take it slow, take it easy on me

Thinking about bigender! Trinity Santos and affirming his identity on days when he's feeling more masc…

Cw: smut/nsfw content, gender neutral reader, bigender! Trinity, I use he/him pronouns and masculine terms to refer to Trinity here, strap usage, strap sucking, riding/penetrative sex (reading receiving, obviously not specified as either vaginal or anal due to this being gender neutral), slightly sub! Trinity, praise kink

A/n: this post crept into my mind and wouldn't leave so I had to write my own little thing with it </3 also I totally get if this isn't for everyone but if you don't like it just scroll

♕ in love with her people, and king!robby. always has an outpouring of love for her children, princess!samira mohan and prince!frank langdon but has a soft spot for her longtime housekeeper!cassie mckay and their newest recruit, lady-in-waiting!victoria javadi. ♕ can be found in the throne room, listening to the plights of the village. often partakes in preparing the drawing rooms for guests, and admiring the ballroom. favourite pastime is visiting the people and purchasing a few unorthodox medicines from a certain stall. if all else fails, can be spied tending to the children, regardless of age. ♕ often described as mother hen, to everyone, not just relatives. hard as nails but easy to warm up. doesn't take anything lightly and follows through on a promise, no exceptions. caring yet firm, honesty is always appreciated and remembered.

🜲 in love with his country, and his queen!dana evans. found a platonic soulmate in castellan!jack abbot but tolerates his children, princess!samira mohan and prince!frank langdon at best. many would describe his relationships as strained. 🜲 can be found reading up on the state of the country, amidst developing royal decrees. mostly hiding away in the war room, ruminating on the latest plot. typically, treks around the castle and it's grounds to check in on his employees, and his family, rather too often. 🜲 often described as overbearing, always appearing when needed least. intelligent, nothing goes unnoticed yet lacks sympathy at times and prone to lashing out. widely adored and celebrated, creates a constant need for praise that feeds a growing ego. a trusted leader, solid and never fails when it matters most.

The answer is: the uterus isn't what causes your period, it is effected by your period. What causes your period and what causes trans women's periods is the same thing: the endocrine system.

HRT changes the sex of your endocrine system. Feminizing HRT makes it a female endocrine system, giving us a 28-day hormone cycle just like cis women. At the end of that cycle, the hypothalamus floods the body with prostaglandins. Those are what cause all but one of the period symptoms, because they make muscles inflame and contract. They are what make the uterus shed its lining, they are what cause intestinal cramps, they are what cause body aches, they are what cause headaches and migraines. The only period symptom not causes by the release of prostaglandins throughout the body is depression, and that is caused by your endocrine system simply not processing as much estrogen and from simply feeling like shit.

So, the only symptoms trans women don't get every 28 days is menstrual cramps, because yes we do not menstruate since we don't have uteruses. But migraines, depression, body aches, intestinal cramps, and the infamous "period shits" don't exactly add up to us having any better of a time. Except we have to pretend that we're fine and nothing is different because no one believes that we get periods, not even cis women.

She had an extremely sheltered upbringing, then when she snuck out to fight, she went to the Earth Kingdom version of WWE, which, if it’s like real world WWE, is family entertainment, and she never spent time backstage, she came she fought she left

I don’t know if the airbenders taught aang swears or not but I know he’s not really the type to swear anyway

JENNIFER'S BODY

Like. I’ve always sorta understood that things grow moldy or stale or sour or such if left out, but I never really internalized it in a meaningful way.

But now I’m just like.

Yeah. The hungering dust. There exists omnivorous dust in the air that will eat my food if I don’t.

Those bagels have been sitting there for a week. Are we going to eat them soon or are we leaving them for the hungering dust?

Pizza’s been sitting out on the counter for an hour. Everyone’s enjoying the pizza, but if we don’t want “everyone” to include the hungering dust then we should probably put it away soon.

That’s just. That’s how food works to me now. There exists an invisible predator in the air that hungers for your yummies, and it will not hesitate to eat your food if you don’t make the effort to protect and preserve it. And eat what can’t be preserved before the dust can.

“go bad”, it just gets eaten

by something else first

Part 1 @lanawinterscigarettes It’s always interesting when you see people you know as composed and strict in different circumstances than work. Well, [Y/n] and Jack had drunk together often enough before he left the military. But it’s different now. They’re not actively shot at (one of them isn’t) but the responsibilities stayed the same.

|Jack| [07:18]: Wanna catch up over drinks? First round is on me. |[Y/n]| [10:52]: Sure, tmrw? I can take two days off. |Jack reacted with ‘👍’|

The late reply came due to work, that’s something Jack understood. Working on dayshift left Shepherd with the stern supervisors so there was no time to check the phone. Still, a smile graced Jack’s face at the reply. The person he knew was still pretty much the same.

Meanwhile, the doctor was left with light in the dark tunnel of work, caused by Robby’s judgment and socialization. Shepherd genuinely wanted to go home. He likes it there, sure, but he’s not used to it. He doesn’t know anybody except Jack, and to an extent, Robby.

‘The first day is the worst,’ Shepherd repeats throughout the day, trauma after trauma.

The day didn’t end quickly. It stretched infinitely. By the time it was over [Y/n] could sleep for a whole day. Thank God he agreed to drink tomorrow, the deep-seated exhaustion would have time to rest.

While the man had a job already, he doesn’t have a place to stay permanently. He’s staying over at a hotel that was owned by a sweet old man who allowed [Y/n] to stay over for the minimum price after he found out Shepherd was a veteran. He didn’t want to be pitied for that, but the need for a place to stay was too strong.

“Hey, [Y/n], welcome back.” The man, Oscar, welcomed. He dropped the keys to Shepherd’s room in the man’s hand and gave a warm smile. “Have a good night.” “You too, sir,” Shepherd replied and sighed internally.

Yeah, he needed rest, for sure.

—

Jack took a night off as well and currently waited for [Y/n] to come to the bar they agreed to meet up at. The night was pretty chilly, cars were speeding by, the usual. Then Jack heard hurried footsteps and as he turned he saw the person he awaited.

“Sorry, calling a cab was too expensive,” Shepherd says, smiling awkwardly. “Is fine, glad you’re here, Shep,” Jack replied, nodding towards the bar. Come, you look like you need a drink.”

The two of them sat at the counter, ordering some beer. Jack had to drive back home, so he needed to stay relatively sober. [Y/n] just wanted to start slow. “Jack?” The younger man asked. “Hm?” “How’s the leg?” That caught Jack off guard. Sure, he expected a personal question, but not one that is asked with concern. “Hurts sometimes, but it’s nothing you can fix,” a pause, “You did a pretty good job on the amputation.” Now it was Shepherd’s turn to be caught off guard. “Thanks?” There’s really nothing else to say.

Eventually Jack stopped drinking beer and switched to water, which [Y/n] thought was a good moment to drink something stronger. Whiskey was too chic in Shepherd’s opinion, so he settled on shots. 2 Beers in and he barely felt anything. Sure, it was getting hot but that's it.  2 Shots in, he was feeling it. "So, [Y/n], what did you do after I left the military?" Jack found himself asking.  "Well, after I returned from Afghanistan, I got moved up into a Special Forces unit as a medic," Shepherd explained, not slurring yet. "Less easy fix-ups and more improvised surgeries." The medic couldn't help but laugh, even though his mind was reliving the moments all over again. "After they heard the story of the amputation," [Y/n] nodded at Jack's leg, "safe to say they were impressed." 

Soon enough Shepherd was drunk. Not tipsy but drunk, almost black-out. Jack entertained it, mostly because he knows the stress the man is experiencing as of late. 

"I'll be right back, wanna smoke," Shep finally said, sliding off of the bar stool with the coordination of a newborn giraffe. Memories were pushing towards the part of the brain he kept occupied with anything else. He stumbled out of the door, the cold air slapping him violently. [Y/n] fumbled around his jacket's pockets, looking for the few cigarettes and the lighter he got from a man in Afghanistan.  After finding it and lighting, somehow the stress felt smaller. [Y/n] knew that it's a bad thing to rely on smoking, but he doesn't really care about it anymore. 

A man, early 40s, stumbles into the alleyway Shepherd is relaxing in, and in his inebriated state manages to stumble into the former soldier. "Yo, my bad, man-"  That somehow made [Y/n] go way back mentally. That one time he felt the warmth fade from a body, but couldn't push it off. That one time people ignored the existence of the Geneva Convention. The one time they shoot at medics, kill the medics, make the medics be normal soldiers with extra knowledge. 

The only thing Shepherd found himself doing is also something he shouldn't have done. One moment he was drunk and forgetting the world around him and the other he felt too sober. His instincts screamed and he followed like an obedient little dog soldier.  The man who bumped into [Y/n] was lying prone on the ground, Shepherd on top of him. His heartbeat raced and he wasn't there. To the surprise of no one but the veteran the person who was rudely shoved into the asphalt fought back.  Blood poured out of Shepherd's nose and down onto the man's face, but just before [Y/n] could kill the man in his delusion, Jack rounded the corner. Abbot knew immediately what to do.  "Shepherd! [Y/n]!" The man was still gripping the poor victim, a hand creeping up on the man's neck. Jack notices, because of course he does. "[Y/n], check your six." 

Shepherd blinks, the familiar phrase scratching his brain in a good way. He looks around, hand loosening. "You're not there, you're in Pittsburgh. You're drunk." That's when Shepherd realized that he's not in the desert, he's not fighting for his and his comrades' lives. He's almost taking a live, the opposite of what he is supposed to do. [Y/n]'s hands jerk away from the man on the ground as if burnt, realizing what he's doing. "J-Jack- I-"  fuck fuck fuck fuck-  The victim finally scrambles away from [Y/n]'s grip, turning around and running. Shepherd is sitting on the cold asphalt, staring at his hands and trying not to cry. Crying is for the weak, he told himself.  Jack shifts to help Shepherd up, ignoring his own pain in the stub of his leg. 

I knew that I don't deserve it. If the rest of my coworkers knew what I- We had to do, they'd probably fire me. I don't deserve it, at all. I should lock myself up. I should've died with the rest of them. 

Then, after the adrenaline drains from the man's body, he passes out. The alcohol and emotions caught up with him. Shepherd didn't even know where he was, the answer being in Jack's car in the shotgun seat. Jack wasn't even able to extract an address from his friend so Jack's place it is. It's a blessing that Jack got a ground floor apartment, because hauling an unconscious man was a chore.  By the time [Y/n] was laid down on Jack's bed it was 1:44 AM. After countless embarrassing moments the two appreciated their bond, and Jack did so especially now.  He took off Shepherd's shirt and laid him to bed, himself going to get a quick shower. When Jack's done he climbs into Shep's arms, knowing how the man doesn't like not knowing who or what is touching him.