

The rich, rounded flavor settled once again, leaving your tongue ripe and ready for another sip.

This was a moment for wine, where thoughts settled and emotions needed to be rewritten to be fully understood, where the mind met the heart in an attempt to understand exactly what effect this man had on you.

You know you couldn't run from whatever he made you feel, but it still would be nice to put a name on it, a weak chuckle escaped your lips before thing another blissful sip.

Was there even a point in this? You were planning on finding a way home, leaving Teyvat entirely, going to a world far ahead- yet behind from this one.

No. You thought, because going home seemed less and less like an option, so you couldn't run from what you created in Mondstat. Connections, relationships, bonds- ties.

Diluc.

You felt your face flush with heat, though you had just hoped it was the wine, but the flutter in your heart killed WHT little defiance you had left.

There was a physical attraction, from the features of red decorating the pigments of his eyes and hair to the sculpt of his body, the delicate and angled features of his face. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, stare into the depths of vermillion, mark up the pale skin of his neck while you feel him shudder-

Yeah. Theres a physical attraction.

You took a bigger sip.

Emotionally, you notice you've done most of the work, but in the end- he is thankful. Often allowing you to speak your mind, talk at him, freely exposing your most vulnerable thoughts to him. Slowly, yet surely, he starts to do the same. Small comments about what annoys him, what fuels him, what brings him joy. Those build into sentences of careful wording, testing out how you'd react to his own thoughts, his emotions.

Eventually, opening up, even in the smallest accounts- you knew he still used very little words. Selective, precise, blunt. Short and sweet is the best way to describe it. But his tone is softer, relaxed, when he speaks of himself with you. It isn't brash, it holds no disgust towards himself or the world, but theres... shame. Either in himself opening up and voulentarily making himself vulnerable, or at the fact he feels like he should, like he deserves to be heard.

You take a gulp of wine, the bitter sweetness burned your throat, made you a bit dizzy after taking a deep breath.

You didn't want to rush.

Diluc needed to be treated like a wine, you thought, even if he hated alcohol. Though grape juice wouldn't cut the trick for you.

Slow and steady, like how you enjoy wine, is how you handle Diluc. You open yourself to him, and let him circle, observe, before coming in to reciprocate. He's soft, tender in those moments, and you're thankful with how they've become more frequent.

But he can become distant, lost in his mind, his heart. Trembling at the hate and darkness, the cold and unforgiving manner of his mind, not even his Vision could thaw him from the ice cries of himself. The most you could do was stand by, with a small bonfire and coat, allowing him to defrost the chill in your arms.

A call of your name makes your head perk up, your heart skips, and you suddenly feel the happiness that comes whenever he's around.

"Now, what are you doing here? It's nearly midnight." His voice is calm, relaxed, though the dust of Hypnos has settled into his body as his movements are sluggish and slowed.

"Thinking about things." You murmur, moving your legs to let him sit next to you, not daring to touch him just yet.

"Hm. About?" He asked, sinking into the cushions, arms crossed yet lacking the grip they usually do. His gaze is intense, it yearns, as he stares at your figure illuminated by the fire- own own eyes not meeting his yet, and all he can think is how odd that is.

You took another sip of wine. Your mind has settled. An agreement between heart and mind. You know how to proceed with him, how to feel, how you want to make him feel. No amount of wine could change the taste of longing.

"Me, you... us." You spoke, hushed, not wanting to overwhelm the already tired man.

"You've finally made a decision then?" He asks, and he's close- Oh Gods he's so close. The warmth of his body makes you burn deliciously, the heat that escapes in his breathing is comforting, you can't help but lean closer to him in return.

"Yeah, I finally managed." A weak chuckle, playful gaze, but it fades just as quickly as it came.

"And?" He managed to choke out, eager and impatient, and your body feels like it's on fire at this point. Closing the space, you answer him with a simple action, your lips pressed against his softly as you waited for his own to press back.

It's warm, hot, unbearably so while he holds you close. The sigh of relief that leaves him is nothing compared to the groan of satisfaction as be deepens your kiss, pulling you onto his lap, closer to him- closer to his heart.

You always thought the taste of wine had a special place in your heart.

But it was nothing compared to him.

[dyketubbo]

when you get a chance, thoughts on seer of space tubbo?

(i am also open to maid of space tubbo, and many others, but i am currently seer leaning)

*wakes up* oh boy time to classpect! under the readmore because seers are interesting enough that i ended up going on a tangent

of course no argument about the aspect because hes 100% a space player, ive discussed heir before i believe, so seer analysis it is, because i havent thought about it before (seers slip my mind sometimes, i love them, my brain is just the equivalent of a ground with a bunch of banana peels and cant handle having more than 4 coherent thoughts at a time).

like said with knights, he doesnt exactly try to tell anyone what he wants to come off as, sure he wants to be intimidating enough that people leave him alone, but, well. he does fit the intimidating thing, its less a facade and more a warning, he doesnt want to hurt anyone, but he will should he deem it necessary (thankfully, tubbos kind enough that he deems it unecessary in most cases). hes a bit too likely to follow through, and its bred from feeling unsafe, rather than feeling insecure. c!tubbo knows he can do things, the cc is more likely to downplay what he does than the character is (not that c!tubbo doesnt, but he does still believe in his abilities, he just doesnt think hes important enough to emphasize his impact. difference between going "oh no it was all __" and going "oh no it wasnt just me" when theres something hes done most of the work on)

so, he almost fits knight, at least in abilities, after all knights are capable and they know theyre capable, and hes very good at the exploitation aspect, pushing limitations and using them for their benefits. i could see him as maybe a knight thats actually gotten past the insecurity and facades already, if we're to consider his spy history as him being pre-actualization. being a space player doesnt really change how solid knight arcs are, so the combination of knight and space doesnt make knight much more fitting for tubbo

similarly, he does fit a few aspects of being a seer (having similar struggles, talking a shitton sometimes, sitting back and observing the world around him when he finds it beneficial to do so, generally very smart especially within their group), but not so much others (seers are often overbearingly smug in a way tubbos a bit too humble for, learning through education rather than experience, having a habit of getting too focused on their goal, and theyre overall passive, being too active is actually how they get themselves into shit, while tubbo gets hurt when hes too passive). seers of space focus more on the present than the future or past, which almost fits tubbo.. if it werent for the fact that he doesnt focus on the future or past out of repression cknsks. not that he would much anyways, but the intentional focus on the present is out of stubborness and trauma rather an actual trait of staying in the present. notably, theres quite a few times where tubbo does think about the past and future, especially when he was younger, and he does try to work towards his ideal future, he just doesnt talk about it much.

funnily enough, because of where seer falls through, he ends up being closer to the mage struggle of, well, getting their asses kicked when theyre too passive because things work out best when theyre involving themselves. mages also have that posturing thing as well, though its connected to intelligence (desperately trying to come off as smarter because they believe theyre still too dumb and naïve, even though theyre actually doing fine), so again, not exactly tubbos kind of posturing. plus, hes pissy, but not pissy enough for a mage, as theyre more likely to get caught up in how fed up they are with everything, while tubbo gets caught up in how much he still cares no matter how much he seems like he doesnt. the space aspect adds that theres.. a shitton of shit happening to and around him, which does fit, at least, and mages of space usually suffer because of their passions, knowledge, and experience, as well as they're rather hands on. again, fits, but, well.

seers and mages are a bit too focused on knowledge for the kind of person tubbo is. hes smart for sure, has a lot of knowledge, and even when hes not a spy he does want to know things and looks for that knowledge, but while he fits the goals and positives of seers (and mages), he doesnt exactly fit their flaws or what happens when theyre unhealthy. not that he needs to show signs of being unhealthy, but even healthy players still show an ability to be the unhealthy versions of their classes. he doesnt get his ass kicked for being too active and tunnel visioned like seers do (and it can sometimes come from ego trips, which tubbos very unlikely to have, even if he fits the "my solution is the most correct here, so we have to follow it" part of it all) like seers, he doesnt have any moments of just refusing to learn and complaining about how everything sucks rather than doing anything about it (nor is he likely too) like mages. he does vaguely fit where the unhealthiness of a knight can come in, propping up a shield to a ridiculous extent and lashing out when their insecurites are picked at, but that feels a bit too reckless to be tubbo (though it does fit tommy).

overall, i can kind of see seer for a slightly different version of tubbo, but it feels too passive for tubbo, if that makes sense. he is passive at least, in terms of classes anyways (note- despite how some classpectors define it, passive doesnt really mean you serve others, its not an insult, it just means you weave your aspect through others, rather than yourself. its the difference between a prince destroying x/destroying through x and a bard allowing destruction of x/inviting destruction through x. still listen to passive classes, thats what seers fall into after all, and seers are very important). its just that tubbo usually gets hurt by being too passive rather than getting hurt by being too active (not that it couldnt happen, which is why i say it could still fit under other circumstances).

speaking of passive v active, if i had to pick a passive class i feel fits tubbo the most, probably heir. active wise, id say maid does actually fit rather well. i feel like ive talked about maid tubbo before but i might be remembering a different analysis so just in case ill generally say i feel he fits the arc of going from a "doormat" to taking their life for themselves. theyre stubborn, stressed out from listening to others, like banter, occassionally silly and can start arguing in circles due to the stubborness (think that one patrick id scene, but smarter). maids are also heavy repressers, they fear being seen as weak, and are unwilling to ask for help. they rely on their environment and hate it.

and, painfully enough, some classpectors state that when pushed into being unhealthy, maids explode. maids are already intimidating on their own, being powerful and smart enough to know what to do with that power, and when they get stressed out enough, they, well, explode. they hurt everyone in one big event (think aradias actions in make her pay). its not necessarily a reckless lashing out at everyone like knights, but a giant burnout that happens to effect everyone. tubbos not at a point where it seems likely for this to happen, but i wouldnt be too surprised if something like it did happen were things to get too be too much. he is the mf with nukes after all. healthy maids are independent, with maids of space specifically, well, making space for themselves and others (sound like a certain snow commune anyone), attempting to start new lives. an independent maid, allowed to be their own person without anyone stepping on them, is a healthy maid. unfortunate for tubbo that his life fucking sucks too hard for him to really get to this point KEKW

heirs fit a similar "followed others then became more independent" arc, mostly unaware that theyre being lead around but, if whats happening aligns with their own ideals, dont really care much that theyre being a follower when they are aware of such. heirs have an instinct to stick to comfort, rather than an instinct to be independent like maids. heirs still need to find their independence and autonomy, but need to do so because they can change things, theyre also very powerful when they play correctly. however, going against what they may feel is best and is more comfortable for them can be actively painful, early heirs often would rather be comfortable and happy even if things arent going well than take the difficult route, know that theyll suffer, and temporarily risk comfort and happiness in an attempt to reach an end they dont know will be there for sure. they can deal with suffering, but choosing to stay constantly aware of this suffering hurts and they struggle with dealing with the fact that they need to be aware to stop the suffering.

heirs change by picking up on subtle details naturally, subconsciously effecting those around them, making either themself or others interact with their aspect differently (or actively not think with their own aspect, in a positive way). heirs, when self aware, want to help. thats an important detail, and its why heirs are often protagonists, they dont have the ambition to do things that only benefit themselves when they realize theyre in a position of power. at their core, heirs usually want to make things better, but learning to move on and better themselves can hurt, and it takes a lot for heirs to to let it be apart of the process.

unhealthy heirs fade. they get so stressed out by getting hurt that they shrink back into themselves, they stick with what makes them comfortable and refuse to acknowledge that they and others are hurting, wrapped up in their more selfish instincts and becoming hard and stressful to deal with. "i want everything to be okay" becomes "i dont want to deal with the idea that nothings okay right now", soon getting to "im okay and you cant tell me otherwise, fuck you if you want to take this away from me, you cant stop me but i will stop you". of course, that last one can be useful if a heir were to use it to change things for the better, but the tunnel vision on "i want to be comfortable even if im making others uncomfortable" is, well. shitty. unhealthy heirs wont actively try to hurt anyone unless pushed, but they can they can still manage to through a lack of acknowledging that they have to help. and well, that sounds somewhat like tubbo, the hurting through a lack of helping, at the very least its present in things like him not visiting tommy during exile (partially because it was safer to just not challenge dream, partially out of guilt and belief that tommy hated him)

heirs of space specifically are about flitting from project to project, learning about what interests them, impatient when others dont share their excitement, and learning when to adapt and move on from things. generally, if i had to put a scale on it, id say tubbos most likely to be a heir, then a maid, then a seer. it all depends on what aspects of him you wanna focus on, really. seer tubbo is really interesting though! i think seers are more smug than he is though, not that he doesnt have his moments, but his tendency to believe hes right isnt all too prominent compared to other traits of his, and its less from a smug "i know whats right" and more just a firm "this isnt right, i have a better idea". he wants to do whats right, but if he feels like he doesnt know whats right, hes willing to rely on others, it just.. takes him a bit of pushing to admit such

[imaginejamesandsirius]

I fucking love your writing!!! You're like one of my favorite fic authors ever!! Theres this cool ass quote that I really like that goes- "I'll take care of you" "It's rotten work" "Not to me, not if it's you" and I was wondering if you could work that into a fake dating AU??

This was such a bad idea, but that had never stopped Sirius before, and it wasn't going to stop him now. James had asked for his help, and Sirius was helpless to do anything but promise that he would do his best.

Granted, he would've been a lot happier to help if it hadn't been acting as James's boyfriend as they went to Lily and Remus's wedding.

Sirius was a nice guy and all, but after he agreed to help, he had to ask, "Why do you need a date at all? We were both invited. It's not like you have to sneak me in."

"The last time I saw either of them, I was being a massive prick because Lily had broken up with me."

"I remember," Sirius said. Mostly he remembered because he'd thought it was funny, at the time. Then, when it had become clear that Remus wasn't planning on talking to them anymore because of it, he'd felt a little bad. Not that they'd stayed best mates after leaving Hogwarts, but they used to meet up every few months. 

"I just want to let both of them know that I'm not going to make a scene."

"I don't think they would've invited you if they thought that was going to happen," Sirius said.

"If you don't want to pretend that we're dating-"

"I'm fine with it," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "I was just pointing out that I don't think it's necessary."

"I think it's very necessary."

"Whatever you say, love." Disaster. This was going to be a complete and utter disaster.

Sirius should be smart and tell Remus ahead of time that it was fake so that he wouldn't say anything incriminating, but if James wanted him to pretend that they were dating, then that's what he would do.

*

Dumb. Idiotic. Stupendously moronic. These were all words to describe Sirius in this moment, and his only comfort was that it was James's stupid idea for this in the first place.

"I'm glad you two finally got together," Professor McGonagall said.

James's arm around Sirius tightened. "Right."

"How long have you been dating?" she asked, and it should've been a perfectly innocent question. They were at a wedding, presenting themselves as being in a serious relationship. These were the sort of questions people asked couples attending a wedding together. Sirius knew this, but given the way James's arm tightened even more, he figured that James hadn't known.

"The lines are a bit blurry," Sirius said with a smile. "You might as well ask if the phoenix came before or after the flame."

Professor McGonagall laughed, which covered the sharp inhale from James. They kept talking, exchanging idle conversation about her new students and their jobs for a couple minutes before they parted ways.

"You need to calm down," Sirius muttered to him.

"I'm perfectly calm," he said, but his jaw was tight and he looked like a pat on the back would shatter him.

Sirius only snorted. "Let's get you something to drink. That'll loosen you up."

An hour and too many drinks later, Sirius wondered if he should cut James off. It's not like he was an alcoholic, but he was pounding back drinks like it was going out of style.

Lily walked up to them as Sirius was debating whether or not he could get away with switching his glass (champagne) with James's (whiskey). They'd said hello to her when they walked in, but she was too busy making the rounds before this to really talk. Not that Sirius knew what they'd talk about. He'd never really gotten on with her, in spite of her dating James for over a year; he'd had plenty of time to get used to her, but he hadn't. "Hi, Sirius," she said with a smile. It was a cliche, but she was definitely glowing with happiness. "James."

James turned to look at her, then his eyes went wide and he swallowed thickly as he saw who he was face to face with. "Erm. Hey Lils. Lily. You look- erm, I mean-"

Sirius switched their glasses.

"It's good to see you- not that- er. Congratulations," James finished weakly.

"Thanks," Lily said, ignoring his stuttering. "I'm glad you two finally worked things out."

"Finally?" James asked.

"Yeah, I know that- actually, it's not my business," she said.

Sirius was very grateful that she wasn't going to get into it, and he was about to thank her aloud when James ruined it.

"No, what do you mean?"

Lily glanced at Sirius, who tried to give her a look to convey how much he would appreciate her not saying a word.

He wasn't sure it came across.

"I might be reading too much into it. It's not like I was ever very close with Sirius, and god knows I never knew what was going on in your head."

"Lily," James said slowly, "what are you talking about?"

"Just that you two have always been close. When we were dating, sometimes I felt like the odd one out."

"Sorry about that," Sirius said, because it had been a touch purposeful on his part.

She gave a small shrug, smiling again. "It all worked out in the end."

Sirius tried to focus on the conversation, asking how Remus had proposed and what they had planned for their honeymoon, but he couldn't help but keep an eye on James, who was staying horrifically silent. He noticed too late that James had stolen his drink back.

Eventually, Lily walked away to rescue Remus from a conversation with her sister, leaving James and Sirius alone again.

"Okay, that's enough," Sirius said, snatching James's glass from him. It was almost empty, but he wasn't going to risk it. "We're calling it a night."

"Fine," James said petulantly. He got to his feet, then wobbled.

Sirius put an arm around his waist to steady him and steered them towards the lift. "One foot in front of the other, love."

"I know how to walk," he muttered.

"How comforting. Do you also know how not to drink yourself into a stupor?"

"I'm not that drunk."

"I respectfully disagree."

"Respectfully?" James repeated with a laugh.

"Would you prefer disrespectful disagreement?"

"Sure. It'll make this feel more normal."

"As you wish, love.” Pause. “You're a sodding idiot. I can't believe I'm having to haul your arse around like we're eighteen again."

"It doesn't count as disrespectful if your voice still sounds like that."

"Like what?" Sirius asked.

"Like you love me."

"Use your imagination for that part."

James snorted, and they kept walking. It was slow going, mostly because James was trying to pretend he wasn't as drunk as he was. They made it into the lift, and James leaned heavily against him. "Maybe I did have a bit much."

"Maybe," Sirius agreed.

By the time the doors opened onto their floor, James had turned morose. It's how he always got when he got pissed instead of staying at buzzed, and Sirius was impressed that it had taken him this long to have his mood turn. Not that he'd been particularly happy before.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"What for?"

"That you have to take care of me."

"Don't be, I don't mind."

"You should."

"And why's that?" Sirius asked.

"Because it's-" he paused as he stumbled over his toes "-bloody rotten work."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"Not to me," Sirius said.

"It should be. Why would you want to take care of me?"

"Because it's you," Sirius said softly, knowing that James wouldn't remember this well enough come morning to figure out what he meant by it. "Nothing rotten about that, love."

One of these days, James was going to know that when Sirius called him 'love', he meant it exactly as it sounded. It wasn't going to be tonight though, so he kept helping James to their room. They'd done this song and dance too many times for Sirius to feel weird about it. If James needed help getting undressed, he'd help him. He knew how to keep from staring, so he wouldn't feel like he was taking advantage of the situation or summat. He'd get James to drink some water, and in the morning, James would thank him for the help and nothing would change.

It had been years, and nothing had changed between them.

Despite the countless comments they'd gotten today about people saying 'finally' or 'always knew you were together', Sirius knew that the chances of it happening were slim.

*

The rest of their stay at the hotel for the wedding passed without incident. It was the wedding day, and then the day after everyone was leaving. The day of the wedding, people were busy thinking about Lily and Remus, so people stopped commenting on the relationship between James and Sirius. It was a relief, but the sad fact was that all the people here that weren't family, they all knew from Hogwarts. They all knew Sirius and James, and the next time they saw any of them, they'd probably have to explain that they weren't dating anymore. It would be years before Sirius had to have that conversation with anyone, but he was already dreading it.

They packed their bags, checked out of the hotel, and headed home. Home was a flat they shared and had been sharing for the past five years. Sirius dreamt, sometimes, of them moving into a different flat, one that only had one bedroom because what would they need with a second one?

"Did we talk?" James asked, frowning. "When I was drunk?"

"We talked some, but nothing important. Why?"

"I thought... nevermind."

"Okay," Sirius said easily.

There was a minute or two of silence as they walked up the stairs to their flat and unlocked the door. Once the front door was closed, James asked, "Do you think that'll ever be us?"

"What will?"

"The big white wedding. Or- y'know, any wedding."

"I hope so," Sirius said.

"Really?"

"Well yeah." Sirius wasn't terrified of being alone or summat-- well, maybe a little bit-- but he'd like to have that kind of relationship some day. Something with that much trust and being intertwined in each other's lives the way Lily and Remus now were.

When Sirius turned around, James kissed him. Full on. Hands on either side of his face and leaning close like he wanted nothing more than to seep into his soul.

It took a couple days for Sirius to replay the conversation in his head and figure out that what he'd answered hadn't really been what James was asking. His answer was the same, no matter what, but he really hadn't thought that when James asked 'Do you think that'll be us?' he'd meant specifically the two of them together.

He sure as hell wasn't going to complain. 

[missdawnandherdusk]

Lost Boys

Reader X Draco

(Follow up one-shot to Beautifully Beastly) 

Summary: Now that Scorpius is older and in love with his best friend, he’s terrified to tell you and Draco

A/n: So, I recently finished reading the Cursed Child, and oh my lord I love Scorpius more than my own non existent children. And I know that coming out to your parents can be scary and it might not go the way you always wanted it to, but here’s some comfort in that fear. Something to hold onto. 

It was a late night and Draco was out on another case as I read in bed by lamp light. There was a knock on the door.

“Yes?” I called, seeing Scorpius’ pale face in the night light. “Everything alright sweetheart?” I sat up.

“You’re busy reading, it’s nothing, never mind,” He stammered and went to leave. 

“Scorpius,” I chided, setting my book down. “It’s alright darling,” I patted the bed beside me.

His eyes didn’t leave the floor as he shuffled over to the bed and curled up beside me, hiding his face in my shoulder. Worry began to bloom in my chest. I hadn’t seen Scorpius like this in a while—the last time being when Harry had changed Albus’ school schedule and told his son to avoid mine.

I stroked his hair softly and hummed. I knew Scorpius, he would open up when he felt safe and secure. Even as a teenager, he still had the habit of curling up with me at night when he was afraid. And I was glad that some things never changed.

“Mum?” He peaked up at me after a while and I could see his father reflected in his eyes.

“Yes dear?” I smiled.

“I... I’m bi.” He rushed out, growing very red and looking down, ashamed.

I stared at him a moment, letting it sink in. A smile spread across my face as I drew him close into an embrace.

“And you are loved, and complete,” I rubbed his back softly. Tears stung my eyes as I felt his frame shake with little sobs as he clung to me. “And I will always support you and demolish anyone who doesn’t.”

The tears did slip out as Scorpius continued to cry into my arms. I tugged the blanket up around him and continued to card through his hair. When he started to babble apologizes is when I pulled him away and cupped his face, wiping away his tears.

“You are my son, Scorpius. You are such a bright young wizard with a pure heart that has love to spare. Don’t apologize for that, ever.” I pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m so sorry that you’ve been so scared.”

He sniffled and wiped his eyes.

“Who you are, and how you feel, has, is, and always will be valid my dear,” I smiled and stroked his cheek softly. “And I love you. All of you.”

He nodded and threw his arms around me again, hugging me close.

“I love you, mum,” He whispered softly.

“As I love you,” I smiled, and we settled down under the covers.

Curled up on my chest, Scorpius seemed to calm down and his breathing evened out. My fingers still combed through his hair as I hummed one of his favorite lullabies.

“Mum?” He breathed out; his voice still small. 

“Yes darling?”

“Do... do you think dad will...” He didn’t seem to know how to finish the thought, but I had been thinking the same thing.

“I think your dad might surprise you,” I confessed. “But if you don’t feel safe, I can talk to him. Merlin knows he’s afraid of me,” I chuckled softly.

“You’d... you’d fight dad for me?” Blue eyes met mine.

“It’s not the first time I’ve done it,” A smile played at my lips.

“What do you mean?” Scorpius frowned. “You’ve fought dad over me before?”

“I suppose you were too young to remember... When you were little, and I first began to tutor you, you asked me where all of my lullabies came from. I told you they were muggle and I’d have to talk to dad about letting you know the movies or stories they came from...”

“Dad wasn’t always alright with muggle things?” Scorpius seemed shocked.

“You have to understand he grew up loathing muggles, darling. That your grandfather twisted him into...” I sighed softly and shook my head. “We fought. He didn’t want you to know muggle things... fairytales.” The memory flitted to the forefront of my mind. “I said that I wouldn’t keep secrets from you, so I resigned, but he was going out on a case for a week, so I was going to stay until he got back...”

“But you didn’t quit?” Scorpius frowned.

“No,” I smiled. “The case... your father almost died on that case, because they were using me against him. He went in alone to try and save me—it wasn’t me, don’t worry, just a bit of Polyjuice Potion... when he came back... he said he was sorry for the things he said to me... and that it was alright if I never wanted to speak to him again, but he begged me to stay because you needed me... because he needed me.” I looked at the rings on my hand: an engagement ring and a wedding band. “I was going to stay anyway, no matter what he ordered me to do because I wasn’t going to leave you... I couldn’t leave you.” Blinking out of the memory, I looked down at Scorpius, who looked mystified.

“You and dad... did that for me?” He squeaked. I nodded.

“We love you Scorpius, more than you’ll ever know.” I pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “And though I will love your father until the day I die...” A smile graced my lips. “I loved you first.”

Tears shined in Scorpius’ eyes as he dove back into my arms. The next morning, I woke to Draco pressing a kiss to my forehead. Scorpius was still fast asleep in my arms.

“Bad night?” He whispered softly, not to wake his son. 

“Could say that,” I mused. “But he’s better now I think,” Another pair of blue eyes blinked open.

“Good morning,” I greeted softly, letting Scorpius sit up.

“Dad?” Scorpius rubbed his eyes, looking to Draco who was sitting beside me on the bed. 

“Right here, son,” Draco encouraged with a soft smile.

Scorpius nodded and ran a hand through his hair—a nervous tick he picked up from Draco. He stood, making his way to the door without another word. I called to him before he could leave entirely.

“I love you,” I reminded him.

“Love you too, mum,”

Draco looked to me for answers and I pressed a kiss to his lips softly.

“He’ll tell you when he’s ready,” I rubbed his arm softly. “But he really is okay,”

“I don’t think I will ever understand you two,” Draco rubbed his face and nodded, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“I don’t think you’re meant to,” I chuckled, pulling him into my arms.

“And you’re sure he’s not in danger? Harry isn’t trying to make Albus go to Ilvermorny or something is he?” Draco looked up from his lounged position on my lap, drawing a laugh from me.

“No dear, Harry has nothing to do with it,” I affirmed, fanning out Draco’s hair so that it formed a silvery halo around his head, draped onto the comforter.

“Is it about Albus then? Did something happen?” Draco pressed and I laughed, seeing right through his attempt to get to me confess.

“He will tell you when he’s ready, and until he is you will respect him.” I narrowed my eyes playfully.

It took a few days, the weekend, in fact. I could tell that Draco was carefully hiding his curiosity and frustration under a mask I knew well. But, as I tidied the library, replacing books and shifting the order of a few, and sending a few cleaning spells towards the blanket of dust, I paused at the large French windows, seeing my two boys walking along the Manor grounds.

Scorpius had his head hung and I knew exactly what conversation was taking place. I lingered at the window and watched as Draco paused a moment as he gazed at our son and smiled. The tight embrace between the two brought tears to my eyes as I looked away, letting them have their moment.

That night the three of us curled up in the grand master bedroom bed. My fingers carded through Scorpius’ hair as he finally found a peaceful slumber.

“This is familiar,” Draco noted softly. I simply nodded. “Do... do you think we messed up?” He asked softly.

I raised my eyebrows, shocked at the question and ready to go off on him, not caring if Scorpius was there or not. Draco caught my glare and quickly mended his question.

“Because he was so scared to tell us,” He rushed out and I exhaled slowly, looking down at Scorpius.

“We might have...” I confessed. “But we’re going to do everything we can to make up for it,” 

“And how are we going to do that?” Draco chuckled softly.

“Well, I have a feeling that Albus might have something to do with it after all,”

I watched Draco’s eyes widen in realization as a smile spread across my face.

“Of course, it had to be a Potter,” Draco groaned, laying back on the silk pillows.

I laugh escaped my lips and Scorpius shifted in my arms, his eyes not opening as he nestled back down, mumbling incoherently.

Standing by Draco’s side, we waved as Scorpius and Albus headed out on their first date, both blushing and laughing while holding hands.

“He really is perfect for our son, isn’t he?” Draco sighed softly; a smile evident in his tone.

“He is,” I leaned against him.

“Still can’t believe he fell for a Potter,”

“You did,” I grinned, my eyes meeting his. “And just because you couldn’t shag a Potter doesn’t mean our son can’t,”

I burst out laughing at the look on Draco’s face.

.

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