#no gender terms used but I’m putting male because we need more fics

[doctordbd]

Power struggle pt. 2

Since you guys wanted it so much I present to you power struggle. This is just the after math of what happened after part one, i actually don’t recommend reading the first one since it was so bad and that was more of a self indulgence for me. I was questioning my sexuality and gender at the time (lol) but if you want to read it it’s right here (I might delete the first one later and redo it)

: pt. 1

Warnings: belly bulge, sub frank, dom reader, hints of sexual favors, top reader, no pronouns used for reader but they have a ding dong, dumbifaction, Dacryphilia because Frank is a cry baby. Frank having a sexual crisis, public sex sort of, almost getting caught, drool, gapping. Cream pie, no proper after care, a lil bit of Dwight x reader?? 🤨 obvious NSFW below the line

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“Guhh!” The feeling of sweat ran down Frank’s neck, his body was hot. The smell of sex clinging onto his body like a deep cologne. His face flushed as he hid it in a pillow that occupied the bare bed in the house that sat at the top of the cold wind farm map. Body shaking as he tried to mimic the feeling of having something fill him. Inexperienced fingers working to find his sweet spot all the while lazily stroking his cock.

Frank didn’t know what was happening to him. After that trial with.. you, he hasn’t been able to do anything normally. The thought of you and the thought of you inside of him was taking over every waking moment. Making out with Julie has even become weird as he had never been on the submissive side before and now with this new found kink he doesn’t know if he wants to stop.

It was one time but ever since then he hasn’t been able to look you in the eye. Frank wasn’t clear if it was out of pride or embarrassment but he couldn’t bear to face you for a long time. Hell, he couldn’t even look at his teams face for a while, the thought of telling them or them seeing him in such a state haunted him.

That was why he was in cold wind, before Frank wasn’t scared to jerk one off in one of the rooms in Ormand. It was their sanctuary after all. Their place of rest. But now it drove Frank mad worrying someone might catch him touching himself in such a way. At least here he would be provided a little more privacy knowing rarely anyone comes up here.

The problem for privacy was solved, the main problem now is why is his orgasm taking so long? His slender fingers were all he thought he needed to get the job done, but it wasn’t working. It wasn’t you. The excessive spit that he used for a makeshift lube leaked out of his hole as he hopelessly tried to find the certain bundle of nerves that would have him seeing stars.

Frank choked out a sob, letting tears fall down his blotched face, growing frustrated at his feeble attempts of getting off. He tried to picture you doing it to him. Your hands on his chest, playing with his sensitive nipples. Your tongue tracing over the bite marks you would litter his body with. Frank shivered at the thought.

He wanted you to ruin him.

After a while of no progress and the constant thrust of his fingers started to hurt he pulled out. His walls clenching around nothing hoping for something to fill it.

Frank weakly sat up from the pillow, a grimace look found it’s way on his face as he saw how much droll and tears he left on it. He truly is pathetic, whining and crying for God knows how long for a person who fucked him just out of hatred and spite.

He wanted to hate you for it, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know what to do.

He flipped the pillow, using the dry side to wipe the spit that slid down his digits.

Pulling his pants up and placing his mask back on his face he walked out of the Thompson residents, stumbling a little after having toyed with his now sore hole for what he could guess was for hours. Hands in his pocket as he planned on what to do next. But one thing was for certain, he needed to see you.

Frank leant on a tree just outside of the survivors camp. There were too many damn cabins to tell which one was yours. Hoping to catch you leave the food hall as it seems all the survivors just finished eating and were making their way back to their individual cabins.

And that’s when he saw you. Did you get a new cosmetic? Because it seems there was something different about you today. You carried yourself with your head held high as you chatted with your fellow survivors. It irked Frank knowing his and your interaction made you that way.

He couldn’t help but also notice your ensemble; a military green shirt that warped tightly around your frame, him taking note of how good of a job it did showing your muscles. The dog tags bouncing up and down everytime you took a confident stride. Along with the army greens tactical pants and black combat boots to match.

You truly were a sight to see as Frank had caught himself staring just a little too long, too hypnotized by your strong arms that were littered with scars. Your hand that held flashlight with great strength.

With a painful punch to his chest he tried to collect himself. He needed to focus. But it was so hard when it came to you, evidence being he was becoming completely undone just by looking at you.

At this point you had seemingly said your goodbyes and was making your way to your cabin. The group you were with one by one slipped away into their own cabins leaving you the only one left. It was quite a ways to go to get to yours. You walked for a bit longer before hearing a singular “hey”. You turned around fully expecting to see one of your friends coming back to tell you something, but you quickly realized that the sound was coming from the thick wood that circled the camp.

It wasn’t the first time Danny or even Trickster would come over and try to scare you guys. So you were quite surprised to see the one and only Frank Morrison whispering to you through some bushes. Him obviously not wanting to be seen as he hid some of his body behind a tree.

It had been a while since you had talked with Frank and you couldn’t really blame him, the shame one would feel being completely plowed by someone that is supposed to be lesser then them would be unimaginable. A smirk had a way onto your face as you remembered the trial, truth be told it has been on your mind a lot too.

“Didn’t think I’d hear from you again, Frank.” you start, eyes musing on his mask that was slightly off his face revealing the visibly hate filled expression.

Frank gritted his teeth, he wanted to say something, anything, but his tongue suddenly felt too big for his throat. You tilted your head in confusion.

“You’re the one who called me over here, and yet you have nothing to say.” You crossed your arms as you waited patiently for an answer.

“If you’re worried I’ve told someone, don’t worry I didn’t. Wouldn’t want to hurt your killer rep, now would I?” You said in a fake concerned tone. A tone the Frank couldn’t stand. He hung his head low trying to figure out what to say.

After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence you decide to start heading back to your cabin, walking away from the flustered killer. Frank panicking knowing this might be his last chance getting to see you alone.

“Wait!” He whisper yelled you stopped in your tracks yet again. Turning your head towards the killer, a bored expression dressed your face as you were in no mood to play games.

Frank looked around one last time before extending his arm out to you. You looked at his hand and back to his face, he must’ve been out of his mind if he thought you’d follow him into the deep, dark wood.

In the camp you were safe, secure. Out there he could do almost anything to you under the entity’s rule. Yet, momma always did say that your curiosity would get the better of you one day. With a huff of disbelief mostly aimed at yourself, you took his hand. The familiar burn of power gracing your senses. Whatever gave you power that trial was definitely back and ready for seconds.

Frank must’ve felt it too, tugging your arm not in a demanding way, but in an almost servile way. Like you were in control and he was merely moving you along, like a child would do to their parent, rushing them along to get to their desired destination.

Reluctantly, you followed the young killer to wherever he wanted to take you, his eyes foward and his mouth shut, you decide to do the same thing as the walk there was dead quiet. The only noise being the twigs that snapped under your feet.

You make note of how far you walked from the camp, whatever he wanted to do he wanted to do privately.

All of a sudden, Frank stops in his tracks, you being unaware of the action knocking into him. Regaining your balance you apologize, only for Frank to grab you by your shirt and shove you against a tree, pulling you into a deep kiss.

The kiss itself was enough to make you throw him off of you but you noticed how his body reacted to the kiss, the hands that he used to shove you into the tree were now clawing at the fabric of the sleeves. His legs buckled and were seemingly about to give out. You gingerly grabbing his waist to help him as he leaned more into you. Exploring your mouth as he let out whorish moans, like you were the most addicting drug, he was craving more of you.

With a paining groan Frank detached his lips from yours, a string of saliva connecting you two.

Heavy breaths filled the air, your head leaning back against the tree eyes closed in bliss, been a while since you’ve last had this.

You opened your eyes and looked down at the quivering male, his once hate filled eyes now completely blown out and filled with lust. Tear collecting at the corners. Was he about to cry?

The sight itself made you groan, using the grip on his hips to bring them closer to yours. Roughly grinding against him as if you were in rut. Frank welcoming it with open arms as wrapped his arms around your neck, hiding his face in your shirt, his drooling problem coming back into light as he was quick to cover your shirt collar in saliva.

Holy shit did that turn you on

You used your strength to turn him over. Now he was pinned against the tree and your chest was to his back, not allowing much room for him, but yet again that was the point. Shoving past his belt of faulty bullets you ran your hand along side his leaking shaft. Frank bucking his hips to try and gain friction from your hand that you kept pulling away. Just enough were he was aching for your touch but enough were he could still feel you touch him.

His face was now in his elbow as he let out loud huffs of frustration from your teasing. A part of him just wanted to push you over and ride you in the middle of the forest. So he can finally itch the scratch you’ve left that trial. But he wanted this even more. He wanted your hands on him, the hands that would make his skin feel on fire every time you touched, squeezed and prodded at him. He wanted your face close to his like it is now. Whispering at him. Calling him a whore, a slut, your slut.

He wanted all of you and more, so he complied with your teasing. As much as it pained him to, deep down he really loved it.

Frank let out a strangled cry as you finally wrapped your large hand around his cock. His precum providing a good lube as you wasted no time moving your hand up and down his shaft. His legs buckled under him as you set a brutal pace with your hand. Frank bucking in your hands slightly, but enough for you notice and coo at him.

His face was hot even though his mask was long tossed away and forgotten. Your words making him even more flustered then he already was, if that was possible. 

The tightening feeling in his stomach made him let out an embarrassingly loud and pitiful moan. Something he would be embarrassed about later but not right now. Right now he was savoring the feeling of his rapidly approaching orgasm. 

You felt the thrusts in your hand speed up, slopping and uneven. He was fucking himself with your hand, your dick reacting with an excited twitch that Frank felt on his backside. Groaning at the friction while rolling his eyes to the back of his skull. He gave a final thrust before he released all over your hand and landing some on the tree in front of him. Pumping your hand a few times to help him ride out his orgasm.

After a while, Frank started to jerk away from your hand. You find it cute as his face contorts back and forth from blissed to overstimulated. Finally letting go of his cock, you bring your hand up to his face for him and you to see the glistening hot liquid seep down your fingers. He tried to turn his head but you were quick to grab his jaw and turn his head back to his mess.

“Don’t be embarrassed to look at the mess you’ve made.”

Frank groaned at your words. feeling you release his jaw and used your clean hand to shove his pants down even more along with his boxers, gripping at the firm mounds before stepping back and crouching down. pulling his hips towards you so he was now bent over. Franks hands still clinging onto the tree.

“W-what are you doin -NGH- ah!”

Frank tried to talk but was quickly silenced by you spreading his ass open and using Frank’s -now cold- load to trace around his rim. You had fun running your finger over the bumpy skin while listening to Frank trying to keep himself quiet. All the while trying to stand on his on two feet without your help. It was a real challenge not to just fall down on the moist forest floor and have you take him there. But he pushed through, or so he thought when you abruptly shoved two fingers into his hole. Franks back arched while his fingers dug into the tree bark, hanging on for dear life as his legs were now jelly.

the lewd shlick sounds made Frank whine as you teased around his sweet bundle of nerves, you knew where it was but you purposely ignored it, it made Frank look back at you with a weak scowl. You on the other hand watch with pure fascination at how eager his hole was. swallowing your fingers with such need to be filled, it nearly made you drool.

You knew his orgasm was coming when his long flustered moans turned to high pitched broken ones. Frank trying his best to hide it but failing miserably.

Your goal wasn’t to get another orgasm out of him but to prepare him for you. so you took your fingers out at a painfully slow pace. Watching as his hole clench around nothing. Only god knows how much you want to ruin this man.

You sit up and finally unzip your pants. Haven grown unbearably tight since the moment his lips touched yours. Freeing your cock out of it’s confining prison. Standing proud and tall, with your aching tip producing a hefty amount of precum. with a sigh of relief you began stroking yourself, smearing your pre all over your cock. Running your thumb over the slit a couple of times.

With a few more strokes you let it go and let it fall on Franks backside, Frank moaning at the hot and heavy mass on his back, feeling you move back and forth leaving a gorgeous trail of your semen on his back. After a few pleas and whines from Frank to quit your teasing, you eventually grab ahold of your throbbing member and align it to his hole. Pushing in at a slow speed, making Frank groan.

“S-stop fuckin teasIN. And just put it in already-”

With a huff you pushed the rest in, bottoming out fully. Setting a brutal pace as you forced his hips to yours at every thrust. Frank letting out a shrill cry that would wake any forest animal if the entity’s realm had any. The sheer power you had over him made Frank lightheaded. After ignoring you- ignoring himself for so long he finally had you. He finally felt content with himself. That itch was finally being scratched. 

Franks constant nagging was getting on your last nerve, so you were pleased to see he had his face in his elbow. Letting out a short moan every time you thrusted into him. Tears threaten to spill at the cover of his eyes, Frank was in total bliss. Havin being filled once more by you was a dream come-

“Are you sure you saw them go this way”

Frank froze, supposedly you too, as your thrusts slowed down, but not entirely stopping. There were people in the words.

People looking for you two.

“I’m sure Cheryl, Frank took them somewhere around here.”

Of course.

Dwight and Cheryl.

Frank would be glaring at them and run them off if you weren’t balls deep inside of him. If you two get caught what would happen to him? What would happen if the other killers found out? When they find out that a killer already constantly looked down upon gets caught getting his guts rearranged by a survivor? The one thing in this God forsaken world he’s supposed to hunt, torture, and kill? Everything that he’s worked hard to get will be in shambles. He is putting himself and his team at risk, so why did he do it?

Because it feels so good.

The tears that threaten to fall earlier quickly decide to finally spill past his eyes. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to do anything else so he did the only thing he could do at the moment, and that was to cry. You rip your eyes from the two curious survivors and back at Frank, this is the first time in your life that you wished Dwight wasn’t such a good friend.

So you snaked one of your hands that were previously grabbing his hips and covered his quivering mouth as you started to thrust your hips at a much faster pace. Frank moaning at the returning pleasure. His eyes foggy but not leaving the two people walking dangerously close to were they were. You saw Frank look back at you with pleading eyes. Those eyes, those eyes did nothing but make you want to fuck him even more. You lean down next to his ear and say:

: You -huff- don’t want to get caught right? Then I’m gonna need ya to -huff- stay quiet for me ok? Can’t have all your friends know what -huff- you do in your free time.” 

You watched as his reaction changed from pleading to absolute mess. Tears now streaming down his face and drool seeped through your fingers as your ruthless pace never faltered, your free hand now on his cock. Stroking it with the same speed you were fucking him in.

You had no intent on stopping till you were finished and satisfied. The two of you getting caught would be a minor inconvenience for you but you knew the fear Frank must feel right about now, You could’ve stopped but, at the end of the day it didn’t seem like Frank wanted you to stop all that much. You were in full control of this moment, it was your choice were this was going to go. 

This is the type of power that you’ve heard about that most grow drunken on.

You’ve made up your mind and continued to thrust into him. Your hand doing everything in its power to keep Frank’s noises in. As it seems like he picked this time to babble and moan the loudest.

You listen with open ears as you heard Dwight and Cheryl’s footsteps shuffle away, relief washing over the both of you. Or what was once relief now panic when one of your thrusts hit his special spot. The one leaving him seeing white. The one spot that made Frank let out a high-pitched moan the surpassed your hands and out onto Dwight’s careful ears, turning around momentarily. 

“Did you hear that?”

Frank didn’t know what did it, maybe it was the fact that he was moments away from being caught, and the fear of being caught excited him. Or the way your length stretched him out to the point it felt like you were fucking his brain, his hand on his stomach right over the noticeable bulge that would come to rearrange his insides one thrust at a time. Or maybe it was you, your large body pressed against his, as you work to pleasure him and yourself. Going the extra mile as to cover his mouth for him for his was too shaky to actually do anything. Whatever the reason it was enough to finally tip the scale. Frank shaking under you a -little more harshly this time-  before at last cumming all over your hand. His hips didn’t know either to buck into your hand or onto your cock. So he did a sloppy version of both. Legs shaking as his juices leaked from your hand and onto the ground, riding out his delicious high. 

You couldn’t really focus much on him because you watch with careful eyes as you see Dwight look around one last time before turning around and walking the opposite way.

“You’re definitely just hearing things, just like how your just seeing things. Besides what would [name] be doing with Frank anyway?” Cheryl said.

“*sigh maybe your right, I just.. I don’t know, I guess I’m just seeing things” Dwight said putting his hand on his head, his face a little flushed. Something Cheryl picked up on quickly.

The two survivors finally walking away finally leaving you and Frank to your own devices. You watched as they finally disappeared behind the tree line. Releasing your hand from Franks mouth, you looked down. Frank was immobile, cheek pressed against the rough tree bark and hands lightly pressed against the tree as well. Weak butchered moans left his mouth every time you thrusted into him.

He was a sight indeed, the very thing you needed to see to get you going again. Putting your hands back on his hips you used his body to get yourself off. Throwing your head back as his walls clamped around you, his walls shaped just for you and you only. He did come to you after all, he wanted you again, he wanted to be filled with you again. The thought threw you over the edge, your hips meeting as you burrowed yourself in him. emptying yourself into his warm hole. Frank letting out a long groan at the feeling of being full of your seed. You can tell it was too much for him to take as some of your semen escaped out of his hole. Droplets hitting the ground.

After a while you pull out, taking a step back to look at the mess you’ve made. The lack of support caught up with Frank as he slid down the tree and onto the forest floor. A firm reminder of the first night you had together. 

His gapping hole was your best work, Frank’s ass covered and dripping in your cum. As well as the red hand marks on his hips, a telltale sign of your former roughness. Marks that -if you weren’t in the entity’s realm- would definitely bruise later. 

And his face, his face was the embodiment of sexual bliss. Being satisfied to the point where one would pass out. It was almost endearing. But you had no plans but to be nothing more then just fuck buddies. Maybe sex for your life? it seemed like a fair deal. If he didn’t agree there was always blackmail, but you had a feeling he would agree. So with your last remaining strength you wrench his pants back over his waist. Picking up his mask and pulling it back over his face, moving the strands of dirty hair off his sweaty forehead. 

After that you pick him up and walk him over to a new area one where there wasn’t any semen on the trees. He reeked of sex and so did you so you took his jacket off and laid it next to him. Maybe that’ll air him out. You thought your plan was flawless till you saw a wet patch around his butt area.

Fuck

You totally forgot about the total cream pie you gave this guy about 20 minutes prior. You quickly took the jacket and put it over his lap. Maybe he’ll take that as a warning to walk around with caution.

You got up from your knees and dusted them off. Putting your hands on your hips while you look down at Frank. 

‘Funny how time repeats itself huh?’

You let out a snicker, Fixing up the best you can without really being able to see yourself. Buckling your pants to finish, you began to walk away from Frank. Before he called you into the woods you really had no plans, but now you were feeling rather drained, so now you were going to sleep good tonight. 

That’s what you thought before a singular crow landed on your shoulder. Looking right into your eyes with its beady little ones. You let out a little chuckle before letting the fog consume you. 

——————————

“I’m sorry for dragging you out into the woods off only a hallucination.” Dwight apologizes. His fingers fiddling with each other, head held low. They were nearly to the camp as the smoke from the fire can be seen close up ahead.

Cheryl looked back at him with a friendly smile.

“It’s no worries, you thought you saw someone you care about going into the forest with some killer. Your a good friend, Dwight.” She reassures.

Putting a hand on his shoulder her friendly smile quickly turned into a teasing smirk.

“But thinkin about Y/n so much to the point that your seeing them everywhere is quite suspicious don’t change think hm? Are we gonna talk about that? Why are they on your mind so much Dwight~?”

Dwight’s face flushed at the assumption. Pushing her away and covering his face.

“No, no! it’s not like that! W-we’re just friends!”

“Sure, sure you can lie to yourself all you want but I know the truth.” Cheryl teased, Dwight letting out an embarrassed groan, opening his fingers slightly. Peering off onto the vast forest. You two were merely just friends..

Right?

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AN:

So I sense some Dwight x reader chemistry?🤔 maybe, maybe not. You will never know. Have a good day/evening/night guys love you 🖤 might get another fic today if not today then definitely tomorrow

Edit: Im still editing this even tho I already published it. Im so bad at this. I need to reread my fics more often and not just when I finish uploading them

#dbd #slasher fucker #love you #fanfic #horror #smut #frank is a bottom #frank morrison #frank Morrison is bbg #dbd fanfic #dead by daylight fanfic #dom reader #top reader #top male reader #male reader #slasher x reader #sub character #amab reader #no gender terms used but I’m putting male because we need more fics

[thedivinershiddenarchive]

"cupid's dilemma: valentine's madness"

information.

Cupid, the God of desire and erotic love, making people's fantasies come true on this year's Valentine's day. Send him a letter with a target you aspire and with enough time, the contents of your letter will turn into a reality.

terms and conditions.

Follow the Cupid's terms and conditions in order for your love letter to be accepted and granted to come true. Do follow the format provided in it in order for him to clearly understand what your desires are and pick two prompts to finalize your request.

format; (1.prompt) + (2.prompt) + character + (context/story) + (kinks) + (extra.)

example of format; may I request cupid's weapon to be the windblume ode with refinement 3 targetted at Al Haitham? Both reader and Al Haitham are a married couple going through their honeymoon together! Maybe with some dacryphilia and breeding and virginity taking?

all these prompts belong to thelonelyempath

cupid's mailbox is: closed!

This event is mostly NSFW. 17 under, please do not interact at all costs and don't request anything SFW because my event isn't for that.

Female readers only. I do not write for gender-neutral or male readers so please do not request them. I will proceed to remove them if you do.

Do not request for characters that are not listed + anything in my "I will not write"

Please have your request be understandable so I can write it accurately and to your liking.

Writing requests may take longer so please be patient with them when you send one.

One character per concept/request only.

Update: Request the available characters. Give them chances on getting a fic because I'm only open for 4 requests. Check what characters I've already written for by searching the "cupid's dilemma ; valentine's madness" tag.

Run your mind wild with imagination! Don't hold back but also consider my rules still!

cupid's trusty weapon [1.prompt]

Alley Hunter ― "When I open the door, I better see you naked and on all fours for me."

Amos' bow ― "I don't think I can cum anymore."

Aqua Simulacra ― "Done already? We just started!"

Blackcliff Warbow ― “You better keep the volume down or I’m gonna go even harder.”

Messenger ― “You talk too much. How about we use your mouth for something else?”

Polar Star ― “I’m gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard.”

Windblume Ode ― “Is that gonna fit?” “I’ll make it fit.”

Elegy for the End ― “Ooh, you’re not wearing any underwear. Trying to tell me something?”

The Stringless ― “Quit eyefucking me and get over here so you can actually fuck me!”

Skyward Harp ― “Go and lock the door for me.  I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.”

The Viridescent Hunt ― "I know it hurts, but be a good girl and take it."

Thundering Pulse ― "Wanna see what I'm wearing under this?" "Hopefully it's nothing."

Hamayumi ― "Do you think you can take more of me in?"

Royal Bow ― "I don't know where the fuck you think you're going. Get that sexy ass on the bed and take your clothes off."

Rust ― "Let me dominate you so you don't have to do any thinking."

Prototype Crescent ― “I saw you naked once.  And now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Sacrificial Bow ― "“I love that we both already finished and your legs are still shaking.”"

Mouun's Moon ― “Would you rather make out or make love?  Me, personally, I’m up for both.”

Fading Twilight ― "You've been playing that stupid game for hours. I'm horny, damnit!"

Favonious Warbow ― "No one else is home, which means we can be as loud as we want."

Hunter's Path ― "Is there room for two in that shower?"

End of the Line ― "Oh yeah, you like when I touch you like that, baby."

Compound Bow ― "I'll only put the tip in. Unless you want me to go deeper."

Predator ― “I called in sick. Now we can stay in bed and fuck all day.”

Mitternachts Waltz ― "I'll be a good girl/boy! I'll be good for you!"

Recurve Bow ― “Your boyfriend/girlfriend/partner doesn’t need to know about this.”

Hunter's Bow ― CUSTOM. Pick a dialogue prompt that isn't in the list of bows.

bow refinements. [2.prompt]

Refinement 1 ― Friends with Benefits

Refinement 2 ― Hybrid!Reader or Hybrid!Character (specify which and what Hybrid they'll be)

Refinement 3 ― Domestic Relationship

Refinement 4 ― Mafia AU

Refinement 5 ― Perverted Stalker AU

Refinement 6 ― Yandere AU

Refinement 7 ― Vampire AU

Refinement 8 ― CUSTOM. Pick a dynamic that isn't in the list of refinements.

masterlist.

[AL HAITHAM] - Fondful Graze.

[DILUC] - Partners in Virtue.

[TIGHNARI] - A treat for two.

[CAPITANO] - Addicted.

© notsodivininglover 2023. reposting, plagiarizing, translating or claiming my works are strictly forbiddened.

#notsodivininglover ; king’s pages #al haitham x reader #al haitham smut #albedo x reader #albedo kreideprinz x reader #albedo smut #cyno x reader #cyno smut #tighnari x reader #tighnari smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #pantalone x reader #pantalone smut #capitano x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc smut #thoma x reader #thoma smut #cupid's dilemma ; valentine's madness

[mischief-lies-and-stories]

Loki Season 2 Wishlist

I've been creating a wishlist for what I want to see in Loki season 2, which premieres October 6.... [pause for long-suffering sigh because I’m so tired] I’m very annoyed that it’s not coming out until October (if it’s genuinely because of the strike(s), I’m not annoyed with the writers/actors but with the studios for not meeting demands so we can move on with our lives, but I’m pretty damn sure the strike is a scapegoat). I’m not surprised they keep moving it back, because they also kept pushing back season one! (I wish this format was audio so you could hear my indignation, haha.) But I wish it was still coming out in the summer like it was supposed to. Anyway, let’s jump into it. (Fair warning, a little bit of ranting incoming.)

First things first, Lokius: This ship has grown on me. I was resisting for a very long time, and I think it took until about episode four or five before I was like, “Okay, fine, you can date Owen Wilson.” And then I was all on board, and at this point I’ve written I think three Lokius fics on AO3 (link in the blog description). So, yeah. @ MCU, if you need some ideas, agree to the writers’ and actors’ demands and then hire me. I’m a lot of things but I’m not a scab. Okay, anyway. 

Genderfluid Loki: I’m genderfluid myself, and the “representation” included in the show was nonexistent. First of all, fluid is not a sex. Sex is assigned to you at birth, on Earth, and it corresponds to your genitalia. You are usually assigned male or female. There may be some places now where you can get Intersex put onto your birth certificate, if that qualifies, but until very recently, most intersex babies ended up undergoing surgery to change their bodies to fit better with one sex assignment or the other. Therefore, fluid cannot be considered a sex, at least in terms of on Earth. Perhaps it could be on other planets, but the people watching this show (as Twitter has been so helpfully pointing out recently) are on Earth, so no, wrong, Loki’s genderfluidity is gender-based not sex-based. I don’t know why they didn’t just put gender on the file, they should have. And that was the only time they included it, and I think that they put it there (aside from being like “ooh look at us we’re so progressive!”) as foreshadowing that Sylvie was going to be a girl. Which is bullshit, because that’s not what genderfluid means, either! Genderfluid means that you, yourself, change genders. And we never, in the show or the MCU in general, see Loki explicitly present or identify himself as anything other than a man. And furthermore, Sylvie isn’t genderfluid either, because she never states that she’s anything other than a woman. Nor do either of them ever request people refer to them using any other pronouns. On top of that, Sylvie is a trans woman, you cannot convince me otherwise, and you will pry that conviction out of my cold, dead, genderfluid hands. (I’m very incensed about this entire thing, I apologize. This is why I inserted the read more and the warning above.) So I’d like to see more of genderfluid Loki (not Sylvie; she’s made it clear that she is a (trans) woman, and I’m respecting that she’s got one gender). I don’t necessarily need to see him shapeshift into a woman, like into a different actor or Tom Hiddleston in make-up or something, because as much as I would love to shapeshift, I can’t, and I don’t think he needs to shapeshift to be his most authentic, genderfluid self (because then what does that say about irl genderfluid people? rant for another time, though, sorry). So I just want a little more justice to be paid to that, and maybe let him change up his pronouns sometimes. All right, moving on, before I get really worked up. 

Verity: I love Loki: Agent of Asgard. Al Ewing is my favorite comic writer for this reason (and not because he’s also bi; I just found that out 24 hours ago). Agent of Asgard is, in my opinion, the best version of Loki ever to hit the comics. It is the best version of genderfluid Loki, the best version of redemption arc Loki, the best version of Loki as a character in general. And his best friend is Verity Willis, ace icon Verity Willis. (I don’t make the rules, she’s ace; have you seen her character design? Have you heard her say that she’s not interested in romance? She’s ace!) I want her, some how, some way, in Loki. This is a little bit more of a stretch, because I don’t know how she can be put in, so this is a little bit more of a pipe-dream of a wish. But I want. her. in. Loki. So bad. 

Theo Bell: I also really like Mackenzi Lee’s Loki: Where Mischief Lies. (It’s a great book; you should definitely read it if you haven’t.) In it, Theo is Loki’s love interest-slash-coworkerish-slash-partner in crime. This story is set in Victorian England. Theo Bell is gay and walks with a cane. It’s been awhile since I read it so I may be taking this theory from a fanfic I wrote, but I’m pretty sure it’s canon that he became disabled as a result of a homophobic attack. (So trigger warning for that, but if it’s canon it’s only mentioned) He’s a great character; he’s funny, he’s snarky, he doesn’t put up with any of Loki’s shit, and he can also (and this might also be me adding to the character but I’m pretty sure I’m right) see through Loki’s lies pretty quickly at some points. So I would really like to see Theo in the MCU. I also have some theories about Theo versus Mobius (shameless plug for one of my fics, Choose Me, which utilizes my theory about them), so I would like for Theo to show up in the way that proves my theory right.

Agent of Asgard Loki: At the very least, I just really want that coat, that coat is so cool. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, google Loki: Agent of Asgard. The coat that he wears throughout the comic is kick-ass.) I want that coat somewhere in the show, I do not care who’s wearing it. That being said, I really want Agent of Asgard Loki to make an appearance in the MCU at some point. Somehow. I already have some theories about where I think we can go with AoA Loki in the MCU (which I’ll probably post about later). Like I said, I really love that version of Loki, I really love that comic arc, and I want him somehow paid tribute to somewhere in the show. Actually, though, I did just reread the entire comic run, and I noticed that towards the end in the final climax of his redemption arc, there’s a lot of similarities between that and the last couple episodes of season one. So they already seem to be drawing on AoA, so maybe they won’t be able to include the actual characterization of Loki from AoA. But it’s still on my list.

Let Loki do more magic, goddammit!: He does very little magic in season one. Although he’s not able to do magic in the TVA (which was very annoying for the fic I was trying to write the other day), but as far as I can tell, he only does magic like four or five times in the rest of the show. Classic Loki literally says (and I looked up the exact quote because I’m a NERD, can you tell?) “Blades are worthless in the face of a Loki’s sorcery.” And then Loki proceeds to do NO MAGIC for most of the show! So I want him to do more magic, especially shapeshifting. And at one point I think he mentions that he likes doing his duplicity thing, so I think he should do more of that, too. (Which I think based on the only trailer-like thing we’ve gotten so far, it seems like he’s going to do. And maybe I’m stealing this from that trailer, but I think it would be really funny if he did the duplicity thing and then Mobius automatically knows which one is the real Loki, which is hilarious, because Thor doesn’t usually know.)

Give my girl Sylvie a girlfriend: While I do like the idea of her with B-15, I feel like the reason why we’re shipping her with B-15 for the most part is because there are basically no other girls in this show. C-20 is dead, Renslayer is a dick, and we just really don’t want her to be with Loki (you saw my first entry on this list, you know where I stand). I’m counting Loki on this list since he’s genderfluid even though it’s not being portrayed very well. So her with B-15 is fine, I do kind of like it, but I don’t know enough about B-15, I don’t know enough about their relationship. I don’t think they even have enough of a relationship yet for me to really feel like I super ship it. But I just want somebody for her, preferably a girlfriend, because I think that’d be cute. I’m genderfluid, personally, but I’m available. ;-)

Thor: I! Want! Thor! I know we got Frog Thor, but I want actual Thor! I want Thor to give all of the Lokis a hug, in particular Kid Loki (and I have some theories about why he killed Thor, or why he said he killed Thor), Classic Loki, Sylvie, and also our regular Loki. Because I think they need a hug from their big brother (I know they were raised as twins, but I like saying he’s their big brother, I don’t care). 

Classic Loki in Valhalla: Pretty straight forward (and you can read After on AO3, because I wrote this). I need Classic Loki to see Thor and I need Classic Loki to be in Valhalla, because I think he deserves it. (If he’s actually dead.)

Mobius’s backstory: I want to know where Mobius came from; I want to know how he got to the TVA. I want to know if he had a jet ski or if my theory is correct (per Choose Me). 

Why Sylvie was taken by the TVA: There are some great theories about why Sylvie was taken by the TVA, one of which I subscribe to the most as of late (as included in Nothing Matters at the End of the World. I’m pretty sure this is my last plug on this post, I’m so sorry). But I am not convinced that she was taken in because she’s a girl. I think that’s transphobic and misogynistic and nonsense. And I say transphobic because Sylvie’s a transwoman, and I will not be taking criticism on this. I don’t care that that line “born the goddess of mischief” was probably meant to discourage trans headcanons, and I encourage the writers to respectfully get their heads out of their asses and consider that “born this way” is not just a Lady Gaga song (but the song is also relevant in this case). So I think it’s pretty damn transphobic to say that she isn’t allowed to exist because she’s a woman. And it’s misogynist and transmisogynist to claim that the rest of what the timeline demands of her cannot be accomplished if she isn’t a cis man or genderfluid or whatever a “right” Loki is. So I want to know why she was actually taken in. There are a lot of theories online about why she was arrested, and I like a lot of them. And on top of that, she doesn’t know! She told Loki that it’s because she’s a girl, but then when she gets in front of Renslayer, she’s like, “What was my nexus event?” Which implies that she does not actually know. And maybe it’s just bad writing or a plot hole, and that’s very possible. It’s the MCU, and writers make mistakes (I know I sure do, though I don’t have a team of people checking my work). But I’m choosing to go with she doesn’t actually know. She was like six years old, she was a kid, she assumed something. And why would you assume that, if you’re six? Unless you’ve been told something else your whole life. So there are two possibilities for why she assumed this. Either, yes, she’s a cis woman, and spent her entire life until that point being told-- presumably by Odin--that because she’s a girl she’s not gonna rule. Which would suck, but checks out for Odin, because he’s a dick. Or she spent most of her life being told she’s a boy and having to tell everybody that she’s a girl. And even if she isn’t faced with any transphobia on Asgard (as Where Mischief Lies would have us believe), that’s hard for a six year old, and when she’s told that she’s in trouble for doing nothing, she’s gonna make some assumptions, and maybe she landed on that. But I don’t think she actually knows why and I want to know why. And I think she deserves to know why.

Reunite Sylvie with Thor: I either want Sylvie to reunite with her Thor or be sibling-adopted by Loki’s Thor (bonus points if Loki gets jealous and Thor has to be like “Give me a break. I love you, too, idiot.”). I want Sylvie to somehow get her brother back, whether it’s the one she lost or the Thor we know. I think she needs somebody, and I think Thor is a great person for that. Because I think Thor will immediately be like “You’re great. I love you. You’re wonderful, just because you’re my sister, and you’re the best.” Even after just meeting her, because Thor is such a wonderful little golden retriever puppy, and also, he loves Loki so much. And he continues to, even after everything that happened in the MCU! And that’s lovely, and I think Sylvie deserves someone like that.

And finally, I need Loki, somehow, in some way, to be able to lift Mjolnir by the end of season 2: I think he’s moving, very swiftly, towards being worthy of lifting Mjolnir, and I want him to be able to do that. I think that will show him, personally, that he is better and has changed. And I think he needs that physical validation and confirmation that he’s changed. I think that people (Mobius) can tell him until they’re blue in the face that he’s a good person, that he can be good, and that he can do what’s right and be a hero, but until he can lift Mjolnir (the way his brother can, because he’s been told by everyone his whole life that his brother is the best), I don’t think that he’ll believe that he is worthy of anything. And I want Thor and Mobius to see it, and I want them to lose their goddamn minds. Because I certainly will. 

#Loki #loki tv show #loki season 2 #loki spoilers #loki season one #loki season 1 spoilers #sylvie laufeydottir #mobius m mobius #lokius #references to loki agent of asgard #loki agent of asgard #verity willis #references to loki where mischief lies #loki where mischief lies #theo bell #did this make any sense at all? i'm scribing it from a recording i did on my phone eight hours ago lol #not all posts on this blog will be this damn long i promise

[snaillock]

(Related to what you said in this post)

I AGREE. Honestly, for me personally I don't really know how to write gendered stuff. I can only write gn!reader and that's kinda it besides my occasional fem!lesbian!reader (but that's always for self-indulgent funsies and I feel like even those could be read as gn if it wasn't for the fact that reader is a lesbian)

Of course people are allowed to and should write gendered stuff if that's what they feel comfortable with and enjoy, but the "gn!reader but..." or "reader is fem coded" (and then it's obviously fem!reader) ARE SO....HUH??????????? I see that and think "just say it's fem!reader............" Notice how that doesn't happen with male!reader?🤨 Because fem!reader is the standard in fics.

And don't even get me started on untagged fics where in the middle of it reader is fem out of nowhere. Imo, if there's no reader's gender tagged it should be gn!reader by standard and then not randomly give reader a gender.

Idk if it's weird for me as a fem alligned person to "complain" about this but I don't really feel any connection to my gender and one of my friends is masc so we talk about this sometimes. I have many thoughts on this😔

Anyways. I hope you'll never receive a fem!reader request. May your anons always read your request rules

ONGGG this is why you’re one of my favorite mutuals

i remember when people constantly requested fem reader fics from you and thinking “you are so damn patient. i could never.” i applaud you so much for that cause i would’ve been so angry and probably wouldve done those all those requests as male readers purely out of spite.

well to be honest, spite is the reason why this blog even exists.

idk why but gender neutral writing comes so easily to me. maybe it’s because i jumped around the gender spectrum a bit but i can easily tell what feels feminine and masculine. and even though i used to identify as a woman for many years all while being a fanfic reader, i don’t think i can even attempt fem!reader stuff LMAO.

i don’t even get how so many people screw up gender neutral tagging so much like we need to hold a mandatory seminar for fic writers to teach them what gender neutral actually means. i really wish more people tagged their “gender neutral” fics like, “afab!reader that uses gender neutral pronouns” or anything like that. i just want them to quit saying gn reader when they don’t mean gender neutral overall.

it’s even worse when they add x male reader to the tags so i’m kinda forced to see it anyway. i don’t even do that on my legitimate gn writing. i only put any gender neutral tag that fits; none of that extra “x female reader, x male reader” tagging shit for a little bit more clout because doing that just makes tag filtering a lot more inconvenient for others.

also the untagged fem reader fics made me so distrusting of any untagged fic because i either assume it’s gender neutral and get so invested in the story only to get smacked upside the head with extreme feminine terms and/or pronouns OR i’m always slightly uneasy when i read them because now i expect them to secretly be fem!reader all the time.

being perceived as anything but a man is one of my biggest dysphoria triggers so reading fanfics for comfort is such a double edged sword.

also it’s not weird at all for you to complain about this because honestly the more, the merrier. i need a lot more people talking about this constantly.

i never gotten a fem reader request before, so if i did now then that would be pretty fucking funny. that would mean someone saw my account and essentially thought “you know what this dude’s blog needs? a good ol female reader fic. time to skip reading his rules and go straight into the ask box”

anyways to wrap this long ass rant up, gender neutral should really be the default here. i really don’t see why it’s not.

#★ snail.rambles ★ #★ snail.mail ★ #★ the sillies <3 #so glad i finally have an excuse to make a full post about this #★-mao

[phoenixyfriend]

Quinlan and the Interdimensional Ingenues (except not really)

Context: SW Suddenly Omegaverse AU (Original Post), Interior Design (Nesting Divots), Chrono Rating: T+ Relationships: Anakin & Obi-Wan, Quinlan/Obi-Wan

This is like 90% cuddles and scenting that’s a few steps to the side of a/b/o standard. There is a lot of non-sexual licking. It’s a little odd, but I’m assuming that’s what you’re here for. It’s also over 5k words, so, you know. There’s that.

Note: “Ternary” is to the number three as “binary” is to the number two. Binary gender/sex refers to IRL male/female distinctions, and ternary refers to alpha/beta/omega. Gender and sex are much more complicated than is touched on in this particular fic, and trans identities exist within both the binary system and the ternary system. (More notes at end.)

-----

“Sorry to tell you this,” Quinlan says, sliding into the room as quickly as he can, “but we can smell omega distress from several rooms down the hall. What the hell is going on?”

“We’ve having a lot of feelings,” Kenobi says drily. He’s on the couch, looking damnably normal, and Skywalker’s got his face shoved into his master’s neck. Kenobi’s fingers card through the curls, and it’s... well, it would be easy to tell which of them was having said feelings even if Quinlan hadn’t already been able to tell them apart in scent.

“I’m distraught,” Skywalker moans, mushing himself somehow closer.

Kenobi’s eyes go to the ceiling, and he visibly prays to the Force for patience. “I know, Anakin.”

“You think I’m being dumb.”

“I think you’ve had a few months to prepare for this, but that your reaction is understandable nevertheless,” Kenobi says carefully. “Quinlan, would you like to take a seat?”

He hops the back of an armchair in a way that earns him a long-suffering, fond sigh. Quinlan grins encouragingly. “So, do I get to know what this is about?”

“I’m having trouble keeping it out of the Force, but at least I can do that,” Skywalker mutters. He does not lift his head. “I can’t control the scent stuff.”

“Yeah,” Quinlan says, because he’s not sure what else to say. “Do you want me to go get Tano? Might make you feel better.”

Skywalker just whines, high and pained, and tries to curl impossibly closer to Kenobi.

“Anakin,” Kenobi tries. “Anakin, do you want me to explain?”

“I want my--” Skywalker cuts himself off with a choking noise, and then keens. It’s a very omega noise, in the sense that his vocal cords can make it, and non-omegas have trouble mimicking it, and it makes Quinlan want to go over and do his best to fix things in whatever way he can.

(This, everyone is finding, is the truly awkward element to having Skywalker and Kenobi around. They don’t have any experience with controlling their ternary sex instincts, and it makes everyone else react poorly when they do, well, almost anything. They can’t be blamed, considering exactly how inconvenient this is for them, as well, but it’s not a great time for anyone.)

Quinlan tries to keep his own scent pleasant and calm, as soothing as he can make it through the blockers. He doesn’t think it works. “Your what?”

“His wife,” Kenobi says. “Because apparently that was the other way he broke the Code.”

“I looked her up,” Skywalker moans, dramatic as anyone. “She’s already mated and married, in this timeline. To that artist. She’s totally happy and she’s never met me and I’m never gonna be able to work with or around her because I won’t be able to act normal about it and I miss her.”

‘A lot of feelings‘ Kenobi mouths at Quinlan over Skywalker’s head.

“Well, at least it explains the position you’re in,” Quinlan tries to joke. The blank look he gets from Kenobi tells him clearly that the joke didn’t land. “Uh, scenting at the neck like that.”

“Inappropriate?” Kenobi hazards a guess. He doesn’t pull Skywalker away.

“Sort of,” Quinlan says. “You’re family, or as good as, so between that and the need for comfort, nobody’s really going to judge you for it, especially given your backgrounds, but that kind of prolonged neck-scenting for comfort is something kids outgrow in pre-adolescence. It’s only really used for either comfort for extreme emotions, like this, or, uh, between lovers. Post-coital, or during foreplay before, you know, mouths get involved.”

Kenobi grimaces. “Lovely. And what do you mean by ‘of our backgrounds’ in this case? That we have less control, or another factor?”

He doesn’t sound offended. Quinlan appreciates that. “You didn’t have ten years to get that comfort. It’s like... touch starvation, but for scenting. Anyone who knows what’s going on with you, even in the vague sense that doesn’t involve dimensional travel, is going to give you leeway on scenting because you didn’t have that, growing up.”

Kenobi’s grimace doesn’t go away until Skywalker’s breath hitches, hand curling in his master’s robes. “Anakin?”

“I don’t like feeling like this,” Skywalker mutters. “It sucks.”

“I know.”

“And we can’t delay the war much longer, and she was one of the only reasons I stayed even kinda sane through it.”

“I know, Anakin,” Kenobi sighs, running a hand through Skywalker’s hair and, awkwardly as anything, pressing a small kiss to the young man’s forehead. “You’ll have other ways to de-stress this time around. Maybe you’ll actually attend your meditative retreats.”

Skywalker huffs out a breath, in a laugh wet with what might be burgeoning tears. “Shut up.”

“I think you’ve known me far too long to think I’ll ever run out of words,” Kenobi says. He meets Quinlan’s eyes again, but before either of them can communicate about whether Quinlan should leave, Skywalker lurches to his feet, muttering something about a shower.

He’s gone before Kenobi can get more than two words out, and the man is left looking ruffled and confused by his former padawan’s sudden departure. He stays watching the door, and slowly wilts in a way that doesn’t speak well for his state of mind. The man sighs and drops his head into his hands, cradling it with his elbows on his knees, and whatever calm he’d had fades into pure stress, the air curdling with the smell of it.

Quinlan waits, unsure of how to handle this; Kenobi’s Quinlan Vos probably would have known how to deal with the change.

“What am I doing?” Kenobi breathes out, the words almost inaudible from behind his hands.

There are a few moments for Quinlan to consider the many complications and ramifications of getting involved, and then he decides to do so anyway. He stands up and steps around the caff table, and sits down next to Kenobi. He wraps an arm around the man’s shoulders, and brings him in close.

“You don’t have to do this,” Kenobi says, though he makes no move to pull away. “I know you don’t... this is just an obligation. The Council assigned you to gather information and keep an eye out for us in terms of the whole omega thing, since you already shared my heat, and... I know I’m not a friend to you. You barely know me, and the fact that you have to look out for me is something that truly grates. Such care shouldn’t...”

Quinlan waits for him to finish, but he doesn’t.

“I won’t say that they didn’t give me that assignment, because that would be a lie and you’d know it,” Quinlan says. “But I do want to be friends with you. We’re sort of there, already, even if that’s mostly you knowing my other self, and my psychometry, but I’ve seen what a friendship with you could be like, in what you let me see. We’ll never have that same dynamic, because I didn’t grow up with you, and the ternary sex adds an element that changes things, but I do want to be your friend.”

He hesitates, unsure if the rest will make things worse or better, but says it anyway. “As for taking care of you, looking out for you... I do feel a need to do that on an instinctual level, yes, but I can ignore it. It’s an instinct, but one that I, like everyone else that’s grown up as a human or near human in this galaxy, can work around. I am doing more than the minimum the Council requested, and it’s because I do actually like you as a person, and want to know you better.”

Kenobi’s head is resting on his shoulder by this point, tired and heavy, and Quinlan reaches up to brush his knuckles against the beard without looking. His blockers are still keeping his scent down, but the contact seems to make Kenobi relax more. His hands are mostly laced together, and falling into the dip between their legs.

“There’s a way I can help, but it’s, ah... not inherently sexual in nature, but generally only done by those whose relationship is already some degree of sexual,” Quinlan tells him. “To make you feel better, less stressed.”

“I’m assuming you’re not suggesting an orgasm,” Kenobi mutters, dry as anything. He laughs when Quinlan puts a hand on his knee.

“Not exactly feeling it,” Quinlan agrees. He squeezes Kenobi’s knee, and then says, “No, it’s mostly scenting in a way that’s usually only done by lovers; it’s more effective, but very intimate in a way many find uncomfortably sexual, because the amount of tongue involved is very reminiscent of foreplay.”

Kenobi laughs, a little harder, and nuzzles a little. He doesn’t seem aware of the fact that he’s doing it. “Alright, then.”

“I’d also suggest moving to one of the nests,” Quinlan says, and Kenobi immediately freezes. He gives it a moment, and then says, “I know you found it helpful after your heat, Kenobi. The nesting instinct is human here. It’s not shameful. There are people who don’t get anything out of it, but I’ve seen you nesting, and it’s good for you.”

Kenobi shudders and Quinlan thinks he might be fighting down a whine. “It’s a change, Quin. I mean, Quinlan. It’s... it’s just another thing out of many that’s different.”

“And one of the few you have control over?” Quinlan guesses. He tries to purr for support when Kenobi nods against his shoulder, and he thinks the deep rumble is soothing to Kenobi. “I get that.”

“Don’t stop,” Kenobi mutters, and Quinlan can guess he’s blushing about it.

“Into the nest,” Quinlan mutters. “It’ll help convince Skywalker to use it, and he really needs that kind of comfort.”

That’s the line of logic that actually works, and Quinlan isn’t the least bit surprised.

“Fine,” Kenobi sighs, and gets to his feet before Quinlan can offer to carry him or something similarly joking. The man walks to the communal nest at the edge of the room, and then looks down into the barely-used mess of blankets and pillows in the floor divot like he doesn’t even know how to get in.

Quinlan thinks there might be dust, even.

Fine. He can work with that. He’s taken this duo on as a project of his own free will, and he’s damn well going to follow through.

“Want to rearrange it?” he asks, in hopes that he can prompt Kenobi into figuring out what’s wrong.

“I don’t... know,” Kenobi says, frowning in a way that’s more worried and uncomfortable than angry. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Quinlan considers it, thinks of how the dust means nobody’s been here, that there’s not even a hint of scent, and then turns and grabs the throw pillows and thick, woven blanket from the couch.

“Wait,” Kenobi protests. “They don’t--”

“We can put them back later,” Quinlan assures him. He holds them out to Kenobi. “Trust me? I may not be an omega, but I do know enough of the theory.”

Kenobi takes the pillows and the blanket, stares down at them and then at the nest, and steps out of his slippers and into the nest. The layer already there is thin, and likely not doing much for anyone, but it’s the bare minimum and Quinlan can work with that.

He turns and scouts the room for spare fabrics, grabs all three of the outer robes from where they hang by the door, and the recently-used dishtowel that only barely carries Skywalker’s scent, and brings them to Kenobi.

“The robes aren’t clean!” Kenobi protests.

“I could grab something from your room instead,” Quinlan says. “Or you could just leave the hems on the outside. But you need more fabric that actually smells like someone.”

Quinlan wonders, idly, if Kenobi would have this kind of reaction to the suggestion without omega instincts at play, or if it’s just the instincts and he doesn’t realize, or maybe that he’s decided to let the instincts happen since Quinlan’s pushed him into nesting already anyway. The man had insisted in perfectly pressing his robes from the beginning, long before their bodies had had a chance to change, and Skywalker had found it normal, so it’s probably, at least a little, just the man’s personality. It probably doesn’t matter, overall, because all Quinlan has to do is sit at the edge of the nest until Kenobi--the person who actually lives here--is done arranging things.

Quinlan takes off another two layers and offers them, noting out loud that he can get them back later when Skywalker can fill in the gaps or something before too many protests can be voiced. Kenobi hesitantly takes them and tucks them in among his own additional layers. Quinlan’s seen enough communal nests to know that most of the placements are odd and not going to work out long-term, but that’s not the point right now. The point is getting Kenobi to recognize the his body, and more importantly, his mental health, rely at least somewhat on nesting now.

“Are you going to come in?” Kenobi asks, belatedly realizing Quinlan’s still outside the lip of the flooring divot.

“Not without permission,” Quinlan says, and sees the realization flicker in.

Kenobi holds out a hand, silent, and Quinlan lets himself get tugged in among the half-stale, half-new nest. It’s not great, but that’ll come with practice. He tucks himself around Kenobi, and rubs at the man’s arms in an attempt to ease some of the tension that’s clinging to every line of his body.

“What now?” Kenobi asks, just a shade more quiet than Quinlan thinks is really required by the situation.

“A lot of the stress you’re feeling is a feedback loop from being covered in your own distress scent,” Quinlan says. “You can shower to handle that, which is what Skywalker is doing, or you can manually remove it.”

“I’d imagine a wet towel,” Kenobi says, a touch wry, “but given that you mentioned tongue earlier, I’m guessing you intend to lick it away?”

“It’s more effective,” Quinlan admits. “Not at removing the scent, necessarily, but it removes enough to help while also generating comfort and relaxation hormones from the close contact, and being scented by a trusted individual.”

“Makes sense,” Kenobi admits. “You, ah, use scent blockers usually, right? Can you, er, scent me?”

Quinlan can see just how much Kenobi dislikes using the words. He tries to keep it quick. “I use a cream blocker over my scent glands, namely at the neck and wrists, since the rest are covered in fabric. It’s... well, it can be wiped off, or also removed orally. Most manually-applied blockers are formulated to be safe for contact with the mouth or genitals. Only really gets to be a problem if there are rare allergies or with specific species. It doesn’t taste like anything, if that matters.”

Kenobi’s discomfort is almost palpable, but Quinlan lets him work through that. This isn’t really something he can make a choice for Kenobi about, and the discomfort is... well, it’s not really the kind of discomfort usually associated with ternary sex and associated behaviors. Everything’s just very new, and comes with changes to the body that Kenobi never agreed to.

“Right,” Kenobi says. “I want to... to at least try it, I think.”

He turns and blushes, eyes anywhere by Quinlan’s face. “I don’t know how much longer Anakin will be. I’d rather he not think we’re, er...”

“Then I’ll take care of that part fast,” Quinlan promises, and is rewarded by Kenobi offering a wrist.

It’s... not sexual. Quinlan knows he has a hard time explaining this to near-humans that don’t have the scent glands, that don’t have the ternary dynamics. He’s had a similarly hard time explaining it to Kenobi and Skywalker. It’s not sexual, just intimate, when he pulls Kenobi’s wrist to his face, closes his eyes, and breathes in the scent of a distressed, uncomfortable, bitter omega that he’s shared a heat with and knows as almost-friend. The smell, this close and this strong, triggers the production of pheromones of his own, and when he feels Kenobi tentatively start pressing kisses to Quinlan’s own wrist, he relaxes. He brushes his lips against Kenobi’s wrist, and then puts his open mouth to it, the slightest press of teeth and his tongue laving across the skin. He hears Kenobi’s gasp, an almost-yelp, and pulls away long enough to press a kiss the the veins under his lips, and to say, “Relax, Kenobi.”

He forces a purr out, low and rumbling, and feels it work on Kenobi just like it did earlier. There’s a tongue pulling, a little dry, to rub away the blocker on the inside of his wrist, and he turns his attention back to Kenobi’s. The scent is even stronger on his tongue, bitter and unhappy, and his body continues to produce calm and comfort as he pulls away the uglier feelings painted on Kenobi’s skin.

More pheromones leak under his mouth, but less bitter. Less intense. He does what he can, opens his eyes and turns and sees that Kenobi is unduly focused on his wrist, mouthing and not quite purring, but oddly fuzzy in the Force. His eyes are closed, but Quinlan’s pretty sure they’d be glazed if not.

“Kenobi?”

“Hm?”

“Guess you haven’t encountered this outside of a heat before,” Quinlan mutters. He shakes his arm a bit, and puts his other hand on Kenobi’s shoulder. “Kenobi, hey, look at me?”

Kenobi pulls away, blinking, and then makes a face. “That...”

“Didn’t like losing control?” Quinlan guesses. The answer is clear enough. “It’s a matter of practice, especially for you.”

“Why did I... it smelled and tasted like... like I was safe,” Kenobi mutters lowly, eyes on the nest instead of on Quinlan. “I’ve never associated any sense with safety other than the Force.”

“You trust me,” Quinlan says, as if that’s not a little terrifying in its own way. He already knew that Kenobi trusted him, but he thinks that this strong of a reaction might make him Kenobi’s most trusted person after Skywalker and maybe Tano. “And since you trust me, your body subconsciously takes cues from mine, when it comes to pheromones. I project comfort and safety, and your body takes it as... not fact, but affirmation.”

“So I won’t react to anyone like this,” Kenobi says, not quite begging for Quinlan to confirm, but close to it. “Just you, and... does that same logic apply to those who aren’t Alpha designation?”

“Yeah,” Quinlan says. “Not in the same way, but familiarity and trust does affect which pheromones affect you, and how strongly. Children are largely unresponsive to aggression pheromones from their parents, by default, since their minds process it as aggression in defense of them, rather than aggression at them.”

Kenobi purses his lips, but nods and looks at Quinlan’s other wrist. “Moving on?”

“If you’re okay with it,” Quinlan says, but he brings his cleaned wrist to Kenobi’s and rubs them together until his own comfort scent is covering up what’s left of the distress. “Take a smell at that and see how you feel.”

Kenobi eyes him warily--he’s pretty sure he hasn’t done anything to deserve that, but allows it because, well, Kenobi--and sniffs at his own wrist. His brow furrows in confusion, and he sniffs again.

“Good?” Quinlan hazards.

“I... yeah,” Kenobi says. He sounds as confused as he looks. “I like it. It’s... the safe thing, again, but mixing with me?”

“That’s how it’s supposed to feel,” Quinlan assures him. “Other wrist?”

If he were actually the friend that Kenobi had grown up with, if he’d actually had a Kenobi to grow up with, he thinks he might have thrown in a few joking pet names by now.

But he’s not, and they didn’t, so he won’t.

He thinks he hears Skywalker finish up in the shower, but Kenobi pulls his mouth to the neck, and mutters that they have some time while Skywalker does something to his hair. Apparently, there are products needed for those curls.

The angle’s going to be a little uncomfortable if they try to get at each other’s scent glands simultaneously, so Quinlan suggests that Kenobi handle getting the blocker off first.

“Why?”

“More convenient,” Quinlan says, and then clasps Kenobi’s hands so their wrists rub together. He squeezes, just a little, a touch of reassurance, and smiles and tilts his head. “All yours, Kenobi.”

The man smiles, brittle, and almost giggles. Maybe Quinlan was doing something oddly similar to his counterpart from Kenobi’s dimension. Maybe it was an inside joke he didn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because Kenobi’s leaning in and mouthing along Quinlan’s neck and throat like a man possessed a half-second later.

Quinlan closes his eyes and threads a hand into Kenobi’s hair, focuses on warmth and comfort and protection, rather than anything aroused. Kenobi slows down, lapping at Quinlan’s neck and inhaling, and in the Force he radiates confusion.

“That’s it,” Quinlan mutters, and Kenobi makes a low chirruping noise that he immediately stifles with an annoyed huff. “Hey, no, those are normal. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I want control over my own body, Quin,” Kenobi mutters, and switches to the other side. He rubs his face against Quinlan’s neck, and it’s another point on the list of things Kenobi does that he might not realize are based in newer instincts. “I don’t like something being wrong with me, and not understanding what it is.”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Quinlan mutters, using the hand in Kenobi’s hair to guide him into actually removing the scent blocker instead of donating a case of beard burn. “Even going as fast as you did just now wasn’t something wrong. Your instincts got a bit confused, that’s all. You’re fine.”

He purrs until Kenobi is done, and gets that chirruping noise again. Kenobi’s still annoyed about it, but Quinlan’s just happy he’s getting less uncomfortable about it.

“Okay, sit up and turn around,” Quinlan says, and Kenobi eyes him again. “Have I steered you wrong yet?”

“No.”

“So trust me,” Quinlan urges. “Just turn around.”

Kenobi does. Quinlan sits up and rearranges his legs so there’s one on either side of Kenobi, half-bent. He pulls the other man closer, blankets folding oddly beneath them, and wraps his arms around Kenobi’s waist.

He breathes for a moment, chin hooked over Kenobi’s shoulder, and asks, “Good?”

“Oddly so, yes,” Kenobi mutters. He might be blushing. “Er, should I... do anything?”

“Hands on mine, if you’d like,” Quinlan tells him. “We can lie back down and spoon after I clean up your left.”

The noise Kenobi makes is low, affronted in a way that speaks to his ongoing embarrassment. Quinlan ignores it, just gets to work taking away as much of Kenobi’s stress scent as he can, mouthing along the man’s neck and managing a purr that isn’t even forced. It rumbles out of him unprompted, his hindbrain piecing together the relaxing omega in his lap and the safety of the Temple and the pride he’s got in doing this right, the knowledge that Kenobi’s happier than he was an hour ago and it’s all Quinlan’s doing.

He rubs his face along Kenobi’s neck as he finishes up, scenting and being scented back, and is gratified when Kenobi starts purring too. The nuzzling is mostly soft, though Quinlan’s stubble is nothing to Kenobi’s beard; the hairs trap Quinlan’s scent where it’ll do the most good. He follows a hint of mischievous intent and tugs at Kenobi’s earlobe with his teeth, earning himself a little whine. He laughs, and licks the curve of Kenobi’s ear, immediately scenting further.

“Anakin’s going to be back soon,” Kenobi says, sounding almost sleep drunk.

Quinlan switches sides and guides them both down to lie, chest to front, in the nest. He works more slowly on the other side, keeps himself  propped up on his elbow, forearm slipped neatly under Kenobi’s neck. The scent gland at Quinlan’s wrist rests under Kenobi’s nose, right where it’ll have the most effect. His other hand rubs up and down Kenobi’s side, and by the time Skywalker reenters the room, Quinlan’s done with licking the stress off and rubbing his scent into anything he thinks will help. He’s lying fully on his side instead of having his head propped up, and just doing his best to spread comfort through the room through Force and smell. He maybe nibbles at the back of Kenobi’s neck, here and there, because the man has lothcat response, and

“Guys?”

“Over here, Skywalker.”

The kid--not really a kid, but younger than Aayla, still, so he counts--rounds the couch, and sees them among the added cloaks and pillows and blanket. He stares. Kenobi starts to stiffen back up.

Quinlan increases his purring, and rubs his face against Kenobi’s neck, and glares up at Skywalker for good measure. Kenobi can’t see past Quinlan, probably, and squirms. Skywalker tilts his head, and then puts up a finger in a ‘one moment’ sort of gesture. He runs off.

“Anakin--”

“Kid’s fine,” Quinlan assures him, and Skywalker skids back into the room at unsafe speeds, arms full of what Quinlan’s pretty sure are his own duvet and pillow, and falls face-first into the nest. Kenobi jerks back into Quinlan, but Skywalker ignores this in favor of rearranging the nest into something approaching functional. He’s better at it than Kenobi.

Quinlan’s pretty sure Skywalker was more open to these things from the start. It tracks.

“Now Anakin, really,” Kenobi sputters, as Skywalker finishes layering things in the way he thinks is best. Skywalker beams at him, earlier melancholy forgotten for the moment, and flops down to drop his head somewhere near Kenobi’s chest.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Skywalker says. “This is good for you.”

Kenobi blushes, and Quinlan scrapes his teeth against the back of his neck again.

“Quinlan!” Kenobi yelps, jolting. “Not--we’re not alone!”

“Helps you calm down, though,” Quinlan says, pressing a few close-mouthed kisses at Kenobi’s hairline.

“Different cultural standards,” Skywalker adds, half-guessing but sure of himself nonetheless. He seems entirely too delighted to be here. “You know what? We should invite Ahsoka.”

“She’s not your padawan here,” Kenobi scolds.

“Yet,” Skywalker corrects. “As soon as I get all my psych evals cleared, the Council’s going to promise. She’s basically my padawan already.”

Kenobi sighs, aggrieved in a manner that feels more fond than actually upset, in the Force, and places a hand lightly on Skywalker’s.

Skywalker chirrups and wriggles closer, pressing his face to Kenobi’s tunic with a smile.

“I see someone’s feeling better,” Kenobi notes, and moves his hand up to play with Skywalker’s hair. “The shower helped?”

“Mm-hm,” Skywalker says. “’nd some of the stuff they made me learn in therapy.”

Kenobi hums low in his throat, an aimless vocalization, as he continues to comb his fingers through Skywalker’s hair.

Skywalker blinks, slow and bleary, with a soft and dopey smile, and Kenobi stops.

“What?”

“I like it when you play with my hair,” Skywalker says, almost too low to hear. His eyes close. “Feels nice. Cared for. Family.”

Kenobi freezes, breath hitching, and Quinlan shifts and lifts just enough to see the man is staring at his own hand in confusion and a slight bit of fear.

“Kenobi?”

“I didn’t even question it,” Kenobi says faintly. “I don’t... I haven’t done that since he was just a child, but I didn’t even question it. I stopped myself from commenting that he’s too old to come to his master for cuddles, because he’s not, in this dimension, and I’m getting used to that, but I started playing with his hair like it was normal and it’s not.”

Quinlan puts his mouth to Kenobi’s trapezius, just enough pressure that he’s not biting, just there, and purrs.

It’s several inches away from anything resembling a mating bite, but Kenobi tilts his head and whines anyway.

“Obi-Wan?” Skywalker prompts, brow furrowed. “It’s not... I mean, I’m not going to say it’s okay, since I know we’re both still upset about our bodies being changed without our permission or input or even a warning, but we’re getting used to it. We’re working with it. The hair thing is fine with me, I like it and would have before. And now that you know you’ll want to do, uh, that sort of thing--”

“Subset of grooming behaviors,” Quinlan tells them, pulling away from Kenobi’s neck with a final open-mouthed kiss. He sees the face Skywalker makes in response to the words, and feels Kenobi’s discomfort, so he elaborates. They’ve compared most of what they hear with tookas and lothwolves, so he thinks he knows what this is about. “We’re not exactly going to start licking each other clean--excluding scent comfort, that’s different--like lothcats, but you’ve already noticed that humans and near-humans are more tactile than you’re used to. Most forms of care, especially of partners and children, ends up physical in some way.”

He gestures between the two of them. “You view Skywalker as family, for all that you shy away from defining it, and so naturally gravitate to care. The easiest way for that to manifest when sharing a nest is usually playing with someone’s hair. Since he’s younger than you, and you’ve spent as much time as you have being the adult in his life...”

Quinlan trails off before he can comment on the question of whether they’re closer to brothers or father-and-son. Kenobi’s already expressed discomfort with that topic, well before they started naturalizing to this dimension. Quinlan’s not going to push for Kenobi to acknowledge Skywalker’s importance to him.

(They’ll have to address it at some point, but that’s a job for the mind healers, not for Quinlan.)

(For all that it’s going to impact and be impacted by their dynamics, that much is definitely not Quinlan’s to handle.)

Kenobi shudders in his arms, but doesn’t shake him off, and doesn’t stop Skywalker from burrowing somehow closer. Quinlan settles back in as Kenobi returns to playing with Skywalker’s hair.

“We really should invite Ahsoka, though.”

“Not tonight, padawan.”

-----------------------------------------------

Additional notes:

I initially wrote “ternary gender,” but found that it didn’t strike true to how I envisioned gender and dynamic playing out among Jedi culture in particular. While the term ‘dynamic’ is used regularly in a more casual setting, Quinlan uses the term “ternary sex” when talking about it in the company of Anakin and Obi-Wan. I view it as a subconscious attempt to keep a clinical view of the ternary sex system present in the omegaverse dimension, in recognition that it’s new and unfamiliar and often unpleasant for Anakin and Obi-Wan, having come from a dimension that doesn’t have ternary sexes or the associated reproductive capabilities, instincts, or cycles.

I’d like to explore how the ideas of sex, gender, dynamic, and so on intersect within the context of this universe, because I think it’s something I’d have a lot of fun working with, but this is not the fic for that.

#Quinlan Vos #Obi Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #QuinObi #anakin and obi wan #obi wan and anakin #disaster lineage #time travel #dimension hopping #omegaverse #SW Suddenly Omegaverse #past anidala #star wars #the clone wars #nesting #grooming #scenting #we went fully weird with this and I'm not apologizing... much #Phoenix Posts

[lovee-infected]

I enjoy reading character analysis to understand them more and I've also noticed that some insert fics are like too exagerated and their personalities are far from the canon twst. I think some writers are just basing their fics to others and and makes conclusion about it and ignore important details or text on their cards?* And as a reader, I do sometimes think that "this" character are like that. Like Vil, being portrayed as narcisstic and beauty obssessed charac, I think he isnt like that and theres more to him than we think. Sorry for the long ask✌️

You're totally valid anon and I see your point, you know while I agree that each idea and interpretation on characters is worthy on its own and no one is bound to having a specific opinion or belief, getting too wild with personal fantasies and ignoring the originals can totally ruin the writing. Characters are often mischaracterized especially in reader insert fics and the most annoying part is that almost everyone is making the same mistakes about him-! Like some of the noticable mistakes would be:

(1) Femininely has nothing to do with Vil's terms of beauty

Oh lord what can I say- It's even against what Vil himself directly said through chapter five and how he cleared his point on male and female equal, and you can tell he is pretty strict about it.

Like did you just forget what he told Epel when he complained that he doesn't want to act like a girl: “a boy getting embarrassed about ‘acting like a girl,’ -- what year is your head stuck in??? did you take a time machine from 100 years ago??”

He doesn't seem to be one to appreciate the concept of labeling beauty as a female-only thing and on the other hand, he doesn't really seem to like the way women can be looked down on while being compared to men either. He seeks equality, and beauty wasn't ever defined as a feminine act in his dictionary; while there are tons of requests asking for: Vil forcing their trans s/o to wear more feminine clothes/ Vil asking their fem! s/o to wear more feminine stuff an look cuter/Vil complimenting s/o's appearance for not being feminine enough/... And literally TONS of requests like this. Please, you're forgetting one the most important parts of his personality, he considers male and female to be equal and it's so hecking important to show that he holds respect for all genders nonetheless.

(2) Vil's maturity is often ignored

Honestly, within all twst characters Vil's maturity on its own really impresses me. From the way he speaks to how serious and sincere he is all I gotta say is this man is waaay different from the way he's charactetized in most of the fics. Idk why but, he's sometimes charactetized as a guy who's ready to boil you alive if you dare touch any of his expensive make up pallettes or eyeshadows. Oh please, Vil isn't an angry child.

Also he often decides to keep his anger in, though you can tell when he's mad by just looking at his face. Clinching fists, trying not to talk and most likely, walking off or asking people to leave him alone until he calms down a bit is most likely his usual way of expressing his anger, but I've seen him being described as a loud, feral figure like Riddle is! Oh god no- Are you just ignoring how calm and collected Vil often tends to be?

(3) What's with the potato fetish?

While it's canon that Vil can sometimes call people around him potato. You may like to know that in some languages, potato is translated as "Apple of the ground", which can be an interesting reason of him using this nickname for people.

Watching Vil call students potatoes can be as entertaining as watching Malleus play with his tamagotchi, but again, it's important to realize that you don't have to only use potato when you're thinking of what Vil might say in a reader insert/situation!

Come on there are hundreds of different statements and sentences you can use other than just 'potatoes' and it'll get boring to read him saying the same nick name over and over in a fic. Good lord of course this isn't the only word he uses in communication so please try to avoid using it too much. This, is NOT the only word that he knows to use! (Seriously though I've seen being used like 6 times in a 500-word drabble)

(4) Please avoid spreading false information about him and his personality

Funny how I'm saying it here, but don't forget that you do not own him! Vil Schoenheit is a property of Disney/ Aniplex and all, which means that no one can certainly decide on his sexuality/ background/ unexplained character details unless it's officially announced.

Why am I saying this? Because some people are seriously going to far! I've seen people attacking others saying that Vil's pronouns are She/Her and not He/ Him like: EXCUSE ME...???

I don't want to get into details explaining how this drama is going but I've got to say something anyway, YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT TO DECIDE ON HIS PRONOUNS! None of us do!

It's totally okay to have your personal preferences on his pronouns or anything else, but you must avoid spreading such information and forcing them on others as long as they aren't confirmed! Please keep your headcanons for yourself and don't confuse the fandom with them. Everyone's free to have their own headcanons but it's never okay to force them on others!

(5) Vil has a LOT to talk about other than just beauty!

Man... sometimes I feel like the fandom is just doing him dirty. Most of the reader inserts, fics , and even Vil memes have something to do with beauty while it's important to try and look through his personality as well instead of just sticking with the beauty aspect.

For example, through the Halloween event, I couldn't be any more surprised when Vil found the crying child who had lost their parents through the crowd and instead of just leaving them to headmaster or asking someone to take care of them he actually started to play with the child and entertrain and confront them on his own! That was probably one of his sweetest moments through the whole game and it really changed my mind about him! It was great to know that Vil as well can have a softer side when it comes to children, just imagine how good this can be used while writing a father AU for him!

His talents on the other hand need to be recognized, for example: his acting skills back in the ghost marriage proved how much of a great actor he can be and this can also give us lots of ideas to use in writings. On the other hand he's much of a celebrity on his own ( Woop- he's also got 2m followers on magicam) which gives us another great plot to write for him.

The way he is around close friends, how he compliments them and gets complimented by them in return, the way he manages Pomefiore and tries to put the students into doing their best in using their skills and lots of more interesting details that can be found through his stories are there to tell you that he's a lot more than just a beautiful Queen. A considerable part of his background as well is going to be released at he end of chapter 5 (Yes baby after the overblot Vil) and I hope that gives us all the opportunity to come up with stronger personalities and plots next time that we're describing or even, characterizing Vil!

Lmao I kind of rushed to finish this so I didn't get to talk about him as much as I wanted to, but hope that this is useful anyway.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted Wonderland x reader #character analysis #vil Schoenheit #vil Schoenheit x reader

[littleoddwriter]

Issues with Reader Fics

Okay, I'm probably going to be a bit controversial here. Yet, I'm asking you to hear us out, please. Fanfic writers, specifically those who write "x Reader" fics, please read this. My dear friend Jack has already made a post, where I and others have contributed our experiences and feelings towards certain issues with these fics. Those issues still prevail and therefore I've decided to make my own post, which is more of a PSA, I think. Anyway. You can and should read Jack's (@mlmxreader) post here, please. It is long, yes, but it is extremely important and will say a lot of things we will not talk about here again. Now, what this is mostly about is the tagging of those fics. Every single time, we (men and non-binary people) come across Reader fics and they're tagged with just "Reader", so, naturally we assume they'll be gender neutral then. Well, they basically never fucking are. Every time, in the first few sentences or in later paragraphs something like "baby girl, girlfriend, wife, she/her" will come up and it is frustrating, can be triggering (for trans people, like myself, especially because it can cause dysphoria), and is honestly just very excluding and rude. By doing that, you show us that you do not consider anyone but women to read those fics. Even though that isn't the case. Men who like men exist and we read fics. And we want to be able to read some that don't make us feel bad or excluded. We're not asking you to suddenly write Male!Reader fics. We're asking you to tag properly. If your reader is female, tag it as "Female!Reader" or "Fem!Reader". It doesn't take more than two seconds to do that. So, please for the love of everything good, take those two seconds and type in that one word, even the abbreviation is enough. But tag it! Please! Also, please, stop tagging "male reader" or "gender neutral reader" when it's a female reader. You won't get more notes from it. All it does is clog the tags and push down fics that are actually targeted towards those groups. So, don't do that, please, thank you. One thing I personally wanted to ask actually. Why do women read "Male!Reader" fics? This is a genuine question. Why do you, if you're a woman, read those fics? They aren't targeted at you, and frankly, I don't understand it. If I were cis and not dysphoric, I still wouldn't read "Fem!Reader" fics. They aren't for me, and I wouldn't be interested in it, even if those were the only fics for a certain character. So, if anyone could answer me this, genuinely, then I'd actually appreciate that a lot, I'm truly just curious, as I have noticed women reading my "Male!Reader" fics, too. Which is cool, as we've said, you may interact, as long as you're not creepy or fetishistic, but I still don't understand why you would read that in the first place. Now, onto what my two wonderful friends have said, when I asked them if they had anything to add to this issue, or perhaps overall, still: @iscariot-rising said, "It's just disrespectful for writers and readers alike to assume that everyone reading their fanfics is inherently female, to the point where for some it has become the standard that any fic has female reader - leading to writers not tagging their fics as female readers or mentioning in their descriptions that reader is female, instead only titeling it as "character x reader", before then three sentences in referring to reader as some sort of female term. This isn't just rude, it can also be triggering for people or make them dysphoric, if not just plain uncomfortable. Fandom spaces are something that is shared across all genders and sexualities and it is only courteous to respect this and tag your fics accordingly, since it doesn't take a long time and saves a lot of trouble for readers." And you know what? He is absolutely right and he should say it. You need to listen to us, please. @mlmxreader said a lot, too. For example, he's mentioned that there is a reluctance to even write Gender Neutral Reader fics, which is true. Even though it would be much easier, to be perfectly honest. Yet, people seem not to do it. Do y'all not want people of different genders to enjoy your fics without feeling excluded? He also said, "oh! yeah! there's also the whole thing about lingerie, too, like putting men in women's lingerie and talkin about panties and stuff, which comes off as extremely fetishising (when it's not written by mlm) as well as just... really gross bc like that stuff can trigger dysphoria and half the time it's not even tagged? Like it wouldn't be so bad if y'all tagged it; on top of that, there's also the whole fact that they assume that all mlm relationships revolve around sex and that that's all that matters. But then also using (m/n) standing for "male name" instead of (y/n), like, what the FUCK is up with that?? /gen" Again, he is absolutely right. Tag your shit, please. I know it can be tiring to pick out everything relevant, but trust me; you'll do a lot of people a big fucking favour when you tag your stuff properly. And frankly, I agree with him. I don't understand the whole '(m/n)' thing because if we're men, our names are automatically male because, well, we're male. It doesn't really make sense. That might just be a thing that personally bugs us, though, I honestly don't know. TLDR; Tag your fics properly, be respectful, don't assume everyone is female and therefore exclude everyone who isn't, just say (y/n)???, and yeah, that's basically it. Just be more considerate, please! That was it. I don't mean to personally attack anybody, but if you do feel attacked, that probably means that you're guilty of doing something I've listed here, and perhaps should consider changing that. I also wanna note that if you consider sending me threats or hate of any kind, I will delete it and not engage with it. If your first response to this post is something rude and hateful, you should take a step back and reconsider why you're about to do something so senseless. Does it help you in any way? No, it doesn't. So, what's the point, other than acting like a complete dick? Anyway, have a lovely morning/day/night; cheers!

#x reader #reader fanfiction #reader fic #reader insert #female reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #fic writing #fanfic writing #fanfic writer #this is genuine and comes from frustration rather than a place of hate #tag properly #same goes for content and trigger warnings #be more considerate #be mindful

[unrestedjade]

Baseless Ferengi headcanons no one asked for and that get increasingly queer-navel-gazing and self indulgent because the horrible space goblins have consumed my brain:

- Mobile ears, because if hearing is so well developed and important to them they should be able to aim those big stupid radar dishes. Also because then they can emote with them and that's cute. THE AESTHETIC IS PARAMOUNT.

- Since they canonically sharpen their teeth with chew sticks and sharpeners, their teeth must grow continuously. So I submit: subcultures that let certain teeth grow out as a fashion/political statement. Ferengi punks and anarchists with 5" tusks. Ferengi with all their teeth filed flat (mom and dad HATE it).

- Corollary to the above, most of their teeth are crooked. At the least, they don't share our fetish for straight teeth. What if their teeth are deciduous, and there's no point in trying to force them into perfect alignment, since they'll just fall out and get replaced? So like, sharks but their teeth can also grow longer with no limit. WHAT HAST EVOLUTION WROUGHT ON FERENGINAR :V

- Parents nagging their kids to sharpen their teeth "or they'll grow up into your brain and you'll die :)"

- Personal space? Don't know her.

Okay I need a cut because there's too many now. WHOLE SOCIETY OF GAY HOMOPHOBIC UNCLES AND AUNTS GO I HAVE A PROBLEM

- I can't remember who on here put forth the idea of them having retractable claws but Yes. :3

- Pushing back against the worst canon episode a bit but: relative ear size being the only obvious sexually dimorphic trait, and even that having enough of a gray area that the only way to be 100% sure you're talking to a male or female Ferengi is if you do a blood test. Unless they're intersex! *shrug emoji*

- This is why they're so fanatical about gender conformity and their Victorian "separate spheres" attitude to men and women's roles. Capitalist patriarchy is fragile! And as artificial to Ferengi as it ever was to Humans! (self-indulgenceeeee about gender shiiiiit)

- You know how with domesticated rabbits, the rabbit getting groomed and paid attention to is the boss? Yeah. Go ahead and paint your bestie's nails, just don't be surprised if she cops a little bit of an attitude with you from then on.

- Their fight/flight/freeze/fawn instincts skew heavily toward the last three, and what a lot of other species read as annoying sucking up is the Ferengi in question feeling anxious and unsafe. Especially if they don't feel integrated into the group. Even being at the bottom of the pecking order is better than not being in the flock at all.

- If they DO opt for fight, it's ugly and typically their last resort. Bites or scratches will get infected without intervention-- microbes that their immune system can handle could cause big trouble for aliens. You might wanna check for full or partial teeth that break off and get lodged in the wound, too.

- Too many of these are tooth related but I don't care. :B More teeth stuff: you know what else has teeth that grow constantly? Puffer fish. Likewise, Ferengi can chew up mollusk shells as easy as potato chips, and they need the minerals for their teeth. (Imagine grandpa Sisko offering Nog a crayfish for the first time and watching as he just...pops the whole damn thing in his mouth and crunches away...)

- Their staple foods seem to be grubs and other arthropods, high in protein and fat. I've unilaterally decided their cuisine also involves a lot of edible fungi, ferns, plant shoots and seeds. Gotta get those vitamins. Overall flavor profile leaning toward umami, vegetal, and fresh herbs, and pretty mild (or "delicate" if you wanna be snooty about it, which a Ferengi probably would let's be real).

- Not much sugary food. I'm basing this solely on Quark's aversion to root beer as "cloying". Which could definitely just be his personal preference, but most of the people I hear hating on root beer cite the actual sassafras/sarsaparilla flavor (saying it tastes like medicine) not the sweetness. Nog might be the weirdo outlier for being able to enjoy it.

- Their home planet isn't bright and sunny, so their eyes are better at discerning shades of gray in low light conditions, with relatively weak color vision. Which could explain why they dress Like That.

- Conversely, human music has a reputation for stinking on ice because a lot of it is juuuuust lightly dissonant or out of tune because we can't pick up flaws that small. Ferengi can, and it drives them up the *wall*.

- Music? So many different kinds. Traditionally, maybe lots of percussion and winds, and water as a common component of many instruments to alter pitch or tone. Polyphony out the ass. Some of the modern stuff is an impenetrable wall of sound if you're not a species with a lot of brain real estate devoted to processing sounds. Pick out one melody to follow at a time.

- Yes, back to teeth again I'm sorry. It's a sickness. At some point in their history, pre-chewing food was just something you did for your baby or great grandma as a matter of necessity. Possibly your baby gets an important boost to their immune system and gut biome from your spit. At some point takes on a more formal intimacy aspect and gradually drifted from something all adults and older kids do to something only women do. Your husband and older kids have perfectly functional teeth, but you love them, right? =_= (Think old memes about husbands being useless in the kitchen if little wifey isn't there to cook, but even more ridiculous. Ishka was right about everything but especially this. Thank you for making your family chew their own food, Ishka. Not all heroes wear capes. Or anything!)

- How did they get started on the whole men: clothed vs women: unclothed nonsense? My equally stupid idea: men just get cold easier. Those huge ears dissipate a ton of body heat. Cue Ferengi cliches like "jeez, we could be standing on the surface of the sun and my husband would put on another layer." At some point, again, this got codified and pushed to ridiculous extremes in the name of controlling women and keeping everyone in their assigned box, to the point that women just have to shiver if they really are too cold and men have to pass out from heat stroke if the alternative is going shirtless, because That Would Be Inappropriate.

- Marriages default to five years, but they're also the only avenue for women to have their own household or any stability. Plus their religion places no emphasis on purity save for pure adherence to the free market and the RoA. So, curveball to the rest of their patriarchal bullshit: female virginity isn't a concern in the least. Bring it up and they'll rightly side-eye you.

- Family law is absolutely bonkers and lawyers that specialize in it make BANK. I feel like custody would default to the father usually but oh wait, the maternal grandfather has a legal stake in this, too, and your next father-in-law is asking HOW many kids are you dragging into my daughter's house, etc etc. Growing up with a full sibling is way rarer than growing up with half or stepsiblings, since it usually takes both men and women two or three tries to find someone they vibe with. (Not love, unless you're super cringe.)

- A misogynistic society is a homophobic society. Imo those flavors of shittiness just come in pairs. Homosexual behaviors are fine within certain parameters (aka "always have sex with the boss") but not on your own terms. To add spice, bisexuality is their most common mode (because I'm bi and these are my hcs for my fics I'm not writing, so there), but capitalism demands fresh grist for the mill so you better get het-married and pop out some kids you lowly peons. You have a choice so make the proper one. :)

- Corollary to the above, that doesn't keep all kinds of illicit "we're just friends with quid-pro-quo benefits for realsies" affairs of every stripe and every gender from going on everywhere. Many Ferengi have a lightbulb moment somewhere in early adulthood when they figure out their dad's business partner or the "auntie" who visited their mom every month had a little more going on.

- Plus there's way more gender non-conformity and varying degrees of trans-ing than the powers that be have a handle on. Pel isn't unique, even if most would have to somehow make it out into space to be able to thrive.

Damn a lot of these are just my personal bugbears plus THE GILDED AGE BUT WITH HAIRLESS SPACE RODENTS ain't they

- Women can't earn profit, okay. But lending or "lending" things to each other isn't commerce, riiiiiiight? To be assigned female is to master navigating a vast, dizzying barter/gift economy. Smart boys and men leverage this, too, and there are splinter sects that view this as the purest expression of the Great Material Continuum.

- Of course plenty of women make profit anyway, and just do their bast to dodge the FCA. The tough thing about insisting on using latinum as currency is that cash can be so hard to track, you know?

- Because of the RoA, guys are discouraged from doing favors or giving gifts without setting clear expectation of getting some return on investment. This can twist into an expression of friendship (and of course women do it too), and the ledger will keep cycling between debit and credit among friends for decades. A common mistake aliens make is to tell them recompense isn't needed without explaining why, or return their favor or present with something that zeroes out the debt. The Ferengi will assume you want to break off the friendship. (I cribbed this from dim memories of an African studies course I took in 2007 and whose textbook I know I still have but I can't frigging find it...)

- Flirting, they do a lot of it for a lot of reasons. Roddenberry made it clear that they're just straight up pretty horny, but there's no reason it can't pull double duty for building alliances with other people, smoothing over feuds or disagreements, or cementing friendships. Ferengi who are ace and/or sex-repulsed are possibly viewed similar to the way we'd view someone who's "not a hugger/not big on touching" and if they flirt just don't get offended if it doesn't go any further; aro Ferengi don't garner much comment aside from an occasional "wow how badass, never falling in love with anyone."

- where to even start on making sense of the Blessed Exchequer??? Like seriously, what is this literal prosperity gospel insanity, I need to force myself to re-read Rand and like, some Milton Friedman for this shit. Help.

- fuck I'm probably going to actually do that, RIP me...

#ds9 #star trek #meta #ferengi #i love them Too Much help #reliving my brief libertarian phase from high school from the opposite direction #my heart wants to make them simultaneously as queer and as repressed as possible #i didn't even make it to the goddamned blessed exchequer my head is too full #i will find beauty in this vulgarity if it kills me #this is too long #why did i spend my time this way

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

I find it really intriguing how the ATLA writers could have gone a “brotherly love” route with Zuko and Aang, but they never did. Even in LOK, the only thing that I remember Iroh saying about their relationship was that they canonically became the best of friends and that Zuko knew Aang better than anyone, even more than Katara and their children. I find the direction of their relationship a contrast to how often the bond between the male protagonist and the male antagonist that are spiritually linked in other media is reduced to “they were like brothers” and put aside for the respective heterosexual romances of the leads, even though the relationships between the leads often have homoerotic subtext and can be interpreted through a queer lens. I guess what I’m wondering is: would you classify Zuko and Aang’s relationship as brotherly? Do you support interpretations where their relationship is viewed as brotherly? And finally (I’m sorry for all of the questions): why do you think the ATLA writers - who seem to mostly be composed of cishet men - never took the “brotherly love” route and left the nature of their relationship ambiguous?

This ask has been in my inbox for a Hot Minute 💀 my apologies, my friend. And since I haven’t seen LOK, I won’t try to speak on the front. Before I continue, though, @likealittleheartbeat has an AMAZING analysis here about the interpretation of Aang and Zuko’s relationship through a queer-platonic lens that I found to be an incredible read and arguably could answer this ask on its own, lol!

I guess the general “issue” that must be addressed to answer these questions is simply how we define brotherly. That “we” can be divided into the viewers and the writers, only adding another layer of complexity. Because the reality is that we can’t jump into the creators minds and see exactly how they intended Zuko and Aang’s relationship to be interpreted. We can make deductions, e.g. the existence of Kataang and Maiko suggests Zuko and Aang were not intended to have a romantic relationship within canon (duh, lol). In fact, you could even add another division to the “we” - the writers, the viewers, and the characters themselves (i.e. interpretation through the cultural lenses that inspired the show).

All of this is to say that there is not going to be one agreed-upon definition of “brotherly,” lol! Since you seem to be asking for my personal opinions, I’ll go with my personal definition. If anyone has differing thoughts in response to these questions, please feel free to add them in a comment or rb! I think there’s a lot to explore here and my sole opinion is Not the be-all and end-all, lmao.

So, what is my personal definition of “brotherly”? I’m not going to try to make a formal definition, lol, but the gist of my interpretation is a platonic relationship akin to that of siblings. To me, there is a difference between having a “brotherly relationship” with someone versus a “friendship” (I almost used “friendly relationship” but that didn’t feel right jskdfhakdls). I think these two can overlap and/or be the same, but - for example - I have friends who I would say without hesitation that I am incredibly close with, but I also would not classify that friendship as “sisterly.” (Again, these are strictly my personal thoughts, and I encourage further discussion in comments/rbs!)

I’ll take your questions one at a time:

Would you classify Zuko and Aang’s relationship as brotherly?

Personally? Probably not. To me, there is a sense of superficiality associated with the term “brotherly” that in my eyes can be reductive to platonic relationships between men (can be, not always lol). I think with Zuko and Aang, the relationship just runs much deeper than “brotherly” can connote. For one, they are the primary narrative foils of the show! The only relationship that comes close to theirs in terms of narrative significance is Kataang (which is a very different dichotomy, btw, I’m not trying to compare them lol). We have numerous episodes dedicated to the parallels between Aang and Zuko, including but not limited to “The Storm” and “The Avatar and the Fire Lord.” I mean, this is an actual quote from the latter episode:

Do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?

We see variants of this line and the notion of friendship itself associated throughout that episode explicitly with Roku and Sozin, Roku and Gyatso, and of course the Gaang at the end, but implicitly we also know it’s about Aang and Zuko, too. Aang says, “Everyone, even the Fire Lord and the Fire Nation, have to be treated like they’re worth giving a chance.” One common take with this line that I’ve seen is interpreting it as foreshadowing for Aang’s decision to spare Ozai - which obviously is a fair assessment - but we cannot also ignore how much it applies to Zuko joining the Gaang. Specifically, Zuko reconciling with Aang.

We all know Aang was the first person to extend friendship to Zuko back in “The Blue Spirit” and tbh, after he saw Appa licking Zuko, you can tell Aang was nearly willing to extend a second chance to Zuko then and there lol. Aang and Zuko’s friendship, them being drawn together, is a relationship that transcends lifetimes, transcends social norms/expectations, transcends a loss greater than anyone can imagine (for Aang) and offers a new opportunity arguably far more than deserved (for Zuko). I think ascribing a qualifier of “brotherly” to their relationship therefore limits this transcendence because of how much their dynamic encompasses.

Do you support interpretations where their relationship is viewed as brotherly?

Of course! One of the reasons I love A:TLA - especially my small corner of the fandom - is how many interpretations that every relationship presents, be it a small “difference” (such as calling Zuko and Aang’s relationship “brotherly”) or a more drastic one (exploring fanon possibilities with rarepairs, let’s go #AangRarepairWeek 😎). So even if this interpretation isn’t one I’m inclined to in the literal sense (i.e. it’s the “brotherly” qualifier I feel I dislike, because I do love platonic Zukaang as much as romantic Zukaang), I absolutely encourage others to make the most of their fandom experience and product/support content that they enjoy!

Why do you think the ATLA writers - who seem to mostly be composed of cishet men - never took the “brotherly love” route and left the nature of their relationship ambiguous?

I will say that we don’t really have any way of knowing the sexualities and gender identities of every single A:TLA writer, lol. I’m not saying they were all queer in some way, of course, but I just want to establish that we don’t and can’t know unless told. If that makes sense 😂

As I mentioned earlier, I have no way of getting inside the writers’ minds to determine their intentions when they were writing Zuko and Aang’s relationship, so all you’re gonna get here are my best guesses lmao! For one, there wasn’t really a need to outright label Zuko and Aang as having a “brotherly” relationship. The existence of Kataang and Maiko again speak for themselves. Most viewers - especially casual watchers - don’t need the show to state “these two only love each other in a brotherly way” to conclude that the relationship was platonic (or rather, was not romantic), especially considering that the show was made in the mid-2000s (i.e. sad but true, most people weren’t watching A:TLA with a queer lens 😔). So I wouldn’t say they left the relationship “ambiguous” so much as there wasn’t need to qualify it further than simply being platonic.

Of course, I do think there is an ambiguity that comes with Aang and Zuko’s relationship, which I love to exploit in my Zukaang fics 😌. Was that ambiguity intentional? Again, I’m inclined to say no. But I can’t speak with certainty and - as I discussed earlier - I truly think Aang and Zuko’s relationship would be limited by being called “brotherly” when their connection runs so deeply and is intertwined so heavily with the spiritual themes of the show. Thus, it’s possible the writers were purposefully emphasizing that spirituality by not labelling them as “brotherly”! But as I said, there’s really no way to be sure.

At the end of the day, I don’t think it matters how someone chooses to label Aang and Zuko’s relationship. I mean, I’m always a little horrified when a person completely overlooks their narrative significance as foils (because I personally can’t imagine dismissing either of their importance to the other), but hey, to each their own. Brotherly, queerplatonic, romantic, and hell, anything in-between - these interpretations are anyone’s for the taking. Have fun with it! 💛

(I hope this at least kind of resembles the answer you were looking for, anon 😂)

#aang #zuko #aanglove #zukaang #atla #avatar the last airbender #atla meta #the avatar and the firelord #amy answers #anon #amy analyzes

[thedeadflag]

I’m so confused! I know it’s not your responsibility to educate me but in your post bringing awareness to the negative aspects of g!p fanfic you say

“Why do these g!p characters rarely if ever involve experiences reflective of trans/intersex women? Why are they so utterly cis and perisex-washed? Why do nearly all writers have zero idea that tucking is a thing? “

Doesn’t that answer your original question? The reason they don’t reflect those groups of ppl is bc g!p isn’t trying to represent those groups of people or else it WOULD be transphobic to limit them to one specific fetish right? it just refers to a canonically female character with the addition of a penis (I don’t argue the name “g!p” should be changed bc that’s a no brainer why that could be offensive). But the fanfic in general, how could it be harmful? I’ve noticed in my time reading it as a non binary person it’s given me great gender euphoria reading a reader insert where reader has a penis while being a femme representing person just bc that’s a reflection of my personal experience. I don’t see anywhere where g!p fanfic ever references or tries to emulate the experiences of trans or intersex people so how could it be offensive?

Sorry this is way too long I’m just very confused

I'm going to try and lay this out as politely as I can. It's after 3:30 in the morning here, so this could be a bit disjointed and rambling. More under the cut:

In real life, ~99.999999% of women with penises are trans women. Which puts us in a tricky situation of (A) being the only women with penises around for media involving women with penises to reflect back on, and (B) being in the lovely position of precious few people actually having had meaningful real life exposure to trans women, meaning (C.) all those stigmas and all that misinformation are going to purely affect us and it’s going to be uncritically gobbled up by the masses, since they don’t have any meaningful information to fill in the blanks with instead.

When we peer into the depths of femslash fandoms and see all these folks who aren't trans women writing about women with penises, and using cis women’s bodies as platforms for these penises, it’s the simplest thing.

I mean, some of those folks might actually be struggling and confused about why they’re into it, what the real appeal is, why they get off on it, why they might have some feelings about wanting a penis of their own…

…but from our vantage point, it’s really easy to gauge 99.99% of the time. We can generally see valid, legitimate yearning to have a penis pretty damn easily in a piece of art/writing, and we can also see when people who create this media are just hung up on a boatload of baggage and fetishization.

And 99.9% of the time, the creators are just hung up on a boatload of baggage and fetishization, and see trans women’s bodies as a perfect vehicle to tap into that, generally due to deeply held cissexist views that link us and our bodies and genitals directly to cis men, to maleness. As if penises are rooted in maleness and masculinity (which is absolutely not true).

And I have sympathy for NB folks (certainly TME ones who have reached out to me in the past about this) who might be struggling with that, but just because they’re non-binary, it doesn’t mean they get to appropriate our bodies and reproduce transmisogyny and trans fetishization in their attempts at feeling better. Shit doesn't work like that.

Because again, the only women with penises in this world, essentially, are trans women. Meaning any woman with a penis in media is a trans woman, implicitly or explicitly. Meaning that when people who aren’t us want to write us, intent doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter if it’s just the writer’s fantasy, it’s still going to attach a variety of messages directly onto us.

And more often than not, due to cissexism, those messages are linking us to maleness, to toxic masculinity, etc..

While I do want to believe they're a fairly small minority, a lot of NB folks in fandom spaces like g!p characters in part because they see penises as male and the rest of the body as female and think that duality is interesting and would be comfortable, and is a nice balance of “both worlds” or a nice position “between male and female”, but that’s a wholly cissexist, transmisogynistic view to have, and it’s one that absolutely cannot be supported without directing sexual violence against trans women and invalidating our entire existence. Certainly not all NB folks into g!p like it for that reason, but holy shit a fair bit of them do and it’s weird and wrong and fetishistic.

g!p emerged from the idea that women can't have penises, and drew on the transmisogyny and cissexism of tr*nny porn to structure that frame of desire and the core patterns and trends within these works. It's always been trans women's bodies being used as a vehicle, whether or not the writers of these fics are explicitly aware of it, because the trope itself still holds true to its original patterns and cissexism. It's not the name that's the problem, it's the content; changing the name would be a surface level change that wouldn't affect anything.

g!p objectifies women with penises (trans women). A woman with a penis is more than just a woman with a penis, but the use of the term and trope is literally to (A) remind people that women don't have penises, otherwise the g!p term wouldn't be needed if people actually accepted women with penises as women, and that (B) this is a story centered on a scenario where there's a woman with a penis, with key focus on that genitalia specifically. it's the drawing point, it's the lure, it's what everything is centered on. It is a means for folks to write lesbian sex while also writing about penis in vagina and getting off to it. It's also no surprise that the penises so clearly emulate cis men's penises in these works, that is by design.

As I’ve said many times before, if you’re only writing trans women’s bodies to showcase cis men’s penises, you’re not respecting the womanhood of trans women, and this ultimately has nothing inherent to do with penis-owning women, it has to do with (cis) men and their penises, because trans women are just being used as a vehicle to emulate them. When NB folks do the same thing, and imagining themselves as those g!p characters, they are ultimately embodying cis men, their maleness, and often toxic masculinity, in a way that feels safe and distanced enough for them, a shell that they often code as cisnormative due to their own unprocessed cissexism.

And trans women don’t deserve that.

You seem caught in the idea that if something doesn't directly perfectly reflect trans women, that it can't be linked to us., which ignores the long long history of media being used to misrepresent marginalized peoples and cast us in insulting, dehumanizing lights. You show a lack of understanding of the g!p trope and the long history of its usage across a few other names, even if the content and patterns remained the same. It shows a lack of understanding of tr*nny porn and transmisogynistic stigmas, which the trope draws heavily from.

I think we can all recognize that most 'lesbian' prn that's made does not represent actual lesbians, it's overwhelmingly catered to the male gaze. We can also recognize that this category of porn has led to a lot of harassment towards lesbians from cis men who at the very least want to believe lesbians are just like they are in the porn he watches, that lesbians just need the right man. Lesbians are being used as a vehicle for a fantasy that was created externally to them, and doesn't represent their realities.

It's the same kind of situation here. The way g!p fics play out overwhelmingly doesn't reflect trans women's realities, but they are inherently linked to us regardless, as we're the vehicles for those fantasies, as unrealistic and harmful as they may be.

g!p characters are built in our fetishized image that’s based on a deeply cissexist misunderstanding of us, of the gender binary, and of bodies in general.

I mean, when 99% of cis folks don’t understand how trans women tend to be sexually intimate… when they don’t understand what dysphoria is and how it works and how it can affect us physically and emotionally…when they don’t understand almost any of our lived experiences…then they’re not going to be able to accurately portray us even if they wanted to.

And I’ve read enough g!p fics where authors wrote those as a means of trying to add trans rep, but because they didn’t understand us at all, it wasn’t remotely representative, and it was ultimately fetishistic, even if there was an undercurrent of sympathy and a lack of following certain common g!p patterns there that differentiated it from the norm.

If g!p fics were at all about reducing dysphoria or finding euphoria, then it wouldn’t be explicitly tied up in the performance of very specific sex acts, very specific forms of misogyny and toxic masculinity, very specific forms of sexual violence and exertion of sexual power, etc.

But it is.

So the notion that creating g!p fics helps NB folks? Nope. It CAN certainly prevent/delay those folks from facing a whole boatload of shit they’ve internalized, and coddle them at the expense of trans women.

Because if it was really about bodies and dysphoria/euphoria, there would be a considerable push (allying with out own) to end our fetishization and to represent us in and out of sexual contexts with accuracy, respect, and care. Because they wouldn’t care what sex acts were performed and what smut beats were hit, they’d just want to see someone with a body like their ideal being loved, being sexual, connecting, being authentic, etc. Which very much is not the case in the overwhelming majority of g!p fics. That's what we want, and it's not what g!p writers want, it's nothing they give a shit about.

Like, a ways back I started doing random pulls of g!p fics from various fandoms and assessing them for certain elements to provide some quantitative clarity. I started on The 100 here, and did OuaT here. Never finished the 100 one since the results leveled out and stayed pretty consistent as the sample size grew, so I didn't really see the point in continuing any further after about 140 fics when the data wasn't really changing much at all.

Lastly, media influences people. I've read countless posts and comments from people who use fanfiction as a sex ed guide, in essence. Which is ridiculous, but I also know sex ed curricula often isn't very accurate or extensive in a lot of areas, so people take what they can get. Representation in media can be powerful, and when it overwhelmingly misrepresents people, that's also powerful. Just because fandom is a bit smaller than televised media, it doesn't make that impact any lesser, certainly not for those whose primary media intake is within fandom.

Virtually all trans representation in f/f fanfiction is misrepresentative of us. That has a cost in how people understand us, how people react to us, and how people treat us. Not just online, but in physical spaces, and in intimate settings.

I invite you to read that post you referenced again, or perhaps this longer one which is a response to a trans guy who seemed to feel something similar to you with this trope.

All I can do is lay it out there and try to explain this. It's up to you how you handle this. All I know is whenever there's a big surge in g!p in a fandom, trans women generally leave it en masse, because it's a very clear and consistent message that we're not valued, respected, and that people value getting off on us over finding community with us.

#g!p #creative responsibility #trans fetishization #trans representation #intersex fetishization #intersex representation #genitals tw #genital mention tw #intersexism #transmisogyny #fandom meta #long post #cissexism #t slur tw #media representation #media literacy

[here4theheartbreak]

My Tentacle Romance (ksj)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationship: hamster hybrid!Seokjin x Eldritch Horror!Reader

Genre: smut, pwp | Rating: Explicit | Word Count: ~7.2k

Summary: You didn’t mean to scare him. You didn’t to fall in love with him, either.

Tags: agender reader, gender neutral reader, tentacle monster, first kiss, meet weird, and they were roommates, getting together, tentacles, tentacle monster, tentacle dick, come inflation, come swallowing, excessive cum, gagging, choking, dirty talk, oviposition, multiple penetration, multiple orgasms, switch!Jin, switch!reader, mild bondage (but with tentacles)

A/N: This fic was written for @aroseforyoongi​ both filling a request from my 2k followers event (”you need to stop pulling my tail”) and for Eva’s birthday! Happy birthday, ilysm!! 

A/N 2: The banner for this fic was made by the awesome @i-live-so-i-love​ - thank you so much!!!

The first time Seokjin saw you, he was terrified. Reasonably, you assumed; most people would have that reaction if a humanoid tentacle monster oozed from underneath their bed the first week in their new home. He didn’t need to throw that stupid book at you though. Books really hurt when the spine struck a sensitive tentacle tip. He also didn’t need to scream the way he did. Your ears ached for an hour after. You didn’t know a human male could make that sound. Well… Humanoid. 

He had looked human, at first glance. And then you saw his ears. They were large and round and most definitely not human. And his face – with a streak of light tan fur over his nose and a smattering of whiskers on his cheeks – You’d found yourself rooming with a hybrid of some sort. Which was okay, hybrids scared just as easily as humans, in your experience. But you were curious what kind of hybrid he was. Not that he would tell you, what with all the book throwing and screeching he was doing.

A few weeks later, you attempted to meet your reluctant roommate once more. You snuck out from under the bed once more and peeked over the bed, watching the handsome humanoid. He was lying on his bed, reading. At least it looked like he was attempting to read. He was squinting and turning the book this way and that. You spotted his glasses a few feet away and slid a tentacle out, snagging them and bringing them to the bed. You dropped them next to him, and he startled again, head whipping around.

“Don’t scream,” you said, plugging your ears in preparation. He put his glasses on and drew in a gasp of breath, mouth open to scream. “I said don’t,” you pleaded, one tentacle whipping out to cover his mouth. He promptly bit it. You screamed, that time. Who the hell thought biting a slimy black tentacle was a good plan? 

You yanked the tentacle back, holding it in your hand as it throbbed. “Why would you bite me, you fucking lunatic?!”

He spluttered, scrambling back into the far corner of his bed. “What are you?!”

“You don’t go around biting people, Jesus Christ, are you an animal?” You snapped, crawling the rest of the way out from under the bed. 

He squeaked, covering his mouth with both hands. You could see his chest rising and falling rapidly, and hear his heart racing. 

“Dude. Calm down. You’re gonna have a heart attack.” You glanced down at yourself, chuckling a little. “Just calm down,” you repeated. You shuddered a little; this was never an entirely pleasant experience. Bit by bit, you withdrew the multitude of tentacles from various parts of your body back into your skin. Your magic allowed you to appear in somewhat human clothing, simple pants and a shirt, though your left arm remained rather… Tentacle-y no matter how hard you tried to change it. “Is this better?”

His breathing seemed to slow a little. “W—What are you?” He asked again, letting his hands drop from his mouth. 

“I’m ___. I’m the Eldritch God that lives under your bed.” You grimaced, looking around. “What is that horrendous sound?” You asked. You spotted a radio on the dresser nearby, blasting some male voice screeching and snarling about dancing to the tune of someone’s death, loving, or something—A tentacle shot from your back and slapped the pause button on the noise. When the room was silent, you turned back to Jin and stuck your right hand out for him to shake, holding the tentacle arm your back. 

“Eldritch God?” He repeated. “Also, that was a good song.”

“Yep. I’ve lived in this area for hundreds of years. Scaring humans or… Hybrids. Just generally enjoying life. I’m a low-level god. Pretty young, so I just kinda have to find stuff to do until the end of the world. Scaring people is fun. Never had one bite me though… I won’t comment on the… musical taste.”

When he didn’t move, you blinked at him. “Don’t your kind shake hands? What’s your name? What are you?”

“Th—I— Jin. S—Seokjin,” he finally spluttered. “Kim Seokjin.”

You dropped your hand, realizing he wasn’t going to shake it. “Okay, Kim Seokjin. What are you? Those ears – Are you a mouse?”

“Hamster,” Jin murmured. His ear twitched and he pawed at it. 

He seemed to be relaxing a little. You approached slowly, raising your human shaped hand in surrender when he pressed himself against the wall. 

“Look, I live here, I’m not leaving,” you said simply. “This is my apartment!”

“I’ve lived here since this place was built. I think it’s technically my apartment,” you clarified. “Just because I don’t hand the humans money doesn’t mean I don’t live here.” You pouted a little as you spoke, wrapping your arms over your chest. “I don’t want you to leave. Humans need a place to sleep too. I just… Want to work something out.”

“Sure, leave.” Jin snapped, his whiskers twitching madly. “You smell like water and… Storms.”

“It’s the Eldritch in me, sorry.” You smiled a little sheepishly. “I’m not leaving. Normally I’d get my kicks scaring the shit out of the humans in this place, but I’ve never had one that had the gall to bite me. So I wanna work something out with you.”

“I’m a rodent hybrid. You scare us, we get nippy. Especially when we can’t see.” Jin crossed his arms over his own chest, mouth thinning into an annoyed line. 

“How blind are you?”

“Pretty blind.”

“I can’t see in the sunshine,” you said. 

“It hurts my eyes. They don’t dilate so well.” Jin touched his glasses. “It’s why the curtains are always shut.”

“I appreciate it, honestly. I can be in the sun, but it doesn’t feel good to bump into everything. Plus with tentacles… A little more of a hazard.”

“Those were tentacles…” Jin’s face contorted into an awful grimace. He slapped his hand over his mouth. “Oh God – I bit that thing. Was that like biting your dick? In the pornos—”

You truly couldn’t help it. You really tried, but you had never seen a human look so horrified. You doubled over in laughter, holding your stomach as you did. 

When you were able to right yourself, Jin was still staring at you, the horrified expression now blending with a shocked one. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you said between gasps of breath. “No, no you didn’t bite any of my genital tentacles; it’s more like an arm. They look similar though so I get the confusion.”

Jin’s eyes bulged comically. “Y—You have more than one? Are you…” He hesitated, seemingly searching for the right way to phrase it. “Boy?”

“I’m an Eldritch horror.”

“Right, but… Genital tentacles. Plural? You don’t…” He motioned to your crotch area. 

You chuckled. “I existed before the concept of gender and sex was even a flicker in the DNA sequence of the somewhat sentient slimes that would someday become your species. I’m a god, Seokjin.”

“But you look human,” Jin mumbled. You noticed his cheeks and ears had begun to take on a reddish hue. It was kind of cute. 

“Sure I do. I like this shape. But it’s not my true form.”

“What is?”

“Your eyes would burn from your skull and your brain would melt into sludge if you saw my true shape even in your peripherals. Why are you so pink?”

Jin blinked. “What?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to a human, or a hybrid,” you explained. “I seem to have forgotten their ways a bit. And most of the time the color they change around me is a paler hue. Or purple, occasionally, when one has choked on something and been unable to breathe…”

Jin swallowed audibly. “Ch—Choke on something?” 

He touched his mouth, his cheeks brightening more. You could hear his heart thudding rapidly. That was a familiar scent… You moved forward a little, surprised that he didn’t shy away, and sniffed. Oh. Oh. You smirked.

“Hm…”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You backed up, letting him relax a little. “Well, I’m going back to my space. Perhaps next time I come out, you won’t screech at me.” You sank down and Jin scrambled up.

“Wait!” He reached out, touching your shoulder before you slid under the bed. His hands were firm. And big. You felt your own body begin to warm up. 

“Yes?”

“What is your space? Do you just… Live under my bed?”

“In a way. I live in the depths of the shadows under your bed that allow my form to transcend the plane of this existence and rest in an area of my own design.”

Jin blinked owlishly at you. “Uh…”

“Portal. To another dimension. Under bed.” You spoke in simpler terms, assuming his humanoid mind was unable to compute. He nodded slowly, ears twitching.

“So when you’re in there… Can you… See up here? What I am doing?”

“If I choose.”

“Well, don’t choose.” 

You blinked, scowling a little at the firmness of his tone. What did he mean by that? Was he intending to tell someone about you? That would be a problem. Most humanoids and humans you scared were too terrified to have a conversation about what you were. People would think they were nuts. But this one… Seemed different. He smelled different, that was for sure. Almost like he was interested in you. 

“Well, I’m going to go now. I’ll see you again.”

“Knock on the wall before you come up next time. It’s scary when you just appear like that.”

“Right. Bad eyes.” You smiled at him. “I’ll knock.” 

You sank back down on the floor sliding fluidly under the bed, oozing into the shadows. You heard the bed creak before you fully disappeared and peeked out, a simple black mass with red eyes. You met Jin’s wide gaze and smiled… Not that he knew it was a smile … Before disappearing into the shadows.

You tried to rest. You really did. Floating along in a sea of nothingness, the distant screams of a billion galaxies colliding, dying, and reforming all at once. It was normally a lullaby to you. But tonight, your mind wandered. Not to the murder and bloodshed of a million cruel lesser Gods, or the agonizing scream of terror as someone is riddled with nightmares from your very presence… But rather… Of Jin. Seokjin. The hamster boy Jin. His ears looked so soft, you wished you could pet them. And his big, dark eyes… That soft smattering of fur. The balls it took to bite you.

Heaving a sigh, you unwound yourself from your tentacles and drifted back up to the space where your world connected with his. You slipped out from the shadows, peeking out from under the bed. It was dark in his room – he must be sleeping. You could smell him above you, that musky fur scent, the bitter scent of human-  sweat, the rich scent of sex. A pang shot through you. Sex. Was he mating with someone? 

As if on command, the bed creaked, and Jin whimpered softly. You could smell no one else, only him. In the silence, you could hear a slick squelching noise, and a soft, electronic babble from a device on the bed. Curiosity piqued, you slid further out, peeking up over the edge of the bed. Jin was stretched out on top of the covers, naked. You could see a smattering of the same creamy light fur on his chest and belly. His fist was sliding rapidly up and down his hard cock, glistening with lube and precome. His head was turned, earphones over his round, twitching ears. You peeked a little further, spotting the laptop on his bedside stand. The video on it was some sort of cartoon. A male figure was being suspended in the air by a multitude of tentacles, his ass being spread open as one drove into him in an obscene manner. His mouth was filled as well, tears streaming down his face. 

You couldn’t deny that the video was quite attractive. You glanced back at Jin and smirked. So that smell earlier was arousal. You were right. Hm. Well the feeling was mutual… Why should he have to do this alone?

Slow and careful, not wanting to terrify your skittish roommate, you slid one tentacle up over the bed. Moving slowly, you reached the laptop and poked the pause button. Jin’s hand hesitated and he scowled, eyes widening when he spotted the tentacle on the keyboard. He looked down at the foot of the bed. You grinned and waved another tentacle at him.

“What the fuck?!” Jin howled, yanking his blanket over his lap and jerking the headphones from his head. The fabric was raised ever so slightly where his erection was, doing nothing to really hide it from you. 

“Sorry,” you apologized, “you were masturbating to tentacles…” Jin reached out and snapped the laptop shut, nearly pinching the tip of your tentacle in the process. 

“So what? It’s my room!”

“It’s a room we share,” you corrected, moving out from the bed and coming around. “I was worried you were going to tell someone about me with how determined you were that I didn’t come back through… And I couldn’t stop thinking about you in other ways, so I was going to come back to talk and… I stumbled onto this.”

Jin remained silent, his lips pinched in annoyance. You smirked and moved closer to the bed, noting that he didn’t cringe away this time. 

“So that scent from earlier was arousal.”

“What scent?”

“Oh, I smell you very well. When I talked about choking humans… I smelled what seemed like human arousal. But I figured I was just imagining it. Why would a pretty humanoid like you be aroused by me?” You reached out with a tentacle, brushing the smooth skin of Jin’s chin. His eyes fluttered shut.

“I’m interested in you too, you know. I’ve never had a human so brave face me down. I admire that.” You hesitated and looked at his lap, the blanket still lifted. “Shall I help with that?”

“Wh—” Jin’s eyes snapped open. “What? No, please, I’m so ashamed,” he lamented, setting a pillow over the spot.

“Why are you ashamed? You are decently endowed for a humanoid of your height and weight ratio. The phallus seemed healthy and firm, and I sense no chemical influences so it can be safely assumed that you can get and maintain an erection capable of breeding, with no help.”

Jin’s cheeks reddened more and more as you spoke. 

“Please!” He cried, waving his hands in front of him. “Stop talking about it like that.”

“Oh.” You frowned a little. “I suppose that wouldn’t be arousing for you… If you were wanting me to speak in a way that aroused you… I suppose I should rather say that your cock is beautiful… It looks so hard and I’d love to make you come…”

You heard Jin’s heartrate pick up and couldn’t help but smirk. “Would you like that, Jin? For me to make you come?”

Jin swallowed hard and nodded, meeting your dark eyes. 

A tentacle shot out, knocking the pillow out of the way. It yanked the blanket down, revealing Jin’s cock, still mostly hard despite the conversation. 

You moved down to the foot of the bed, relaxing and allowing more tentacles to emerge. Jin’s eyes grew wide as you did, darting from side to side as he seemed to try to process.

“You enjoy this,” you said. It was a question you already knew the answer to.

“Yes.”

God, that felt good to hear. You slid a group of tentacles up over Jin’s chest, feeling the smooth skin and delicate hairs. Your touch left goosebumps in its wake, and Jin shuddered softly. 

You used another set of tentacles to push open his thick, muscular thighs. You made a soft noise of surprise. At the base of his spine, visible when he spread his legs, was a tiny tuft of fur, and a fuzzy tail. Only about two inches, thin and blunted, it was potentially the most adorable thing you had seen on a humanoid being in all your time living with them.

More tentacles to lift Jin’s hips off the bed. 

“Oh my—Your tail,” you commented helplessly. You reached out with your human-ish hand and grabbed it, petting the soft fur above it. Jin’s entire body went tense, and you watched his cock twitch. You cocked a brow. “Oh…” 

Curious, you tugged the tail, ever so lightly, and Jin grunted. You pulled again, with the same response. A third time, and he moaned softly. 

“Please—Stop pulling my tail,” he pleaded.

“Why? Does it hurt?” 

“N—No.”

You smirked. “So then, it’s good…” You tugged once more and Jin’s back arched off the tentacles suspending it. 

“Please—” He whined.

“Would you like my help, Seokjin? I could make you feel quite good.”

Jin huffed, swallowing hard. “Th—This is so strange.”

“Mhm. I’ve never, if I may be blunt, seen such a willing person.” You let one thin tentacle circle around the tight rim of Jin’s hole, leaving a trail of slick fluid behind. “I’d love to see just how much you want.”

“Everything,” Jin confessed, his body relaxing against your tentacles.

“What was that?”

“I want everything…” Jin opened his eyes, blinking a few times before focusing on you. “If you want it, I—” He nodded. He let his thighs fall open further, smirking. “I want it.”

Excitement coursed through your body. He was so willing, so aroused. It was the most intriguing and exciting thing you’d done in a millennia. 

You pushed the leaking, swollen tip of the tentacle into Jin’s tight heat, barely able to resist moaning. His rim clamped down around your tentacle like a vise, coaxing a little of your warm slick to squirt from the tip. You were gonna wreck this pretty rodent.

You drove the tentacle deeper into him, smirking when you reached a resistance. Jin whimpered, biting his bottom lip. 

“Deep—“ he whined.

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Yes—” Jin groaned. You pushed your second tentacle in; this one a little thinner and slicker. Jin shouted, his back arching. The movement tightened the skin of his stomach. You gasped, spotting the barely there swell. You worked the thinner tentacle up to where the first was and relaxed, letting it balloon and expand. The swell in his belly grew, and you groaned, reaching forward and touching it. You could feel yourself in his body. 

Jin tried to lay back on the bed, hiding the beautiful swell. You reached out with two of your tentacles, catching him and arching his back once more.

“I like this,” you growled.

Jin sobbed brokenly, and you worried for a moment you’d hurt him. But his cock was hard and leaking, and his face was twisted up in a grin.

“___— Please...” 

“I’ll take care of you,” you promised him. You wrapped a tentacle around his neck, letting your suckers rub over the smooth skin there. So easily torn. Jin’s cock twitched on his belly and he moaned. You began to squeeze his throat, ever so gently. You relaxed your grip and prodded his plush, swollen lips with the flattened tip of another tentacle. the movement left behind a glossy, oil slick sheen. 

“No biting this one, Jin,” you warned. He huffed and rolled his eyes, opening his mouth. You slid the tentacle in, sighing as Jin eagerly lapped at it sucking softly. You stroked the smooth flesh of his tongue with your tip before sliding deeper. You bumped his uvula, smirking when he coughed. 

“Open wide.”

Jin did his best to obey, and you pushed in, nudging past his tonsils and down his throat. His eyes bulged and he swallowed, squeezing your tentacle delightfully. Cool air whistled past it as he struggled to breathe.

“You liked being choked, didn’t you?” You cooed, squeezing his throat once more.

Jin’s cock throbbed on his stomach and began to shoot come onto his belly. His eyes rolled back and he gagged hard, moan muffled. His ass clenched rhythmically around your tentacles, milking fluid from them.

You couldn’t help but laugh even as you moaned from the stimulation. Two suckered tentacles slid up, rubbing through the hot come on his belly and up to tease his hard nipples. Jin sobbed what sounded like your name, but you couldn’t be sure. You allowed the rest of your tentacles to surround Jin, touching and rubbing and leaving little streaks of oily slick on his smooth, clean skin. The one that started this all, wrapped firmly around his dainty tail, yanked once more. 

You’d been saving the best for last. A tentacle no thicker than his pinkie wound up his leg. You could feel his muscles quivering from the overstimulation, his breath whistling around your tentacle firmly lodged down his throat, his eyes already rolling back. Up, through the mat of curly dark pubic hair, around his still hard shaft, stroking and squeezing. It was so warm and smooth. Your mouth watered. You’d have to taste it one of these days. And finally his tip. 

The tentacle released and touched the tip of his cock. Jin’s eyes widened, still somewhat unfocused. Slow and steady, you let the tip your tentacle open, sliding down, down, swallowing Jin’s cock.

You moaned, quivering as you were filled with his thick girth. It had been a century since you let something penetrate you in this way. His cock was perfect, solid and warm and hit every single spot inside your channel just right.

Jin reached out with the hand not being held by a tentacle and grabbed his cock, rubbing his fingers lightly over the smooth outside of your tentacle. He began to stroke, up and down, firmly, jerking off with your body.

You moaned brokenly, head falling back. Your tentacles caught you as you sagged, legs spread. A pressure built deep in your guts as he used your channel to jerk off, sucking the tentacle in his mouth and clenching his ass around the ones inside him. He knew exactly how to drive you wild. This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair— He was just a human—

You screamed his name as you came around his cock, squirting thick and wet. Jin moaned, gagging hard when the tentacle in his throat swelled a bit.

He continued to jerk off with your tentacle, his eyes losing their focus once more. He was going to come again, you could feel it. The wet squelch of your released as he used your hole filled the room. It was music to your ears. 

A tentacle whipped forward and grabbed his wrist, yanking it off his cock and pinning it to the bed. You wrapped another tentacle around his cock, squeezing yourself against him as you began to jerk it. 

“You’re gonna come in me, Jin,” you cooed. 

He tried to nod.

“I’m going to come in you.” His eyes rolled back, a full body shudder making you moan as well. Enough foreplay.

The tentacles holding Jin’s arms and legs went taut, pulling his arms above his head and forcing his legs open wide. You jammed a third, slender tentacle up his gaping asshole for good measure, shuddering at the impossible tightness of it. 

At once, every tentacle buried inside your new humanoid plaything began to thrust, the room filled with the obscene glugging noises of his throat and the wet squelch of his ass as you added more natural lubricant. You were still pumping his cock with your other tentacle, squeezing that and his throat playfully.

Jin came first again - not that you were surprised. You moaned as he spilled ropes of come into your channel, swelling it a bit. You continued to milk him with the slender tentacle and the one wrapped around it. Another tentacle slipped up to play with his balls, urging every drop of come out of them and into you. You moaned softly at that, smiling down at him. Time to return the favor. 

You began to fuck his throat hard and fast, mouth hanging open in pleasure as he choked on you. Jin’s eyes screwed shut and you growled. “Look at me, pretty.”

He struggled to do so, drool and your own slick bubbling up around the tentacle in his throat. His throat was painfully tight. 

“You wanted me to choke you. Is this how you wanted it, Jin?” You purred. 

Jin nodded, gagging and coughing hard. His eyes rolled back in his head, cock dribbling once more into the slick channel of your tentacle.

“That’s it… Give it all to me, baby. I’ll give you what you want too. Swallow it.”

Your body tensed, a knot of pleasure squeezing tight and drawing all of your nerves to a near painful edge. The tentacle began to spurt down Jin’s throat. He coughed hard, some of the dark fluid escaping around his mouth and nose. A tentacle caught the back of his head, holding it as you pumped your release down his throat. 

You threw your head back, moaning loudly. At the same time, you continued to fuck his ass, your secondary climax nearing. 

Some of your smaller tentacles that you’d been using to tease his tail and skin began to spurt as well, streaking thick, hot ropes of dark, oily release over his heaving chest and tearstained face. And over his tense stomach, now swelling with amount of fluid you were pumping down his throat.

Your second climax ripped a scream from your throat, surprising you. The tentacles buried in Jin’s ass began to spurt, shudders wracking your body as you filled his with release.

A pressure grew in the base of your groin and you whimpered. With fuzzy eyes, you watched the base of the tentacle swell just a little larger than a chicken egg, before moving down the length of the tentacle. And another… Another… Seven total eggs made their way down your length. The first caught on Jin’s clenched rim, making him sob wet and broken around your tentacle.

“Shh… Let me in,” you whispered. 

Jin seemed to try to relax. You shuddered and strained, helping work the thick egg into Jin’s body. It slipped past the rim and down the inserted part of your tentacle. You moaned and shuddered when it released. Time to repeat. Again, and again, you worked the eggs into Jin, tiny aftershocks of orgasm washing over you each time your tentacle ejected one. 

Jin’s stomach was swollen with come and eggs, and his body was lax, eyes half closed and glassy with exhaustion. 

You pulled out slowly, smirking a little at the little rivers of come that followed both from his ruined ass and his mouth. Carefully, you laid him back onto the bed, still cocooning him with your tentacles as you crawled onto the bed and kissed his sweaty cheek.

“Still with me?”

“Mhm…” Jin touched his stomach. “Eggs?” He croaked, as if speaking through a mouth full of caramel.

“Yes. They will dissolve harmlessly within you in a few hours, don’t be alarmed. I should have warned you.”

“No, not at all… It’s good. I liked it… I feel so full…”

“You look absolutely ruined.”

Jin blinked tiredly at you, looking mildly concerned. You smirked and kissed his come stained lips. “It’s a beautiful look. We should get you cleaned up, shouldn’t we?” You sat up, your tentacles slinking back into your body. Jin reached out, grabbing one and holding onto it. 

“Do you like being this way better?”

“I have no preference, but it’s more comfortable with some of them out,” you admitted. “I’m not used to using these.” You held up your human-ish hands. 

“Leave them out then. I like them.”

“They don’t frighten you?”

Jin’s ear twitched. “No. Not now.” 

A smile crossed your face before you could stop it. “I’ve never really let a human look at me so long.” 

Jin ran his hand up your tentacle, his soft skin tickling and warming you. “I’m so different from you. Why did this happen?”

You hesitated at his question, unsure how to answer. Jin smiled when you did. 

“I’m not saying I’m mad or… I dislike it. But the problem is… I’m human. At least human adjacent. And the way I feel emotions… It’s strong but I don’t know how your kind does. I just…” Jin frowned at a spot in the corner, clearly deep in thought. “I guess I just want to know what this is going to be before I let myself get too attached.”

You chuckled a little. “This is absurd.”

“What is?” Jin’s face drooped.

“We’re having this deep conversation... While you’re lying on the bed naked and messy. Come on, let me clean you up. We’ll continue when we’re both a bit more put together.” 

You scooped him up with your tentacles, laughing a little at his surprised shout. With minimal effort, you carried him out of the room and down the hall to where you knew the bathroom was located. Jin laughed, wiggling in the firm grip of your tentacles as you did.

“Aren’t I heavy?”

“Not really. Rather light, actually. Do you obtain ample caloric sustenance to maintain humanoid organ function?”

“Do… Do I what?”

“Eat. Enough food,” you supplied. You turned on the water of the bath with another tentacle, turning to face Jin, who was still firmly wrapped in your grip.

“Yes, I eat enough,” Jin huffed. “I’m a good weight.”

“You are certainly well built,” you agreed, letting your eyes roam Jin’s body. Even covered in the oil slick iridescence of your come… He really truly was stunning. Broad shoulders, firm chest, thigh, muscular thighs… Even with the tiny swell in his stomach where your eggs were slowly disintegrating… He likely drew the attention of anyone on the street. 

“___...” Jin drifted off. “You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring,” you argued. “Do you have a human partner?”

“No. I’m single.”

“Why?”

Jin blinked, seeming surprised at the question. “I—I don’t know. I guess… Nobody’s ever really struck my fancy.”

“Why not?” You turned, reaching a tentacle out to test the water. Deeming it warm enough, you shifted, settling Jin into it. 

“I have no idea. I guess I just know what I’m looking for.”

“And what’s that?”

“Join me?” Jin asked, shifting to sit in the tub and make space. 

You let your tentacles disappear back into your body save for a dozen smaller ones, and stripped out of the clothing you’d donned. You crawled into the tub, sighing a little as the warm water lapped over your skin. 

“I want someone who is there for me,” Jin continued after a moment. Someone who knows what I need both physically and emotionally, and someone who is willing to let me provide for them too. A give and take.”

“Do you desire offspring?” You reached out and snagged a washcloth, wetting it and adding soap. You began to wash Jin’s skin clean. 

“Someday, maybe. Not now. I am young, I wanna use that youth.” Jin shifted, sighing. “I like you, ___.” 

“I know you do. And for some bizarre reason… I rather like you too.” You sighed a little, frowning at the confession. It was the truth. That much you knew. But why did it feel so scary?

“Bizarre? Have you never liked a human before? Or a… Hybrid?”

“No.” You continued to wash his shoulders and back. “I tend to just scare the pants off them and call it good.”

Jin laughed a little. “Well you got my pants off in some way, it just wasn’t by scaring me.”

“Oh, I scared you,” you argued, laughing as well. “You threw a book at my head.”

“A giant tentacle monster appeared in my room, of course I threw something at you.”

“You also bit me.”

“I’m starting to think you liked it.”

You paused, brows raising. “I guess… I sort of did.”

Jin’s smile faded a little, the laughter dying. “I asked you a question in the room, ___.”

“You did.”

“And you didn’t answer.” 

“Because I didn’t know how to. I still don’t.”

“Do you have feelings? Like… Happiness or sadness or affection?”

You nodded. You sank down a little more in the tub, and Jin reached out, gently sliding his hands over your legs and tentacles where he could reach. “I do. I’m sure it’s slightly different but the result is the same. I do find you interesting, both physically and otherwise. I want to get to know you more, and spend time with you. Being on this plane of existence is… Different. I don’t normally do it, but I feel content to be in this form, because it means a chance to learn more about you. I’d watched you for a while before but… Face to face.”

“I understand.” Jin took the cloth and washed his face and ears. “So, you do like me then.”

You nodded once.

“And I like you,” Jin continued. He set the cloth in the water, using the tip of one finger to gently slide it back and forth. 

“It would seem that way. For some strange reason.”

Jin smiled softly. He scooped up the cloth and ran it gently over one of your tentacles. The slightly rough texture sent shivers through your body, and you couldn’t stop the smile that formed. 

“That feels nice.”

Jin shifted, the sound of the water sloshing in the small tub the only answer he gave you for the moment. The tub was truly too small for the both of you, but he was able to make it work, shifting over to settle closer. He used the cloth to wash over the exposed tentacles and the humanoid form of your body, meeting your gaze every few seconds. His ears were perked forward, nose and whiskers twitching. 

You reached out with a free tentacle, stroking his back and running down to his ass. You touched his tail. The fur was soft and silky where it seemed to blend into his skin, and his tail was covered in the same soft down. It wiggled a little under the water and Jin made a small noise between a squeak and a sigh. 

“Just don’t pull it,” he whispered.

“We know what that does. Is it difficult?” You asked. You let go of his tail in favor of stroking along his smooth back.

“Is what difficult?”

“You’re a hybrid. I know your kind is not common still. I’ve never seen one of your species specifically.”

“It can be. I’m a pretty timid animal by nature. So I used to get bullied. But I enjoy being different. In the long run. It’s what makes me who I am and I wouldn’t change that.”

“That’s admirable. You are a beautiful specimen.” When Jin frowned, you paused. 

“Being. I don’t mean specimen as an insult.”

“I know,” Jin sighed, sitting back. He pulled his knees up to his chest. The air in the bathroom seemed to thicken a little, and you frowned. Though human emotions weren’t your forte, you could still sense enough of the shift in Jin to get it. 

“I’ve upset you.”

“You haven’t. Not on purpose.” Jin rose and grabbed a towel, beginning to dry himself off. His stomach was back to normal, and it felt like all sense of afterglow had worn off. You followed suit, rising and opening the tub drain. As you stepped out of the tub, you allowed your powers to work, drying your body and re-clothing it instantly. As you did, Jin turned around, about to offer you a towel. His face drooped when he saw you clothed. 

“Oh.” He pulled it back and looked at it for a moment before dropping it into the hamper and heading back toward the bedroom. You followed from a safe distance, unsure how to help the humanoid you’d found yourself so attached to.

When you reached the bedroom, you hesitated at the foot of the bed while Jin stripped the mattress, messy from your activities. 

“Jin…”

He glanced at you, but said nothing. Instead he tossed the sheet into a hamper and went the closet, digging around to get a clean one. He hesitated, rubbing at the back of his ear. 

“Jin.” You repeated yourself more firmly. He turned, his whiskers twitching. 

“You’re not human.”

“No, of course I’m not.”

“Even with the… The tentacles. It’s easy to forget. You look humanoid.”

You nodded. 

“But then you do something like… Like what you did in the bathroom or you call me a specimen like I’m so different and I just—I like you, ___. But can you like me? Do you want to get to know me and maybe be… Something more?”

“Of course I do, Jin,” you answered. And the reality of it was – you were being honest. You stepped forward, reaching out with your tentacles to pull him closer. When he was near enough, you wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling his neck. “I want to know you. You’re the first human I’ve ever wanted to be around like this. I know we’re different… I’m sorry I’ve upset you. I don’t mean to.”

“I’m not upset, ___. I just know things are… Difficult.”

“They don’t need to be.” 

You stepped back and shifted a little, the tentacles sliding into your body. You changed your clothing with a simple thought into something a little baggier, pulling your left arm more out of view in the fabric. “I can look human. I can be anything you need to make you comfortable.”

Jin pouted a little, his plush bottom lip sliding out. “But this isn’t you. I don’t want you to change. I like you.” He pushed the sleeve up and grabbed your tentacled arm. “I like all of you. If you meet my friends, of course… This works, but… When it’s me. I just want you to be yourself. As much as you can be.”

“I don’t frighten you? Make you feel different?”

“You do.” Jin shrugged. “But that can be okay.” He sighed softly and reached up, stroking your cheek. The motion was unfamiliar to you, but not unwelcomed. You could feel the calluses on the pads of his thumbs from use, hear his pulse throbbing softly against his wrist, feel the brush of his fingers against the baby hairs on your current form’s face. It was soothing. Your eyes fluttered shut and you smiled a little. 

“Do that again…” You whispered when Jin pulled his hand away. He repeated the motion, and then on the other side, cupping your face in his hands. 

“___.”

You opened your eyes, surprised to see him so close to you, his dark gaze trained on yours. “Have you ever been kissed?”

“No.”

“Never? Wh—”

“It’s never really come up,” you admitted. 

“Well… I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

“O—Okay.” 

Jin closed the gap between your faces, tilting his head a little as his eyes closed. His lips pressed against yours, soft and silky. You could feel his breath tickling your cheek, and you giggled a little. 

Jin pulled back, a smile of confusion brightening his face. “What are you laughing at?”

“Humans do this a lot?” You asked. “I’m sorry, it feels funny,” you laughed a little.

Jin laughed too, nodding. “They do. It’s an affection thing… But now that I think about it, you are right, it’s kinda weird.”

“It’s cute,” you said, reaching up and touching his cheek. “I don’t hate it. I’ll do it if you like it. But know I might laugh every time you do.” 

Jin nodded, kissing you again quickly. “It’s okay. You have a delightful laugh. I want to hear it more…” He sighed softly, seeming to search your face for something unknown.

You remained quiet, letting him look. Being honest, it gave you a chance to really look at him. Humans – even humanoid hybrids like Seokjin… Were so simple. Their genetic makeup was easily replicated, reproduced, altered. You could reach out with your true self and shatter his genome sequence. You could change him completely – turn him into a hideous monster, or a beautiful human, devoid of any rodent features. You could kill him, or make him live a thousand years longer. Simple creatures. Yet there was one thing that even you – with all your age and knowledge… Couldn’t master. 

Their minds. 

Sure, you could scare or arouse one, you could tweak simple emotions, but not for long. They always compensated. And each one compensated differently. Some coped, some panicked, some lost their minds. The answer to the human equation had long eluded you. Not that you’d bothered to care much before now. Before this humanoid being had blazed into your existence. And now… You found yourself caring, but not to overpower or control humans. But to make the one that was offering himself to you… Happy. The feeling was foreign. You didn’t want to scare or change or fiddle with this one. You just wanted to be with him.

Cautiously, you reached your hand up, letting your fingers brush over his whiskers, then up, over his large ears, covered in soft, fur. They twitched, as did Jin’s nose, and you smiled. 

“Do you eat?” Jin asked suddenly.

“Eat?”

“Yeah, like food. Burgers or rice or a steak…”

“I am capable of it, yes. I can almost perfectly mimic a humanoid existence in this form.”

“Wanna get a midnight snack?”

“Shouldn’t you sleep? Humanoids need an ample number of hours of sleep per night in order to maintain proper f—”

“You’re worth a night of no sleep,” Jin cut you off. 

“I—I am?”

Jin grinned broadly. “Of course you are. I want to learn more about you. I want to spend more time with you. Do you have to… Go back? To your… Space, I guess?”

“Not with any pressing need. It simply exists because I’ve created it.”

“I want to know more about it. More about what you can create.” Jin took your hand, and your tentacle. “Everything.”

“There is far too much to tell.”

“Then we’ll just have to spend more time together. Is that alright?”

“It is.” You felt the smile spreading across your face before you could stop it. 

What a human response. Could spending time around this human make you more of one? The thought would have been horrifying to you a month ago. Now… Looking at Jin’s bright gaze, and broad smile… Maybe a little humanity was exactly what you needed. 

One tentacle drifted out and over to the radio on Jin’s dresser, poking the play button. The same male voice from your meeting earlier in the day filled the air, though it was an entirely different song now.

“You’ll never make me leave, I wear this on my sleeve…”

Jin’s eyes darted to the radio before landing back on your face. “I thought this was horrible noise?” He asked, a grin causing his cheeks to fill out adorably. 

“Give me a better cause to lead…”

“I can learn to like it. I want to. For you.” You closed the space between your faces this time, kissing Jin’s soft mouth gently. 

“Give me a reason to believe…”

#thebtswritersclub #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #reader insert #seokjin smut #bts x reader #mywriting #kim seokjin #seokjin

[mallowstep]

Genetics ask! I know that male torties/torbies are very rare and caused by a genetic mutation, but with those who do exist, are there any prerequisites with their parents? I’m assuming they’d have to carry the red gene since tortoiseshell is one red, one not-red, but I barely know anything. And based on this, is it better to just headcanon cats like Redtail as biologically female?

alright! hello, anon.

since i had to do more research than usual for this one, reminder that:

i am not an expert. i can and will be wrong. you can find my self-corrections under #corrections, but those are only things i or others have noticed, and that i've had the time to write a correction to and explain.

disclaimers out of the way, let's talk about tortie toms. (and torbie toms, and calico toms, it's all the same deal.)

if you know how ginger works, you can skip the next few paragraphs.

orange (ginger, red, etc.) is sex-linked in cats. what this means is that the gene that causes orange cats is on the x chromosome. it is also codominant, which means that having an orange x chromosome (Xo) and a non-orange x chromosome (X) is not black or orange, but both.

basically:

X or XX: black

Xo or XoXo: orange

XXo: tortoiseshell

yeah?

now, for the rest of this post, i'm going to be writing O and o instead of Xo and X because it's one less character and i don't run the risk of putting three x chromosomes together.

okay. so because torties need two x chromosomes, they're typically female. the way tortie itself works is basically, cells activate one of the genes (O or o) at random, creating patches. so you need two copies.

wikipedia says about a third of male torties have klinefelter's, which is the XXY karyotype. while this does have physical changes associated with it, the only way to confirm (humans have) klinefelter's is to test it genetically.

luckily, cats are very helpful about demonstrating it. what with them being tortie and all.

(we're also lumping in the variations of klinefelter's here. you can get XXYY, etc., and they all fit into the same broad idea.)

anyway, the extra x chromosome can come from either the mother or the father. this makes tortie toms...not quite easier, since the prereqs are the same, but y'know. if mom is Oo, dad doesn't matter. if mom is OO, dad has to be o, and if mom is oo, dad has to be O. same rules as usual.

XXY toms are going to be...not sterile, but pretty infertile. using human stats, about 50% can produce sperm, although the likelihood of them having kits is still low. humans with klinefelter's are also taller than average, so keep that in mind.

again, and this might be a correction on my part, i can't remember, but tortie toms aren't strictly going to be visibly different than other toms.

okay, so most people stop at klinefelter's, but there are two other ways to get tortie toms: mosiacism and chimerism. these are often confused/combined, but because i strive for generally being accurate, i'll go over them both.

mosaic cats carry multiple genetic lines, because of a mutation. this can either be somatic (happens in the body, is not hereditary), or germline (happens in reproductive cells of parents, is hereditary).

this is not always a gain of a line, you can lose a chromosome as well. the difference between somatic and germline and how it affects torties goes over my head, so i'm not going to speak to it, other than i'm pretty sure we're talking about somatic mosaicism. i think. again, not a biologist or geneticist, just a hobbyist with an internet connection.

right, so what happens is basically, some cells lose their extra x chromosome, giving you a cat with karyotype XXY/XY. these cats are more likely to be fertile and generally have less effects of klinefelter's. i'm not entirely sure how this affects tortie presentation, if at all, but it does happen.

i suppose you could also have some kind of mutation that gives you an extra x spontaneously, but that would be unlikely to cause torties, because it would also have to mutate into the other O allele.

again, i really want to stress that while i'm not bullshitting, i'm also not speaking definitively here.

last up is chimerism, where two embryos fuse in the womb, creating mixed genes.

i'm using a picture of a dog, here, because this is what goes through my head when i think of chimeras. you'll have to take my word for it, but while this would be a normal tortie cat, it can't really happen in dogs without some kind of mutation. and chimerism, given the extent of the patching, is pretty likely.

right! chimera torties are going to be, afaik, normal levels of fertile, although it's likely that they can pass on either black or red, not both.

(while i'm here, before we move on, there are a lot of types of chimeras. this type is called tetragametic chimerism, and it's rare in humans but more common in other animals. it's hard to know how common it is, because the differences are often very subtle, and hard to test. it's also not mutually exclusive with mosaics or klinefelter's, just to really muddy the waters.)

i don't have statistics for how common mosaics and chimeras are, and there's always, "a different type of mutation that doesn't fall into this category"

for mosaics and chimeras, the rules for inheritance seem to be the same as for klinefelter's. there's the added note that, because there can be multiple sires within one litter, a ginger queen could have kits with a ginger tom, and get a tortie son, as long as she also...ahem...with a black(/brown, etc.) tom. (or vice versa, with all brown and a ginger.)

okay! so that's basically how it happens.

as for the second part of this question, well. "is it better?" is a matter of opinion. i don't think anyone is wrong for having tortie toms. i don't care. (a) it is possible, and (b) we're all just having fun.

i, personally, do not think redtail is karyotype XX, because i like him being sandstorm's father with brindleface. idk. i like brindleface. yes, i know this raises huge genetic problems, and it's not very canon. i don't really care. i read that redtail fic where he thinks about sand&brindle as he's dying and it hasn't left me.

that said, i'm still a sucker for trans redtail. love it. idk, this is kind of hard to explain. like? it's not my headcanon, but i still appreciate it.

anyway! to the point: if you care about statistics and likelihoods and how many tortie toms you've had in the clan, yes, you're probably better off saving your chromosome anomalies for when they need to have kits, and using XX karyotype for the rest.

(under the cut: matthew rambles about trans cats and gender identity for a while)

i'm pretty sure cats don't have the western concept of gender. i don't think they have a human concept of gender, either, but at some point i need to be able to pin down something, and i think a third/fourth gender is closer to what they have.

i've been thinking about this a lot lately, because i decided i wasn't satisfied with my old approach to trans cats. i can do better than that. i decided cats don't have gendered pronouns, so why should the solution be, "trans cats don't really get to do anything about it"

no. i am dissatisfied with that.

at the same time, for specific reasons: i also don't think cats are trans in the western sense of the word.

because if for nothing else, remember that cat sexual dimorphism has a bigger effect on their life than in humans.

like, queens are going to be uncomfortable around male cats they don't hella trust and their kits. that doesn't go away if said male cat isn't a tom. y'know?

i'm in a constant state of tweaks with this, because i basically: form opinion, test opinion, refine opinion. my initial opinion was too harsh. and!

part of what's changed is i decided i wanted fernsong to be able to raise his kits in the nursery instead of ivypool. so i had to adjust how i think the nursery and queens work, slightly, to permit for that. now, i can turn back to gender and think about it some more.

i'm not going to coin any new terms, because i'm not in that kind of mood, but i think there is some idea of a female cat who is not a she-cat. i don't think the cats would call them a tom, but i'm not sure what they would say or how they would describe it.

i think they would just, on some level, get it.

actually okay you know what! i do need some lingo here. queens = cats who are raising kits in the nursery. she-cats = XX karyotype, considers self female (cis, if you will). toms = XY karyotype, considers self male (cis, again). and uh...we'll go with...

god i hate. i don't want anything i say in this ramble to be considered "words i am going to now use consistently" because i literally just need some way to describe this for my own sanity. with that in mind, let us use molly for XY karyotype, but not a tom, and...how about gib for XX karyotype, not a she-cat.

again, i don't want that to be considered permanent, i'm just fishing at words people use to describe cats so i can have something to work with.

right so, i don't think cats think gib and tom are equivalent, but i also don't think they (as a society) care about that.

like, okay, let's say redtail is XX, but not a she-cat. there's nothing to really be done (heck, if he wants to be a queen, that's still fine), cats don't have gendered pronouns or names, but at the same time, there's an intuitive understanding of what that means.

this kind of ties into the matriarchy, kind of? like, hm, queens are an important part of the matriarchy, but at the same time, she-cats inherit family lines. not that cats inherit much, but still.

i'm getting very abstract here. take, uh, like let's say a hypothetical trans mothwing. i think a lot of people have that headcanon?

and i think, like, mothwing would not be considered a tom. if cats had a concept of sexuality, leafpool would not be straight, because she likes mothwing, and mothwing is not a tom.

but! i would still think willowshine probably is the first line for nursery visits, at least when the kits are very young.

and i don't think anyone there would be unhappy with that deal.

right. i just kept rambling for a while, because i've been thinking about this and obviously it's semi-tied to the question.

tl/dr: cats don't care about gender, because they are cats meowing at each other in the woods. if a cat says they're not agab, everyone is just cool with that.

#ask #anon #essay #long #ask to tag #jic #mine #txt #genetics #redtail #warriors genetics #trans cats

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Some do’s and don’t’s for the hobbyist fanfic writer.

Do remember I am also a hobbyist writer, but these are things I’ve noticed after the last 10 years of reading/writing fanfiction, and writing in general. You can take this with a grain of salt if you wish.

Word choices for kissing/sexual encounters

Something that irks me like no other is specific word choices when a couple is kissing/having sex. 

Firstly, kick the word cavern out of your vocabulary, unless it’s about an actual cavern. Mouths/vaginas/anuses are NOT “Moist” or “Wet” caverns, please stop using that phrasing. I don’t know how that started, but speaking from experience as a reader and after talking with others, it is a very odd word choice and it does not work out well.

Secondly, do not describe a french kiss as a battle for dominance. This one is extremely popular, more so in older works thankfully, but I don’t understand why. I have french kissed someone before; it’s not a wrestling match. You can’t fight for dominance in the kiss all that much. 

Instead of “You fought his tongue for dominance in a heated kiss”, think something like “You swirled your tongue along his in a heated kiss”. Tongues work cohesively, not against each other.

Descriptions of clothing in fanfics

Wanna know something that completely sucks me out of a story the second I start reading it and makes me click out of it? Clothing descriptions.

“You were wearing a hoodie, skinny jeans, and your favorite pair of converse.”

“You slid on your favorite skirt and blouse.” “Your skirt swished around you.”

“You donned your favorite pair of skinny jeans.”

“He tugged down at the thong you were wearing.”

Stop doing that. ESPECIALLY THE THONGS- WHY ARE THEY SO POPULAR? We do not need a complete description of what YOU imagine the MC to be wearing in fanfics, because WE are the MC!!!! I don’t own skirts, I don’t own skinny jeans, etc. and other people might not either!

We should not have to pretend to like a certain style of clothing because you think it’s a good choice for the story. Try to be as general as possible in all of your descriptions for clothing.

Instead of “Skirt” think “Bottoms” or just general “Pants”, and instead of “Blouse” it never hurt anyone to just say “Top” or “Shirt”. 

I especially hate female targeted fanfics because I feel I don’t fit their image of a female because I don’t wear the clothing they always describe.

Don’t blatantly go for makeup

I see this frequently in fanfics, and it also makes me piggyback off of the last point about female targeted fanfics and not fitting the image.

I do not own a single ounce of makeup. I never have and I never will. I don’t see the point in it, so you know what makes me immediately not wanna read your fanfiction?

Saying that the first thing I do in the morning is wake up and put on makeup. Saying that I’m not wearing makeup around the love interest for the first time. 

Just ditch the makeup. Instead of saying “You got up and put on your makeup”, say “You got up and went through your morning routine”.

Don’t assume what your reader looks like (Hair/skin/weight)

This one has lots of no-nos for me.

First, hair. Do some of you not understand that short hair is a thing? I swear, 90% of the fanfics I have read note that the MC has long hair that is “Tied up in a loose bun”, or “Tugged into a quick ponytail”, or “Cascading down your back”. 

For all that is good in the world, stop doing this. Some people have short hair. It sucks me right out of the damn story when people mention this. Sure, you might have long hair. Sure, you might envision the reader with long hair. Is it 100% guaranteed that the reader will have that long hair? NO! Be as general as possible with hair descriptions. 

Secondly, skin. Do some of you not realize that POC exist and read fanfics? Because it seems like it. I have white, pale skin; and yet I get annoyed when the reader is described with that. Wanna know why? Because my first thought is “My POC friends wouldn’t get enjoyment from reading this because they are being excluded.”

Instead of saying “Your pale skin”, think along the lines of describing the skin itself instead of the tone of it. Think along the lines of “glowing”, “vibrant”, “complected”, etc.

Also, stop assuming people don’t have acne. I hate seeing “He gazed at your unblemished and perfect skin” because bitch I don’t have that. Stop describing skin generically as being blemish free.

Thirdly, weight. Do some of you not understand that not every fanfic reader is thin? Because it seems that way to me. 

I am a large girl. Some of my friends are larger people. You know what depresses me and sucks me out of a story? Describing the MC as being a thin person, with a slender figure/frame. Not everyone fits that image, and it excludes me and others and makes me feel like we can’t fit into the story. People of ALL shapes and sizes read fanfiction.

If you cannot think of a general way to describe someone’s body shape then don’t describe their body shape at all.

Also, boobs; women don’t hyperfixate on them sweetheart. I do not think about my tits at all, unless I forgot a bra or am wearing something too tight. So guess what? Your female MC shouldn’t either.

Also, for an extra added bonus; stop assuming people don’t wear glasses. I need them to survive, and when you make it seem like the reader doesn’t have glasses on it sucks me out.

On the topic of physical descriptions

Do you know what a gender neutral fic is? Then write like it.

If you are writing a gender neutral fic, then DO NOT describe the body of the reader, unless you use gender neutral terms.

I have read so many “gender neutral fics” that are NOOOOT gender neutral. They describe the reader with a female’s body but “they/them” pronouns, and sweetheart, that is NOT how gender neutral works. 

If you cannot write gender neutral, do not market your fics like that, ESPECIALLY as NSFW fics.

I write in complete gender neutral unless it’s requested, so don’t say it’s impossible either. I have written sex scenes in gender neutral. I have written normal scenes as gender neutral. It is possible. You wanna know how?

Stop describing your reader, and focus on describing the scene, how they’re feeling, the love interest. Be basic and general with your descriptions. If you can’t write a sex scene without specifying genitalia, then don’t write gender neutral sex scenes.

If you can’t write a general fic without giving the GN reader explicitly male or female body stereotypes, then don’t write gender neutral.

There is nothing wrong with writing female targeted or male targeted fics, so LABEL them that way. Don’t market yourself as GN and then not write that way.

Feel free to add on with other tips/tricks if you would like. These are just the MAIN things that I have noticed as a reader.

[ltleflrt]

So I was having a conversation on Discord about omegaverse tonight, and my brain won’t shut up about it, because as usual I come up with my arguments after the discussion is over.  I should have been asleep 3 hours ago, but it’s hot and I can’t unwind, so I’m going to stay up EVEN LATER while the a/c brings things down a few degrees, and I try to get these thoughts out of my head.

I was pro-omegaverse, and trying to explain why *I personally* like the genre, and why I think even with it’s problematic origins and frequently used elements, it’s still a cool genre.  I was essentially having 2 discussions, but they were both using my answers to their questions, even though I was usually addressing them 1 at a time.  That happens when you’re in a Discord chat, and I wasn’t @ing my answers to them, since we were all in the room together.  And I think that cunfuddled the discussion and my thoughts.  So here’s a breakdown.

Issue 1. Biological Essentialism is gross and rapey.

Answer:  Yes, it is.  But so what?  Some people like pure rape-fantasy.  Is it healthy?  That can be argued either way, and it definitely depends on the person writing, or the person reading.  People like gross and rapey stories to get their rocks off.  Whether we like non-con or not, rape fics should be allowed to exist because some people like it.  It doesn’t matter if I think their reasons are valid.  As long as they’re not actively trying to harm someone, let people get down and dirty with their rapey fantasies.

Also, the whole biological imperative to mate isn’t that far off from Soulmate AUs.  Truemates = Soulmates.  Whether we like Soulmate AUs or not, are we also arguing that they shouldn’t exist because they’re problematic?  No, we’re not.  Soulmate AUs are romantic for a lot of people.  Let people have their uncomplicated, fluffy, 1 Destined Love stories.

Something to keep in mind though, is that not all omegaverse fics use the true mate trope.  And quite a lot of fics have characters with a lot more self control during their mating cycles than what you’d find in the short smutty one shots.  It’s common for them to avoid each other during heats, and only share their mating cycle as an act of love, trust, and devotion.  After they’ve been dating for a while.  (I love it when the alpha brings over snacks and water for the omega, and immediately hightails it out of there once they get a whiff of their sexy love interest.  “Take care of yourself, text me when you feel better, loveyoubye! *nyoooom*”)

Issue 2. It’s transphobic.

Answer:  This one is harder to argue, because yeah.  It can be.  But so can non-omegaverse.  Transphobia is, unfortunately, everywhere.  Exploring human gender through non-human gendered beings isn’t a bad thing though.  Cis people should be allowed to explore those things too.  This is step 1 to fighting the Patriarchy.  Questioning it.  Someone may come out of the experience still cis, but they’re going to be more open minded to trans people.  Not to mention, all the trans and enby folks who probably figured themselves out through the gender exploration to be found in omegaverse.

Now, if someone’s into omegaverse and they tell you they won’t read a story about a trans character?  Red flag.

Personally, I like the gender exploration in omegaverse.  Not just in the hormonal stuff, although I do kinda love the idea of seeing cis male characters suffer cramps once a month lol... but I like the stuff about social inequality that women have to go through mapped onto a male character.

I brought this up in the chat, and my use of the term “women’s issues” raised a terfy flag I think, which upset me and made it harder to make my point.  Cuz if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s terfy.  But I do see women’s issues as also trans issues.  Trans Men are treated differently after they start to present as male.  There’s a marked difference between their treatment as a woman pre-transition, and as a man afterwards.  And they still have to be really careful about accidental pregnancy.  I cannot fathom how awful the dysphoria would be for them if they get pregnant.  Trans Women are treated horribly pre-transition if they give any hint of feminine interests.  There’s a reason “girly” is an insult, and it’s because Toxic Masculinity Is The Worst.  And then when they transition?  Hooooboy, gods bless those ladies because Trans Women are treated worse than Cis Women on the social pyramid.  And Enbies?  Oh you sweet things, how the hell do you deal with the rest of us bastards? 

When I say that I am interested in seeing the characters I like deal with women’s issues, I am talking about social inequality, not just periods and cramps (although that a little bit too, because I wish a cis man could just fucking UNDERSTAND why I need a goddamn nap okay? lol), but also sexual health rights, including birth control, including the right to choose whether or not to take hormones, the right to equal pay, the right to equal education.  Feminism, for me, includes trans and enby folks at the table. 

But anyway, the characters I like right now just happen to be men.  I see Dean as a man.  That could mean he’s a trans man too, because trans men are men, yo.  Castiel I see either as a man or non-binary.  So if I want to put them through “women’s issues”, I have to plunk them in a special universe for that.  No one is writing Matriarchy AUs, so Omegaverse it is!

(Side note: If my OTP were f/f, I’d still like omegaverse.  And I could see lots of interesting ways to use all those same tropes for 2 female presenting characters.  So it has nothing to do with genitalia.  Unless it’s smut.  But I swing all the ways, so still not an issue for me lol)

(Side note part deux: I like to read trans stories too.  They have unique things about them that cannot be found in stories about cis characters, even in omegaverse.  And when I see Dean and Cas as men or enby, I’m not putting down people who like them gender flipped.  I just see myself enjoying Trans Woman Claire dating Enby Kaia, more than I’d like to see Dean or Cas written as cis/trans-women.)

Issue 3.  Internalized misogyny!

Answer: This is an argument used against women shipping m/m in general, and has nothing to do with omegaverse.  It just so happens that omegaverse was created for m/m pairings.  But there are TONS of reasons we ship more m/m than any other pairings, ranging from those are the most interesting characters presented to us, to--yes--internalized misogyny.  But I’m tired of that one.  Internalized misogyny is rampant, and telling women that their fantasies are problematic isn’t going to cure them.  There’s better ways to go about it. 

Omegaverse now covers m/f and f/f pairings as well, sooooo... yeah, this one just doesn’t hold water like it used to.  We just need to yoink the media out of the hands of the cis-men who are mostly in charge, and make them give us more compelling women to ship.

Issue 4: That’s not how human bodies work.

Answer: They’re not human lol!  Okay but real talk here.  This issue actually sounds transphobic to me, because it strikes very close to the XX vs XY chromosomes argument.  Omegaverse characters have intersex variations.  Alpha females and Omega males can have both a penis and a vagina in some fics.  It depends on how the author wants to write it, of course.  I usually go with the (horrifying) cloaca for omega males, and the (hyena inspired) psueudo-penis for alpha females instead, but to each writer their own lol

But again... not human.  Let wet buttholes be a thing, lube is expensive and sometimes the bottle gets tangled in the sheets, and you have to stop what you’re doing to find it and... anyway, convenience in fantasy sex is nice lol

In Conclusion: 

Personally, I only like non-traditional omegaverse.  The stuff that subverts the “problematic” tropes.  I was asked what I liked about the genre, and when I explained, it devolved into discussion of the topics above.  But I think what was forgotten in that discussion, was that I kept saying I don’t like the “problematic” things.  I like flipping the tropes.  Which I like in general, when I’m looking for things to read.  I mean, how many Castiel Thinks He’s Straight fics are there?  Not many!  So I wrote one!  Because flipping tropes is my jam! 

I don’t like Soulmate AUs, but with the proper twist I can still enjoy it.  I don’t like Highschool AUs, but I’ve read some that touched me so deeply I still think of them years later.  There’s always someone subverting the tropes I don’t like and turning them into something I do like.

And yet even though I kept saying I liked the subversion of the genre, the discussion kept coming back around to the parts of omegaverse that I *don’t* like.  I will still defend anyone’s right to like the parts of it that aren’t for me though, so I argued away XD

And? Sometimes I like the dark problematic stuff when I’m in the mood to get my rocks off.  Don’t judge, you’re all a little weird in some way or another ;D

Anywho, now that I got this stuff off my chest, hopefully I can sleep.  It has also cooled down by like 4 degrees, and I no longer feel like I’m going to melt in my sleep.  Tomorrow is going to suck, because I have to get up in 5 hours.  Yay!

#ltleramblings #i enjoy thinking about these things #i was enjoying the discord discussion #i just couldn't keep up with 2 people at once #especially 2 people who are much better at thinking on the fly than i am lol

[fiction-allows]

Washington Square (Laurel/Hardy, 4800 words, PG-13)

For @theempressar and @stanxollie - a little Valentine from me to you! mostly fluffy L&H fic. thank you for all the fun we’ve had :D

warnings: PG-13 for a paragraph of noncon, period typical language and conceptions of gender, flexes the grittier style of their early works

This was inspired by stanxollie’s great retelling of Why Girls Love Sailors, where the drag queen gets the guy in the end. :p I hope you enjoy. question mark.

It was closing time when he stumbled on the kerb and took a dive off his heels. He laughed it off and quickly flashed the green silk hem of his dress up over his bloomers, to give the drunks a little show - all part of the joke, keep walking. He didn’t want their sweaty hands on his silk. He didn't need help, he needed shoes that fit - he climbed to his feet, righted his ringlet wig that had slouched over his eyes - he needed hat pins, too; a box didn't last long when all the jennies he lived with helped themselves. He straightened himself up and squared his shoulders. Fierce. It was only three in the morning. What was he going to do with himself?

He had a dime in his pocket. Maury hadn't paid his talent up, and wouldn't until next week. 

He wasn’t talent, anyway. He was incidental entertainment, called on when one of the girls was too drunk to perform. The rest of the time he was hanging around the tables, cracking jokes and flouncing. When the molls wanted to use the powder room, he escorted them and kept them laughing. 

It wasn’t exactly a career, was it, Stanny boy?

Maybe he should find something, someone, anything, anywhere else. The city bit shit in the winter. He could go to Union Station and talk his way onto a handsome dame’s ticket, headed for California. He could stow himself in a bunk, bundle up and sleep, and stay there until they crossed the Rockies.

He tripped again, which brought the daydreams to a halt. Stan pulled his fur wrap tighter around his bare shoulders and took serious stock. He had enough for breakfast if he didn't eat tonight. He could get warm if he went to the train station. He couldn't go home, it was Lonnie's night to use the room for sheepshead. She’d be good for dinner tomorrow. His stomach told him that was worth a night in the cold. 

He straggled behind the foot traffic down the sidewalk toward State. He stopped to bum a cigarette from Lady Godiva, who answered to Herbert during the workweek, and they stood under the dark coffee shop’s awning exchanging a few pleasantries about the weather, shoes, who’d been locked up in yesterday night’s raid on the park. 

“Never do it in the bushes,” Lady Godiva said sagely, and Stan nodded with equal sagacity, and his wig slipped down over his eyes again. 

Godiva reached into her velvet purse. “Honey, here.” 

Now he had a dime and a few bobby pins in his pocket. He was about to move on, when Lady Godiva gave him another nod. “Honey - there.” 

Stan turned to look. A big man had come up the street, contra-traffic. The slight weave in his step said he'd been turned out from one of the other night clubs. He had stopped when he heard Stan and the Lady talking, and was examining some graffiti on the side of the brick building with intense interest.

Some background might help: Lady Godiva was the world’s foremost expert on the identification and classification of men and males who wanted something and were willing to pay for it. 

Not that this fellow was easy to miss: Towertown was full of girls in trousers and boys in skirts, big boned frames in dainty dresses and elfin gals with impeccable Windsor knots, and he was planted on the sidewalk in a white sailor's uniform like a bull moose in the headlights. A bull moose trying to make itself look like part of the furniture. He had looked up insouciant in the dictionary, but accidentally read the entry for awkward.

Background, part two: Lady Godiva was good at matching fighters by their weight class. She knew exactly how hopeless Stan was at the game - but this one was a nice soft target. A practice dummy, if you will.

Stan, in a completely inarticulate way, had reached the same conclusion. The guy must weigh eighteen stone if he was an ounce, but he was trying to look smaller than he was in his white uniform. His age was hard to pin down, because he looked travelled, but not even the side profile could hide the baby fullness of his face. 

To Stan, he looked like an absolute lamb.

Someone else would take advantage in a minute. There was Esme, poised outside the walk-up to her john’s apartment, watching the dispersing crowds go by. She was clocking the lamb too. She caught Stan’s eye, gave him a sly smile, and the race was on.

Stan moved to head her off. He stepped into the man’s shadow, and touched the blue-braided sleeve of his jacket.

"You lost, baby?” Stan asked. 

The big boy jumped. He turned away from the public art and glanced Stan up and down. Then again, a double-take that Stan didn’t take personal. An awkward, innocent fluster of hands, fingers, a scrunched nervous grin, followed the mad goggling yo-yo of his eyes. "I seem to have t-taken a wrong turn." 

He stuttered. He had weeping willows and southern charm in his voice. He was a little drunk. Oh, honey.

“Where’re you headed?” Stan laid his hand flat on the man’s arm. Behind them, Esme hissed and faded back into the night.

The man was suddenly mannequin-like with uncertainty. “Not far.”

“Then I’ll walk you,” Stan decided for them both. “What’s your name?”

“Oliver.”

Stan smiled, twined Oliver’s arm with his. “Are you from around here, Oliver?”

“My room’s on Division Street.”

“Originally,” Stan clarified, as he gently pulled Oliver to get him moving up the sidewalk. Stan felt a rush of heat from him as Oliver blushed. 

“Georgia,” Oliver said quietly.

“Georgia. Peaches. Wonderful. Don’t look at them.” A hail of whistles as they turned the corner, some of Esme’s mates. It wasn’t often that Stan hooked such a big one. Stan stuck out his tongue behind Oliver’s back. More jeers. He crushed Oliver’s arm against his ribs and drew him away northeast.

It was only a few blocks, but the crowds thinned out fast as they left Washington Square. The nightlife faded to sniffing junkies and unlucky panhandlers, and the sidewalk was empty by the time they reached the four-story boarding house Oliver was calling home.

“Well… here’s mine,” Oliver said, feebly.

ROOMS FOR RENT - LONG TERM, said the optimistic sign propped on the window ledge of the ground floor. The place looked fleabitten, like it had mange. But Stan looked enviously at the glowing windows. They were nearer the lake and the wind picked up an extra bite off the water, and he was losing feeling in his toes. Then he looked at Oliver, whose arm was still in his.

The moment to clinch or cut loose had arrived. There was an awkward pause, because neither of them knew exactly what happened next, when it was a bloke from Georgia and a bloke in a dress.

“Do you want to come in?” Oliver asked. His tone was smoother, now that the walk had cleared his head.

Stan smiled dumbly. He was feeling shy. He had come this far, hadn’t he? Come on, Stan, say something. But he was frozen, and it wasn’t the temperature. “I...”

“You don’t have to,” Oliver said, with a painfully gallant smile. 

He sounded relieved. And Stan felt hurt, and suddenly piercingly lonely, which broke the impasse just a moment too late. The opportunity had closed in his face while he was tongue-tied.

Oliver extracted his arm, then stuck out his hand for a shake. “Take care, then.”

Stan reached for his hand, feeling all at once like he wanted to cry. The night was dark and… big. He nodded miserably and took Oliver’s hand.

Oliver winced as their bare palms touched. “What are you, cold blooded? Some kind of salamander? Why are you so cold?”

“I don’t -” Stan stammered. 

“Where’s your place?” Oliver demanded.

Another gawping shrug, as Stan tried to make sense of the sudden veer in the conversation. It was like Oliver had dropped him in a bottle and spun it. “Can’t go there,” Stan said helplessly.

“What? Why not? You know what - forget it. Get in here.” Oliver shooed him up the steps and to the door, and pounded on it. 

Stan panicked. “Wait, what do we tell -”

“You tell him you’re my sister from Savannah.” 

Stan had a minute to get into character before the landlord answered. He grunted when Stan fluttered his eyelashes and claimed to be a sister from Savannah, but he let them in, and harrumphed back to bed without comment. 

And that is how they ended up in a room no bigger than a very small room, with a bed, a cupboard, a stand and basin, and Oliver’s work clothes inexpertly washed and hung to dry over the light fixtures and radiator. He was using a pair of his long johns as a sort of makeshift shade over the room’s single drooping window. There was a palpable draft about shin-height due to the sagging window frame, like wading through ankle-biting ghosts.

Oliver sprung into action playing host, scooping his grease-splattered overalls off the radiator to let some warm air into the room, hiding his underpants by kicking them under the bed, and then he offered to take Stan’s wrap, and Stan let him take it and hang it, like the most pathetic garland in the world, on the hook on the back of the door.

“Won’t you sit down?” Oliver asked with exaggerated politeness, indicating the bed. 

Stan sat, crossed his legs, brushed down his silky dress, subtly hiked it up a few inches on the upstroke.

“What about you?” Stan asked, with a put-on high-pitched giggle and wiggle. 

Oliver was undoing his neckerchief. He glanced at Stan in the mirror propped above the wash basin. “I’m fine. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“The floor?” Stan asked, in his babygirl voice.

“You take the bed. Bathroom’s down the hall. Don’t steal my money, will you? If you’re good, I’ll buy you breakfast tomorrow.”

Stan’s legs uncrossed, his heeled foot fell to the floorboards with a shocked little stomp. “You brought me up here to… sleep?” He forgot the pitch of his voice in his surprise.

“It’s miserable out there,” Oliver said. He slid his collar stay out, dropped it on the stand, and started on his top button. “Throw me one of them pillows, will ya?”

Stan hopped off the bed. He grabbed a pillow, and handed it to Oliver. Oliver fluffed it between his big hands, then dropped it unceremoniously onto the floor. 

“I’ll wrinkle my dress if I sleep in it,” Stan said. The femme was back, and she was distressed. He clutched at his neckline in dismay.

Oliver’s eyebrows knit together. He raised one slightly as he appraised Stan. “You do one nice thing,” he groused, though his heart wasn’t in it. “There’s a clean nightshirt in the cupboard. You can borrow it.”

Stan opened the cupboard and grabbed it. He excused himself to the bathroom down the hall. 

When he returned, heels and wig in hand, dress over his arm, clad in an entire circus tent’s worth of nightshirt that billowed around him like topsails, Oliver was prone on the floor, head on the pillow, one of the blankets primly tucked over him. Looked for all the world like he really meant to spend the night right there. His eyes were closed. Could he already be asleep?

Stan crept into the room quiet as a mouse.

“It occurs to me I didn’t catch your name,” Oliver said. He wasn’t asleep at all.

“Stan,” Stan said, flatly. He had shed the girl with the wig and heels. He supposed a man was better suited if this was a set-up to a murder. He placed his shoes on the floor, hung the wig next to his wrap, and stole a hanger to keep his dress looking tidy in the cupboard overnight. 

Oliver was watching him through slitted eyes. Stan knew he must look a sight with his short unkempt hair, the five o’clock shadow on his cheeks, the huge nightshirt with sleeves that slipped down to his fingertips. He smiled apologetically. “Sometimes you take a lady home, and you get something else.”

“Nice to meet you, Stan,” Oliver said. “Go to sleep.” 

Stan crawled into bed. He flailed and paddled in the huge nightgown, and finally found his hands again to pull the covers up. He looked at Oliver again, on the floor in the draft, and he shivered in commiseration. He cleared his throat. “You know, it’s foolish to sleep on the floor. You’ll catch your death.” 

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t be stupid, come up here.”

Was that a chatter of Oliver’s teeth? Oliver grunted, threw an arm over his eyes as if that would shut Stan up. 

“I promise no funny business,” Stan insisted. He was getting worried. He couldn’t possibly go to sleep himself if Oliver slept on the floor. The thought of it made him utterly miserable. Tears pricked his eyes. “Please don’t catch your death.”

The arm came away from Oliver’s eyes, and his expression was that of a man who has ended up in an enclosure at the zoo - not the lion enclosure, or the gorilla enclosure, but perhaps the penguin enclosure, and they’re pecking at his knees. “You’re a weird one, aren’t you.” 

Stan nodded honestly, still fighting tears. 

Oliver sat up. Then he held out his hand, and felt the ice cold draft flowing in from the window. 

He gathered up his pillow and blanket and threw them at Stan on the bed. “Move over.” 

Stan swam through his nightshirt toward the wall, and Oliver heaved himself onto the mattress. They settled, an elbow apart, after a little burrowing and tug of war over the coverlet. Silence ticked by for a few moments, as they both got used to the sensation. The weight pulling at both sides of the mattress, their body heat starting to pool together under the covers.

Stan sniffed away the last of his tears. He folded his hands over the coverlet in satisfaction. “There. Isn’t this better.”

“Who lets you out on your own?” Oliver asked in disbelief. But he already sounded sleepy.

Stan was fading fast, too. He yawned. “It’s Lonnie’s night to use the flat for sheepshead.” 

“Sheepshead.” Oliver snorted. 

“Goodnight, Ollie.” 

He heard a breathy chuckle. Oliver - Ollie - liked it. “Goodnight, Stan.”

* * * 

Stan fell to sleep and commenced a light snore, cocooned in Ollie's nightshirt. Oliver crossed his arms under the bedclothes and tried to ignore the predicament. Stan had still been wearing his - her pantyhose, and her hose-clad toes were scratching at his shin. She hadn't scrubbed all the perfume off. There was a flowers-and-musk scent trapped with their heat in the blankets.

Oliver, my boy, you need to get a hold of yourself. You wouldn't take advantage of a lady. 

Whatever Stan was, exactly. 

Adrift, it seemed to Oliver. 

He kicked Stan’s foot back toward his side of the bed, blew the air from his nose and closed his eyes. 

* * * 

The sun was shining cheerfully through the union suit when they woke up. At breakfast, Ollie watched Stan pack away a pound of home fries, four eggs, two rounds of bacon and a stack of pancakes. He ate like he hadn’t been fed in a month. 

He was a pretty normal fella over the breakfast table, even in the dress. Well - not fully normal, the way he put sugar on his eggs, but Ollie let it slide. He was funny, and he thought Ollie was funny, which tickled Ollie right in the cockles of his pride. 

Stan listened with rapt interest when Ollie talked about the merchant marines and where he had been, and the convoys during the War. He got that doe-eyed look that dames did when Ollie got on the subject (though Ollie neglected to tell him he had, in fact, been a cook), which also tickled Ollie in a way he couldn’t explain. It made him want to flex his arms and look big. 

Three stacks of pancakes between them later, Ollie paid the check and they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

 "I have to report," Ollie said. "You might want to head home and ah -" He swiped his cheeks and chin with his palm.

Stan nodded. His whiskers needed sanding. The waitress had stared at him a little.

Ollie was staring at him, too. His eyes were sparkling. 

“Come to Maury’s some time,” Stan said. “You can see me work. I’ll be there every night this week.”

“I’d like that,” Ollie said, but Stan couldn’t tell if it was a punt or a promise. 

Ollie tipped his hat. “See you around, doll," he said. 

Stan flashed him an angelic smile. 

* * * 

No Ollie on Wednesday. No Ollie on Thursday. Not that Stan was anticipating. His tips were suffering, though; he wasn’t quite as funny when he was distracted. The mobsters didn’t trust a freak who wasn’t also a clown, and their girls didn’t like a downer. It was hard to be charming when every bigger guy who walked in the place sent a little jolt from his scalp down to his knees. But they always were too - something. Too rich, too crude, too repressed or too married. Their greatest crime, of course, is that none of them were Ollie.

Monday came again, and Maury didn’t pay him, even when he filled in for Bernadette a few times over the weekend.  

He needed money to eat, though. And for a ticket out of here, since it looked like he was back on his own.

Best way to make a quick buck? Well, Lady Godiva could tell you.

It started civilly enough on Tuesday night in the alley behind the club. The dumpsters made for convivial surroundings, and the romance was palpable as the rats scurried away from their twirling feet and the single bulb above the back door fizzled in its socket. The man was sweaty with beer and wanted to dance, sort of a swaying grabbing twisting motion - suddenly Stan had his chin elbows and knees up against the brick wall of the alley, and a hairy steel beam of a forearm across the back of his neck. Stan protested, with a giggle that was high with alarm. That big body ground against his and he ground into the dirty bricks. He clawed a little to get some purchase to shove back.

“Hey, wait, wait,” he protested, and that got him dragged around to face the guy, who didn’t look very keen on waiting. 

A few things went through Stan’s mind. One, he didn’t want to be here. Two, he wished he wasn’t. Three, his heels gave him a little extra height but the guy still had half a head on him, and four, this large drunk man was going to be shocked in a minute if his hand kept going - and that is a very specific kind of fear, the fear of being found out by an angry grasping hand in the dark. It vitalizes.

Stan struck back at him and gave a shout. 

And like a miracle, he heard an answering "Hey!" 

It might have been an angel. It was a big voice, if not very deep - but it was alarm enough to get the hand out from under his skirt. 

Stan took the opportunity to use a knee, and the man folded up like an ironing board. 

Stan looked up and there was - 

Ollie's shoulders filled the alley almost wall to wall as he came toward them. He swept the scene, the man crouched on the ground retching, Stan’s disarray and his heaving chest. 

His hand stretched out to Stan. "Come along - he can’t hurt you - well done." 

Stan took the offered hand and stepped over the gasping, sputtering heap. He slipped by between Ollie's double-breasted jacket and the brick wall, and heard Ollie give the guy a kick for good measure. 

On the sidewalk, Ollie brushed off his mink and repositioned it on Stan's shoulders. There was a run in his hose from the scrapes on his knees. His mascara was smudged up like two black batwing eyes. Ollie pressed his handkerchief into Stan's hand so he could clean himself up.

"Did he hurt you?"

Stan shook his head.

"Good. I'd go back and kill him." Ollie removed his coat because it was the gallant thing to do, and draped it around Stan’s shoulders. 

"Where have you been?" Stan asked. He didn’t want the coat - he was still hot from adrenaline, and mad at Ollie for abandoning him - but he grabbed it and pulled it tight around him all the same.

"What? Oh - they sent me to Omaha to pick up a load. Just got back into town tonight." 

Ollie looked so perfectly, sweetly innocent. Completely guileless. Just concerned for his friend, and very handsome in his dark suit. 

"Oh," Stan said.

"I’m sorry I didn’t make your show. I left a note at the boardinghouse."

"Oh," Stan said again.

Ollie's voice was very gentle. "Were you waiting for me?"

Stan nodded.

"I'm here now. Come on, let me walk you home."

Stan folded the kerchief shakily. ' 'I can't. Sheep-"

"Sheepshead, I know." 

They ended up back at the boarding house, together, Stan with his face scrubbed clean, snuggled in the crook of his arm sleeping soundly, as Ollie propped a book on his chest and read in the pink and orange glow of the jewel-papered lamp. 

This was nice, Ollie thought, looking away from the book to the window. Snow was hissing against the glass like an angry cat, but it was warm, Stan was snoring softly. It was nice. 

Stan exhaled, blowing the pages of Ollie’s book, sending him back some pages. Ollie thumbed forward to his place. Stan exhaled again. They fluttered back. And so on. Eventually, Ollie turned out the light and went to sleep. 

* * * 

They had fun. Stan left Maury’s club and found a job at a boutique, giving all of the broad-shouldered ladies and theydies advice and helping them find the right fit. Ollie put in for a couple months of shore leave, and for a while it was easy street. Sometimes they played darts, drank beer, argued, rode the L until they were sober enough to remember their stop. They went to the lake front and laid on the grass and teased the stone lions in front of the art institute. 

Sometimes Stan slipped on his little black dress and his heels and made Ollie prove he deserved him. Those were the days Ollie turned into a gentleman. Doors opened as if by magic, never an inconvenience to be seen. Kisses on his knuckles as if they were perfect, delicate strings of pearls, a hand possessively on his swishless hips as if to say, I got you. 

I get you.

Stan took Ollie to his first drag ball. Ollie was a hit in his best suit. He was easy to like and even easier to love. On the floor he lead with such a light-footed agility that Stan sometimes had trouble keeping up, and every one of the drag queens tried to budge in for their turn. It was a matter of feminine pride, wasn’t it, to try to ride the bull. Stan let them play, because at the end of the night, it was always him and Ollie. Stan belonged here, and Ollie belonged to him. 

And the clock ticked on. The stuttering from the Stock Exchange, so far away, became a rumble, became an avalanche. Towertown - like Greenwich, Times Square, like Camden, like babylon Berlin - was a dream, a fleeting Camelot that couldn't last. The crackdowns on public disease - of the flesh and of the spirit - closed the fairyland clubs and scattered the communes. The dreamer was stirring. The pendulum swung to the right, picking up momentum as the glory of glitz-and-jazz became hunger and want. Markets crashed and the soil turned to dust.

They skipped out of Chicago when Ollie’s shore leave was up. They tramped through the upper midwest on the bus routes, St Paul, Fargo, Duluth, as far as Bismark and back again to Cleveland, and then all the way out west to California. The horizons were dark, the faces in the street were drawn. Shangri-La faded into sopping wet socks, holes in their jackets, and odd jobs. 

History lurched from the sickly sleepwalk of hunger into a waking nightmare of war machines and atomic death, into bodies piled in camps and on the streets of Stalingrad and the tide lines of Normandy, and souls suddenly unmade by a flash in the sky. All this played out in the papers as he and Ollie scraped and saved and wandered the home front. Stan’s youth faded, too, he wilted and widened and wrinkled, and the only grace was his ill-fitting jacket hid some of it even from himself. 

* * * 

1955. They lived. They saw the war end, the men come home, and the prefab suburbs start stamping across the landscape. Eisenhower and his administration drew big bold lines across the nation and decided to pay for them with a gasoline tax. The commies took up residence under American beds, and the homosexuals fell back to the closets for self-preservation. They were good days for the nuclear family and a straightjacket for everyone else. 

Speaking of straightjackets - in the new atmosphere, Stan felt more and more like he needed one. 

The suit had never fit exactly right, but sometimes, it didn't fit at all. Then - in secret - he opened his battered case and pulled out the things he kept under the false bottom, fake gems and wrinkled velvet, and tried to breathe free, if only for a moment, in a strictured world.

He tried to keep it private, so as not to embarrass Ollie, not to shame him in front of his friends. America was bestride the world, the least Stan could do was keep up appearances in their little sphere of the second-hand antique shop (VERY OLD THINGS - Laurel and Hardy --- Proprietors). 

They had dinner tonight with some of Ollie’s new friends from the local Charitable Brothers lodge. He had been strangled for air all day… he didn’t want to go there looking like this, with his suit coat and shirt and the trousers that Ollie had pressed so nicely. It wasn’t… him. The thought of playing that masquerade all night… he was tired, he couldn’t do it. 

He held up the dress.

It was hopelessly out of fashion now. It smelled like he had packed everything from shoe polish to ham sandwiches on top of it. But he smoothed it out, put the stiff wrap around his shoulders, shook the last drops of perfume from the vial and dabbed them behind his ears. He strung the pearls around his neck and smiled at himself in the mirror. 

The pearls had lost their lustre, and his teeth showed another twenty-some years of coffee and cigarettes when he smiled. The smile quickly faded.

"Are you ready yet?" Ollie demanded, barging heavily into the bedroom, hat on his head and impatient.

He stopped short when he saw how Stan was gazing at the mirror, the haunted look in his eyes.

Ollie took off his hat. 

"I'm sorry -" Stan looked at the old bag in the mirror. "I'll change."

Ollie crossed the room and stood behind him, gazing over his shoulder into the glass. "Why? You look wonderful."

Stan snorted.

Ollie reached for his hand, pulled on it to turn Stan toward him. "As beautiful as the day I met you." He kissed Stan's knuckles with a bow and flourish. Returned Stan's hand to his side. Then spun one finger in the air. "Turn around, I'll do you up."

Stan put a hand over his mouth as Ollie's fingers crept down his back, then pulled the edges of the dress together and slipped the buttons into their holes. One by one, up his spine until the clasp at his collar, and Ollie put his hands on Stan's shoulders.

"Don't cry," Ollie said, gently.

Stan dropped his hand. He was grinning. He spun and hugged Ollie to him tight. He reached up to grasp his chin, turned his face, and give him a firm kiss on the cheek. 

Ollie kissed his forehead. "There you are. Come on, we'll be late.

* * * 

Shuffle the cards. Masculine, feminine, man, woman, Mars, Venus, two houses and a trench and barbed wire and the guard towers of convention in between. He lived in no-one's land in between, bombarded from both sides - and then Ollie had stumbled across him, stuck his head over the lip of the trench and called him doll, eyes sparkling. He recognized a fellow outcast, a fellow question without an answer.

They got out of the cab. 

Stan felt warm lips catch the cool metal of his dangling earring against his neck, and he shuddered. Ollie's hand squeezed his. It didn't matter if people stared. Let them.

“Who’s this?”

Ollie’s hand on the small of his back. "This is my wife." No shame and no joke. Daring the world to doubt it.

#don't like don't read etc

[spectre-requisitions-exchange]

Nominations are LIVE!

Time to get to nominating this year’s delicious rare pairs!

When nominating, please fill in “Mass Effect – All Media Types” in the fandom box.

As a reminder, both gen (&) and romantic (/) relationship tags are allowed for this exchange. Any relationship that fulfils the criteria below is eligible! If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask the mods!

ELIGIBILITY RULES:

A pairing must have 200 or less works when viewed with completed works OR

NEW: A pairing may have over 200 works, but when viewed with completed works and otp:true parameters, the amount of remaining works is both under 200 and less than 1/3rd of the total number of works. 

For Example:

* If Adrian Victus/Steve Cortez has 138 works, then it will be accepted as it has less than 200 works. No further filtering is needed.

* If Volus God (Self-Declared)/Liara’s Hanar Half-Sister has over 200 works, but when searched with the above parameters, only has 5 works, it would be allowed as it would have met the under the 1:3rd ratio rule.

* If Brooks/Krogan Wondering About Fish on the Citadel has over 200 works, but when searched with OTP: true and completed works parameters, has 100 works, then it would not be allowed, as the ratio between the completed works and completed works with just the pairing (otp:true) would be too high to qualify. This new rule is meant to help pairings that are commonly used as “side pairings” but rarely are featured in works where they are the focus.

If you have any questions on those rules or you just want to hang out and talk Mass Effect pairs beyond the most popular ones, consider joining us at Our Discord server. It’s a great place to hang out and talk rare pairs.

If this is your first year or you just want a  guide to find out how to do nominations, please read below:

1) Go to the Ao3 Tagset Page for Spectre Requisitions while logged into Ao3. A tagset is what most Ao3 fan exchanges use to determine what relationships (in Spec Rec’s case) or other criteria are used for an exchange.

If a pairing is not nominated, it will not be able to be used for sign-ups, regardless of whether it would have been eligible otherwise. (Example: Suvi/Chakwas, while certainly being eligible as far as total works go, won’t be an option to ask for if it’s not nominated.)  

If you don’t have an Ao3 account, contact the mods, we’ll be happy to help you get one with an invite link!

If you do have an AO3 account and you’re logged in, you should see this button in the corner that says “Nominate”:

2) Click the Nominate Button.

You should wind up with a page that looks like this, with 1 fandom tag and lots of relationship fields to fill out:

3) Fill out the Nominations Sheet.

For fandom, please use “Mass Effect - All Media Types”. We only use Mass Effect - All Media Types because it gives us the highest chance of getting that sweet, sweet Mass Effect content in there regardless of potentially sticky couples (for example: crossovers between a book and a game, or between the Mass Effect Trilogy and Andromeda, or crossovers between other media and Mass Effect) and because Ao3 frankly doesn’t like it when we have couples wandering through different fandoms in the tagset. For Relationships, any pairing/threesome/moresome that meets the eligibility rules. For most pairings, Ao3 should help autocomplete it for you -- but if you come up with a very original pairing (or AO3 is feeling unhelpful), it may require you to type in the full thing. If it does not auto-complete, don’t worry - you can still submit it! Pairings should be in alphabetical order of names. One pairing per line, please!

4) Submit your Nominations! Just click the button on the bottom, and you should be off off and away!

FAQ:

How can I tell what is under 200 completed fics? I’m not a mind reader, C-sec officer!

You can search AO3′s tags here to find pairings for a given character (canonical only gives you pairings big enough that Ao3 has declared them canonical categories). It should look something like this:

If you see a number under 200 here, you’re golden! Submit away. If it’s over 200 here, however, don’t despair - check the completed works. For example, let’s look at this couple, Garrus/Tali:

Doesn’t look eligible if you just do a tag search. However, if you click the tag and then do a search for completed works only and you might be surprised!

To do this search for completed works, look at the “Sort and Filter” sidebar and scroll down until you reach the “More Options” field and under “All Works”:

Click complete works only. And in this case, you’d find this couple is, in fact, eligible!

However, let’s say you look at the couple and find they are still over 200, as in the example below?

Well, there is one last thing to check:

Go back to the sidebar, then down to More Options and scroll down to “Search within results”:

OTP: True will show you ONLY the works that are tagged with JUST the target couple. When you sort and filter, you will see a total. In this example’s case, that number is 30:

What this means is that off the 204 works in Garrus/Tali right now, only 30 only focus on Garrus/Tali as a couple. As a result, the ratio of otp:true works to completed works is less than 1/3rd of the total, and the couple would be allowed to participate.

What if I accidentally nominate something that’s not eligible? Will I get in trouble?

Nah. You might wind up with it being rejected, but we assume most people operate in good faith in their nominations. If we reject a couple, we will always put it in the spreadsheet for the year linked on the sidebar with a reason why.

How many things can I nominate?

10 pairings - so choose carefully what you’d like to see and write. That covers both Andromeda and Trilogy, and all the novels, comics, etc.

Can I nominate, even if I’m not sure I’ll sign up or don’t plan on signing up?

Of course! Nominating isn’t a binding process - you’re only voting for what you’d like to see. You don’t have to sign up after nominating things - in fact, nominations are anonymous, so we can’t tell what you’ve nominated.

Are there any special rules/restrictions on what I can/can’t nominate?

Only the eligibility rules.

Can I nominate Original Characters?

Yes - ish. We allow original characters who are defined enough to give the person who matches on the original character something to go on, but not so much so they have to do an exhaustive amount of research on a fanon character. For example:

Allowable OC nominations:

Female Asari Spectre/Female Cerberus Agent - both these roles are defined in terms of what category of pairing they want (f/f), and the two roles give someone an idea of who these people are without being excessively limiting.

Not-so-allowable:

Communications Officer/Male Original Character: both of these are too vague. We’re not sure whether this person wants a male, female, nonbinary, or other gender for the Communication’s Officer; Male Original Character is so nebulously defined that we’re not sure just who that might be.

Female Shepard/Batarian(s) - We don’t know who these batarians are, or how many of them there are. “Five Male Batarian Pilots” tells us a lot more.

Male Shepard/Legion/Ebony Raven Darkmayne (My OC) - While we encourage you to add details about your Shepards or other OCs, it’s very hard to write for original characters someone else has formed. Please nominate your OC in more generic terms (ex Male Shepard/Legion/Female Original Goffic Hogwarts Student).  You can add in names and descriptions in optional details in your sign up, but this way the writer or artist has more wiggle room for what will suit their fic or art, and you have more options of matching more people since you aren’t limited to one interpretation of a concept.

A good rule of thumb is if you can sum up an OC in five non-name nouns, it’s probably a valid nomination.

Can I nominate crossovers?

Yes! Crossovers between different Mass Effect properties are welcome and and are crossovers between ! Just please, if the character you’re crossing over doesn’t hail from a Mass Effect canon, add in the canon next to the character name, eg “Darth Vader (Star Wars)/Garrus Vakarian.”

#Mass Effect #spectre requisitions #specrecs2021 #specrecs_nominations