#I don't usually post non-questions but I needed this

[ere-the-sun-rises]

Okay, I'm sorry again Medieval and Biblical Latinists, but this post popped up in my notifs again and the more I look at it, the more revolted I become. Wheelock's love for Republican and legible Latin is possessing me from beyond the grave, so let's go.

"Pro Jupiter, puer, ecce bibendum!" Where the fuck do I even start. The sentence is straight up an incoherent collection of words. The literal translation is "Before Jupiter, boy, lo! about to be drank." What the fuck were you even trying to type??? Were YOU drunk doing this? I thought the Vatican was supposed to be full of monks with nothing better to do. You're shaming your 9th century copyist predecessors.

"Pro" is used wrong. It usually takes an ablative, because "before" is temporal, not spacial - it doesn't usually mean "in front of [object]" so much it means "[in the period of time] before [event]". If you're looking to say something like "by god", then a more natural invocation would in vocative or ablative of agent - "O Jupiter" or ""Ab Jove".

"Ecce" is bizarrely out of place. It should be at the beginning of a sentence because it's not actually a word, it's an exclamation. You wouldn't place "behold!" or "huzzah!" in the middle of a sentence, you heathen.

"Bibendum"? Bibendum??? You can't have a participle in a complete sentence without a normal verb. Participles can't ever stand on their own. If you're using this as a substantive ... why??? Just use the word for whatever this liquid is. Even as a substantive it barely makes sense. It's the equivalent of holding out a cup and saying "liquid" with no further context. Why are you making this so hard and ugly to read???

I don't think the sentence is even salvagable because I cannot figure out what the fuck it was even trying to say. If I had a gun with one bullet in it, I would use it to shoot this sentence. Hang the translator by the nipples unless they're into that.

I can't read most of the second panel, but the last phrase "dubito quin sciat" is clearly meant to stand on its own by the way the punctuation is placed. And that is a damn shame because it's horrific. It reads "I doubt why he would know."

Students, please note that "quin" is an interrogative adverb meaning "why?" The question mark is non-optional. It's literally only a question word - why is it in a passage that does not contain a question???

"Sciat" is weird here. Subjunctives can be used as a clause verb, but scio in particular usually takes an accusative noun to make sense. The word means "to perceive with the senses" but can also be used as shorthand for "to see/to know/to understand".

The sentence would read better as "dubito ut illum sciret" or "I doubt that [he] would see this [thing]."

0/10, broke ass original construction. Lock the translator in a basement with Wheelock's textbook until one or the other breaks.

"Heu, Timothee, mater tua delapsa est ob cutem arienae et P. S. mortua est." Fine, this one isn't technically wrong, but it is brutally literal in a frankly uninspired way.

"Delapsa est"?? Have you no imagination? No creativity? No sense of good Latin prose? Delabor does mean "to fall/to descend" but it also means "to fall to ruin/to be destroyed". A much better (and funnier) word would have been "cado", which means "to fall [down]" too, but crucially also means "to be cut down/to be slaughtered/to die". It would be a way better play on words with the "mortua est" following after.

His name needs to be Romanized. Do you think the Romans had names like Vergilius for fun?? No! It was so the fucking thing could be declined. Fix Timothee's name.

I don't like "ob". It feels wrong, like a skinwalker. It's not meant to be here. It can technically mean "on account of", but it's more prominent meaning is "toward". It should probably be replaced by a dative or ablative of agent/means here instead.

"Cutem" should be cuto, to be dat./abl. of agent/means. An accusative doesn't look right when the sentence's main verbs are passive, since passives are reflexive.

"et P. S. mortua est." Ugly, disfiguring little addendum. Why is it in the same past tense as delapsa? Repetitio is only fashionable in poetry. This is prose - you need variatio. Cicero and I hate it here.

It would read better as "Tua mater, Timotheius, cuto arienae casura est, cepitque morti." - "Your mother, Timothee, fell [by means of] the skin of a banana, and [she] was seized by death."

These panels only get more offensive to the Latin language the longer I look at them. This translator would get roasted alive by any ancient or Medieval scholiast who read this and they would deserve it. Even poets would vomit.

today i found out that if you have library access through ur school, you almost definitely have a copy of the vatican’s latin translation of diary of a wimpy kid and i am currently reading Commentarii de Inepto Puero thank you

[no-stupid-questions-official]

Not a question, just sending love to the mod. Thanks for running this blog <3

<3

[anistarrose]

Please don't tune out when you get to the non-partisan section of your ballot this November. First off, where state Supreme Court justices are elected, Republicans are trying their darndest to elect candidates who will destroy reproductive freedom, gut voting rights, and do everything in their power to give "contested" elections to Republicans. Contrast Wisconsin electing a justice in 2023 who helped rule two partisan gerrymanders unconstitutional, versus North Carolina electing a conservative majority in 2022, who upheld a racist voter ID law and a partisan gerrymander that liberal justices had previously struck down both of.

Second, local judicial offices will make infinitely more of an impact on your community than a divided state or federal legislature will. District and circuit courts, especially, are where criminalization of homelessness and poverty play out, and where electing a progressive judge with a commitment to criminal justice reform can make an immediate difference in people's lives.

It's a premier example of buying people time, and doing profound-short-term good, while we work to eventually change the system. You might not think there will be any such progressive justices running in your district, but you won't know unless you do your research. (More on "research" in a moment.)

The candidates you elect to your non-partisan city council will determine whether those laws criminalizing homelessness get passed, how many blank checks the police get to surveil and oppress, and whether lifesaving harm reduction programs, like needle exchanges and even fentanyl test strips, are legal in your municipality. Your non-partisan school board might need your vote to fend off Moms for Liberty candidates and their ilk, who want to ban every book with a queer person or acknowledgement of racism in it.

Of course, this begs the question — if these candidates are non-partisan, and often hyper-local, then how do I research them? There's so much less information and press about them, so how do I make an informed decision?

I'm not an expert, myself. But I do think/hope I have enough tips to consist of a useful conclusion to this post:

Plan ahead. If you vote in person, figure out what's on your ballot before you show up and get jumpscared by names you don't know. Find out what's on your ballot beforehand, and bring notes with you when you vote. Your city website should have a sample ballot, and if they drop the ball, go to Ballotpedia.

Ballotpedia in general, speaking of which. Candidates often answer Ballotpedia's interviews, and if you're lucky, you'll also get all the dirt on who's donating to their campaign.

Check endorsements. Usually candidates are very vocal about these on their websites. If local/state progressive leaders and a couple unions (not counting police unions lol) are endorsing a candidate, then that's not the end of my personal research process per se, but it usually speeds things up.

Check the back of the ballot. That's where non-partisan races usually bleed over to. This is the other reason why notes are helpful, because they can confirm you're not missing anything.

I've seen some misconceptions in the reblogs, so an addendum to my point about bringing notes on the candidates: I strongly suggest making those notes a physical list that you bring polling place with you. Many states do allow phones at the polling place, but several states explicitly don't — Nevada, Maryland, and Texas all ban phones, and that may not be an exhaustive list. There may also be states that allow individual city clerks to set policies.

You should also pause and think before you take a photo of your ballot, because even some states that don't ban phones still ban ballot photographs. But whether it's a photo, or just having your phone in general — in an environment as high-risk for voter suppression as the current one, you don't want even a little bit of ambiguity about your conduct. Physical notes are your friends.

[theheelerhouse]

Autistic Littles!

Hello there! This post is for caregivers who care for littles who are autistic. Here's some ways to help with meltdowns or times when autism is being meaner than usual! (All from my personal experience as someone with autism! Not everyone is the same!)

First, let's start with some of the possible warning signs of a meltdown! 1. Sensory Issues worse than usual -> Textures may be described as "wrong" or "bad" -> Things may be perceived as louder than they actually are -> Things may be perceived as brighter than they actually are -> Room feels like it's closing in around you 2. May become more irritable -> May be more prone to snapping or having an attitude -> Could possibly be described as more "stubborn" 3. Trouble communicating -> Being non-verbal for a prolonged amount of time -> Trouble expressing feelings or emotions -> Could also speak faster than usual or slower than usual -> Saying things like "I don't know what's wrong" or "I can't figure out what's happening" 4. Difficulty taking care of self -> Forgetting to eat/not wanting to -> Not sleeping as they normally would -> Not having the motivation or energy to do basic tasks 5. Isolation -> This is a big warning sign! -> Not wanting to go out/leave the house/leave their room -> Struggling when they do leave their space 6. Increase in stimming (whether super noticeable stims, or more passive ones) -> Hand flapping, rocking, mouth popping, hair fidgeting, fidgeting with hands, etc These are some of the possible warning signs, but everyone is different. Now, here's some ways you can help a little experiencing this.

~Be patient and understanding. Autism can be scary outside of littlespace, but it can be scarier when little. Try not to get angry or frustrated. ~Avoid yelling or any other loud noises ~Don't force them to talk or communicate. Sometimes it's better to just have someone there ~Listen if they do try and communicate their needs. ~Going along with the one above, but don't feel hurt or like you did something wrong if they ask to be left alone or tell you they need space. Sometimes having someone around is too much and they might just need to process their emotions on their own. ~Communicate on ways to help once the meltdown seems to subside ~Remember that everyone is different. What you've seen work for someone might not work for someone else. It varies (which is why communication is good) ~Try to give suggestions if sensory issues is something that's a main struggle ("Try changing into comfy clothes" "Try a different blanket" "Turn off the TV?" "Turn off the lights?") Just trying to figure out what helps and what doesn't ~Offer a distraction if that's what they need (Ask about hyperfixations, even if you already know the answers to the questions. One of the good ones for me that always seems to come up is dinosaurs <3)

Remember: It's okay if something you do doesn't help. That's how you learn and you know not to do that thing next time. It's okay <3 You're doing great

[petermorwood]

I have a sword question, if I may. Or more of a sword confusion Im seeking clarification on.

In my mind a fantasy european standard sword (that obviously doesnt really exist, but like, when a knight or someone in a story has an unspecified sword), I always imaged a straight blade with a triangular tip, both edges sharp cutting edges.

Then at some point I learned about eg scimitars that have a cutting edge and a ...blunt edge?

I was looking at your recent addition to the post about the Turkish sword, where you distinguish between an inner cutting edge on a sword v an outer cutting edge.

And then Im thinking of those enormous zweihander types that are all about momentum and do those even need a particularly sharp edge? They seem in dnd parlance to be a bludgeoning weapon not for slashing.

And while Im asking, like. Rapiers are very stabby weapons, do they have sharp edges at all or judt a sharp point?

I guess my overall question culminates something like "what parts of swords are designed for what damage and why? Is there anything all swords have other than blade and handle like can they all be used for stabbing or do some have very blunt points etc? Is it a big deal for a sword to be double-edged, does that necessitate specific training? Whats up with different sword blades?"

I realise thats a pretty enormous question that might be unreasonable to ask. Im happy with whstever response you are or arent willing to give. Hope you have a good day :)

Sharp edge / blunt edge is the setup on any kitchen or table knife you've ever encountered, and being able to put a hand on the blunt "edge" - usually called the back of the blade - not only helps when mincing herbs or garlic, but also features in some techniques of swordplay.

Other techniques employed non-blade parts of the weapon, using the pommel like a mace and the crossguard like a pick-axe.

*****

Whether swords should be straight or curved, single- or double-edged, was an argument which continued as recently as the early 1900s.

The last swords issued to cavalry for combat use (modern parade swords don't count) were both remarkably similar designs, straight-bladed for thrusting, adopted by the UK in 1908...

...and the US in 1913.

There was, of course, strong opposition from those who insisted cavalry swords should be sabres curve-bladed for cutting instead.

Equally of course, both sides failed to notice - or ignored, since a certain kind of cavalry officer was only bright as regards boots, buckles and buttons - the uncomfortable fact that machine-guns and repeating rifles had made the whole ta-ran-ta-rah "cut them down with your swords, men!" cavalry charge an exercise in futility.

*****

D&D, unless they've considerably upped their accuracy game, isn't much of a reference for weapon realism.

"Enormous Zweihanders" and other big swords such as the Montante were a lot lighter and more nimble than they'd seem from reading an encumbrance chart.

They had their own techniques to take best advantage of length, leverage and momentum and were indeed sharp. Given a choice between a sharp combat weapon and a blunt one, sharp makes far more sense.

In addition, a sharp blade is lighter than a blunt one simply through having less metal. It may only be a few grams of difference, but it IS a difference.

That's also the reason behind a fuller, the groove(s) along a blade.

They're not "blood gutters", tough and cool though that may sound, but a way to reduce a sword's weight while preventing its blade from getting excessively flexible.

Finally...

The re-enactor is wearing half-armour, but these big swords were also meant for use against unarmoured opponents. Bodyguards often carried them (they looked impressive) and those sweeping strokes could block an entire street while The Boss got away.

That's when an ability to cut rather than merely bludgeon makes all the difference. Determined assassins might try to rush a blunt sword, but a sharp one would give anyone second thoughts...

*****

Double-edged swords versus single-edged ones seem to vary depending on cultural preference - also on period of history and intended function.

Bronze Age European swords had straight or leaf-shaped blades with double edges...

...while Ancient Egypt had the curved, single-edged khopesh, a shape which also turned up in Ancient Assyria (this one's in the Metropolitan Museum, New York USA).

It's listed as a "sickle sword", an incorrect term which I wish would go away because sickles are sharp on the inside of the curve while swords like this - their grip-shape shows how they're meant to be held and swung - are sharp on the outside.

And just when "the Ancient Middle East used curved single-edge swords" looks like a handy generalisation, along come straight swords, one from Ancient Egypt...

...another from Luristan, now part of modern Iran.

This next one comes from Ancient Iberia (Spain), right at the other side of the Mediterranean. Evidence of trading links? Your guess is as good as mine.

Iberia went on to use the falcata, a short single-edged forward-curved sword.

Those extra bits round the blade are scabbard metalwork; the wood and leather scabbard is long gone. This repro shows how they would have looked when in place.

Iberia also used a straight double-edged sword which so impressed the Romans that they adopted it, refined it and used it for several centuries. Here's one of the several Roman versions of that gladius Hispaniensis (Spanish sword), double-edged, mostly meant for stabbing but capable of very effective cuts as well.

Here's my repro of a similar sword, the elegant "Mainz" pattern with its long point and waisted blade. Very pretty, and pretty wicked.

*****

"Curved single-edged swords are Eastern, straight double-edged swords are Western", is another generalisation that won't work.

Here are Eastern straight swords...

...and Western curved ones.

*****

Viking swords were all double-edged...

...except when they weren't.

*****

Many rapiers could cut. Smallswords, which came later, couldn't.

Earlier rapiers with broader blades cut better than later ones with narrow blades, but IIRC even the later Italian and Spanish rapier styles include cuts directed at the opponent's face and sword-arm.

I have a notion that the modern thing about cutting with rapiers is based (like back-carry) on seeing it done in movies. IMO - more about it here - that's actually more a modern stage-combat safety thing than a period real-combat move. A fumbled cut is bruising and unpleasant even with a "safe" prop sword, but a fumbled thrust into the eye-socket or throat with that same "safe" sword can be fatal.

Even those early rapiers wouldn't sever a head or limb - a finger maybe, hence the elaborate hand-protection of swept and cup hilts - but blood from a forehead wound running into the eyes was, and in boxing still is, an efficient way to finish a fight by ensuring the opponent can't continue. One of the duels in "The Duellists" ends this way.

This example is a bit optimistic, IMO...

...but a longsword (double-edged)...

...or a messer (single-edged)...

...was quite capable of disarming an opponent in a very literal way.

*****

Some swords had minimal points, being intended mostly for cutting. One example of this is the Indian khanda broadsword. The second example is also very clearly single-edged.

Another cut-only sword without a point (but with double edges) is the Richtschwert (justice sword)...

...though this was a single-function (and hopefully single-cut) tool rather than weapon, neither balanced for nor intended for combat.

Hope this has helped answer the questions!

[actual-changeling]

This post is going to show you the EXACT moment that tear forms with indisputable evidence that consists of several screencaps, detail shots, and slowed down video proof, which will be at the very end.

The tear and I are getting married, her name is Trina and I love her.

Let's get right into it. Be prepared for uh. Very painful facial expressions! And tears (at the end).

We're going to look through the final fifteen chronologically with pit stops at important emotional points that I think would make sense to cause a tear.

As you can see, we go into this argument with mostly dry eyes, a little glistening here and there but those are NOT tears. Probably just the contacts plus the lack of blinking making his eyes a bit more moist than your usual pair. The tear will be obvious.

Obvious disbelief when Aziraphale tells him about the Metatron's bullshit, yes, but Crowley soldiers on through.

Now a scene that I personally thought would be most likely to cause tears - "tell me you said no". However - his eyes stay dry! Both before and after Aziraphale's non-answer. No tears.

The best spot to look at is his waterline, and as you can see it's free of any sad tears.

We have reached the "go off together" stage, Crowley is yelling, they're both emotionally perturbed, a very good foundation for tears. Yet when you look at his eyes during and right after, they're still dry!

We are now right before Crowley says "you can't leave this bookshop" and when he does BOOM the tear is suddenly there!

This is what our tear looks like, and we have a very narrow time frame during which it can appear. So it is time for the grand reveal because by now you're probably yelling at me "okay but WHEN does it show up??"

I will tell you. Or rather, I will show you first and then tell you what Aziraphale said right before that triggered it. Ready?

There it is. Left - no tear. Right - tear. (no i will not make the trivago joke again i want to but i wont.)

Come with me! To heaven! I'll run it, -> no tear yet. It appears after the next part.

you can be my second in command THAT is what causes the tear to finally show up. Right as Aziraphale finishes his sentence you can watch as it appears.

As promised, here is the video evidence, slowed down by half and zoomed in on Crowley's face at the end.

Alright, have you seen enough tears? Good! Let's look at the emotional reason. Because your question is probably what is so special about that sentence that it tips Crowley over the edge?

That one sentence, that one "promise" Aziraphale makes him, destroys everything. All of it in one go.

It is not just about Aziraphale choosing heaven over him, it's not about him saying no to running away (Crowley probably saw that coming anyway). What Aziraphale does is he takes them, their us and eliminates it.

Not just is he telling Crowley that he's an evil demon tm who needs to be an angel to be worthy of staying in Aziraphale's life, but "second in command" takes that even further.

Not "ruling together" or "ruling side by side" or any variation of those. No, Aziraphale is telling him that they are not equal and never have been. That Crowley has always been inferior to him and always WILL BE even if he stops being a demon and does what Aziraphale wants.

This is why Crowley no longer things of them as an us after all of that. Aziraphale took every single meaning it had and inverted it, crushed it up, and then threw it away.

Yeah.

Crowley is telling him he is gay and in gay love with him. Aziraphale takes that and says "you can be my employee at gay conversion therapy which i will run #straight besties".

Crowley hears "second in command" and it is the last puzzle piece falling into place. It's the final straw and that is when we get the tear. Before that he was saying we can be together, be an us, just the two of us, you and me. He was referring to them as free equals who don't need heaven or hell, who are happy with everything the way it is. An Aziraphale who loves Crowley no matter what his former occupation might have been.

We could have been us. (I wanted us to be an us)

And Aziraphale's answer to that is there has never been an us and we never will be. i don't love you the way you love me.

Anyway, see y'all on my next angst post or in the tags. Have another devastating screencap to wrap this all up nicely 💚

[alienpossession]

This is the original post by @mindmelter

I think the tatted hunk knew how much I went nuts for him because he literally brought a friend along just a couple hours after the alien slithered into him with my help. This friend is similarly built with the tatted hunk (dare I say bigger) and he seemed to be more of a rugged, non-Caucasian version

This friend's takeover only happened hours after they walked out from the elevator and do God knows what in the tatted hunk's room. This time, the friend entered the elevator all alone as the time shown that it's almost sunrise. Judging from his look, he seemed to be heading to the gym and clearly they fucked the night before. I press the button to release yet another alien, and he seems to be too deep in his own thinking until it's too late as the alien already shot itself to his ear when he realized from his peripheral vision that something is lurking near him. He thrashed around wildly, a common occurence I already used to see for the past few months which indicate that the alien is on the process of covering the entirety of the human brain with its slimy self, and I obviously fished out my cock from my uniform while enjoying the sight.

After all the usual moves of physique check coupled with a quick self-worship, the alien then surprised me with his request

"Open up the access to your office, human. I want to meet you directly,"

"Okay, why?"

"We didn't employ you to ask question, human. Just do it,"

I have zero idea what is up with this particular one, but if it's like the encounter that happened during the early weeks I started this whole arrangement with them, well I expect him to fuck the shit out of my mouth, which I don't really mind if I have to be honest, but judging from the time, this is quite a risky move as the next shift is about to start in 40 minutes.

But I eventually let him walk into the control room since I'm not going to mess around with a slimy extraterrestrial being that can make my brain obsolete and practically turned me into a meat puppet. Once inside, he told me to open up the folder filled with all the video I have of all the takeover. I gulped before asking him

"Why?"

"How many times do I need to remind you that we don't employ you to ask questions, human. Just open the folder," As I double-click the folder and revealed the 68 videos of the takeover, he grinned at me

"Let's make video 69, shall we?" He double-clicked the video titled "The Three Musk-eeters" which I vividly remembered to showcase three gym junkie that just finished their late preparation for some sort of worldwide bodybuilding competition taken over by one slime that managed to split itself into 3 and made the three into a closely-coordinated unit that operates in group.

The video played while the tatted hunk draped his muscular arm over my shoulder and rested his chin on top of my head while his hand fondled my cock. "Sir, why are we doing this now? This is almost the end of my shift, what if the next shift walks in to us doing all this?"

"Well, you can always use a helping hand, don't you think? Oh fuck, look at them going at the blond's dick, how long you held that elevator LOL?"

"T---ten minaaaggghh---minutes,"

"Seems like you won't last that long if I keep this up, next video!" He stopped jacking off my cock, but not before he tugged at it very quickly I started to leak pre. Then, with that slick sweaty and slightly coated hands of his, he handily used the mouse to click on another video randomly. It opens the one titled "Gun-totting Russian" as he then moved away from his previous position and instead kneeling to then expertly swallowed the entirety of my 5.5 incher hardening cock.

All the crazy head action happened while my eyes fixated on the screen that shows how the big Russian dude, Maksim, managed to grab the slime and tossed it right before it shot itself to his ear canal. Then, he swiftly shot at the slime and split it into two, thinking that he just killed some sort of weird abomination or something. He then squatted, his big mistake, to check on what kind of shit that just attacked him but before he could thoroughly check it, the two slimes leapt from the floor right to his mouth and ear. He screamed to no avail as he flailed on the floor, all 240 pounds of his muscle jerked uncontrollably as the alien started its violent takeover of his massive body. The video successfully pushed my cock to reach its full mast at almost 6 inches and I can feel that I'm so close to shoot my load before the tatted dude stop the head action

"Ohhh.......judging from the file name and the sound made, it must be Maksim Alimov," he said to me while still placing himself in between my legs with his mouth hovering right in front of my cock and his nose exhaling warm air right to my tip, "Big catch, don't you think? Probably the most notorious one among the other 68. Must be crazy hot to think that such a ruthless mob boss on the run like Alimov there is merely a dumb muscle puppet *slow lick around my tip* controlled by my kind, all thanks to a lowly security *gentle flick of his tongue right on my piss slit* like you," he finished his sentence right when I eventually shoot the warm geyser all over his face.

He chuckled at the sudden eruption and in a shocking display of his puppet's physical advantage, his long tongue cleanly lapped the surrounding of his lips, chin and even the tip of his pointy nose. He then grabbed my day-old underwear and use it as if it's some kind of cloth to clean the rest of his face before tossing it back to me

"Well, that's video 69 for ya. No takeover but I bet it will be your favorite from now on because why on Earth a straight, macho tatted hunk like me willingly kneel and then eat your cum unless I'm just a brainless human with no free will whatsoever, right?"

I nodded in embarassment as his statement managed to make my softening cock hardened once more

"Fuck, you're one horny guy. Hmm too bad it's 5:47 now, clean yourself up quickly before your shift replacement comes. I'll see you later and keep up the good work, security man," he said as he quickly dashed out to the parking lot, probably roleplaying as the tatted hunk driving his sports car to do his morning gym routine.

As I finished dressing up, saving the recording of this very room from the time he came until he left just now and replaced it with fake recording of me just sat in silence, the time on the screen shows 5:52, and a fit-looking daddy just entered the elevator to come down for his breakfast.

Noting the usual time needed for takeover and how my friend Juan usually came a bit late around 6:03 to 6:05, I pressed the button to recruit this daddy to the collective. I'm this close to press the button once the daddy walked out from the elevator to have his breakfast in the hotel restaurant and a shirtless buzz blond stud walked into the elevator. But, it's 5:58 and I'm not about to risk Juan to witness what I'm up to, so I just sighed and prepare myself to leave for the day. Next time you'll not be so lucky, stud.

[safination]

Bringing the Rain to You

|Masterlist|

Pairings: Adam x Reader Warnings: None! TLDR: It doesn't rain in Heaven, but sometimes all you need is that one, special person, and maybe, fake rain isn't so bad after all.

Wow, would you look at that? A non-Alastor post! I'm surprised as well, but this is for the biggest Adam simp ever @redvexillum. You feed me Alastor, and I feed you Adam. It's a mutualistic relationship. Enjoy my short one-shot. I would make this longer but if I keep writing I might have to go into overtime. I only spent like an hour or two of this, don't judge too hard. I have yet to achieve god level of writing

It doesn’t rain in Heaven – maybe, it should, honestly.

There’s something comforting about the soft pitter-patters when droplets hit the roof. Or the drip of cool water down flushed skin. The memories call out for you, teasing you with reminders of days spent under the clouds, hand in hand long before the concept of rings was invented. Most of all, it reminds you of golden-yellow wings.

Association is a weird thing. It doesn’t listen to rationality – it just is.

Maybe, if it rained up here in Heaven, the floods within you would filter out your chest and seep into the clouds and flush down the streets.

You curl your legs closer to your chest, sulking on the park bench. Children’s laughter echo between the trees, and are lifted high up into the clouds. So much happiness in one are—

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Water droplets hit your skin, and slide down your cheek.

It’s . . . raining? That’s impossible. It never rains in Heaven, but here it is, drops of water kissing your face.

“Hey, babe.” There it is – the most beautiful golden-yellow wing. It hovers above you, shielding you from the rain. Adam smiles down at you, standing with such a proud puff as he uses his wing to shield you from the rain. “What’s a fine bitch like you doing out here alone?”

“I wouldn’t be alone if I had my husband with me.” You lean back on the bench, cocking your neck back to look into him. “You’re going to get wet, honey.”

“I know!” Adam laughs, and his wings extend as he does. “But it’s fucking hot—admit it, you’ve always wanted me to do this.”

You beckon him closer, and wipe away drops of water from his helmet with a smile. “How is it even raining, baby?”

“Who the fuck do you think I am?” Adam says. “Rain is a no biggie. For you, I can make it storm.”

“How sweet.” You clutch your heart and swoon into him. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Adam moves his wing, far enough to show you what’s above but still close enough to shield you—nothing more, nothing less. “It doesn’t rain in Heaven,” he says. “But I can bring the rain to you.”

Lute hovers above, a garden hose in her hands. There are three other angels next to her, each with their own garden hose. Lute gives you a thumbs up, and you give one back. Sweethearts. That’s what they are—each and every one of them.

“Baby, you can’t keep using them for personal use,” you say, but still . . . it’s a smile that appears on your lips. “Sera will be furious.”

“Nah, these bitches don’t mind—they love us! And technically, you’re also using them for personal use.” Adam gives them a thumbs up, and they all salute back with a proud puff. “I didn’t find you when I got back from He— uhhhh . . . I came from the house, and I didn’t see you.”

“And your next guess was to go here?”

“I assumed you were moping as usual,” he says, and despite the helmet you can see how he rolls his eyes. “Figured you were here. What are you doing here anyway?”

You show him your brightest smile. “Thinking of divorce.”

Adam’s wing flicks a little. Still, he keeps it above your head to keep your dry from his rain. “Fuck . . .no!” He removes his helmet, and those golden eyes stare straight into you. “I’m not letting you divorce me.”

You press a kiss on his cheek, letting your lips brush him with each word. “And why not?”

“Babe, I’m not letting the baddest bitch in my life leave me.”

“Baby, you disappeared for twenty-four hours again.” You kiss his nose, and a bit of that fake rain transfers back to your lips. “I would have liked a good-bye before you left for wherever it is you go during this time of the year.”

Adam brings his hands under your armpits, and lifts you to stand. He pulls up part of his robe and brings it over your head until you’re snuggled into his clothes and flushed straight into his squishy chest. You can feel the heat of his skin.

Those wings of his hover above, shielding the both of you from the rain he commanded.

“What a stupid fucking thought.” Adam pulls you, setting you on his lap. “Moping because I didn’t say good-bye.”

You lean into his chest, snuggling under his robe. “Baby, you mope when I forget to kiss you good-bye during the mornings.”

“That’s different,” Adam tells you, and leans his chin over your hair. “I’d fucking combust if I don’t get my good-byes. Guts and blood would just be everywhere. It would splatter on some poor fucking kid.”

“What a sight that would be.” You bring your legs up, and curl as deep as you can into him. “ . . . Thank you for the rain. I love it.”

“I’d make a thunderstorm for you if you stop thinking of divorcing me.”

“Me?” You press a kiss on his cheek. “Divorce you? I would never do such a thing.”

Adam brings his arms around your waist. “Fuck off,” he says. “You just said you were thinking about it. This is . . . fuck, what’s it called? . . . You’re gaslighting me!”

“Baby, I was just pulling your leg.” You cup his face, squishing his cheeks as you do. “Who in their right mind would leave you?"

“I can think of a few.”

Adam grabs your chin, and presses his lips straight into you. Kiss after kiss after kiss after kiss. That’s what happens during twenty-four hours of not seeing each other. It’s like you’ve become newlyweds once more.

He traces the gold ring around your finger. “Marry me?”

You kiss his jaw. “I already did that.”

Adam rolls his eyes, but still . . . he settles his chin on your shoulders and stares straight at the Winners who smile and laugh. There’s a far away look on his face – it’s the same look he gets every single year without fail – and you know he’s thinking of the Sinners down in Hell. Sometimes you forget, those Sinners were his children too.

“Come back to me, baby,” you mumble against his neck, pressing a little kiss. “You’re drifting off to a place I can’t follow. What do you need?"

Adam’s wings flutter a bit, and he presses you deeper into his squish. “Stay with me.”

“Done.” You kiss his cheek. “What else do you need?"

“Keep cooking for me.”

The second kiss goes on his other cheek. “Always.”

“Listen to me play,” he says. “I thought of a new riff. I think you like it.”

“Whenever and wherever.” A kiss to the nose.

It’s funny to see him scrunch his nose a little. It’s not often he takes off his helmet in public, but you’re not going to complain. Not when there’s that boyish grin spread across his lips. “Love me.”

“I do.” You press one, single kiss on his lips. “Always and forever.”

It doesn’t rain in Heaven, and it never will. Gone are the days of those grey clouds, and the sound of the droplets during the night. But . . . maybe, it wasn’t the rain you were chasing because despite garden hoses flinging water above you, you’re perfectly happy.

[prettyboykatsuki]

OLIVER WITH #91 PLEASEEE

✮ 91 + oliver aiku | “Don’t go on that date.” “Why?” “You know why.” “Say it.”

✮ tags ; fem!reader (reader is wearing makeup, is referred to as princess. no other gendered language), arguing, kiss n makeup.

Your relationship with Oliver is not the kind you get over as much as you just move on from.

Getting over it implies that a time will come where you can think on your time spent together and not feel bitter. Where Oliver is concerned, you're certain you'll never feel completely at ease about whatever the two of you had, if there was anything to be had there in the first place.

There's nothing tangible to your relationship. No anniversaries or Instagram posts that require archiving. A situationship is a kind way to phrase what was mostly just a secret. In the confines of cheap shady motels, unsaved numbers, and empty parking lot.

Getting over it implies that someday you'll be able to sit in a cramped bath tub with someone else without thinking of his scruff on your shoulder and his face in your neck. Or that you can have car sex with another person and think of something other than the way you felt being held afterwards.

You're not going to get over Oliver, but you want to move on from it eventually. It's a path leading to nowhere, and there's nothing for you following it faithfully to it in the end. There's no point trying to chase after Oliver and being kept in the dark about what's so obvious to you both.

You're going on a date as request from your close friends. He's a nice guy. Average height with a good career from your told, though you don't know what he looks like.

You're waiting for your Uber when Oliver shows up at your door step, the same as always. Bright-eyed, non-chalant as he saunters towards you and leans on the railing for the steps in front of your apartment.

"You look nice," He says, voice familiarly unaffected. You don't ask him any questions, refusing to let him hold your curiosity against you.

"I have a date. The Uber will be here in ten."

You're expecting the usual. You've played this card before, much earlier - trying to push Oliver into jealousy and force his hands. It didn't work then, smug bastard he is rolled with the punches and let you go with the assurance you'd be crawling back to him.

It's hard not to be surprised when he doesn't look unbothered. His jaw clenches and it's slight but it's there. "A date? With who?"

You tear your eyes away from his face, trying not to get swayed any further. "Dunno. Someone my friends set me up. Works in tech or something."

"That all you know about him?"

You furrow your brows. "It's a blind date."

"If you're looking for a guy with good money, I'm already around you know."

"Fuck off, Aiku." You say the words through a sigh. "I already told you we're not doing this. Quit wasting my time and go home."

He's quiet for a long time and you can't tell what he's thinking. Truthfully seeing him so lost in thought scares you. "I'm not trying to waste time. I'm telling you you don't need to see him."

You scoff reflexively. "The fuck is that supposed to mean? You think you're my boyfriend or some shit? Go home and fuck off. If you want to go get your dick wet call one of the thousand other people you know,"

"You know it's not fair to pretend that's all I was doing,"

You're going to blow a fuse.

"I don't need to pretend. As far as I'm concerned that's all it ever was. We've talked about this already. You don't need to hand hold you through my fucking problems with you. Don't talk to me about what's fair and what's not."

"Don't go on that date." He reiterates. You seethe, stepping close to him until your nose to nose.

"Why, huh? Tell me what the fuck reason I have not to go."

He looks down at you, somber and unreadable and angry in a different way than you. "You know why. You already know, you've always known. So don't go and just stay here already. Shit, you think I come chase down anyone else like this? You think the only reason I'm this desperate is so I can fuck you? Be serious. If that was the only thing I'd go back home. But I'm here. I'm here,"

You think about killing him. You think about kissing him so violently your teeth clash. You take a sobering breath, shaky as you look up at him. You want to cry and you resent yourself for being that vulnerable over him of all people. "Say it. I don't care about you being here. Be honest or go home, Oliver."

He sighs, long and hard. Eyes closed, he looks the way he did when you met him at nineteen. His hand on your face is large, warm and familiar - so much so you flinch away from it.

He forces your face towards him. "Don't run away from me after cornering me, princess. Look at me," He hums soft and your feel your heart pound. You tell yourself not to get swept away. He presses his thumb to your lip, swiping the makeup till it smudges across your mouth. "....I love you, alright? I'm here because I love you and I've only loved you for the last... however many years we been at this. So don't go on the stupid date with whatever loser your friends set you up with and stay."

He presses his forehead to yours and you feel the world collapse. Fuck him. You're going to kill him for doing as he pleases and then maybe yourself for always going along with his stupid whims. "Don't go looking this pretty for other people. Hurts my feelings."

"You're the worst man I've ever met in my entire life," You say.

"I know. And I love you. I wanna keep being good to you," He says. He sounds so mature it irritates you. "I want you to sleep in my place. I like seeing your shampoo in my shower."

"You're such a piece of shit, do you know that? You think you can just waltz into my life and—I'm not gonna forgive you that easily, alright?"

"I'll spend the rest of my life saying sorry," He says, so easily. He looks so sincere it's hard to keep your resolve. "I don't want to make you feel insecure by not putting words to this. And you don't have to forgive me, just don't go. Don't see other guys for shit I can give you."

"You're annoying and you piss me off and your stupid ass commitment issues get in the way of everything so start going to therapy," You let him hold you as you go on and on. Oliver takes it in strides. "And tell people we're together instead of saying you're seeing someone. And let me be there for you instead of putting up a wall whenever you feel too vulnerable. The minute you act like a prick again, I'll leave you forreal."

"Alright. I love you. I'm sorry,"

His expression is so tender. You've seen it before. It's so obvious that he loves you it nauseates you. The reason Oliver is so hard to get over is because he's always good to you. All the intimate ways he stands by you and sticks to you, supports you even when he can barely bring himself to get serious enough. He's so stupid.

"Whatever. I love you too, I guess, but you know that,"

"And you'll stay with me, yeah?"

You frown at him, face to his chest. "Yeah. Comp me for my Uber, you prick."

"Uh-huh," He looks down at you. "Kiss?"

You reach up and press your mouth to his chastely. He returns it kissing you deeper.

"Since you're already dressed so pretty, let's go on our first date."

He holds your hand, smiling as you hold them back. Damn him. You look down with a pout.

"Yeah. I wanna go,"

[milevenstancyendgame]

Eleven And Ableism

So I've been seeing recurring awful ableist views on El, all the way from old s1 posts to recent post-s4/s5-anticipating posts, and I won't have it.

People talking about El as though she was stupid. Because she barely spoke in s1, and in the following seasons still speaks like a child sometimes. Because she didn't learn a whole lot of things that children usually learn in our society, because she's lacking social knowledge.

This hurts me in a very personal way, because I have complex trauma too, with similar adaptations as El, and I've experienced the same discrimination, and still am experiencing it profoundly by the ableist welfare/medical system.

El doesn't talk much in s1, because she's traumatised, both in general, and freshly re-traumatised after being forced into the tank, encountering the demogorgon, opening the gate, fleeing the lab, seeing the first kind person to help her getting murdered, and then being bombarded with a ton of questions and unknown terms by a group of boys, the majority of whom don't seem very friendly towards her at first, but react to her like something abnormal/disgusting (wow, that's a lot) .

And she obviously was horribly abused during her whole childhood; objectified as a weapon and taught to not take up any space. She was just told what to do all the time. To only speak when spoken to.

She finds herself in a completely new environment full of strangers. Can you even imagine her level of fear, as a child who never was given any emotional safety, going outside for the first time and encountering strangers for the first time?

Of course, she doesn't talk much! Her whole life experience was a nightmare, why would she act like other kids?

Also, she has developmental arrest, meaning that due to the extremely unsafe surroundings she was born into, her brain couldn't develop as much and in the same way as that of other children, making her developmentally and emotionally younger than her physical age.

The crucial thing about human beings is that we need love to grow and thrive. Emotional connection creates new neural pathways in our brain. Learning is a social thing.

That is why she sometimes talks or behaves like an infant. Parts of her personality/brain are literally still that young.

Humans (and other animals) also do this thing called dissociation. It's a survival mechanism that makes you disconnect from your sensations and emotions (going internally numb).

Children who are repeatedly traumatised in infancy, rely heavily on dissociation, because a baby/toddler can't fight or run away.

A dissociative trauma response will paralyse (freeze) you or make you go limp (collapse). It also shuts down the verbal part of your brain (and other cognitive parts).

We see El going into freeze a lot in s1 when she's scared, but since it's fiction, it never lasts long, because there's no time.

And since El has been raised to be a weapon and therefore forced to fight, she taps into this trauma response frequently too.

All of this trauma-info-dump, just to give you a tiny glimpse of how incredibly intelligent El/her body/her brain is.

She went through all of this torture since she was a baby, no one loved her, and yet she survived, and yet she is still a whole person, a unique individual, a child who despite everything, is still capable of forming attachments and her capacity for love fully intact.

But people see a quiet/mute child, or a non-responsive child, and assume they are "stupid". I think it's pretty obvious who is the stupid one in this equation.

[david-talks-sw]

So that whole interaction between Ahsoka and Huyang, where they talk about Sabine's choice to help the enemy find Thrawn (in hopes that she can then find Ezra) is clearly meant to be subtext for what happened with Anakin.

I mean change the pronoun from "she/her" to "he/him", tweak some of the names and...

... it's just blatant.

The parallels were already clear in the previous episode, as pointed out in this post here, and it still holds true:

Sabine's struggle with attachment mirrors Anakin's.

We know Filoni's whole stance on why Anakin fell to the Dark Side: he'll usually acknowledge that Anakin was ruled by his attachments, got possessive of Padmé, but then adds:

"HOWEVER is loving that way really that bad?"

"HOWEVER he never stood a chance because Qui-Gon wasn't there to teach him properly and be the father Anakin needed."

I've already gone into why both these statements don't track with Lucas' intended narrative here and here... but I wanna touch on this notion that "Anakin wasn't trained enough to make a better choice."

He was.

You know how we know? Because we saw him overcome his attachments before.

We saw him explain the theory of the non-attachment rule, before.

In fact, wee saw him pass down a lot of the Jedi lessons, in The Clone Wars, including being disciplined, following orders and not acting impulsively.

The issue is that - while Anakin knows the theory, even has a few minor successes applying it - he never builds the self-discipline needed to master it because... deep down... he doesn't want to.

This is partially because you got Palpatine telling him he doesn't need to, molding him into an arrogant, power-craving person... but the fact remains that Anakin made the choice himself.

Which Filoni acknowledges, sure... but not quite. The difference between his thesis and George Lucas' is that the latter picks a stance and defends it.

"He started out as a very loving and compassionate person. And as he progressed, it was his inability to control his temper, his inability to let go of things, and his quest for power that were his undoing." - George Lucas, E! Behind the Scenes - ROTS, 2005

Anakin fell because he was greedy, just like any one of us can be.

Cool. Filoni, on the other hand, doesn't seem to land anywhere.

He dances around the issue (as can be seen by the debate between Ahsoka and Huyang, with no clear winner) and merely questions whether it's as simple as that.

Clearly he wants to justify Anakin's actions to some degree... but y'know, the narrative considers those actions so reprehensible that Anakin gets friggin' burned alive for it.

"I felt it was important that we actually see that happen so that we could see the consequences of these bad things that he did. […] He forces his friends to turn against him. Which is heartbreaking." - George Lucas, “The Chosen One” Featurette, 2005

Because Anakin's actions are not meant to be justified.

It's easy to see why Filoni likes Anakin. One of the earliest tasks he had when writing The Clone Wars was humanizing a character whose sole functional purpose was to carry out a narrative about how:

"Without self-discipline, greed [can] force a character off the path to freedom." - Micael Hearn, The Cinema of George Lucas, 2005

And Anakin is a very sympathetic character.

His flaws are flaws that we all carry.

Q: Is it fair to assess Anakin is kind of cursed by his own goodness/good qualities? "I wouldn't say that’s true. He’s cursed by the same flaws, and issues that he has to overcome, that all humans are cursed with. There's a lot going on there. [...] The whole point is—and the reason I started the story where I did—is that Anakin is a normal, good kid. And how does somebody who is normal and good turn bad? What are the qualities, what is it that we all have within us that will turn us bad?" - George Lucas, Star Wars Insider #52, 2000

But narratively, Anakin is selfish.

He doesn't want to save Padmé's life, he wants to save himself from the pain of losing Padmé.

And while you're supposed to sympathize with him, you're not meant to agree with him. He's Darth Vader, the space nazi. He messes up and consequentially "leaves the Force in darkness" for 20 years, instead of ushering it towards the light in the chancellor's office, when he has the chance.

So to shift the blame and say that...

HOWEVER, Anakin didn't have the proper support system or training to make a better choice.

... when the whole point of the narrative is about taking personal responsibility and being selfless instead of selfish... well, it is missing that point.

He did know better. He just didn't want to choose better, so he convinced himself he wasn't able to.

[tightwadspoonies]

The 7-Item Cleaning Kit

So you need to clean your dwelling, and you don't have the resources to buy a cleaner for every occasion.

Well have I got a post for you!

Basically all household cleaning can be done with 6 items and water. And those items are fairly inexpensive.

Rags. Don't buy these. Any piece of cloth you were going to throw away/donate will do. Cut it into manageable sizes and use sewing or fabric glue to make a small hem around the outside. You can wash them in the same load of laundry as everything else (pre-treat very oily rags with soap and water) Scrap paper (paper bags, newsprint, etc...) will work for really dirty things you don't want to wash. Keep a pile going.

Water. Water is a nearly-universal solvent. It won't work on oil, wax, metal scratches on porcelain, or calcium buildup, but it will work pretty much alone (or with a rag and some elbow grease) on everyday dirt.

Soap. If water doesn't work alone, soap and water together usually will. A good rule of thumb is one part soap, one part water, and one part whatever you're trying to dissolve. The only things soap and water won't work on are those metal scratches and calcium buildup.

Melamine Sponge. What will work on metal scratches and calcium buildup without damaging porcelain, you ask? Melamine sponges. That's the generic for a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser and let me tell you they're dirt cheap if you buy non-brand-name.

Broom and Dustpan. These are two things technically I guess but they usually come purchased as one. This will do general duty to sweep your floors, dust your walls and ceilings, and when you tie a large rag to the broom, damp mop too.

Medium or Hard Bristle Brush. This one is useful for loosening caked-on dirt on your floors and upholstery, and getting into tight spaces you can't with a rag.

Blade or Scraper. This can be an old credit card or a razor blade. This is for getting the bulk of gum, wax, mildew, stickers, or other hard-to-clean goo off of things.

Have questions about how to use these items for a specific cleaning project? Send an ask to @tightwadspoonies!

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

The Hobie fandom has a lot of smut, and with a character so accepting on so many fronts, it means so much to me to see trans!readers being taken into consideration.

As a trans guy myself, I love seeking out ftm!smut. But often times, I often can't read them. Many times I'm left feeling unseen, reduced, or even feminized.

And I wanna talk about that a bit, if it's okay.

My take and feelings on FTM!smut - As a Trans Guy

Ngl as a trans guy myself I do feel a bit alienated by a lot of FTM!reader.

I'm gonna be honest - I feel like most ftm smut is written exactly as it would be a cis woman, just with the pronouns changed. Which is understandable, but not really how it works.

Cis women and trans men don't have sex the exact same, just because they're AFAB.

And I feel most smut writers haven't gone out of their way to research the sexual experiences of trans men and how we navigate the world.

Hobie smut is pretty vulgar, and I won't complaining! As a character, he has a high volume of smut, and probably the most diverse range, with Black!reader, ftm!readers, and male!readers being more common than most fandoms.

Black!Reader focuses on the unique experience of black people when in a relationship together. This unique experience is at the basis of black!reader.

But when we approach Ftm!reader - very often, our unique experience isn't reflected.

It's just assumed that because we are AFAB - there's no need to look deeper at the closer unique sexual experience trans men have - or to read up about it.

Most ftm!reader fic does not attempt to use affirming sexual language for trans men at all.

T-dicks - ie, natural clitoris enlargement you get after taking T - is a thing a lot of transitioning Trans men have.

But they're never called T-dicks in fanfiction. Only clits. It's very rare that a ftm!reader is described as having a dick - because so often the only dicks cis people recognize are natal dicks, and surgery-constructed ones.

Many cis writers may never even considered referring to a trans man's clitoris as a dick - pre or post T. They may see it as confusing to the reader, when it's not.

T-Dicks are dicks. Bottom growth didn't give you a full 3-4 inches, but you absolutely have growth and there are trans men that can penetrate with T-dicks - without surgery - if with the right partner.

The words pussy and cunt are used liberally in nearly all ftm!smut, and while many trans men are okay with these terms, I think a lot of cis writers ignore or do not know that often, terms like those can cause heavy dysphoria in a lot of ftm readers.

I don't think cis writers ever question if they might be making readers dysphoric - or showing them in a non-affirming way.

I feel like some writers believe that changing pronouns and calling the reader 'handsome' is really all it takes. Just write usual fem smut, change the pronouns - and done!

In reality, a large part of the ftm community feels uncomfortable with the word 'pussy' - and would much rather stuff like 'front hole'.

A poll on 'What do you call your downstairs?'

And I'm not saying that you can't call a trans man's genitals a pussy. And I'm not saying that a trans man calling his genitals a pussy is wrong.

I just feel like cis writers do not consider the dysphoria of their trans readers, when writing trans smut.

I feel like most cis writers don't actually seek out accounts of trans men and their sexuality.

I don't think they ever consider that these terms, talking about wetness and penetration (which many men on T can have problems with because of vaginal atrophy and dryness), breast, clits, cunts, pussy -

I don't think cis writers ever question 'Is this accessible for ftm readers that might have dysphoria? How can I make this accessible or easier for trans men who have bottom dysphoria?'

Or

'How can I make this more affirming of them as men?'

It's the assumption that, because we're all AFAB, because we have vaginas like cis women - then naturally we must all fuck the same regardless of gender, the only thing changing being the pronouns.

That's not true.

And also - Trans Men are never really written like gay men.

Trans men having sex with men is gay sex.

And even though most writers write trans men with male OCs - they hardly ever write their sex as if they are gay men.

99.9% of the time, it isn't written that way. Its always written as if it's 'straight sex'.

The experience of how gay men have sex is never really taken account into these fics, which makes me feel like a lot of writers don't see it as gay sex at all.

At most, the ftm reader may be described as a bottom - but never as an otter or twink or bear or cub or leather or anything.

They see it as AFAB sex.

Cause If I'm getting strictly candid - I feel like if a writer wrote mtf!smut and kept focusing on the girls 'hard throbbing cock and balls' - we'd all be like 'oh wow that's very intense centering on genitals that may alienate some trans women-'

But in ftm!smut focusing on 'wet tight juicy pussy and thriving clit' is standard. It's never really questioned.

And this is not to say 'oh trans women have it better they get better smut-' No. They really don't. I'm just bringing this up to highlight the fact that we should be making sure that trans!smut is accessible and affirming to the trans people they're about.

Seeing a fic in which a gay trans man prefers to use his asshole, like most gay men fuck, is VERY VERY rare.

I feel like most cis writers never consider the fact that gay trans men may want to perform sex in an affirming, clearly coded, masculine gay way.

It's always assumed we use our front hole, are okay with it being called a pussy, have no problems getting wet, or that we don't have dicks (T-dick is a dick).

And because of that - the lack of affirming language and the lack of affirming transmasc experiences makes it very hard for me as a FTM person to read smut about ftm!readers.

I feel like most of them don't actually take our comfort - or our experiences in mind.

I feel like most don't attempt to actually read accounts of trans guys having gay sex, and what that's often like.

If you're a writer who feels guilty of any of this - you're not a bad person or a bad writer. And I genuinely thank you for including us in your work - from the bottom of my heart.

But I want to highlight this -

Trans men having sex is not a 1:1 of cis women having sex. The same way trans women having sex is not a 1:1 of cis men having sex.

Or experiences are unique - and our dysphoria does affect our sex lives, and how we navigate them.

Please, do not let this put you off writing trans men. But please keep in mind that our experience is unique.

So often I read ftm!reader and feel reduced down to my pussy. Without breasts in the equation, so much ftm!smut focuses solely on the pussy.

If you write ftm!reader please please do not let this put you off, but here's some tips I can give as a trans guy

Please do slight research of ftm anatomy, read an article about gay trans men, or go on r/ftm (subreddit) and read some posts about trans men, read some nsfw posts where trans men tell hookup tales.

Advocate has an great article called '16 things I learned from having sex with Trans Men' - which details and dispels 16 myths about trans men in bed. It's written from the POV of gay men who have been with trans men in affirming ways.

This post is in no way meant to be an attack or subliminal at any one writer. If it was one writer, I wouldn't care.

But this is something I've experienced and seen across fandoms and across writers in this fandom too. I feel the urge to write this because searching for affirming ftm!fics - I often come away feeling even more dysphoric.

Not because of the word pussy or cunt or anything -

But because of the erasure of my experience, the idea that my gender doesn't influence my experience of sex - only my AFAB genitals do.

If you write ftm!smut, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, truly.

But I feel like I had to say this.

If you read this far, thank you! This is one of my more personal venting posts but I'm also trying to raise a point and start a discussion. And you reading through this and giving me your time and understanding is already helpful enough, so thanks!

Here's Hobie.

Bye.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Submissions are CLOSED.

01CEST - 18CEST 1st of June (find the current time here)

RULES:

Submissions will only be open during this specific time, then the askbox will close. (that means no questions or other things can be sent to me at that point for a while)

All required information needs to be filled in! Any submissions that lacks any of required info will instantly be deleted.

I want to showcase more non-English songs! So please specify which language the song is in. Write instrumental instead of language on instrumental songs. Also remember to add country of origin of the artist because it's more fun to hear things from all over the world, not just "the usual" bunch! (yes, english songs from north america & europe are still fine to add!)

Artist Song title Year Genre Language Country of origin

Again; all of the above needs to be specified or the message will be deleted.

Artists that have previously been featured on the blog are welcome back, of course! Just make sure to not submit songs that have already been posted!

The first 220 songs are all listed here. The songs between 221 and 230 can be found as listed in the Showdown polls. Of course it's ok to add songs being covered by other artists than the original! (final choice which goes is up to me though)

For artists on a smaller scale and/or that are very local and have basically no info to be found online, please do make sure to send along a blurb with info about them and their song. :) It doesn't have to be much, but something is better than nothing! The songs needs to be available on Youtube and/or Spotify for people to get the chance to listen and discover the full versions.

There will be a maximum of 7 SONGS PER USER, so make sure to send them all in ONE message to my askbox. Only users that already follows this blog are allowed to submit songs, obviously, lol. New and empty accounts don't count, don't be daft! 😂 Anything sent to me from a freshly created account will be deleted because you haven't even had time to discover and follow this blog yet.

Double-check all the info before sending it in, there's no rush unless you're very last minute. :'D If you send in multiple messages instead of a single one, they will be deleted.

There's still way over a thousand songs from before to go through 😅 All the old song submissions are still waiting in my askbox, so if you've already submitted them you don't have to re-submit them. 💖 So with both the old and these new songs, please have patience for them to be added. 😅💖

Example of submissions: 1- A-ha - Take On Me, 1985, synth-pop, english, norway 2- Måneskin - Zitti e Buoni, 2021, glam/punk rock, italian, italy 3- Youssou N'Dour and Neneh Cherry - 7 Seconds, 1994, ballad, wolof/english/french, senegal+sweden

time table made here

[lovelypham]

JUST ONE 10 MINUTES

prompt: you wear ni-ki's jersey for a performance of lee hyori's '10 minutes' after your relationship with him was confirmed pairing:NI-KI x idol!fem-reader genre:fluff wc:400+

✿༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻✿

Your relationship with Riki was revealed not too long ago, and you being a member of a fairly new debuted group that was under HYBE lead to the immense demand from fans of both respective groups for a confirmation or atleast a reply from the company

after the fire had died down you decided to ignite it yet again by pulling a rather bold move at one of your special group performances

you and your group have been practicing non-stop for your comeback and you guys made sure that everything was perfect and ready for when you had to perform

what fans didn't know was that beside the usual promotion of your title track and b-side you were also going to perform a remixed version of lee Hyori's '10 minutes'

fans of your group noticed certain spoilers in different lives of you and your fellow members taking about lee Hyori's success and how you all grew up listening to her still trending songs

✿༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻✿

when it was the day of the special performance which was also the last day of your promotions you had texted Riki and asked if you could borrow his number "51" jersey

Riki obviously agreed without a question but was rather suspicious when you didn't answer his question of "what do you need it for?" you remained still with your plan and decided it would be best if you don't tell him what you're planning

✿༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻✿

even though your heart was racing due to the previous rumors that caused a blast on the internet from both your fans and Riki's,you still chose to quickly change your shirt before you went out to the spacious stage inkigayo had to offer.

Luck seemed to be on your side that day since your stylist had dressed you up with a semi matching white frilly skirt with silver jewelry adoring your hands and neck,as well as blue sparkly eyeshadow that perfectly matched the pop color of the jersey

your members kept your secret and decided to not tell any of your stylists or managers 'cause all of you knew that you'd get in trouble easily and that is a result of your impulsive actions

✿༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻✿

your performance began and with a heavy heart you flawlessly did the intro part but the catch was that fans were yet to see the back of your shirt and when you turned around,showing off Riki's name and number,you could only hear screams from both women and men watching your stage and your doubts quickly disappeared after you heard the unexpected reactions you managed to pull out from fans

✿༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻✿

after you finished and headed towards the backstage you could see the angry gaze of your personal manager who was then reassured by your stylist that nothing would happen to you or your group as long as you don't pull another act like that.

bonus.ೃ࿐

when Riki received a weverse notification indicating that his girlfriend had posted,he didn't expect to see a mirror picture of your back with your face looking towards the mirror and a wink adoring your features while showing off his very own jersey with the caption "hope you enjoyed today's performance!!😗"

༻💿

this was really bad I'm sorry😭😭 but I was heavily inspired by the new pictures Ni-ki posted on weverse of him in his jersey at the dodgers match(?i think)

-I gladly take constructive criticism but without any hate as this is all fictional and not meant to represent any characters mentioned💗

[wishmemel]

so high school, ft. fushiguro megumi

synopsis: you’ve known megumi, nobara, and yuuji since freshman year of high school, but it's only recently that you and megumi have started realizing that your feelings might run deeper than friendship (that is, if either of you have the courage to make the first move...) tags: megumi x f! reader, non-curse au, this might be from megumi's pov idk, friends to lovers, all fluff, all characters are about 17, reader is an older sibling, megumi being his usual reserved self, reader is more bubbly, definitely self-indulgent (reader is a sanrio lover), probably ooc but this is just for fun, no beta reader so let me know if there’s any errors cw: i don't think there are any? please let me know if you spot anything, i'll add it! wc. 5.9k posted: 22/10/23 a/n: i've been working on this fic forever and i didn't think i was going to post it at first tbh... most of my fics stay in the drafts but i spent a little more than 2 weeks on this so i thought why not. also, yes, i know you can't legally drive a car in japan at 17, but we will ignore that for the sake of the fic!

Megumi chewed his lower lip, feeling the weight of the necklace stored in the lower pocket of his black backpack.

He and Yuuji had stopped by a comic book store before school started at the latter’s insistence—Megumi had already stopped by yesterday and picked up the copy he’d wanted in secret, stashed underneath his pillow—so he’d split from Yuuji and made his way to the Hello Kitty Shibuya store a few feet down. He didn’t want his friend to see the romance mangas that he was interested in, and he’d already spent most of his allowance on the two copies he’d bought yesterday. He didn’t want to be tempted any more.

Stepping into the store, dressed in all black, heavy eye bags present, his hair unkempt and spiky, he must have frightened the employees, but they’d done their best to greet him with a cheery smile and welcomed him inside. Megumi had pulled down his snapback and wandered around, wondering what he was doing flipping through a rack of cinnamoroll earrings.

By the time he was at the front counter, ears red, using the last of his allowance to buy a pink heart-shaped necklace of My Melody, he was convinced that he was insane. It was the last one on the shelf and it was… expensive, to say the least. He almost put it back on the shelf after seeing the price, but he hesitated, your sweet smile flashing in his mind. To see you rave and gush about him buying this necklace for you, which was supposedly out of stock everywhere online… Well, he really wanted to see your smile.

The employees at the register giggled over his flushed expression and prodded him about who he was buying it for, when he would give it to you, if you were already his girlfriend or if you were just a friend. They wrapped it in a pink box with a white satin ribbon and he left the store with the tiny amount of dignity he had remaining, his ears brick red from dodging all their suggestive questions. 

He hardly remembers stuffing the box deep in his backpack, underneath a spare sweater he keeps in his bag, and rushing over to the manga store with his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly waiting for Yuuji outside as if he’d never left.

They’d walked to school together, chattering away: well, it was mostly just Yuuji talking. Megumi listened, but that was the way he preferred it. 

He couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever been labelled talkative. Even as a child, Gojo, his guardian, had complained about Megumi’s blunt and silent nature. Yuuji didn’t mind the silence—it just meant that he had a chance to talk. Nobara despised it—she was always rolling her eyes or pressing him about one thing or the other. When it came to you, you liked the comfortable silence. You didn’t feel the need to fill it with conversation, and even when you did, it was because you wanted to, not because of some awkwardness that you felt between the two of you. 

The two boys met up with you and Nobara, both of you bleary-eyed and early at school for once. 

The two of you had this awful habit of staying up late and talking on the phone to get your homework done and then waking up hours after school had started, practically missing your first period classes. 

Megumi and Yuuji used to wait outside the gate for you two in the beginning, but now they knew you too well and usually headed inside, talking at Megumi’s locker. On the off chance that one of you arrived on time, you knew exactly where to find them. 

“Where were you two?” you asked, tilting your head to the side with a confused scrunch of your brows. “We looked for you at your locker, but you weren’t there. Nobara and I actually got to school on time! Aren’t you proud?”

Despite your weariness, your makeup was always done to perfection, uniform ironed and straightened, hair silky and shining underneath the scorching sun, so Megumi always thought you looked good.

It was just recently that you had started looking beautiful instead of nice and seemed more funny than even his best friend, Yuuji.

“Megumi and I ran to the comic book store,” Yuuji said, eyes lighting up with excitement. “I got the one-hundred-fifteenth edition of Human Earthworm. Basically, in this edition, Worm Man falls in love with this woman, but there’s a catch! She’s also half-worm, but she’s a worm from the top half of her body and the bottom half—“

“Itadori,” Nobara barks. “It’s too early in the morning for your SuperWorm stories.”

Nobara glares at him, looking like she hadn’t even had time to do her makeup.

Yuuji peers at her. “You look kind of… sick.”

Nobara’s eyes flare with uncontrolled rage and she leaps on Yuuji’s back, wrapping her legs around his waist as she pulls at his pink hair. “Do you want me to kill you?”

Megumi sighs while Yuuji laughs and dodges Nobara’s advances. You just giggle, your arm brushing against Megumi’s, though he wonders if he’s the only one who notices the warmth of your skin on his.

The bell rings, startling them, and Nobara slowly unlatches herself from Yuuji. You bound over to her and fix her hair and she allows you patiently.

“Good?” she asks, checking her phone’s reflection.

“Good?” Yuuji mocks, patting down his own hair. 

“You both look hot,” you affirm, giggling at Nobara’s murderous look. You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and check your phone. Your expression brightens as you glance over at Megumi. “Megs and I have Chem together first. We have a lab today, remember?”

He doesn’t return your smile, mostly because he’s starstruck at the sight, but nods slowly to let you know he’s heard.

Nobara groans. “Yuuji and I have Gym first,” she gripes.

You snort, flicking her cheek. “I don’t want to know why you would ever decide to take that class.”

“It’s not bad or hard,” she defends, but then she puts her fist up and grits her teeth. “But there’s this really stupid teacher who always picks on me for being a woman. He thinks I’m slower ‘cause I have a vagina and that makes me want to pull out his hair.”

“And he hates me because he always says I’m cheating during our run,” Yuuji complains. “It’s not my fault I’ve trained a lot!”

You laugh again before bouncing over to Megumi and wrapping a hand around his bicep. “Let’s go,” you insist. “We have to get the seat at the back before Miwa gets there again! Last time, she took my spot and she knows it’s my spot. I always sit there!”

You drag him with you, calling your goodbyes to a stunned Yuuji and Nobara, the two aware of how much Megumi hates physical touch. They wait, watching for their friend to remove your hand, but he never does. The two exchange nervous looks as they follow you through the front doors.

You’re sitting on a large boulder, your back to him, as you listen to Yuuji and Nobara’s insistent speech. He can almost imagine your confused look: your eyebrows scrunched, lips pouty.

The three of you haven’t spotted him yet, nonchalantly strolling towards you, hands tucked in his pocket, but even at this distance he can hear what the pair are telling you.

“You cannot touch Megumi,” Nobara insists. “He hates being touched.”

“The last time I tried to hug him, he squeezed my wrist so hard I thought it’d break,” Yuuji points out, cradling his arm. “He hates physical touch.”

Megumi sighs and rolls his eyes. 

Just when he’d started getting close to someone, his cursed friends had to interfere. Even if their intentions are in the right place, can’t they mind their own business? He isn’t exactly the people-pleasing type: if he’s letting you touch him, it’s on purpose. 

Both Nobara and Yuuji share exactly one brain cell, he thinks. 

“Oh… really?” Is he imagining the hint of disappointment in your tone? “Ah, I didn’t know. Okay… I’ll try to keep my distance from now on. Thanks for telling me.”

“What are you three talking about?” he asks, stopping at your back.

You still as his leg brushes against your back. You tilt your head back, meeting his eyes with a tentative smile. He’s awestruck all over again, like every time you flash him that smile. 

“You,” Nobara answers truthfully, taking his attention off of you. 

Yuuji elbows her and laughs awkwardly. “She’s kidding. W-we were talking about Human Earthworm 5! Yeah, Human Earthworm. Obviously. I told them we should go see the fifth—“

You roll your eyes, watching him take a large step over the boulder to stand next to Yuuji. “I don’t know why they’re lying. We were just talking about where to go for lunch. Yesterday, Nobara and I got to pick and we went out for sushi, remember? We thought you guys might have a preference today.”

“That’s what we were talking about,” Yuuji affirms quickly with a painfully bright smile. Megumi isn’t so awestruck at the sight. 

There’s a collective moment of silence; they’re all holding their breath, waiting for his answer. 

He looks at you. You give him an innocent smile, blinking, and he finds it slightly frightening how easily you can lie to his face like that.

“Okay.” Megumi shrugs, accepting your words. “I’m in the mood for tteokbokki,” he says, despite his lack of allowance, if only to change the topic. He remembers Yuuji salivating over the thought of the street food yesterday in Math class, even after lunch. 

“There’s a place near here that has corn dogs and tteokbokki,” Nobara mentions, checking the Maps app on her phone. “It’s a five minute walk.”

“I want tteokbokki with a boiled egg,” Yuuji announces eagerly. 

“Tteokbokki is best with egg,” Nobara agrees. “Wanna share?”

“I want the whole egg,” Yuuji warns.

“You can spare me half,” she insists. “I want it too!”

“If we want to go, then we should go now,” you interrupt. “We only have thirty minutes left.”

Both Nobara and Yuuji start bickering over their order and you take that chance to sneak a quick glance at your phone, frowning at the recurring texts you’ve been receiving. 

Megumi looks to you, eyes catching onto the worried crease between your eyebrows. You put away your phone at his watchful gaze.

“Sorry,” you say, feigning a smile. “Let’s go.”

He nods, wondering if he should ask you why you had that concerned look in your eyes. But Megumi isn’t good at words; he always stumbles and trips over them and can never quite get his thoughts out properly, unlike you. He’s always admired the eloquent and seemingly veritable way you speak, even when you lie. You’re always able to put on a mask. 

He’s not so good with words, so in a rare display of bravery, he resorts to offering you his hand, as if extending his heart to you. His ears turn red as he looks away from you, realizing that Yuuji and Nobara have stopped arguing long enough to watch. 

You blink uncertainly, then beam up at him and take his hand. 

Your hand is warm in his and much much softer than the callouses that roughen his. Often, you offer him hand lotion in Chemistry and he hasn’t the heart to refuse you. You squeeze a dollop of the rose-scented cream in his hand before doing the same on your own. He gets the pleasure of watching you beam as the two of you rub the lotion into your palms. As a result of your generosity, his hands have been feeling softer than usual.

You thank him for the gesture and he just shrugs, bumping shoulders with you as you enter the address into your Maps app, trying to avoid the awkward atmosphere in the air. 

“We can get two eggs,” Nobara attempts, to break the tension. 

Yuuji agrees immediately with no argument. 

The jewelry box feels especially heavy in Megumi’s bag.

When the three of you reach the restaurant, Yuuji and Nobara immediately fight over who’s paying for the extra eggs. Nobara insists that it should be Yuuji who pays because he should be the one paying penance, while Yuuji wants to split the cost in half. The two of them bicker a little more, embarrassing you and Megumi in front of the cashier before they place their order, and then continue to do so while taking a seat at a table for four.

You just sigh and muster your brightest smile to make up your friends. Megumi hovers closely behind you as you place your order, feeling slightly protective of you in front of the handsome male noting your order. 

The man is tall, maybe taller than Megumi himself, and he has this air of easiness that Megumi instantly dislikes. What, with his eager grins and frequent winks sent your way, it’s clear that he just can’t—won’t—take a hint. His name tag reads Haru, which has many many meanings, but the one Megumi decides on is sun. He’s overwhelmingly sunny, much like Yuuji. But while Yuuji’s is a natural sunniness, a disposition that comes easily to him, Haru has this overbearing nature, like when he leans over the register to take your cash and purposely lets your fingers brush his. He has these charming chocolate-coloured curls and he keeps brushing them out of his big, dark eyes. Even through his instant dislike, Megumi can’t help comparing himself to the man.

He keeps wondering: Is this your type? Would you be interested in someone like this, so sunny and bright, almost as much as you are?

“A mozzarella corn dog with cinnamon sugar and the small tteokbokki, no egg,” you’re confirming, cutting through the jealous haze that is his thoughts. You glance back at him, finally taking his attention off of Haru. “Want anything?”

“Naah, I ate earlier,” he says with a shake of his head, sidling closer so that your back brushes against his chest. You startle slightly, but don’t move away. Haru’s smile falters a little. Megumi wants to stick his tongue out at him petulantly like a little kid who’s just won a game of rock, paper, scissors. 

Somehow, Megumi can tell you see through his lie, likely because you’ve been with him for almost the entire day, but you don’t argue and he quickly pulls out his phone and distracts himself with the Weather app so that you won’t suspect him further. 

A forecast of rain, he notices, startling. 

He usually stores an umbrella or two in his bag because he knows you never bring one—it doesn’t rain as often as you’d like, but even when it does, you enjoy the water soaking you to the bone. Megumi usually watches you, Nobara, and Yuuji splash in puddles, his black umbrella already opened up to keep him dry. When the three of you get tired or cold, you can count on him to lend you one, and you often plaster yourself to his side, getting his clothes wet as your teeth chatter underneath the umbrella. 

His fond expression breaks when you nudge his shoulder and the two of you make your way to the table where your friends are already seated, Nobara sitting cross-legged on the seat to face Yuuji, hands waving about animatedly. 

“You know, you were checking that guy out for an awfully long time,” you tease with a cheeky smile.

Megumi’s mind doesn’t put two and two together. In fact, he feels like it might be short-circuiting. “What?”

None of what you’re saying makes sense to him—isn’t it so obvious that he’s interested in you? 

“You know, Megs, if you’re gay, you just have to tell me,” you say solemnly, trying not to let your face crack. “I’m sure Nobara and Yuuji will also support you. Nobara likes girls, and, besides, that’s what friends are for. We’re here for you, even if you’re into the douchey cashier.”

“You thought he was douchey?” he blurts, the only thing that his brain seems to process. 

“So, you are gay!” you exclaim, slapping your receipt onto the table where Nobara and Yuuji are sitting. They jump at the thump sound the receipt makes on the table, their conversation interrupted. 

“Fushigoru’s gay?” Nobara asks skeptically with a raised brow as she turns around to face the two of you. An amused smile plays on her mouth. “I knew it. I called it first!”

“I said it first!” Yuuji protests. “Remember when he punched Kai in the face and I said that he did it because he thought his was was just too pretty to—“

“I’m not gay,” Megumi snaps, cheeks on fire. “And I don’t like Kai!”

You stifle a giggle, sliding your receipt in Nobara’s direction. “I got a corndog and tteokbokki. We can share.”

Nobara scans the receipt with a raised brow, letting Yuuji read off her shoulder. “Another phone number?” she teases slyly. 

“What?” you and Megumi blurt at the same time. 

Megumi snatches the receipt from her freshly-manicured nails and his eyes widen in horror at the series of numbers that are, indeed, printed at the bottom in black pen next to a winky emoji. Beside him, you cringe and Megumi crushes it up in his palm and shoves it into his pocket. 

He raises a brow, sliding into the booth, and asks, “Did you want that?”

You shake your head almost immediately and follow after him, sitting across from Nobara. She taps the side of your sneaker with her own and you look her way long enough to see a mischievous glint enter her eyes. 

“You’ve just been collecting phone numbers left and right, haven’t you?” Nobara sings, wiggling her brows at you to break the silence. “Quite the player, aren’t you?”

“This is the first number I’ve gotten all year,” you protest, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “You know that—you guys are always with me!”

“What about the guy at the vending machine yesterday?” Yuuji asks.

“Kai?” you ask in disbelief. “He’s not—We aren’t—”

Megumi blurts, “Kai asked you out yesterday?”

You groan aloud, burying your face in your hands. “No, he didn’t! He just expressed his interest. I told him I didn’t like him and we left it at that.”

And here Megumi was thinking that the guy had learned his lesson—It was true that Megumi had punched him in the face, but not for the reasons that Yuuji predicted. If Yuuji had truly heard what Kai had said about you, he wouldn’t be nearly as lax with his teasing remarks. And, fine, it was true—Kai did have somewhat of a pretty face and Megumi did have this tiny inkling that Kai had feelings for you, but he’d done his best to ignore that small, jealous whisper and tuck it aside. He never imagined that Kai would act on his feelings.

Maybe Megumi hadn’t punched him hard enough. 

Megumi removes his snapback and places it on the table, rubbing the material between his fingertips to soothe the burning in his chest. 

Yuuji raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on his mouth. He looks like he’s about to make another unnecessary comment, but he’s interrupted by Haru, the cashier, serving them their lunch on a long, silver tray. 

You make eye contact with him and suddenly regret your decision to sit on the outside of the booth when he smiles at you for long moments while serving, explaining each and every dish with precise detail to you and only you. He flatly ignores your friends and keeps his eyes locked onto you, even while serving—you’re half afraid he might drop something that way. On the positive side, he knows exactly what he’s talking about—each dish, each flavour, each part is explained down to a T. 

You know more about canned Coca-Cola now than you ever have in your entire life. Who knew that the drink used to contain cocaine before 1929? Not you. But you’re thinking you could use some right now to get out of this awkward situation.

On the negative side—Yuuji is stifling his laugh, Nobara looks like she might explode any moment now, and Megumi… Megumi is glaring daggers at the man who ignores the icy look and continues his long-winded speech. 

You break eye contact and try not to roll your eyes as you lock gazes with Yuuji across the table. He gives you a knowing look, pressing his trembling lips together to hold in the laughter that dances in his eyes. 

He seems to be saying this is all your fault. 

You just sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll pay for your eggs," is what you mouth back at him. 

Yuuji’s smile widens and he makes out, “Deal!”, right back at you. 

Haru has only just moved on to explaining how tteokbokki is made in their kitchen when Megumi tucks his black snapback onto your head, bringing it down to cover your view. He opens his mouth to argue but is interrupted by Nobara who snaps, “I think we know what we ordered. And Chef doesn’t seem like it’s part of your job description.”

The silence that befalls the restaurant makes your face burn hot with embarrassment. You sigh and cover your face with your hands, wishing a hole would appear in the floor so you could crawl into it, roll around, and just die. 

Megumi is not sure whether to feel grateful to Nobara for speaking up or annoyed because he was going to say something first. 

Haru mumbles, “It’s not. I’m a server.”

“I think we can handle it from here,” Yuuji coughs awkwardly. 

“Thank you,” you mutter under your breath, nudging Megumi with your knee. 

“Thanks,” Megumi repeats tersely, unpleasantly reminded of the existence of social etiquette. 

“Men take a hint,” Nobara mutters, glaring at Haru’s retreating back. “Level: impossible.”

You snort under a breath and point a set of packaged chopsticks at her. “And you made fun of me for rejecting Kai. He also wouldn’t take a hint and was incredibly insistent—I mean, what kind of guy waits outside of class for you every. single. day. after you reject him?”

Nobara slides her tteokbokki in her direction, seeing as how all of the dishes are placed in a spot advantageous to you. You give both her and Yuuji a pair of chopsticks, then push Megumi’s smaller tteokbokki dish towards him. 

“Megumi and I wait outside your classes for you,” Yuuji points out, breaking apart his chopsticks with a skeptical eyebrow raised. 

Indeed, Megumi is frozen, awaiting your response with bated breath. 

Do you find him creepy or weird when he waits for you? He’d always thought you might appreciate having someone to walk to your classes and chatter with, especially when Nobara isn’t around. He hadn’t considered the fact that you might think of him as a creep…

“You and Megumi don’t count,” you insist, glancing at him with your brows furrowed. “We’re friends. It’s different. Kai would bring me a different flavoured chocolate each day and deliberately hand it out in front of a group of guys that are known to gossip. He’d make these stupid comments, put his hand on my shoulder, and act like we were dating.”

You unwrap a set of chopsticks, snap them in half and offer them to Megumi who takes them with a troubled look. 

“Stop it,” you argue, nudging his leg with yours. “I already told you: I’m uncomfortable when Kai does it. You guys are my friends—it’s not any different than when Nobara waits for me.”

“Preach,” Nobara says solemnly, shoving another rice cake in her mouth. Yuuji startles and protests at the fact that he’s been too busy conversing with you to even have a bite, but Nobara just sticks her tongue out at him petulantly. 

So now he’s being compared to Nobara, Megumi sulks. He’s not sure which is worse—being likened to a creep or to Nobara. 

You nudge him with your elbow this time, shooting him an effortless smile. “Come on, cut out the whole protective older brother thing. I can see it in your face. Nothing happened, Megs.”

Megumi starts, then just nods, though he hadn’t been thinking of Haru. Unfortunately, your words do nothing to ease his mind. 

Now you’re referring to him as your older brother… He can’t say he’s not used to it, but… he doesn’t want to be your older brother, nor does he want to act like one.

Nobara smirks. “Yeah, Megs, listen to your—”

He kicks her shin from across the table and her eyes blow wide. “Hey! You didn’t do anything when…” Nobara’s train of thought is cut off when Yuuji elbows her. She settles for glaring at Megumi with a look that says I’ll get you back. 

Megumi looks indifferent to her nonverbal threat as he takes the first bite from his meal. Seeing him eat spurs you into action and you open up the container with your mozzarella corn dog.

He knows you see Nobara as a fun, sister-like figure: someone you can laugh with, go shopping with, and call whenever you need advice, gossip, or a pick-me-up. With Nobara, your time flies by in seconds, the two of you always busy giggling and laughing on FaceTime. 

You see Yuuji as a younger brother: someone to indulge and take care of, especially because Megumi doesn’t humour him and Nobara bickers with him day and night, much like a sibling would. You ruffle his hair when you’re pleased with him, making him beam, and you graciously tag along to the movie theater with him when a new Human Earthworm movie is released, since he and Nobara staunchly refuse whenever Yuuji pleads. 

So, maybe Megumi’s role has been predetermined from the start. He’s always been overprotective of his friends and he nags like a mother hen, especially when it comes to you. Whenever you text him that you’re going out, accompanied with a few pictures, asking him what to wear, he always makes sure that you have your location on, your ringer on, that you aren’t on silent mode, or you haven’t muted his texts. He makes sure he knows exactly where you’re going, when you’ll be back; he makes sure his phone is always nearby so he never misses a text from you, in the rare case that you might message him to pick you up. After all, he is your group’s designated driver. He figures you might need him once in a while. 

He chews his rice cakes slowly, trying to ignore the burn in his chest. He glances over at you, busy in conversation. The three of you are used to his frequent silence; you don’t take it as odd anymore, nor do you press for him to join the conversation. You all know he’ll speak up when he wants to. 

Is he overbearing? 

Actually… he’s not unlike you, in that sense. 

You’re the first to remind Yuuji, as always, that he’s left his phone in Megumi’s car, or his books in the classroom, or that his hoodie is in his locker, as always, but you’d picked it up for him because you knew he’d forget. Before he can even tell you that he’s lost his pencil for the third time this week, you’re pressing one into his hands with a skeptical eyebrow raise that asks, anything else? He’s like a little puppy that you look after when no one else will. 

With Nobara, he’s seen you often calling her when she’s alone in a taxi and she texts you that the driver is being weird. You stay on call with her, purposely raising your voice loud enough for the driver to hear you ask repeatedly, “Where are you? When are you getting here? We’re all waiting for you.” You always wait on her text that tells you she’s reached home safe before your shoulders loosen and you feel some of the tension leave you. 

Before Megumi goes out, you’re over at his house, fussing over his clothes (the same ones he wore a day ago), his hair (that never seems to settle, no matter how much gel or hairspray you use), his face. You pinch his cheeks, tell him to go wash his face again because he still looks half-asleep, toss him a rose-scented lotion tube, straight from your bag, and insist that he keep it. You completely baby him. 

And when the four of you go out for lunch, more often than not, it’s you who orders for the rest of them, Megumi tagging along sometimes, if only to insist on paying. You half-listen to their conversation, half-wonder when the food will arrive. And when it finally does, you’re the first to urge them to start: handing them their utensils, breaking apart their chopsticks, and reminding them to eat well. 

You’re used to looking after others and putting their needs before your own, as the eldest daughter of your family. Megumi is overprotective as well, but he’s also hyper-independent, used to caring for himself without anyone else. Around you, he always finds his demeanor molding, softening—he acts more spoiled, more sulky, almost as if he’s trying to catch your attention, to make you fuss over him. And you do. You always indulge him, though he’s sure you can see right through his act. 

You’re laughing at something Yuuji says when you notice him looking at you, as if he’s seeing you in a new light. You hold your corn dog up to him, a sweet smile on your face.

Megumi blinks, ears reddening, as he shakes his head. “N-no, I wasn’t—“

“Have some. It’s good,” you insist, and he can’t refuse you.

So he leans forward in his seat, his thigh brushing against yours—he shouldn’t feel so flustered by that action, right? But you’re still wearing his snapback on your head and it looks ridiculous on you, oversized and just barely hanging onto your head. 

Sharing clothes or accessories isn’t new between the two of you either, nor are brief touches like his leg against yours. For some reason, he’s starting to feel hyper-aware of his every movement around you in a way that he doesn’t feel around Nobara, or even Yuuji. 

Often, when the four of you have sleepovers or movie nights, typically held at Megumi’s house (he’s always playing host, but he’s grateful that you help out by always arriving an hour earlier with bags of snacks. Gojo adores you for that reason alone), you don’t shy away from physical touch. You’ve fallen asleep on his arm more times than he can count, laid your legs in Yuuji’s lap while the four of you argue over which movie to watch, and squeezed Nobara’s hand throughout countless horror movies. 

And yet… Your thighs brushing through your jeans as he leans close is somehow the most intimate feeling he’s had since his kindergarten crush had hugged him tight on the playground in front of his friends. 

You hold your corn dog up to his mouth and he takes a bite, relishing in the stretch of mozzarella as you pull the snack away from him with a laugh. He keeps his eyes locked on your lit smile, unaware of Yuuji and Nobara’s troubled gaze trained on him.

You’re like the sun; wherever you go, you shine so bright, making him want to reflect you: he can’t help smiling back. 

Sharing food has never been a big deal between the four of you—well, three of you. Before you had found them and became involved in their little friend group, Megumi used to firmly refuse to drink from the same bottle as Nobara or eat from the same spoon as Yuuji, on account of “hygiene”, he claimed. Then you’d stumbled and tripped right into their world and the easy way you’d steal Yuuji’s gatorade from right under his nose and take a sip or share a bite of the cake pop you’d brought for lunch with Nobara had been enough to make him loosen up too, just enough. Eventually, he’d forgotten about that little rule, all because of you, with no shortage of teasing from Yuuji and Nobara.

He drinks from the same glass as you when you’re over at his house, and when you find yourself parched at school, he’s the first to offer to run to the convenience store and back in time for your first period class, Chemistry, which you share with him. The two of you often pass the drink back and forth in class and he tosses it out afterwards when you walk out together, complaining about the homework or the in-class lesson. 

Although, he wonders absentmindedly, if you’re eating from the same spoon as him or sipping from the same can from him, can that be counted as… an indirect kiss?

His eyes are inexplicably drawn to your glossy lips as you beam at him and put together a string of words that flies right over his head. What if he leaned forward, just a little? The sparkles on your lips are illuminated by the warm lighting of the restaurant and he finds himself musing about the flavour of your gloss. 

Cherry, perhaps? He’d like cherry. Or even strawberry might be nice, sweet and sugary, he thinks. Anything would do, if it was you. 

You call his name again, snapping him out of his daze, and he stammers, “W-what?”

You giggle, tucking his snapback onto his head and covering his face. Why doesn’t he have a voice recording of that precious laugh of yours? “Idiot. I was asking if it was good!”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, it’s great,” he mumbles dazedly with no idea of what you’re talking about as he adjusts his hat.

He blinks, trying to clear the fog in his head as you wait expectantly, ignoring Yuuji and Nobara’s snickers in the background. 

“I-it was really good. The corn dog, I mean,” he clarifies, gaze dipping to your lips again. “I liked it. But… Lunch is on me next time.”

You snort, looking satisfied with his answer. “Lunch is always on you. Pigs won’t start flying if you let me pay for your meal once.”

Megumi has what you call textbook manners when it comes to things like this; he’s overly stiff, overly formal. He can’t remember the last time he’d let any of you pay for him without returning the favour. It’s more than just a matter of his pride and ego (though that certainly plays a hand.) It’s the fact that he can’t fathom depending on any of you like that. He can’t accept this level of warmth or care without his mind whispering that it’s only a matter of time before you’ll all leave, just like his father, just like his mother. 

He exhales deeply and pops open the can of Coca-Cola that you bought him. The bubbles hiss and fizzle before settling down. As soon as they do, he slides the can towards you with a jerk of his head: an order to take the first sip. 

You give him an indulgent smile and follow his instructions, leaving behind a mauve stain on the can. Then, you push the can towards him with the same head jerk motion that he gave you. He resists the temptation of giving in to your antics and smiling as a result. 

You’re messing with his head, he groans silently. He’s never going to be the same after this. More than that, he thinks, glancing towards Nobara and Yuuji who observe him with matching knowing looks, the two of them are never going to let him live this down. 

Maybe you don't know it yet, but Megumi is yours.

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