#or any attempt at perspective. so no hes just much higher up than he would have been in the origina;

[anylady-fics]

Radar | Lee Know x F Reader

Summary:

[...] “Me too. My roommate’s pretty chill and is out of the house most of the day.” “Are you sure it’s okay if I use his bed tonight?” “Unless you’d prefer using mine…” You smiled and tried to add a playful tone to what you said, secretly hoping he’d notice that you weren’t joking. Minho finished eating and set the cup and fork on the coffee table, then looked at you with a different smile—one filled with mischief, and something more. “Only if you'll be in it, too.” [...]

Or… you have a crush on your boxing tutor, and he likes you too. Hehe.

*** this work is for adult audiences. Minors DNI ***

TAGS: #smut fanfic #leeknow fanfic #straykids fanfic #porn with a bit plot #oneshot #minho is a boxing instructor

Warnings: smut, shameless smut, fingering, squirting, oral sex, rough sex, spanking (a little), crempie, unprotected sex (don't do it), a bit of cockwarming

6,405K words - cross posted on ao3

You have been taking boxing classes for a few months now, initially motivated by your interest in improving your fitness and health. However, what really kept you engaged in the classes was your instructor.

At the beginning, you tried hard not to stare, knowing that you were just another student among many who admired him. His class was full of women, which you noticed during your first week. Minho was very handsome, and it was impossible not to notice.

From the first class, you found yourself watching him a bit too much, captivated by his incredibly attractive lips and his sculpted face—delicate yet not too much so. The problem was that he didn’t seem to give anyone special attention; he appeared to be a very serious person, at least from your perspective. This only made your interest grow, as you relished the challenge.

You saw many women throwing themselves at him, but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest, at least not in front of others. You had no way of knowing if he met with any of them privately, as he seemed like a discreet type of guy, which only made you want him more.

You didn’t like to make a move without being fairly certain of success, so you were trying to understand him first—he wasn’t easy to read. You tried obvious things, like pretending you didn’t know something during training to see if he would turn the instruction into unnecessary physical contact, but it didn’t work. He didn’t touch anyone differently, even when women made advances.

Your last attempt was to switch to private lessons, and when you discussed it with him, the conversation was pleasant, though you struggled to hide your true intentions.

“So, do you still have any spots left for private lessons?”

“Yes, but only the late ones. Is it for you?”

“Yes, for me. That’s no problem. Could you please send me the price for three sessions a week?”

“Don’t you think that’s too much?”

“Oh no, I’m really focused.”

“No problem, then.” 

So there you were, getting ready for your first private session with him, feeling a bit nervous. The class was scheduled from 9 to 10 p.m., so you knew you’d wake up sore, but that didn’t bother you.The gym closed at 9 p.m., so it would be just the two of you there for the entire hour. You weren’t exactly sure how you’d make a move on him, or if you even had the nerve to do it, but having him all to yourself was a great start. Maybe you’d start by trying to get to know him a little better.

For a moment, the whole plan seemed really stupid in your head, you hadn’t even said it out loud. You didn’t even know if he was single, so you tried to convince yourself that you were doing this for the health benefits, not because of your lust.

You arrived a bit early, and he was finishing up a class with some random guy. You stood there and watched. The intensity level was much higher than you expected, and you even started to doubt if you could handle that three times a week, but you didn’t want to give up just yet.

When the class ended, they greeted each other, and the man left, leaving the room empty except for you and Minho.

“I’m gonna clean the tatami and grab some water. You can stretch if you want. I’ll be right back.”

You nodded and waited for him to clean it so you could use the tatami to do your stretching routine. You were still feeling a bit sore from the last training, but it was fine.

You were just wrapping your hands with the bandages when he came back and asked you to stop and wait. You didn’t quite understand, but you stopped anyway, trying hard not to stare as he got closer.

“Let me do that for you.”

“You don’t have to…”

“All of you do it wrong, and I’m kinda tired of trying to teach it, so I just do it myself when it’s only me and the person I’m training.” He smiled as he held your hand, and your heart skipped a beat—you had never seen him this close before. You followed his instructions, opening and closing your hands as he told you to.

“There we go, now you’ve learned, right?”

“I think so… let’s see if I can do it by myself.”

“Relax, I’ll do it for you again if you need it.”

Minho explained how the training would work: he’d be holding the pads while you threw punches, and occasionally he’d try to hit you so you could learn to dodge.

You started the first round and felt tired within the first two minutes. It was a lot to manage, dividing your attention between punching and defending. You were used to just repeating sequences, but switching to personal training was a thousand times harder—and much more fun.

You missed defending one of his strikes and took a hit to the ribs. The sound made Minho stop the round, and he looked really concerned.

“Did I hurt you? I’m really sorry…”

“It’s fine! I don’t mind the pain, I kinda like it…”

You realized what you’d said right after saying it and blushed a little, trying not to laugh. You noticed that he tried to hold back a smile too. He was totally different compared to how he acted during the group classes. He was much more talkative, relaxed, and kept giving you really useful tips.

You took a few more hits, but nothing that hurt too much. You had to assure him that you were fine, that something like this wouldn't knock you down.

"You did really well. Usually, someone from the group training can't handle the first full class."

"Thanks!" You felt a bit awkward with the compliment, since he never said anything like that during the group classes. "But now that I’ve done the first one, I’m really questioning if I’ll be able to handle it three times a week..."

"We can try. If it’s too much, we can cut back. But I think you’ve got it."

He winked at you. What was that? Normally, you would’ve taken it as flirting, but since it was him, you pretended it didn’t happen. He must have noticed you were a little thrown off. It was awful being so transparent.

“Do you live near here?”

“About a 5-minute walk, maybe…”

“Me too. Are you driving?”

“Not today…”

“Want a ride?”

There was probably nothing behind the offer, which was a shame, but you’d accept it anyway. You had every intention of hitting on him, but you started holding back because he seemed more approachable, and that felt strange to you. You weren’t ready for someone so different from what you were used to, though you were definitely enjoying it.

You closed up the gym together and got into his car. It was clean, smelled nice, like it had just been washed. You almost felt bad, sitting there being drenched in sweat.

“So, which way do you live?”

You briefly explained where you lived, and then found out Minho lived just two blocks away from you. You were pleased to realize you were geographically lucky too—you were practically neighbors.

“We could start running this route on the way back. What do you think? It’d be a good post-training routine.”

“I’m not sure I could handle running after class, Minho... but I’ll give it a try.”

“Alright then. See you in two days?”

“Yes! Good night, and thanks for the ride.”

You weren’t sure how to say goodbye. You felt too awkward to shake his hand, and a kiss on the cheek seemed a little too intimate. So, you just got out of the car without looking back, regretting not asking if he was single.

You trained together for almost three weeks, keeping up the crazy routine of running after class. You noticed how much your stamina had improved in such a short time—your reflexes, too, along with everything else. You could almost keep up with him in sparring, considering he was lowering his level for you, and you were even invited to advance to a higher belt level.

You two were getting closer. He was much easier to talk to during the one-on-one sessions, just the two of you.

“You’re different in personal training. I used to be a little scared to talk to you.”

“In the group, I have to divide my attention a lot. It’s more complicated. But scared, why?”

“I don’t know… you just seemed more serious.”

“Like I said, it’s a lot of people to focus on.”

“And a lot of people to turn down, too!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

The tone he used made it clear he was being sarcastic, along with the teasing smile on his face.

“Seriously, the girls are torturing themselves trying to get your attention. Nobody even knows if you’re single or not!”

“And you’re asking because you wanna know?”

“Yes, I’m curious.”

“And why haven’t you asked me before?”

“Because I thought it would be too invasive… but since we’re on the topic, are you single?”

“It’s just a simple question, nothing to worry about. And yes, I’m single. And you?”

“Me too. If I had a boyfriend, he probably wouldn’t like me training this late and getting rides from my instructor…”

“The ride was just that one time!”

“Even so…”

Your conversations were becoming more relaxed, and you allowed yourself to flirt a bit, hoping maybe he’d make the first move. From where you were standing, it seemed like the only thing missing was for someone to take that first step. But yes, you were too much of a coward to do it yourself because you were having fun with him, and you didn’t want things to get weird if he ended up rejecting you.

Another week of training passed, and on Friday, when you were closing up the gym, you both heard the sound of thunder, announcing an incoming storm. Neither of you had a car that day, so you thought you might have time to get home without getting soaked. But as soon as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the rain started, and it wasn’t light.

Minho grabbed your arm, opting not to stop, and the two of you ran through the rain until you reached your house. The storm got worse, with lightning and the rain pouring down harder, so you thought maybe he should wait a bit before heading home.

“Come inside. You can wait out the storm and then go home.”

At that moment, he didn’t question you, just came into your garage. Both of you were drenched in your workout clothes, and the sight you got was well worth the trouble of the rain. His thighs were perfect and muscular, and the way his shirt clung to his chest and abs left you very satisfied. And a bit nervous, too. He was way too hot.

You were fully aware that he was looking at you too. Your tank top was thin, and you were cold, with your nipples clearly visible through the fabric, your thighs outlined by your shorts, which were also tightly hugging your ass.

“You can come upstairs with me, I’ll grab some towels… we got soaked.”

“Damn, yeah. I hope I don’t get sick after this.”

You both climbed the stairs, and you felt a little crazy because you could sense Minho’s eyes on you, especially since you were walking ahead, imagining what kind of view he was getting from below.

He stopped in your living room, took off his shoes before stepping in, and seemed a little uncomfortable about getting the floor wet. You quickly grabbed two sets of towels and handed him one, because a single towel wouldn’t be enough. Your hair was dripping wet.

“Don’t worry about the floor…” You used one towel to dry your hair, and with the other you started drying your arms first. Since your clothes were soaked, you took off your shirt and remained in just your sports bra. It wasn’t anything new for him, you’d trained in just a bra before. “If you want, I can throw your clothes in the dryer. It’s still raining pretty hard... who knows when it’ll stop.”

“But what am I going to wear? Are you trying to get me naked without even offering dinner first?!”

“You could wear nothing, but I have a roommate who works at night and could lend you some clothes, you know?”

“Well, if that’s the case…” Minho decided to take off his shirt, and you watched as the fabric peeled off his skin in what felt like slow motion, revealing a part of his body that had been a mystery to you. He wasn’t ripped, but he was athletic, with big arms and well-defined shoulders. “Are you just going to keep staring? You’re making me embarrassed.”

“I’ll go get the clothes…”

Chris’s clothes would probably fit Minho well, they were about the same size. Just to be sure, you grabbed the biggest ones you could find.

When you came back to the living room, you found your instructor wearing nothing but his underwear, his soaked clothes piled on the floor, and he was wrapping a towel around his waist. You barely realized you had frozen in place from what you were seeing and had to make a very conscious effort to keep moving, feeling your nipples harden again, this time not from the cold.

“Here they are… the bathroom is down the hall if you want a hot shower. I’m not sure how much hot water we still have, though…”

“No need for all that, I don’t want to inconvenience you. If anyone should shower, it’s you. It’s your house.” He reached out to take the clothes while still drying himself with the other towel.

“I just don’t want to risk the water going cold again…”

You almost had a heart attack when lightning struck somewhere nearby, and in the next moment, all the streetlights went out, including the power in your house. It took you a few seconds to recover from the shock, and then you used your phone’s flashlight to grab the candles you had stashed for a moment like this.

“This rain really isn’t going to stop,” he said, heading toward the window, the towel still wrapped around his waist, the image of the outline in his underwear still in your mind.

“You can stay here if you want, my roommate won’t be back until late… I can let him know I’m lending his bed.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer. Thanks for this.”

You lit several candles around the house, most on the floor, some on the kitchen counter, and others in the living room. Afterward, you realized you needed to change your clothes because you were starting to get really cold. You excused yourself and went to your room with your phone’s flashlight.

You stripped completely and dried off thoroughly with the towel before putting on anything. You had your really hot instructor in your living room, the man you’d been wanting for a while now, so you decided to dress in a way that would catch his attention. You picked out a pair of short workout shorts that you usually wore at home and decided not to wear any underwear, letting the fabric show off as much as it could. To balance it out, you grabbed an oversized T-shirt but skipped the bra. It was too dark for him to see much anyway.

When you came back to the living room, he had neatly piled his clothes near the door. You picked them up to put them in the dryer, and then you noticed that he had taken off his underwear.

Your hot instructor was sitting on your couch, wearing loose clothes, no underwear. It felt like an opportunity falling from the sky, along with the relentless rain.

“So… do you want something to eat?”

“I don’t usually eat dinner, but if you have any fruit, I’ll take some.”

You opened the fridge and found two cups of fruit salad that you’d bought for yourself and your roommate. You grabbed both and handed one to Minho.

“How long have you been living here?”

“About six months… and you?”

“Three years or so. But I live alone. No roommates, had to kick the last one out.”

“Why?” You laughed, noticing how the candlelit atmosphere was perfect for your not-so-innocent intentions.

“Too noisy.”

“Do you prefer quiet?”

“Depends… but usually, yes.”

“Me too. My roommate’s pretty chill and is out of the house most of the day.”

“Are you sure it’s okay if I use his bed tonight?”

“Unless you’d prefer using mine…” You smiled and tried to add a playful tone to what you said, secretly hoping he’d notice that you weren’t joking.

Minho finished eating and set the cup and fork on the coffee table, then looked at you with a different smile—one filled with mischief, and something more.

“Only if you'll be in it, too.”

Success.

There was a pause for a few seconds where you both stared at each other, almost like you needed to make sure you were both serious. You moved at the same time, leaning in to kiss, and Minho quickly grabbed the back of your neck, giving you a taste of the grip you imagined he’d have.

The kiss was aggressive, intense, just as you thought it would be, and wow, you’d fantasized about this moment a lot. You let him take control, setting the pace you would follow, and you surrendered to it more and more. It didn’t take long before you were sitting on his lap, feeling his erection through his shorts, the friction creating a hot sensation on your clit, making your pussy throb and you moan heavily between kisses.

His hands slipped under your oversized shirt, sliding up your abdomen until they grabbed your tits, squeezing them while he bit your lower lip, then teasing your nipples with his thumbs, making them hard.

“Be honest…” He pulled off your shirt, his hands now resting on your bare waist. “How long have you been wanting this?”

“Since I first saw you… kinda.” You pulled his shirt off too, tossing it along with yours somewhere on the floor.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I didn’t think I had a chance with you…” You rested your hands on his chest, feeling the muscles beneath your touch, savoring the warmth of his soft skin. “So, I waited to be sure. What about you? Are you just enjoying the opportunity, or was this something you wanted too?”

“I wanted it, but I also thought I didn’t stand a chance, since you never made a move.” His hands moved down to grab your ass, running his fingers over the fabric of your shorts, suddenly realizing something. “No underwear?”

“That’s a lie! I tried to get closer, but you’re so hard to read during class.” You ground against him, adjusting yourself better on his erection. “And yes, I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“It’s not quite like that… Fuck.” He pulled your hair again and kissed you. Your body pressed against his, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You stayed like that for a while, kissing and touching each other until you opened your eyes and realized the power had come back on. Much sooner than expected.

Minho stood up from the couch, lifting you in his arms as he carried you down the hallway. You wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed his neck, holding him tighter and pressing your breasts against his chest.

“Which one is your room?”

“Last door.”

You entered your room, and he laid you down on the bed, climbing on top of you and kissing you. His weight on top of yours felt really good. You spread your legs to let him settle between them, pulling him closer, trapping him against you. The lights were on, and you wanted to keep them that way because it would be worth it.

You squeezed his ass with both hands, making him push his erection between your legs while he trailed kisses down your neck, leaving wet trails that made you shiver. He bit you a few times, softly at first and then harder to leave a mark, and you gradually melted beneath him, feeling your pussy getting wetter from the friction between you.

He propped himself up on his knees so he could use his hands on you, trailing one down your body while his kisses and bites made their way to your tits. His fingers went straight for your shorts, where the fabric was already soaked.

“Would you have stayed this wet all night if I hadn’t said anything?”

“I probably would’ve made a move on you… eventually.”

His laughter against your skin gave you goosebumps, and he pressed deeper between your legs, making your shorts stick to your folds with a wet sound. He rubbed your clit over the thin fabric, making you moan and spread your legs wider, feeling frustrated by the clothes you were still wearing.

“How do you like it?” He added more pressure with his fingers, pushing the fabric of your shorts against your entrance, soaking everything even more. “I have a guess, but I want to be sure.”

“Looks like you guessed it right… I like it rough.” You remembered how he had pulled your hair, still feeling the slight sting on your scalp, just like the love bites he’d left on your neck and breasts.

His response was to pull off your shorts, making a point of showing you just how soaked the fabric was with your arousal. Minho spread your legs, grabbing your thighs and kissing the insides, slowly working his way toward the center, until he reached your mound. He breathed in your scent, covered your skin with kisses, and descended to your clit, where he started teasing with the tip of his tongue, barely touching you.

You tangled a hand in his still-damp hair, pushing the strands away from his face so you could watch him. He held your thighs open and immobile as he began eating you out, his tongue and lips doing an amazing work, while occasionally his nose would rub against your clit. The stimulation was intense, so you grabbed your breasts, pinching your nipples to heighten the sensation even more, as your legs tried to close every time he brought you close to orgasm.

You began to pull his hair and grind against his face, desperate to cum, when he decided to tease your entrance, slipping a finger inside and taunting you by pulling it out and pushing it back in.

You couldn’t take it anymore, your moans turning into whiny complaints, and he seemed to love leaving you this desperate.

“Not yet. When you cum, you're gonna make a mess for me.”

Your body relaxed as he moved his mouth away from your clit, ruining the orgasm you had built up after all that stimulation. You were frustrated, but he kept kissing, licking, sucking, and fingering you. Except, it wasn’t like he was doing it to make you come, but more for his own entertainment. He toyed with your arousal, stretching the wet string between your pussy and his fingers before savoring them. You had half a mind to push his head away and finish yourself off, but then he added another finger, using his thumb on your clit while kissing your thighs. You started grinding against his hand, seeking more friction, feeling that familiar tightness building in your core.

“You’re too eager…” He slowed his movements, leaving you frustrated again.

“I can’t take it anymore… I wanna cum.”

“Hmm…” He curled his fingers inside you, searching for a different texture until he found it and pressed, making you moan loudly. “But I need to tease you more, it’ll be better that way…”

He kept pressing on your G-spot while his thumb made torturously slow circles on your clit, which was now swollen and sensitive, craving more friction.

You weren’t sure what exactly he was planning, but you had an idea based on all the pressure he was applying inside you, varying the rhythm, driving you crazy as your sensitivity kept increasing. The wet sounds were getting louder, and you felt like you were leaking even more onto his hand, the sensation was much different from the usual.

“You’re ready… now I’ll give you what you want.” His thumb on your clit applied more pressure, and soon he switched to the other hand for more precision. “Don’t hold back, darling.”

The fingers inside you suddenly started moving roughly, hitting your G-spot over and over, a frantic rhythm that made your eyes roll back from the sheer pleasure, your whole body becoming useless as you felt something building up inside.

“That’s it, don’t hold it back… I want you to cum.”

It felt like you were going to explode, all the stimulation in just the right spots was wrecking you, your body twisting under his touch, feeling the pressure your body was trying to release. Your orgasm was close, your clit too sensitive, and yet you ground against his fingers even more as he kept fucking your pussy with the other hand.

You closed your eyes and did as he said, no matter how weird the sensation felt. Minho kept up the same rhythm and made you cum really hard, and as soon as he noticed you pushing his fingers out of your pussy, he pulled them away, and you felt the liquid gush out, dripping down to your ass and forming a puddle on the bed.

You wanted to scream because it was so intense, your whole body was shaking and you were almost crying from the pleasure. It was so different from what you were used to, and you never thought squirting like that was possible. Your legs trembled violently as the waves of pleasure washed over you, completely out of control of your body. He kept touching your clit without stopping, slapping it a few times to make you notice the huge mess you had made, the bed soaked beneath you.

“Hmm…” He bent down, spreading your legs again to lick your thighs, kissing your mound and clit while you thought you might pass out after that. “Hope you’re not too tired.”

You ended up laughing because you were absolutely wrecked, and you were still in the foreplay stage. The wait had been worth it.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to lift your body and check the damage to the bed, truly impressed by how much you had soaked everything.

“I should grab a towel next time, apparently.”

“Next time?” He moved closer to kiss you on the mouth, making you taste yourself on his lips and tongue. “You already have plans?”

“Of course, I’ve had plans for the first time for a while! After that, I’m obviously going to want more.”

“Good to know. Next time, I’ll take you to dinner first.”

Your body was starting to function again, so you managed to push him over and reverse your positions, ending up on top of him.

“Dinner? How sweet.”

You leaned in to kiss him, grinding your hips over his, rubbing against the bulge in his shorts, eager to finally see him without any clothes. You trailed kisses down to his neck, then to his chest, making sure to bite hard enough to leave a mark before licking and teasing his nipples, prompting him to bring his hands to your head, gathering your hair up so he could watch you as you worked your way down to his stomach.

You pulled off his shorts, freeing his erection and discarding the fabric, tossing it to the side. You loved seeing him naked on your bed, and as you crawled back up, caressing his legs, you took extra time to squeeze his thighs. Minho’s thighs were perfect, and if you weren’t so thirsty for him, you probably would’ve come just from grinding on one of them. Maybe you’d save that for later, or for the next round. You settled between his legs, sitting on your heels and scratching him lightly, admiring the red marks that immediately appeared. You trailed your hands up to grasp his cock, hypnotized by the precum dripping from the tip, the flushed tip, and the veins that you couldn’t wait to feel with your lips. You stroked him slowly, using both hands, already imagining how it would feel when he was inside you, the thought making you clench and wanting to touch yourself, but you held back.

His hands were still keeping your hair out of the way, so you licked your lips and licked his entire length, watching as he furrowed his brow and bit his lip, eyes locked on you.

He closed his eyes as you sucked on the tip, slowly taking his cock into your mouth, resting him on your tongue, making him sigh louder. Minho became much more vocal when you sucked harder, pushing your head down as you took more of him in, almost making him come. You squeezed his thighs and stopped, unable to bear how your arousal was dripping, desperate for something inside.

You mounted him, using his cock to rub against your folds and clit, mixing your juices with his as you ground against him, making it even messier.

“Condom?” he asked, making you realize you were both out of breath. “I only have some in my car.”

“And I might have one in my roommate’s room. But…” You kept grinding, feeling him leaking against you. “I’m on the pill, I’m clean… you?”

“Fuck… me too. But if you want, I can go grab one…” The way his hands gripped your thighs said otherwise. You lifted your hips slightly, positioning him at your entrance, spreading your pussy lips to guide him in, and started slowly sitting down.

You closed your eyes, balancing yourself by resting your hands on his chest, feeling the delicious sensation of your pussy being filled and stretched, your insides still sensitive from how he had teased you before. You rocked your hips side to side, slowly sinking further. You bit your lip to stifle your moans, but it became impossible when his hands grabbed your breasts, pinching your nipples roughly.

You found an angle that gave you even more pleasure and started riding him slowly, this time resting your hands on your thighs. His hands roamed your body, touching you everywhere, until one hand gripped your waist while the other moved between your legs, teasing you first with his thumb on your clit before spreading your lips and watching how you slid down his cock.

You varied the pace, focused on trying to come again, still more sensitive from the magic he had worked with his fingers earlier. Your body was already sweating, and you had dug your nails into his chest hard enough to hurt him, though he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

He placed his hands on your waist and pushed you to the side, lifting you off him just as you were about to come. You opened your mouth to protest, even muttering something in frustration, but he threw you onto the bed, lifting your legs against his chest before thrusting deep and hard into you, bringing you to the edge once more. Your hand flew to your clit, and you started rubbing yourself, the intense sensitivity sending shockwaves through you as he pounded into you, wrapping his arms around your legs, the loud sound of his thighs slapping against your ass filling the room.

The moment your orgasm hit, he spread your legs and buried himself deep inside, leaning forward and halting his movements, feeling how your pussy clenched around him, groaning along with you as he watched. Minho collapsed on top of you, sucking on your neck before kissing his way up to your mouth, as you felt the last waves of pleasure leaving you, all your senses overwhelmed as your body relaxed.

You were dizzy for the second time. Having your orgasm interrupted made it even more intense, and your whole body was tingling from his kisses. You scratched your hands down his back, wanting to leave him marked the same way he was doing to you.

Barely catching your breath, he was already moving again, but this time slowly, just feeling you. He bit your bottom lip, stopping once more, and pulled out of you. You were almost satisfied, your body heavy, feeling like dead weight on the bed because of him.

Minho lay down beside you and pulled you close, turning your body so your back was pressed to his chest, and he could enter you from the side. You arched your back to press your ass against his pelvis and lifted your leg, guiding his cock back inside. No matter how exhausted you were, you still wanted more. Hearing him moan so close to your ear made you moan with him, his voice so sexy it made you push your hips back even further. Only then did he start thrusting lazily, his hands exploring your body.

You let one arm slide beneath you, his hand finding your breast, gripping it while pulling you even closer. You closed your eyes, focusing on each sensation: his breath on your neck, his voice vibrating against your already tingling skin, your nipple being teased, the delicious sting of each thrust. It all had you on edge, making you want to come again.

“You seem recovered…” He licked your neck up to your ear, biting the lobe. “Or do you need more time?”

“I thought you were going to fuck me rough…”

Minho laughed against your skin, using his hand to push your leg down, making you close them. He slid his hand along the back of your thigh, and everything happened at once the moment he slapped your ass hard enough to make you scream. With the slap, he pulled you even tighter, his hand that had been on your breast now gripping your neck, pressing the sides. His thrusts became more intense, grabbing your waist to hold you still so you wouldn’t move every time he slammed into you.

The next few minutes were insane, so much that you almost asked him to stop because it was too much. You were sure you’d be sore afterward, but you knew you’d beg for more if you had to.

You could tell he was close to cum, Minho was gripping you too tightly, both on your neck and your waist. He must have realized you were almost passing out when he loosened his fingers but didn’t let go, just easing the pressure. He fucked you hard, groaning and grunting near your ear, turning you on even more with every touch, every sound. You moved your hand to his ass, wanting him to come, wanting him to go harder and deeper, even though it seemed impossible.

“I’m gonna cum… fuuuuuck…”

“Don’t pull out!” It was all you could manage to say before you started moaning from the animalistic rhythm of his thrusts, unable to stay still even though he was holding you so tight.

You moaned along with him as his groans got longer when he came inside, feeling how much he filled you, some of it leaking out even though he didn’t pull out, and only then did you feel truly satisfied.

Minho released your neck and took a deep breath, kissing your nape and stroking the skin on your waist and ass, likely leaving a handprint behind.

“Should I leave now? The rain lightened up.”

You were almost falling asleep, the exhaustion from the workout, the run, and the hot sex hitting you hard. You glanced back with your eyes nearly shut, reaching out to turn off the light and then pulling the blanket over both of you.

“If you get out of this bed, I’ll kick your ass. Let’s see how well you taught me.”

“As if you could ever beat me.”

He settled behind you, holding you tighter while still inside. You drifted off in seconds, and you think he did too. You woke up to sounds of someone else in the apartment, eyes wide open, remembering you hadn’t closed the bedroom door.

“Hey, why’s one of my shirts in the living room?”

Chris had come home and was heading toward your room. You panicked. Even though you were totally covered, Minho and you were both naked and your thigh was coated in his cum. The room smelled like sex, and you didn’t want your roommate to witness this, but there was no way of avoiding it. You couldn’t even move when you saw him standing in the doorway.

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I borrowed your shirt for my teacher…”

Minho sighed behind you, and you knew he was awake when he shifted his hips, rubbing his erection against your ass.

“Sorry, weren’t you in boxing class? What kind of class is this?”

“Get out, idiot. Close the door, please.”

“I hope you’ll wash the clothes later.”

You heard his footsteps fading down the hallway, took a deep breath, thoroughly embarrassed. You thought about going back to sleep, but apparently, Minho had other plans.

“I see you’re awake.”

“Sleeping with my dick inside you was great, I gotta say.”

“My roommate’s right next door, we can’t make noise…” You grinded against him, unsure if you could handle sex so soon because you were sore.

“Then we can wait until morning.”

“We can. But…” You reached for his cock, rubbing it against your folds and sliding it inside, the burn making you moan with discomfort. “Think you can sleep like this?”

“It’s cruel, but I can. It’ll keep me ready to fuck you later.”

“Better start thinking about that dinner.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of plans for you.”

[scoobydoodean]

i gotta wonder why castiel, in claire's body, seemed to be hesitating to heal jimmy in "the rapture" episode. like he was saying "time to go to your real home in heaven" when jimmy was bleeding to death from a bullet wound. at this point castiel was like. freshly lobotomized so he might've just been being more ruthless in an attempt to manipulate jimmy into allowing castiel back in. but i always am a bit confused and was wondering if you had any thoughts

I think this very much has to do with "heaven's persuasion" as Cas calls it at the time. 4.20 "The Rapture" starts with Cas having learned that heaven will intentionally start the apocalypse and kill millions of humans in the process. He is so horrified by this that he decides to rebel. He enters Dean's dreams, but says even Dean's dreams aren't a safe enough place for him to reveal the secrets he's harboring, so he sends Dean to meet him at another location, and when Sam and Dean arrive there, the whole place is torn to bits. Cas fought multiple angels tooth and nail to avoid capture so he could tell Dean the truth—that the angels were going to start the apocalypse and let them all die. However, he was captured before he could pass on his knowledge and then he was brainwashed back into compliance with heaven's orders.

One of the things I think it's clear the higher ups told Castiel as part of the brainwashing process is that humans dying just means they go to heaven and live forever in peace where they are better off than on earth, so why even fight the apocalypse? Silly Castiel! There's no reason to fret! Humans dying is a good thing! It's a mercy killing! So when Cas returns at the end of 4.20, he is operating under this new worldview and the results are chilling.

CASTIEL Of course we keep our promises. Of course you have our gratitude. You served us well. Your work is done. It's time to go home now. Your real home. You'll rest forever in the fields of the Lord. Rest now, Jimmy. JIMMY No. Claire? CASTIEL She's with me now. She's chosen. It's in her blood, as it was in yours. JIMMY Please, Castiel. Me, just take me. Take me, please. CASTIEL I wanna make sure you understand. You won't die or age. If this last year was painful for you, picture a hundred, a thousand more like it. JIMMY It doesn't matter. You take me. Just take me. CASTIEL As you wish.

Cas acknowledges the suffering he's put Jimmy through and in his own way, is trying to show compassion in this moment, but his thought process is absolutely alien. He sees the compassionate choice toward his vessel as 1) letting him die instead of healing him (drink the Kool-Aid type shit) 2) possessing his little girl to "spare" him the suffering of possession. He doesn't really seem to understand why Jimmy would beg to be possessed again instead Claire. He's completely lost perspective on human connection to the point he can't grasp a parent putting their own child's well-being above their own no matter the personal cost. This is another function of heavenly brainwashing/the cult mentality. The angels have a hierarchy in which everything is (allegedly) for their father and they sacrifice for him, not the other way around. They, in turn, intend to slaughter humans in droves for their own peace because they see humans as beneath them in the hierarchy. Cas has been re-programmed to believe this is how things should be, so he absolutely cannot understand in that moment why possessing Claire instead of Jimmy is an absolutely horrifying proposition to her father and not a form of mercy in Jimmy's eyes at all. It doesn't compute with brainwashed!Cas's understanding of hierarchy.

We see Cas's brainwashing in regards to death and ascension into heaven as the ultimate mercy again—two episodes later in 4.22:

DEAN You know what's real? People, families -- that's real. And you're gonna watch them all burn? CASTIEL What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You'll be at peace. Even with Sam.

Note that Cas clearly didn't feel this way before he got "sent back to Bible camp". He fought violently to reach Dean and tell him the truth before he was captured.

[vangbelsing]

Emmrich X Rook: Laugh Together Prompt for DADreams

WOW, A STORY I'M ACTUALLY RELATIVELY PLEASED WITH? AND THAT I GOT OUT EARLIER THAN BEFORE MY BEDTIME??? Wild. Anyway, this is set at a point where Alina and Emmrich aren't together yet but are very clearly already in their pro yearning stages. I had SO much fun writing this, especially the more flirty bits 🤭 ENJOY 🫶

Her long legs draped over the arm rest of the chair in his study, swinging back and forth mindlessly, the occasional bump of her feet into the wooden surface causing a subtle thud every now and again. Once in awhile, she would peer up passed the little book in her hands that she skimmed with only a shred of interest, looking to see if perhaps the man at the other side of the room had finished with his papers.

He had not.

She groaned, staring at the way his quill swayed rhythmically in his hold, the motions very near to hypnotic, but not so much as to keep her attention. She groaned again, this time with far more force and intentionally higher in volume, her arm slumping down to her side while her fingers maintained only a meek hold on the book she had barely even read half way.

"Have I failed to rouse your enthusiasm, madame Crow?" Emmrich asked rhetorically from his spot at the desk, the question tinted with a hint of playful sarcasm. His head did not so much as twitch to look back at Alina, instead continuing to flip expertly to another page, dabbing his quill into the ink pot beside him.

Alina shifted positions, propping herself up on her elbows to shoot a pout at the mans back as she allowed the book to fall from her hands entirely, the spine contacting the stone floor with a quiet thump.

"Well, professor, when you said I could wait in your study with you while you finished some business, I had assumed it would take a few minutes... maybe even several... But an hour?"

The man flitted back and forth between two pages now, inspecting his prior work to ensure there were no inconsistencies. He settled on one sheet of paper again, flicking his writs slightly as he leaned forward to write once more, the motion producing a sweet little symphony of clinks and jingles from his bejeweled arms.

"I did say I would fetch you afterwards if you preferred not to wait, I happen to recall."

Oh, he was grinning. She couldn't see his face, but she knew it for a fact. She could just tell from the pitch of his voice and the little flicks of his free fingers how decidedly amused he was by this.

Alina rolled her eyes, pushing herself up from her seat to stand before starting a particularly lethargic saunter in Emmrichs direction.

"True, but back in Antiva, we have something of an unspoken rule:" The raven tressed elf began to purr, striding forward until she reached the spot where the older man sat, his head still set on his work.

She gripped the back his seat to spin his chair around, forcing him to face her. Surprisingly, he didn't seem the least bit perturbed, his mouth quirked up on either side into a lazed smile, his eyes attempting to feign a look of reprimand. She leaned into him slightly from where she stood above him, leaving little distance between them now.

"If a pretty girl is trying to spend time with you, you don't make her wait. Especially not an hour."

He hummed mindfully in response, taking his chin between his thumb and pointer finger, "A wise convention. Though, we have our own saying in Nevarra."

"Oh?" She cooed, setting her chin atop her hands as she rested her elbows on the arm rests on either side of Emmrich, their faces now more level, "You have a better one?"

His expression shifted, his face more overtly amused, "Better is a matter of perspective."

"Uh huh. And how does your, 'better according to ones perspective' saying go?"

He allowed himself to smirk fully now, as if emboldened. "Any time passed in the presence of a beautiful woman is always time well spent."

The grin on Alinas countenance was cheshire, her comely visage exuding satisfaction. This had been what she wanted when she suggested she and Emmrich spend time with one another. Banter, ribbing, gossip; anything bracing. So long as they were doing it together.

She released her grip on his chair, moving with a felines graceful fluidity to seat herself on the edge of his desk instead and crossing her legs in a single motion. He turned in his place so that only the side of his face was visible from her new perch.

"I see you Nevarrans have some universal practices. But don't you think there are better uses of a - oh, how did you put it?" Alina pressed a long, delicate digit to rest at her chin, pretending to search her memory, "a beautiful woman? Yes, that was it. Surely there are better uses of a beautiful womans time."

The necromancers chest swelled with self satisfaction. The way she emphasized his words, how she brought overt attention to them. He thought she might like that.

"I believe women are capable of choosing the best possible use of their time. Though I suppose they have something to say about that in Antiva as well?" His tone was clearly teasing.

She reclined on his desk, supporting her weight on both arms. "Only that the one thing more likely to spill your guts over an offense than a scorned woman is a Crow."

Emmrich smiled, but paused a moment, his face twisting thoughtfully as if weighing his next words with care. He grinned then, the look more playful than teasing, obviously having deemed that the risk would be worth the reward.

"I should have known you Antivan Crows would be so... ma-caw-bre."

Silence enveloped the room, natural, at first, and then quickly not. Emmrich maintained his composure, but the bead of sweat forming on his brow betrayed the tension he had begun to feel creeping in.

'Was that a bird pun?' she thought to herself. 'Did he just... make a bird joke?'

She gaped at him, her verdurous eyes wide like plates and her mouth parted. She looked as if he had grown a second head rather than tell a corny pun. It was so stupid. Utterly nonsensical. It wasn't even a good pun.

Yet...

As if possessed, Alina barked one sudden laugh, then another, until she fell into a continuous stream of mirthful chuckles. Emmrich frowned, the blush spreading from his neck to his ears, his composed shell thoroughly chipped.

"What?" He asked, the question defensive as his voice cracked somewhat.

Alina paused, trying to regain her breath, but failed, almost immediately returning to her laughing fit. She pointed to him, tears in her eyes and incapable of uttering a word not broken by laughter.

"You...!"

"I what?!" He mimicked her, pointing to himself now as his tone grew more affronted, clearly embarrassed.

"You said... You... That was so stupid!" She fell on her side, now balling up on the desk.

Emmrichs first instinct was to feel somewhat offended at Alinas display, her reaction far more animated than he would ever have thought her capable of over something so trivial as a poor pun about birds.

But looking at her there, her eyes pressed tightly as tears pricked the corners of her eyes, her cheeks reddened and lifted into the most jovial mien he had seen her wear in all the time he knew her. And her laugh; not the breathy chuckle of a woman with the intent to beguile or the sharp cackle of mockery, but a laugh. True, pure and filled with gaiety. To see her so happy and carefree, to know he had been the reason - it was worth feeling like a fool to see her this way.

He smiled, his face still pink as he settled in his chair again. "It wasn't that bad..." He practically pouted vocally.

They sat there for a few moments, the only noise filling the room being the laughter Alina couldn't seem to stifle. Steadily, it slowed, the once gleeful, high pitched and continuous echoes dulling to the occasional throaty giggle.

She sighed, apparently having caught her breath and regained her composure. Her bright eyes blinked open in the direction of the necromancer, who had, it seemed, watched her display without pause, the visible aura of delight that surrounded him abruptly making Alina feel flush.

"That was really bad." She asserted quietly, the scathing words contrasted by the sweetness of the tone in which she spoke them.

"Well," he started, crossing one leg over the other, "it was intended to make you laugh..." he rolled his eyes over her frame, taking special note of the wet streaks of eyeshadow that had left a teary trail down her cheeks, "And its results can't exactly be called into question."

Alina hummed at that, breaking the eye contact to stare off to the side at the numerous rows of books, which lined each wall neatly. Emmrich quickly caught the twinkle of mischief in her verdant eyes, her nose scrunching as she appeared to suppress a grin.

"Still, saying something like... It must have been embarrassing for you. I could never force myself to say anything that ridiculous." She then whipped her head to him, her gaze capturing his, demanding his utmost scrutiny.

She had it completely.

The smirk she hoped to hide now showed itself in full, despite her efforts, "I've always fancied myself as being more... caw-tious..."

Emmrich stared, unfazed for only a moment, before tearing his eyes away from her, his head turning as if he was physically incapable of staring in her direction, a long chortle escaping from him.

"Maker, you were right," he lifted a hand to his face, resting his temple and cheek on his pointer, middle and ring fingers, a half amused, half cringing smile tugging at his lips, "it is awful."

She huffed, gaping in mock offense. "I never said it was awful!"

"You should have." Emmrich laughed fully at last, staring back at Alina once again.

They both remained in his study for a time, sitting in a comfortable silence until Alina had insisted that Emmrich read to her, which he did gladly. An hour or so had gone by before Bellara had beckoned them for supper, excitedly announcing that she and Lucanis had put special, coordinated effort into a cultural fusion dish tonight. Emmrich had offered Alina his arm to take, and when she had locked her arms into his, she could just barely restrain the urge to lean her head against his shoulder; a gesture she could not have realized just how deeply he would have welcomed.

Events had been tumultuous at the least strenuous of times of late, but even so, in moments like this, when all that was felt was the presence of another soul, riding out the passage of time in blissful, carefree afternoons spent without the anxieties that pervaded their every day, it kept them grounded, made them realize how much was left to fight for.

[lightlycareless]

OMGGGGGG PLEASE WRITE NAOMI MEETING NANAMI!!!!

Heya anon!

No need to tell me twice!! I hope you enjoy this little piece of fluff I wrote about Nanami meeting Naomi :> or his general thoughts about the whole ordeal.

warnings: none. fluff. nanami worries for you, as always.

Happy reading!

Nanami guessed right when saying he wouldn’t be able to keep track of you after the wedding.

As soon as you went onto your honeymoon, you’ve completely disappeared from the world. Asides from the few rumors here and there of the places yournow husband had taken you to celebrate this union… he didn’t hear anything from you.

And that, alongside his new civilian job, Kento didn’t have much time to personally inquiry with your family (or you directly for that matter) about your whereabouts.

But, well, even after all this, he still supposes you’ve been doing well. After all, bad news always spread like wildfire, and if something of that nature happened, he has no doubt he would’ve known by now.

…

Still, would it be too much to ask of the universe to have good news work the same way?

Probably.

For now, he’ll do with what he heard, which unfortunately, didn’t pertain to you in its majority.

Apparently Naoya had been promoted to 1st grade. Good for him and his thriving career, which he assumes just got busier and busier.

What about you, though? What have you been up to these days? Last thing he knew about your career was that you were planning on retiring to focus on your new life as Naoya’s wife—but what exactly did that entail? And did you end up doing so?

He’ll find the answer soon enough, on one of his unwanted visits to his alma mater.

Nanami never thought he’d be back in this place ever again, certainly not with the way he openly denounced his relationship with the community and made a run for it.

But, as much as he would’ve loved to leave everything behind and dive into his new life, his previous one would always find its way back to him one way or the other, today, it was through some unfinished paperwork he urgently needed to deal with if he was to be promoted into a higher position.

As he walked through the once familiar campus grounds, Nanami toyed with the idea that this was perhaps the higher up’s attempt to rope him back into sorcery work.

It has to be—because there’s no way a school that prided themselves to be amongst the best equipped and prepared in the community could’ve messed up something as silly as missing a copy of his birth certificate; rendering him unable to get his diploma, and thus, impeding his growth on the professional field.

Or maybe they were, and at that point, there’s nothing he can do but give them the benefit of the doubt and go fix whatever issues they’ve unwittingly entangled themselves in, all while hoping he wouldn’t bump into any familiar faces, for he didn’t particularly feel in the mood to entertain either his old classmates, or teachers.

And talking about teachers… Nanami still can’t believe Gojo had decided to become one.

Of all the people the faculty could’ve chosen to guide the next generation, they went with the most irresponsible, arrogant, selfish, childish, immature one they could find.

He hates to think that was the best option, before agreeing that if you had continued to pursue your dream of becoming a teacher, you would’ve been an excellent one, far more than Satoru. Maybe.

Either way, Nanami still hoped for a lot of things.

Hoped that he wouldn’t meet familiar faces.

Hoped that he would be able to fix his mundane issue as quickly as possible…

And hoped that he wouldn’t find much traffic on his way back home.

But if there’s one thing he did not expect—nor thought it possible, not even in the most audacious realms of his imagination…

Was to see you again, here, today.

“Y/N?” He breathes. The sight of you might’ve been from a distant perspective, and not exactly from the best angle either, but even then, he was still able to recognize the figure of one of his closest friends during his time as a student.

And after a few more seconds of careful observation, he comes to the accurate conclusion that it was you, right there, before him—as if pulled right out of the confines of his thoughts!

Without time to waste, combined with his excitement of seeing you again after months of absence, Nanami swiftly rushes to your side, stopping just by the entrance of one of the many administrative offices, giving him the impression you were there for the same motive as him (perhaps the faculty was incompetent after all.) if not more.

Although with an additional companion, carefully strapped to your chest…

“Huh? Wha—Kento?!” You gasp, initially distraught by the noise of footsteps rapidly approaching your direction, only to relax when seeing it was your long-lost friend in the flesh! A sight that felt like a breath of fresh air against what was an uneventfully boring day up to that point. “Is that really you, Kento? I can’t—I can’t believe it!”

“I can say the same thing.” He responds, the corners of his lips slightly tugging upwards. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.”

“Oh, I missed you so much!” You bubbled, hurrying to hug him—until the reason of your prolonged absence, and now the happiness of your everyday life, stops you from it with a soft coo. As if suddenly remembering she was there, you mouth a small oh before giggling, excitedly looking up to him again. “Well, now you know what kept me so busy this past year!”

The reason why you hadn’t been able to contact him as frequently as you’ve done in the past presented itself as clear as day, dressed up in their cozy pink onesie and a knitted warm hat: a baby.

You and Naoya had become parents.

Consider him surprised.

But not because the two had a family—no, it was well-known that this is what you wanted—but rather… because it happened so soon after the wedding. It suddenly made sense why both were so eager to get married.

“I suppose introductions are overdue.” You say, a smile on your face as you look down to your baby, giving her a kiss on the top of her head before gesturing her to look over to Nanami—her golden eyes quickly following your lead. “Kento, this is my daughter, Naomi. Naomi, this is one of my best friends, Kento.”

He hesitates for a moment when it comes to responding, still taken aback by the presence of this small child… but after a few seconds of coming to terms with his thoughts, he takes a step closer to her, lowering to her level before giving her a soft smile.

“Nice to meet you, Naomi.” He greets, reaching for her small hand and greeting her. “I hope you’ve been good to your mom.”

The baby girl stares at him with such an intense curious look that makes Nanami wonder if perhaps he had something in his face, or if he should’ve been a bit tenderer in his approach… before his thoughts are abruptly interrupted by her suddenly turning her head back to you, resting against your chest and promptly hiding from him.

Almost as if she were… embarrassed.

«Cute» Nanami thinks, and you chuckle, finding her actions equally adorable—as you always did whenever she did as much as breathe— before leaning down to kiss her head once more and place your hand on her back, gently comforting her.

“I’m sorry about that, she’s quite shy with new people” you explain. “But once she’s used to you, she’s nothing but clingy.”

“That’s ok.” Nanami responds, currently far more amused with the fact that everything about her screamed she was Naoya’s daughter—from the small batch of dark hair seen underneath her warm hat, her golden big round eyes, to her name. And yet, even with all those things, he still capable of nothing that… “She has your nose.”

“I knew I she had something of me!” you gasp, ecstatic. “Everyone keeps telling me how she looks so much like Naoya, but she’s my daughter too, you know? I carried her for 9 months! She has to look like me somehow!! But still… I’m very happy she takes after my husband; I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“How old is she?”

“Just a few weeks, 13 to be precise.”

“So around… 3 months.” Meaning Naomi was born around January.

“And I still can’t believe it.” You swoon.

To think that just a few weeks ago she was still in your belly, patiently waiting for the day she’d be able to be in your arms…  and now, she was there, with you, turning your reality into what you always dreamed of: a family conformed by those you loved the most.

You wished to say that overcoming this sentiment was only a matter of time, that it wouldn’t take much before you freed yourself of this nostalgia. But truth to be told, you knew that to be impossible—for as long as Naomi continues to grow, you’d feel as if time was nothing but fleeting.

But while you where basking in the blessings the presence of your daughter brought into your and Naoya’s life… Nanami was drowning in an overwhelming sense of regret for having missed what was an important milestone in your life.

More than would’ve—he should’ve been there with you, celebrating the birth of your daughter, as he suspected everyone important for you had done. How he knows you would’ve loved him to.

Just… what else did he miss?

“Congratulations.” He adds, offering a glimpse into his burdening feelings. “I wish I had told you before, but I didn’t know of your daughter until now.”

And then, the happiness radiating from your actions, if only briefly, disappears. Yet enough for him to notice.

“Oh, well… no one was supposed to.” You explain, he frowns.

“…Why?” Nanami naturally cautioned, for he couldn’t imagine a reason someone like you, whose dream was to start a family, indisputably happy that your wish was granted, would’ve kept this a secret.

You remain quiet, as if debating whether you should dive deeper into the matter or not… before accepting you at least owed Nanami an explanation to your absence.

Thus, you begin.

“There’s a reason why I essentially disappeared for a while. I wanted nothing more than to let you know of my pregnancy, but… let’s say that my role as Naoya’s wife came with some heavy… precautions.” You sigh. “I mean, I still do things as I always do, it’s not like I’m locked at the estate or anything, I just… have to be more careful about how I go on with my day—or who I talk to.

Because Naoya’s the heir of such prestigious family, he naturally becomes a target to anyone that might want to… get a benefit out of him. Obviously, that extends to me, and now…”

“Your daughter.”

You press your lips together, nodding.

“I really, really wanted to let you know, but after that day—I didn’t know if I should.”

“What do you mean?” Nanami frowns, concern in its highest. “Did… something happen?”

“No! I mean—they tried, but nothing came out of it., really. I’m fine now.”

“What do you mean they tried—Y/N, did someone hurt you? Or the baby?”

“No, I’m telling you—we’re fine! It was just a scare, nothing more.”

“That didn’t sound like a scare to me, Y/N. What happened? And more importantly, where was Naoya during all this?!”

“Nanami, it was just an accident— Naoya would’ve never allowed harm to befall me or Nao—”

And as if sensing your and Nanami’s growing distress, or perhaps remembering this experience throughout whatever little conscience she had at that moment, Naomi begins to wail, effectively snapping both out of trance.

“Oh, no, no, baby—did we scare you?” You coo, quick to rock her up and down while wrapping your arms around her, hoping that she’ll find comfort in the motion while you continue to reassure her. “It's ok, it was nothing but a disagreement, pumpkin. My friend is just worried for me—but Papa made sure that nothing ever happens to us again! So don’t worry your pretty little head about anything, ok?”

You lean your face gently against her head and then, start humming a lullaby.

The moment you spend comforting Naomi is brief, for it doesn’t take longer after that for her to begin to calm down, cries slowly quieting down as you continue to hum her what Nanami figured to be her favorite song— but as short as that instance was, it’s all that he needed to understand you genuinely enjoyed being a mother.

From the way you gently coo at her, give her little pats in the back, grow nothing but attentive to any need she may have… your joy was clear.

This is perhaps the happiest he has ever seen you in his whole life—probably even more than when you got married—and while his absence is something he’ll never be able to take back, he was ultimately glad that you were content.

And regretful that he had underestimated your safety, or Naoya’s efforts.

He just couldn’t help it—amongst those he called his friends, you were the only one left to protect. And such, he had to make sure you wouldn’t succumb to a horrible fate.

“Are you hungry, pumpkin? Oh, or maybe it’s time for you to take a nap?” you ask, looking at your bag.

“Is there something I can help you with?” he immediately asks upon seeing your brief struggle.

“Well, I could take you up on that lunch you told me about a while ago.” You tease, Nanami chuckles. “We have lots to catch up to do! Like telling me what you were doing here??”

“I was referring to Naomi, but sure, I’ll take you—if there isn’t any problem with her.”

“I think she’s just hungry and a bit sleepy—nothing a stroller can’t fix.” You say. “Everything’s on the car so I just need to make my way there.”

“Let me help you with the bag, then.” Nanami says, and without resistance, you let him take the bag from you as you sigh in relief.

“Ah, now that’s something I needed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Nanami… it’s ok.” You add. “I get it—if anything your reaction was lighthearted to what my family did… but I swear, we’re fine now. As safe as ever.”

“That’s good to know.” He smiles, and the two begin to walk towards the parking lot. “Why were you here for anyways? I can’t imagine visiting a place like this could be thrilling, less with a baby—especially if you’ve come all the way from Kyoto.”

“Oh, I just came here to do some registrations for Naomi. You know, with her being part of the Zen’in clan and all that sorcerer stuff, it’s something I needed to do as soon as she was born—but I just kept procrastinating on it.”  You explain. “I could’ve done all that in Kyoto, but since I’m also staying with my dad a bit, I’ve decided to do it here. Ever since Naoya got promoted to grade 1, he’s been nothing but busy, and I didn’t want to be alone while Naomi is still this young…”

“I’ve heard, congratulate him for me.” Nanami says. “I’m glad your family is keeping you company.”

“Maybe you can visit sometime too! I’m sure my dad would love to see you again—or maybe we can even go out more often? I have to make the most out of the fact Naoya doesn’t have me surrounded by bodyguards essentially all the time, or my siblings for that matter…”

He laughs.

“Hey! It’s not funny—I mean, he’s attentive… but do you know how annoying it is to have to tell everyone your every move all the time?” you cry. “Seriously, I sometimes even feel like a celebrity.”

Even if it’s a bit exaggerated, Nanami is glad to confirm he truly never had anything to worry. For Naoya not only remained caring, but very protective of you, and now, your baby daughter.

…

He still can’t believe it.

You and Naoya became parents during this last year.

Parents.

A family, from a relationship he once thought wouldn’t last long thanks to the preconceived notions he had of Naoya.

But he’s changed—stepped up to the role of your partner, and now, father.

It almost felt surreal, like it had been a way for his mind to explain what happened during the time of his absence.

But it wasn’t his imagination, it was there, right before him, in the form of a small, chubby looking baby that was named and looked after her father, as well as your beaming smile.

“—And obviously I want you to carry her!” you said, what little he managed to recover from the ongoing conversation after stepping out of his dwelling thoughts.

“Carry her…? If it’s too much problem, I’d rather not.” Nanami says, remembering her initial disapproval, you shake your head.

“Don’t be silly—it’s no problem. Besides, it is mandatory for me to take a picture of you two to add to the collection!”

“Collection?”

“Yep! I made Naomi an Instagram account where I’ll be posting pictures of her! I want to document everything—from her cute outfits, spending time with her grandpa, to when she’s opening her papa’s gifts, you know? I will not allow my memory to erase these precious moments from my conscience!” you firmly say. “Just send me a request and I’ll add you.”

When you once thought your parent’s photo album to be embarrassing, you are now openly replicating their behavior—although in your own style, of course. But the bottom line remained the same: it really was a parenting thing. At that, Nanami can only chuckle.

“Fine, I’ll make an account.”

“You won’t regret it! Just be sure to block Satoru though—the moment he finds out you have an account he will not leave you alone.”

And you were right, for as soon as he registered, requested to follow Naomi’s pseudo-account and saw you’ve already posted the picture you’ve taken of him and your daughter, the comment section did not waste any time to reflect the opinions Naomi’s admirers had about him: from his sudden reappearance to his “questionable influence” …

It was a circus. All starting from Satoru’s delusions.

hinata_please_unblock_me: You need to get him away from Naomi-chan. He’s going to make her boring and scary like him!!

l/n_hinata: Ha! That’s some bs if I’ve ever read one! He’s a much better influence than you’ll ever be! Also, did you make another account?! What the hell Satoru?? And @zenin_y/n why did you add him again??

zenin_y/n: Language, Hinata… also, wasn’t that Shoko’s account??

zenin_naoya: Get off my daughter’s page before I block both of you.

hinata_please_unblock_me: you wouldn’t dare. And if you do, I’ll just make another account!

l/n_hinata: I’m this close to filing a restraining order if you don’t behave!

hinata_please_unblock_me: @nanami_kento @nanami_kento @nanami_kento look what you’ve done!! Take responsibility of your actions 😡😡

hinata_please_unblock_me: Hey, why isn’t he getting tagged?! I know he has an account!! Wait, did he block me already?!?!  😭😭😭

zenin_naoya: That’s it. You’re getting blocked.

l/n_hinata: NO! @zenin_y/n  please don’t let your husband do this to me!!!

naomis_grandpa: What a lovely picture. Can’t wait to have Naomi over this weekend! 😊

Neither you nor Nanami could’ve foreseen his presence instigating such behavior from your friends and family, but as messy as it was, it was also heartwarming, realizing he missed a bit of the chaos from his life—maybe he’ll try to keep up with everyone a bit more.

Or at least with Naomi, who after warming up to his presence, was completely enthralled by him—specifically his blonde hair, which she tried to touch whenever possible, eyes widening when her small fingers finally graced his strands before giggling at its softness.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he intrigued one of the Zen’in with his hair. Now it’s just a matter of time to see if she’ll also follow in her father’s footsteps.

the thing y/n was referring to is this other oneshot. because why not!! let's connect them.

The last part is referencing a hc I posted a while ago: the reason why Naoya dyed his hair is because he heard you complimenting Nanami's a while ago, and wanting to impress you, he did the same thing. Although it stuck with him because he ended up liking it. 🤭

Also, I love how Eiichi is completely oblivious to the argument happening thanks to Nanami's picture with Naomi lol. He would be the epitome of this thing happening in mexico where aunties love sending tweety pictures to whatsapp group chats lol (very niche, I know 😂 that man is getting old I'm telling ya)

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this small interaction :> Nanami is one of the characters I consider to be... quite awkward when it comes to meeting kids, and probably wouldn't be all too affective, but he'll try for yours 🥺 specially for cute Naomi. believe me, he opens up a bit more, but he's overall happy for you 😭❤️

Thank you so much for sending in this ask!! it was a treat to write :3 ❤️

Take care, and hope to see you soon!

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

4, 7, 13, and 19 for the fanfic writing asks

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

Oh man, you're making me CHOOSE??? This is fucked up and evil actually. Okay. Ugh, there are so many I love... buuut I can probably muster up three currently updating fics. If anyone wants my completed fic recommendations then ask away!

First of all, @angeart 's wonderful(ly evil) Help Me To Breathe, which I have been commenting essays on for a while now. I'm biased because we're friends but this fic does so many things right - it is long but for me it's definitely worth it. How she handles mental health struggles is really poetic whilst remaining grounded, which I appreciate a lot. If you're looking for... 242k words (so far) of scarian angst, this is the fic to check out. It's not finished yet but it is worth waiting for.

Next, @definitelynotshouting 's lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) is THE fic that started my obsession with watcher!Grian. It's the fic that inspired my own watcher/listener series (shameless self promo) and it is constantly taking up space in my brain. It is devastatingly sad, but it is about recovery, ultimately, and again I really love how it's being handled so far. Really worth the read.

Finally, @uhohbestie 's There Are Monsters Nearby .... when I say this fic has been living in my head rent free... I mean this fic has been LIVING. THRIVING. in my mind. This is truly classic zombie fiction, where the zombies are kind of second to the relationship drama. I love the explorations of disability in the apocalypse, something I myself have been advocating for in my original writing, and the depictions and emotional beats surrounding cheating, flawed perspectives and jealousy are heartbreaking and so realistic. Wonderful fic. I am in shambles. Please read it.

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics?

My ideal fic seems to be anywhere between 5k and 200k, but then some of my favourites have also been oneshots. I tend to go for any multichapter with more than 1k words per chapter, and any oneshot that takes my interest (though a longer one (5k +) will catch my eye a bit more than a drabble). It's kind of hard for me to tell, because I read a lot of unfinished fics, but I do kind of prefer fics that take months to update but give a 5k + chapter every time... longer *tends* to mean slightly higher quality, but that is not always the case. Agh. I don't know. Every rule can be broken.

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

Yes and no. Multichapters tend to get their own little document for organisation with each chapter broken down into scenes. However, for Comms AU, I quite insanely went into it with no plan or outline. Yes, I am just now getting an outline together. Yes, it is a fic with 5 different timelines happening at once. Yes, I am regretting the lack of plan.

19. Do you edit your fics after you write them, or do you prefer to just hit post and run (because it’s someone else’s problem now)?

I write, then pass at least once (usually twice, sometimes even three times) to edit. My edits usually attempt to flesh out things that feel rushed or don't make sense. My writing is tricky sometimes, I hate writing plainly and that then becomes a weakness when I spend 5 paragraphs describing the texture of the air without actually explaining what's happening. So I try to clean that up. Comms AU gets one edit, usually, because it is just "audio", though with all my fics I sometimes edit as I write - especially if I've taken a break and decide to re-read what I've written.

Thanks for sending these asks! I have discovered that I need to make a longer fic rec post omg...

The ask game!

[knockyasocksoff2022]

Faking.

Another soukoku fic from last year's Sicktember.

Dazai's Perspective:

The bed feels so warm and I’m genuinely upset when I feel my eyes opening. I close them again but I know I won’t be able to sleep again. The thought of leaving the bed turns my inside to lead, a heavy, pressing, dreary, gloomy feeling. I would love nothing more than to stay here all day, possibly longer, and ideally with Chuuya, but he’d never stay with me. He���s far too dedicated to his work.

Chuuya, ever the deep sleeper, is still firmly asleep beside me. No wonder, it’s 2:00. It’s not uncommon for Chuuya to work until late or have a nocturnal schedule but this week he has daytime hours. 

I toss, turn, and twine my fingers through my lover’s hair and attempt the feat of sleep again. Even after five minutes, sleep evades me, only this time, as I toss and turn, I make the mistake of kicking Chuuya. Hard. In the face.

Oopsies!

Fully awake now, he grabs me, a reflex, and then softens after realising it’s just me.

“Dammit, Mackerel!” 

“Sorry.” I feel genuinely guilty for disrupting Chuuya's precious sleep.

His expression calms, not quite a smile, but his version of one. He’s still annoyed. “Why are you up so early? You sick or somethin’?” A frown.

His words confuse me at first, but then I remember that I always sleep much later than Chuuya. (Whenever I manage to sleep at all that is.)

Before I can respond, Chuuya's hand is on my forehead. His fingers are soft (a benefit of constant glove-wearing) and feel pleasantly warm against my skin. Chuuya runs a higher temperature than most and I welcome it now.

“Yeah, and you’re all pale too. You feelin’ okay?”

I’m about to deny it but then I get an idea. I’ll just tell him I’m ill then I can just rest the rest of the day while he’s at work.

I can’t summon up the energy for any of my usual antics so I just stay silent and let him think of that what he will.

“Hey?” his words are soft now and he drops his voice to a whisper, “Did you fall asleep again?”

I shake my head to let him know I haven’t

“This isn’t like you, you must be feelin’ pretty bad, huh?”

My plan is working but I can’t bring myself to smile.

“Come on, Osamu, I need to take your temp.”

I groan at the loss of the blanket’s warmth but Chuuya’s next to me so I press myself to him instead. He must have sensed what I want because on the way to the kitchen he grabs a blanket from the sofa and wraps it around me.

He lifts me onto the counter easily, like I’m a child. I don’t entirely mind it. No, I don’t mind at all. I wish he’d stay all day. Knowing that won’t happen, I let him slide the thermometer under my tongue. I wonder what he’ll do when he sees my temperature is normal. 

When the device beeps he takes it out, barely glancing at the number then presses a gentle kiss directly on my lips. I blink, surprised.

“What? Chu-”

“You’re temp’s normal, Osa. I figured as much or I wouldn’t have given you the blanket. I understand if you don’t wanna talk about whatever’s bothering you, but I had to get you out of bed somehow, I could feel you tossing around all night.”

“sorry.” the words are quieter than I intended.

“No, it’s okay. Do you want tea? Hot chocolate maybe?”

“Either is fine.” Truthfully, I don’t care in the slightest. I’m not even sure I’ll taste it.

“Okay, cocoa it is.” But he waits a moment to see if I’ll object. I nod to show him I don’t.

I watch in silence as he moves through the kitchen, as fiery as he may look, Chibi has the grace of a dancer. He told me that he wouldn’t mind dancing if he could do everything over again. The memory warms me a bit.

The only sounds around are the kettle heating up, and the soft whirring as the temperature of that water rises. At my distance, the entire scene is a bit fuzzy, the only thing I can really make out is Chuuya’s blaze-coloured hair. I haven’t told him, of course. I know I should. I want to, but not today. Even thinking about the words drains me more than I like.

He’d make a big deal out of it. How pathetic is that? Even being spoilt tried me.

I’m so busy trying to see through the fog that I almost don’t notice Chibi in front of me.

“Here.”

I reach out mindlessly.

“Careful, Osa, it’s hot.”

I “hmm” to let him know I’ve heard him. The cup feels heavy in my hand, so I set it down.

Wordlessly, Chibi dances off, returning promptly with two of the bendy straws Elise-chan gifted us years back. It’s a wonder they haven’t melted with how many times they’ve been through the dishwasher. I think they were meant for handwashing only. Chuuya is normally meticulous about that sort of thing, but we only use them when one of us is sick, so they need to be sterilised.

The straw does make it easier. I drink a bit too quickly just to lighten the cup. My tongue hurts, but it’s negligible, and the burn makes me feel something, at least.

“Good?”

I nod.

His hands are on my face now, gentle tracing under my eyes with that feather-light touch of his. I don’t need a mirror to know my eyes are dark with my lack of sleep.

“You really don’t look good though, Osa. You need sleep.”

I shake my head, “Can’t.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, hesitating. He hardly ever hesitates. Then he’s walking off again, unlocking the cupboard where he keeps the medications, making sure to stand in font of it so I don’t see the passcode.

“I’m not actually sick. Did Chbi forget?”

He says nothing, taking out a blue bottle and pouring a dosage into the small lid that doubles as a measuring cup. Still silent, he brings it over to me.

“This is overnight cough syrup, the most disgusting shit you’ve ever tasted, I hate the stuff, but it’ll knock you out for a good 12 hours at least,” he explains.

I can only look at him. Chuuya suggesting drug use? It’s nothing scandalous, but I’m a bit surprised. I must look worse than I thought. It’s at times like this that I’m reminded of exactly what Chuuya would do for me, for my health and well-being.

His eyes widen. “. . . You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course.” He starts towards the sink, “This is stupid. You’re probably immune to this stuff anyway.”

“Eh, why not.”

He turns around, walking back towards me, “Yeah. But just this once, okay. I’m not making this a habit. I’ll buy you some proper stuff this afternoon.”

I reach for the cup, he pulls it back. “Promise.”

I nod. He doesn’t give it up. It makes me laugh a little, the sound lifts some of the worry from his features. “I promise, Chibi.”

He lets me have it. 

As soon as the purple liquid hits my tongue I gag but force myself to swallow it.

“Nasty isn’t it.”

I would answer but I’m already feeling heavy. The good kind of heavy, the warm heavy that preludes sleep. After all my trouble, I don’t fight it now, leaning against, Chibi, shutting my eyes.

I feel his even, rhythmic steps under me, the weight of the duvet that Kouyou gave us, then nothing at all.

Chibi’s voice follows me into my dreams. “Goodnight, Osa, my love.”

[celestialholz]

Surrendering fucking Sunflora.

Oh Brassius. Brassius, Brassius, Brassius. I'm going to have to murder you with my bare hands for this one. Don't even need to wake up the Armarouge - you take an extended nap, king, keep those cannons fresh.

Did you know guys that there are thirty-three Surrendering Sunflora in and around Artazon? I do, because I've just spent forty-five minutes of the only life I will ever have working it out. And then another twenty ensuring I'm not wrong, which I possibly still am because this bitch has hidden these things everywhere! Arceus has placed me on this earth only to suffer.

But in spending over an hour on this, finally my soul can rest, because I have confirmation. Confirmation of what, exactly?

... Well, every single Surrendering Sunflora location is representative of what Hassel means to Brassius, in one way or another.

Might want to get your popcorn for this one, friends, maybe grab a blanket...

First though, before I attempt the frankly ridiculous task of explaining all these locations and their meanings, corporate needs you to find the difference between these two pictures:

They're the same picture.

Hassel is Sunflora in human form and with more dragons, right down to his mostly-green-and-yellow colour scheme and sunshine personality. And we know from this little extract that he is the direct inspiration for Surrendering Sunflora, because after Brassius tells you Hassel saved his life, he adds:

Much like The Harvest is part-Arboliva, part-Brass and part-Hass, as seen here in respective shape, spikiness and dragon colour...

... Surrendering Sunflora is part-Sunflora, part-Hass and part-Brass, in form, representation, and mood at the time of its creation.

Anyway, with that established, a map that took me another forty minutes to put together:

This is the location of every Surrendering Sunflora in and around this goddamn hellscape of a town. (/j, it's very pretty, but I am a salty girl.)

Now, some of these are notably easier to figure out than others, but just for clarity's sake... one to thirty-three, a breakdown. (Of the numbers, not me. Although you pull any more of this shit Brassie, it will be my personal breakdown.) I would screenshot every one, but Tumblr's 10-pic limit is having none of it, so I'll show off the more interesting ones at points and note the rest in text. I will also be looking at them from the perspective of being the Sunflora - the direction the sculpture itself faces.

Now, bear in mind... these are allegorical. I've had to surmise what they mean in most cases, but... that's what an artist does. Art asks you to consider the artist's intent, to interpret what they meant by location, form, colour... whatever the piece entails. It's why we have art critics, why we have museums and art galleries - and all of these point to one singular conclusion: Brassius? Super fucking gay. If you've ever made a fic or a piece of art that hides small details or leaves things just a little to one's imagination, you've been Brassius with these sculptures.

... And frankly, why the hell else are they where they are? These are chosen spots. Most of them aren't even central, or helpful where they are, without an alternate dialogue to them.

So, let's begin!

One: just across and to the left of Two, and directly facing Glaseado Mountain. Hass leading him upwards, to literal higher heights. Doesn't get any grander or higher than Glaseado.

Two: atop a cliff face, and it's already pic time!

This one has a few things to say. First, it's overlooking the gym, second it's pointing directly south if you look at my mini-map. This is one of several that faces south, which is valid - most of Sunflora's dex entries tell us that it loves facing the sun, and in terms of planetary orbit, south is the direction in the day where the sun is at its height... which is telling, when Hassel led Brass out of depression, being his literal sunshine.

Three: right beneath the centre of the maze. Hass guiding him to the heart, his 'core' - helping him find meaning in life.

Four: also in the maze, but near the entrance. A guiding hand when one is lost, at a genuine 'dead end'. A little girl in another dead end of this maze comments how lost she is.

Five: is actually hilarious.

Sir are you fucking kidding me I will fight you in an Every Wich Way parking lot right now

Six: facing local small cliffs. Climbing the smaller hills first is a notable method of depression recovery, and given that Brass' health issues also seem physical, this is a small, easy-to-climb hill - a step to feeling healthier.

Seven and Eight: greeting you as you walk into town for the first time from the direction of Mesagoza. A feeling of comfort and homeliness, which two men with such a connection clearly have.

Nine: has a similar vibe - straight ahead of Seven and Eight, the first thing to greet you in the central plaza. The kind of welcome feeling Brass gets from Hass.

Ten and Eleven: are very obvious. These two directly face the maze, and are facing one another on opposite sides. Trust, warmth, familiarity. Interestingly, one faces east, and one west - where the sun rises and the sun sets. Hassel's always there for him.

Twelve: faces the way out to Levincia beyond, because welcoming works from either side of town.

Thirteen and Fourteen: are both either underneath the gym arena, or very nearly underneath, and Fourteen looks straight at the gym. What did I say about these two taking one another into battle?

Fifteen: is facing the pool... for a man who cries a lot. No further explanation required, but this is one of my favourites for how adorable and accepting it is on Brass' part.

Sixteen, Seventeen and Eighteen: the first of the climbing frame Sunfloras, and all of them are in a line, facing the gym. See Thirteen and Fourteen, but... these ones are also elevated, as though Hassel is watching over him during battle. Another gesture of support. They also happen to overlook a Heterarchical Loop, which we'll revisit in a mo...

Nineteen: is on the side of the climbing frame, staring at the Sunflora field used during the gym challenge. Given that it's also staring at said field's house, this is one of two things - emotional vigilance, or home comforts. It's also beside a version of The Harvest, which we know is part-Hass too.

Twenty: climbing frame, above Sixteen, Seventeen and Eighteen - an even higher guardian, and also one that can see the arena. This is also directly across from the Paradoxical Popper, and coupled with what I just mentioned about the Heterarchical Loop... well, this brilliant piece of meta that you've probably already read (top job, fellow theorist <3) shows us that yeah, these old pieces by an unnamed artist are probably also Brassie's, which makes this completely adorable - we know from Art (4) that Brass considers his old pieces 'shallow trash'. By his masterpieces overlooking them, they act as a reminder - that Hassel believes in him, that he can do brilliant things - that his new work has a purpose. Even if they aren't his old works, the fact that he places them literally higher up shows that he has more respect for something inspired by Hassel than any other works.

Twenty-One and Twenty-Two: the last of the climbing frame ones, and again, at height, and directly facing the gym. Just behind these is a climbing wall, which heads up towards a dragon-coloured Harvest. Considering that we can infer that Hassel influenced Surrendering Sunflora first, as Brass tells us that he created it directly after Hass saved him, having to head up to a Harvest coloured with Hass' type is really quite sweet as it was likely a result of their connection later down the line. But regardless of order, these two are again indicative of Hass' care for him.

Twenty-Three: is... well, at the back of someone's house. What's fun about this one is that A. there is literally no reason for this to be here if it's simply about showing off an art piece, and B. even in the daytime, as you can see, this spot? Perpetually in the shade. Even when Brassius feels dark, there's Hassel - his permanent sunshine, making sure he never feels too alone, or abandoned in a place no one would look for him.

Another of my favourites - the symbolism here is gorgeous.

Twenty-Four and Twenty-Five: greet you if you walk into town from the Levincia side, which is very much along the same lines as Seven and Eight - a warm, sunshine welcome, a peacefulness of spirit.

Twenty-Six: stares directly at the side of the Go-for-Broke Grill... which just so happens to be where one finds Encounter Power: Dragon food. Goddamn gay people and their apples...

Twenty-Seven: is behind the Grill, and looking straight at the Sunflora field. The Sunflora field is not only a core part of the gym test, but the specific direction of this one points at the house attached to the field. So not only is this field full of sunshine, it's overlooked by it, too. Anything directed towards a house also speaks of hearth and home - a comfort, a feeling of literally being 'at home' in someone's presence.

Twenty-Eight and Twenty-Nine: stand as guardians to the Sunflora field, right on either side of its gate. Now, for this one, I would like to draw your attention to a piece of dialogue Hass gives you during the League:

"I am Hassel, the dragon guarding the final fortress of the Elite test."

Whilst this field is no fortress, these ones nevertheless stand taller than any other Surrendering Sunflora in the town - the 'protectors' of the field of sunshine, the warmth and the light Brass has experienced beneath Hass. Now, given that Hass also tells you in the League that his job as a teacher is to guide students and watch them grow... well, here we are. He's helped Brassius grow, prosper, and find his inner light, and he'll protect him at all costs from that darkness. And size matters, here - these are big, they stand out, therefore they are deliberately important. This is Brassius' greatest impression of his love - as a protector, and a guide to the light.

Thirty: stands in the Sunflora field itself. This one is notably smaller than the gatekeepers, the usual size of those around town, and is just across from a dragon Harvest in the same field. Again, why not put your emotional sunshine in a field of your actual ones? (And why not do it twice, y'know, because you're massively dramatic...)

Thirty-One: sees our final return to the climbing frame - this is one of the ones I missed originally, because it's directly beneath it. There's another one down here too, right beneath the Popper, but as they mean the same thing as Twenty-Three, we'll count them together - a location always dark and in shade, illuminated. They're also hemmed in by the wooden walls of the climbing frame - they are, quite literally, trapped - like one might be in their own mind, during depression, without a source of light.

Thirty-Two: is probably my favourite of them all. This harks back to number One, overlooking Glaseado, except...

Well, this looks at another mountain, and it's literally not in Artazon - it's the one I showed you in the very first photo of this post. The location box for Artazon doesn't even crop up. It is, however, facing direct south, but... what's it doing here?

In facing the sun's peak, this one exists to show us that there isn't a mountain Hassel can't help Brassius overcome, however high. Look at where you end up, if you follow this cliff directly from this Sunflora:

The highest peak you can see all of Artazon clearly from, considerably overlooking every other Sunflora that already overlooks core parts of the town important to Brassie. You know what they call that level of symbolism? Fucking love.

And finally, we end on Thirty-Three, which... well. I think we all know what a Pokemon Center does. It heals, it brings your Pokemon back from the brink of death - and who do we know, who's done that for Brassius?

... Pokemon Centers are free, and in this generation, even feature a kindly Nurse Joy who will offer you guidance and assistance through the big, wide, open world of Paldea from the goodness of her own heart.

... This whole town is a love letter. At every turn, you run into a new page of narrative through these Sunfloras: you slot together another meaning, you see the hearts of two men woven into every little stitch. And whether or not this was Brassius' intention, it was almost certainly the intention of those who made him. This is what art directors do, this is what devs hide for you to find. This is Pokemon's ultimate Easter egg, and it is fucking beautiful.

I don't know any more than you lovely people do if they're ever going to officially confirm Hassius as a romantic duo - in love, married, whatever. And I'd love to see it as much as you all would, but... well, I already have. Here it is, right in front of us, if only we're willing to look. Of all the meta I've posted on these two so far, this... yeah, this is the most gay and glorious of them all. And I've still got more to say, just... not on this. We're good here.

... Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to do that killing thing I mentioned earlier, though maybe after a nap... sir you must die by my own hand for CRIMES AGAINST MY FREE TIME. (jk, king. Love you, keep doing what you're doing. I am but an average poster without your delicious homosexuality. xoxo)

[wriothesleysgf]

𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘. — erwin smith.

“everyone i’ve cared about has either died or left me. except you.”

about: erwin will always do his best to ease your worries.

notes: implied character death, established relationship, angst. | angst prompts [reqs : open!]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐄 when you started dating erwin that his first priority would always be his allegiance to the people of the walls. he had always been chivalrous - hell, that was one of his many qualities that had you falling head over heels for the man.

the two of you had met as trainee scouts. he’d gone on to take command, whereas you turned down higher ranks as you enjoyed being in as many fights as you could — something about the rush that came from slaying titans made you feel more fulfilled, perhaps it was because you could see your direct impact on others in the countless lives that you’ve saved over your career.

erwin had supported you consistently, and you him. he was the only person that you felt always had your own happiness as a priority. the two of you even reminded each other that you were fighting for a better future, for each other and any future family, each time one of you departed on a mission. you had always managed to find your ways back to one another.

before the mission to reseal the walls, you found yourself with a terrible feeling that you couldn’t shake. something was definitely off, but you couldn’t tell what it was. part of you didn’t want to tell erwin, yet he had always been so incredibly wise that you knew you had to. so, with the excuse of bringing a hot mug of coffee to his office late one evening, three days before the scheduled attack, you confided in him.

“my love,” he spoke, his deep, calming voice already chipping away at the fears you felt. “perhaps looking over the plans will help,” he motioned to the maps on his desk.

erwin spent the next forty minutes going over tactics and actions. when he finished, he asked you for your opinions. as a result of your own military experience, you were able to offer a couple of notes here and there. the man took everything on board and made a couple of quick scribbles. sure, these plans have already been triple checked by various high ranking officers, yet everybody bears a different perspective and erwin truly did value yours.

“how are you feeling now?”

“a little better…” your voice was uncharacteristically small. it was a more vulnerable side that you only really showed around erwin. “i think i’m just scared.”

“darling, a little fear is what keeps us alive. if you weren’t scared, i’d be more concerned,” he smiles, a weak attempt at trying to lighten your mood, even marginally.

when you stay silent, erwin gets up to his feet. without saying a word, he leads you closer to the window. it’s already dark out, and you can see the constellations gleaming down from above. it reminds you of those sleepless nights during training and early scout days, either when sleep would evade one of you and you’d both spend some time watching the sky, or occasions where the two of you would be put on watch together whilst outside of the walls. erwin’s father had taught him about the stars, and he was ever so grateful for the way that your eyes shone brighter than any celestial body he’d ever seen when he relayed odd facts that he remembered.

“i’ve had something for a while,” erwin begins a little speech. it’s much different from those he delivered in front of his soldiers; it possessed copious feeling, and felt much less rehearsed. “i’ve never found the right time to ask you…”

and the rest was history. what was supposed to be an engagement ring became the ring you wore when the two of you wed. neither of you were into the idea of something big and fancy, so you posed the idea of simply eloping. all you needed were two witnesses and an officiant - surely there would be one somewhere. the next afternoon, whilst most of the military were training or sorting supplies, you both snuck off.

levi had always been a trusted confidant to erwin, so of course he was called upon to come with you. you weren’t sure if it was a blessing or not that hange just so happened to burst into the room when erwin was explaining your situation to him… thus how you received your second attendant. they’d always been close to you, as you’d often be intrigued in some of their less conventional experiments, so you were happy.

both you and erwin wrote a few vows for one another. his focused around how he would always protect you with every fibre of his being, no matter what.

“everything i do is for you. more than once i've daydreamed of a titan-less world where you and i are happy and safe enough to start a little family. maybe it’s cliche, but i’d be content living the most boring, normal life if i got to spend it by your side."

when it was your turn, you were already tearing up. the terrible feeling in your stomach was forgotten, instead replaced with the butterflies that had appeared the first time that erwin had kissed you.

“i just… i adore you, so much. i don’t know what i did in a past life to deserve you, but it makes everything i’ve endured worth it. you know, everyone i’ve cared about has either died or left me. except you.”

after the short ceremony, the two of you continued about your day. levi managed to cover when somebody asked for the commander’s whereabouts, offering you a nod. nobody dare questioned him, so they got on with their day.

it wasn’t until later that week that those words truly came back to you.

after what felt like days of fighting titans endlessly, you were running on fumes by the time that you regrouped with other scouts. your battalion had been forced to split up in the chaos, you didn’t know what happened to any of them. yet, all you desired now was to see erwin, your husband.

the dreaded feeling. there it was.

the very second that you saw levi in the distance, the horrible knot in your stomach returned. it was more intense than prior, forcing you to use the last of your energy to prevent your knees from buckling. the captain was very clearly trying to maintain his staple stoicism yet you could sense the guilt seeping through the facade. he didn’t say anything until he was stood in front of you. he gave a few orders to others around him, then turned to you. having known him for as long as you did, you could read him better than most. part of you knew the dreadful answer before you asked the question.

“levi… where’s erwin?”

[kingofwickedskulls]

I finished Twilight Mirage this week and have been digesting it as I start up the road to Partizan. I had some thoughts about one theme from the season that I was trying to wrap my head around so I wrote a mini essay below the cut in an attempt to organize them.

To start off with, and I'm going to wax a bit poetic here, but Counter/Weight in my head always had the texture and feel of a cloudy winter day. That season was a fantastic ride but to me it's a depressing season nonetheless and the ending, while I think was excellent, was certainly not a cathartic release that one might expect. I don't think it needed to be/should have but it set up Twilight Mirage as a generally warmer and more upbeat season in comparison to me. If C/W was a city street in a Midwest winter where the snow you tramped through was more brown sludge than fine white powder, then Twilight Mirage seemed to be the a field of wildflowers with the hint of a wildfire on the horizon or the first turning leaf of autumn.

I really enjoyed TM but why I'm writing my thoughts out is because, and the cast note this throughout, the pacing was weird which spilled over into the themes for me. I should note that I did not read episode descriptions and I understand that may have cleared some things up, but from an audio only perspective it did feel unbalanced. I won't/can't suggest any changes that would have pulled things together more nicely. One difficulty that the cast note is just how many factions there were and how that bogged things down initially. I can see that, but I appreciated it because it gave the world a very lived in feel and showed how characters were managing and thinking about so many relations that really fleshed them out. Of course, it's not sustainable and these multiple threads that couldn't be neatly tied up leads up to the point I've been thinking most about.

There’s an intro that Austin gives, from the perspective of Keen, where he remarks upon Crystal Palace’s inability to account for non major actors. I understood this to mean your average joe in a sense (though of course, what is "average" in a galaxy lol, it's completely meaningless but I digress). It was refreshing to hear that at that point in the story though, because it showed not only that crystal palace was fallible but that it’s flaws could be exploited by those at the margins. Except. Crystal Palace doesn't make mistakes, it doesn't have flaws.

This isn’t a critique or a failing but just a tension of the show that is not really resolved and maybe can't be. The extent to which systems govern us seem insurmountable, capitalism as an example has the ability to adapt to crises that we might hope destroy it. Revolutions don't necessarily mean an end to the status quo, I think one could even look back to OriCon as an example of this in universe. Crystal Palace is much the same, any crises it has are simply non issues because they become preordained and thus established and overcome by virtue of prophecy.

Keen offers the listener hope in Crystal Palace failing to overcome every accountable crisis. It couldn't account for a singular fisherman saving the day then, right? Except that Austin states that Crystal Palace is actually predicting everything, accurately and wholly, it is only human biases that are diluting the prediction. It will overcome any crisis, time and time again. We understand then that the fisherman was accounted for, most likely as a miniscule chance that somebody disregarded because they let their bias against unlikely odds get the better of them. It’s interesting then to read Keen’s comments as coming from the perspective of someone who wants out but can’t take that step, as shown in other moments with his daughter or literally stated in the chase with signet in the finale arc.

It is hard to make a show about your “average joe” changing galactic level politics and wars. They are at the very least swept up into a higher level from which they can act. I think the closest we have to that in TM is Echo Reverie. All other characters from the start occupied elevated positions in some form and would have had access to a least modicum of influence (whether religiously, militarily, or socially). Echo was the only who was sort of swept up into this high level conflict, but even then the crux of their arc is dealing with their brother getting buddy buddy with fascists. They certainly don't like Advent but they're not 14 15 who literally goes after the leader of the group.

This is all to say that when I listened to Twilight Mirage one of the themes that I think was trying to be communicated was the ability of non-major actors to effect change in the world, but it fell through in my opinion. Crystal Palace demonstrates the ability of everyone having the ability to act upon the world in meaningful ways but as the story is told through characters who aren't everyone it just doesn't click properly.

I hope this rambling makes sense. It's only a select few moment from like 80 hours of content but they stood out to me. I want to reiterate I still loved the season, I mean look, they got me writing almost a thousand words on just a small bit of it lol. There was just something about this particular theme, if you want to call it that, that didn't feel tied together.

[taradactyls]

I think the one I see this most strongly with is Pamela; Or, Virtue Rewarded by Samuel Richardson.

It's hard to read in the modern day. Pamela is a servant girl who spends a lot of time trying not to be raped by her employer, who eventually kidnaps her, and the only other woman in a position to aid her actively helps the attempted rapist to assault her in various ways. At one point she holds Pamela down in bed so it can happen (apparently the woman is this awful because she's an atheist). At another time the employer actively says that he would've continued and actually raped her if she kept fighting him, it was only because Pamela fainted that he stopped the attempt. She woke up from that attempt with her stays (underwear) cut up.

Pamela ends up marrying this man, after realising she has fallen in love with him, who is then 'reformed' by her 'goodness.'

It's meant to be a happy and uplifting tale. Obviously, to us, it's more of a horror story.

We see the victim blame in 'if you'd kept fighting you would've been raped' and also know that being unconscious actually makes you more at risk, and understand that a woman who eventually gave in to her master's advances is not any less 'good' for fearing being violently raped (or worse) if she continued protesting. We are less likely to believe people can be so entirely reformed by the 'virtue' of others, and see a man who would take advantage of power dynamics like that as bad even if he wasn't so aggressive in his advances. There are no real consequences for his crimes and continued harassment of a FIFTEEN YEAR OLD in his employ and who had zero protection or options. It's just all round horrid to our modern eyes.

But in many ways it was actually progressive for the time.

Pamela is a servant who ends the book married (not mistress to) a gentleman with an estate and eventually being accepted and adored by the land owning class. This is a rise of a magnitude far higher than Elizabeth marrying Mr Darcy, Jane Eyre and Mr Rochester, or even Cinderella as she was highborn, and was really making the case that servant women could and do have as much inherent worth as gentlewomen by birth. For how classist 1740 England was, that's a controversial take.

And though it's considered a backwards view now, this was the first novel/work which was really reaching out to lower-class women and saying 'your virtue is worth as much as upper-class women.' I dislike the whole concept of sexual virtue and disagree that Pamela's virtue would be lost through rape, but the point remains that this book was making a case for greater equality between classes in a time where the ruling class relied on being considered naturally better by birth and chosen by god to rule. The novel was criticised for exactly this.

Not only that, but by promoting virginity, he was also championing a woman's right to say no. Pamela's ability and decision to refuse is upheld both positively and as what should have been the final word. The male main character only becomes a 'good' person once he truly understands and respects that. An idea only becomes outdated once the societal framework supporting the status quo has changed, and Samuel Richardson was writing in a time where a servant girl (or any woman really, for instance marital rape wouldn't become a crime for another 250 years) who refused her master's advances would have little recourse or sympathy if he didn't respect that no. This novel was telling all those girls your sexual autonomy is worth fighting for... you're worth fighting for.

And, though we see that Pamela's abuser essentially gets what he wanted and gets off scot-free (an illness and a change of heart isn't going to fly with a judge, you douche), it was revolutionary for the time in that it's told from the victim's perspective as a horrible series of events. These acts, many of which were common place and not illegal (some even actively considered romantic) at the time, was a criticism of many masculine behaviours and championed the woman's/victim's perspective. It drew attention to what we now consider domestic violence and abuse of power. Though we might argue about his methods (a minority of contemporary readers viewed the novel as salacious because of the inclusion of the assault scenes) the author's intent was to actively give moral instruction into proper domestic behaviour. Which, aside from 'sexually assaulting your employees is bad' does also include less radical and actively harmful views such as 'be loyal and loving to your employers no matter what.' Historical novels are a mixed bag like that, but he was still advocating for mutual social contracts towards each other, and rejecting the idea that the rich men who ruled the world could do whatever they wanted. He was speaking for the powerless against those in power.

I'll probably never read the book again, it was too uncomfortable for me, but without an understanding of the time it was written it would feel like gratuitous assault and a glorification of abusive relationships, when really, it was the exact opposite. We're just lucky enough to live in a society where many of his arguments have been accepted both socially and legally for so long that it's hard to imagine a case ever needed to be made in their favour.

tbh nothing frustrates me more then when people brush off classics like pride and prejudice or jane eyre because they don’t fit into today’s modern standards of feminism and social justice etc.

remember that these novels were published in the 19th century. and that some of the things that were written in these books may seem trivial to us today but would have absolutely fucking shook readers in the victorian era

like,,,,,elizabeth rejecting mr collins because she doesn’t love him even though it would have been considered her duty in her family to marry him? or jane eyre not agreeing to marry mr rochester unless it was on her own terms? hell even anne brontë wrote a lesser known novel about a wife leaving her abusive husband with her five year old son to live a better life?? do y’all realize how unheard of that would be in the 1800′s?? where women were considered more of a commodity than actual human beings??

even though they might not be up to todays standards of modern feminism and romance, they were still HUGE building blocks for equality for that time period. so if you’re a reader who says to themselves ‘I read classics with modern standards applied and I can’t get past that’ then you are most likely going to be disappointed when reading classics and not fully understand their significance to that time period 

[spacemaverick]

been watching the early episodes i missed on bdubs' season 9! i did not use a reference for the monolith so its just a nondescript tower

please for the love of god fullview

[id in alt]

process/other sketches below!

i started out sketching the leg bag over the body sketch i saved from the ref i drew for him. then i did the second sketch with "techwear" in mind? im really not familiar with most fashion so im using that word liberally. basically i looked up cyberpunk fashion on pinterest and was drawn to the outfits more often labeled techwear.

and the rough/body sketches! i like saving my body sketches when my process allows it; the way i drew this was the full body shape first, then adding clothes on top and erasing as i went.

[elsecrytt]

Demon Culture P2

So what DOES it mean in demon courting when your partner ignores you? If they didn't like it they would make it VERY clear. So they are interested....

...they just want you to impress them some. It's why someone like Diavolo would enjoy being ignored - no one's ever done that to him before! What an amazing opportunity for him to show off to you!

Naturally, from the perspective of many human cultures, a LOT of that could come off as uncomfortable and threatening.

Diavolo casually displays his power after you politely ignore his advances, cheerfully oblivious to the fact that you're not into it, or just intimidated and his efforts to impress you are exacerbating that.

What other demon flirting methods should there be, hmmmm~

OMG THAT'S RIGHT I JUST REALIZED.

So. Surprise Guest interactions. What's another thing that all the pure demons we know of - Diavolo, Barbatos, and Satan - have in common in their surprise guest interactions?

THIS BAD BOY RIGHT HERE!!

All three of our romancable demons who were (presumably?) born demons have BIG HEARTS reactions to the Whip of Love. So does Simeon, actually.

So the next obvious thought, of course, is that whipping/physical violence is actually a pretty normal part of demon courting rituals.

And hey - why wouldn't it be? Mammon mentions early on that if Lucifer would "completely destroy" him or smth, it'd take him 200 million years to recover... from? Being completely destroyed???

It feels pretty strongly implied that demons can recover from pretty much ANY kind of injury, and Mammon more or less confirms they have much higher tolerances for pain.

They're all thousands of years old and though they don't get into it now, early Devilgrams and chats have mentions of the brothers straight up murdering lesser demons for minor offenses.

Every so often you'll get the chance to call Lucifer or someone else out on being wicked or evil (usually when they're just being a dick). And they will often respond with "I'm a demon"

Demons!!! As DEMONS!! Let them be lustful! Let them be depraved! Let them be kinky!! Let these assholes be the reason BDSM has a bad rap!!!

You think it just got a bad rap on its own? Bro all the BDSM folks I know are genuinely lovely folks who are more aware of consent than ordinary people, not less!

Now ofc the demons do all know that you're a human, and you're super fragile, which definitely keeps them from accidentally murdering you in a flirting attempt (it WOULD be a funny way to die tho).

But WHEN YOU WHIP THEM??? Barbatos, Diavolo, and Satan are enchanted. You're speaking his language!!!

This also puts an absolutely HILARIOUS spin on the sequence leading up to the lesson 16 event.

Lucifer comes downstairs to rescue you all from Cerberus and you have the option to hug him... or to hit him.

Secretly though. Either option is flirting. The hug is just more platonic. No wonder everyone is shocked by it, huh?

Lucifer grabbing your arm extra hard at the dance bc he wants to threaten you but also flirt. He's saying he thinks you're strong! You can take it! You are worth threatening <3

Satan's threat to cut you up and feed you to lower level demons? That's just pillow talk babe. ...do human limbs grow back...?

When Diavolo imprisons Belphie you'll notice he DOESN'T make any threats. He isn't even being tortured, as far as we know, just imprisoned. No flirting for him!

And hey, Lesson 16 makes a lot more sense now, doesn't it!!

Solomon feeding demons his cooking comes across as an extremely crass manner of flirting but he's so endearing about it.

;kljdfgdghj OH MY GOD AND THAT'S RIGHT. Remember Mammon's absolutely pathetic tough guy act when we first meet him?

Don't be a pain or he'll EAT you! He's a big bad demon! He could devour your soul without a second thought, you know!

No wonder everyone realizes Mammon has a crush on you - he is blatantly flirting with you from the very start.

You ignore him so he steps up his game by turning into your sidekick and helping you out with literally everything you ask.

But even in a culture of directness (where you decline/destroy unsatisfactory advances) there will be points of awkwardness. And misunderstandings. GOD the misunderstandings!!! I LOVE EM!!

So much!! Cultural exchange!!! To be done! Stop flirting with threats you massive douchebags! XD

And ofc they do after season 1 which is such a shame bc I could take some more threatening flirting. Just... a little. And I'd be happy to DO some threatening flirting, too, which will maybe be Part 3 (with some season 2/3 spoilers) SOOO...

[thebibliosphere]

So I'm currently unemployed because I got fired for taking too much sick leave (it was legally sketchy blah blah blah but in the end I just can't work and take care of myself and investigate my mystery health problems at the same time). So I've been spending more time writing!

I really admire your writing and loved Hunger Pangs. I'm looking forward to the poly elements developing and I'm wondering if you have any advice for writing about poly. I've made one of my projects a snarky take on "write what you know" ... Apparently what I know is southern gothic meets Pacific northwest gothic, chronic illness pandemic surrealism, and falling back-asswards into threesomes.

I know this is a very open-ended question and I don't expect an answer, I'm just curious about it if you have the energy. As a writer, trying to write honestly / realistically about polyamory/enm, I'm curious if you have any thoughts on what's different about portraying monogamy or nonmonogamy in books, romance or erotica or otherwise.

I'm trying to read examples but it's hard to find examples that fit the niche I'm looking at. Excuse me if this question is nonsense, it's the cluster headaches.

I'm sorry to hear you've been dealing with all that and solidarity on the cluster headaches. But I'm glad you're finding an outlet through writing! And I hope you're happy with an open-ended ramble in response because oh boy, there's a lot I could talk about and I could probably do a better job of answering this sort of thing with more specific questions, but let's see where we end up.

There's definitely a big difference between writing polyamory/ENM (ethical non-monogamy) and what people often expect from monogamous love stories.

Just even from a purely sales and marketing standpoint, the moment you write anything polyamorous (or even just straight up LGBTQIA+ without the ENM) you're going to get considered closer to being erotica/obscene than hetero romances. It's an unfair bias, but it's one that exists in our society. But also the Amazon algorithm and their shitty, shitty human censors. Especially the ones that work the weekends. (Talking to you, Carlos 🖕.)

So not only do you start out hyper-aware that you're writing something that is highly stigmatized or fetishized (at least I'm hyper-aware) but that you are also writing for a niche market that is starving for positive content because the content that exists is either limited, not what they want, or is problematic in some fashion i.e. highly stigmatized or fetishy. And even then, the wants, desires, and expectations of the community you're writing for are complex and wildly varied and hard to fit into an easy formula.

When writing monogamous love stories, there is a set expectation that’s really hard to fuck up once you know it. X person meets Y. Attraction happens, followed by some sort of minor conflict/resolution. Other plot may happen. A greater catalyst involving personal growth for both parties (hopefully) happens. Follow the equation to its ultimate resolution and achieve Happily Ever After. 

But writing ENM is... a lot more difficult, if only because of the pure scope of possibilities. You could try to follow the same equation and shove three (or more) people into it, but it rarely works well. Usually because if you’re doing it right, you won’t have enough room in a single character arc to allow for enough growth, and if ENM requires anything in abundance, it’s room to grow.

And this post is huge so I’m going to put the rest under a cut :)

There's also a common refrain in certain online polyam/ENM circles that triads and throuples are overrepresented in media and they may be right to some extent. Personally, I believe the issue isn't that triads and throuples are overrepresented, but that there is such minuscule positive rep of ethical non-monogamy in general, that the few tiny instances we have of triads in media make it seem like it's "everywhere" when in actuality, it's still quite rare and the media we do have often veers into Unicorn Hunter fetish porn. Which is its own problematic thing. And just to be clear, I’m not including this part to dissuade you from writing "falling back-asswards into threesomes." If anything, I need more of it and would hook it directly into my brain if I could. I'm just throwing it out there into the void in the hope that someone will take the thought and run with it, lol.

I’d love to see more polyfidelitous rep in fiction, just as much as I’d like to see more relationship anarchy too. More diversity in fiction is always good.

Another thing that differs in writing ENM romance vs conventional monogamy is the feeling like you need to justify yourself. There's a lot of pressure to be as healthy and non-problematic as possible because you are being held to a higher standard of criticism. Both from people from without the ENM communities, and from the people within. Granted, some people don't give a shit and just want to read some fantastic porn (valid) but there are those who will cheerfully read Fifty Shades of Bullshit and call it "spicy" and "romantic," then turn around and call the most tooth-rottingly-sweet-fluff about a queer platonic polycule heresy. That's just the way the world works.

(Pro-tip for author life in general: never read your own reviews; that way madness lies. I glimpsed one the other day that tagged Hunger Pangs as “ethical cheating” and just about had an aneurism.)

And while that feeling of needing to justify yourself comes from a valid place of being excluded from the table of socially accepted norms, it can also be to the detriment of both the story and the subject matter at hand. I've seen some authors bend so far over backward to avoid being problematic in their portrayal of ENM, they end up being problematic for entirely different reasons. Usually because they give such a skewed, rose-tinted perspective of how things work, it ends up coming off as well... a bit culty and obnoxious tbh.

“Look how enlightened we are, freed from the trappings of monogamy and jealousy! We’re all so honest and perfect and happy!”

Yeah, uhu, sure Jan. Except here’s the thing, not all jealousy is bad. How you act on it can be, but jealousy itself is an important tool in the junk drawer that is the range of human emotion. It can clue us in to when we’re feeling sad or neglected, which in turn means we should figure out why we’re feeling those things. Sometimes it’s because brains are just like that and anxiety is a thing. Other times it’s because our needs are actually being neglected and we are in an unhealthy situation we need to remedy. You gotta put the work in to figure it out. Which is the same as any style of relationship, whether it’s mono, polyam or whatever flavor of ENM you subscribe to* And sometimes you just gotta be messy, because that’s how humans are. Being afraid to show that mess makes it a dishonest portrayal, and it also robs you of some great cannon fodder for character development.

Which brings me in a roundabout way to my current pet peeve in how certain writers take monogamous ideals and apply them to ENM, sometimes without even realizing it. The “Find the Right Person and Settle Down” trope.

Often, in this case, ENM or polyamory is treated as a phase. Something you mature out of with age or until you meet “The One(tm).” This is, of course, an attempt to follow the mono style formula expected in most romances. And while it might appeal to many readers, it’s uh, actually quite insulting. 

To give an example, I am currently seeing this a lot in the Witcher fandom. 

Fanon Netflix!Jaskier is everyone's favorite ethical slut until he meets Geralt then woops, wouldn’t you know, he just needed to find The One(tm). Suddenly, all his other sexual and romantic exploits or attractions mean nothing to him. Let's watch as he throws away a core aspect of his personality in favor of a man. 

Yeah... that sure showed those societal norms... 

If I were being generous, I’d say it’s a poor attempt at showing New Relationship Euphoria and how wrapped up people can become in new relationships. But honestly, it’s monogamous bias eking its way in to validate how special and unique the relationship is. Because sometimes people really can’t think of any other way to show how important and valid a relationship is without defining it in terms of exclusivity. Which is a fundamental misunderstanding of how ENM works for a lot of people and invalidates a lot of loving, serious and long-term relationships.

This is not to say that some polyam/poly-leaning people can't be happy in monogamous relationships! I am! (I consider myself ambiamorous. I'm happy with either monogamy or polyamory, it really just depends on the relationship(s) I’m in.) But I also don't regard my relationship with a mono partner as "settling down" or "growing up." It's just a choice I made to be with a person I love, and it's a valid one. Just like choosing to never close yourself off to multiple relationships is valid. And I wish more people realized that, or rather, I wish the people writing these things knew that :P

Anyway, I think I’ve rambled enough. I hope this collection of incoherent thoughts actually makes some sense and might be useful. 

----

*A good resource book that doesn't pull any punches in this regard is Polysecure by Jessica Fern. It's a wonderfully insightful read that explores the messier side of consensual non-monogamy, especially with how it can be affected by trauma or inter-relationship conflicts. But it also shows how to take better steps toward healthy, ethical non-monogamy (a far better job than More Than Two**) and conflict resolution, making it a valuable resource both for someone who is a part of this relationship style***, but also for writers on the outside looking in who might have a very simple or misguided idea of what conflict within polyam/ENM relationships might look like, vs traditional monogamous ones.

** The author of More Than Two has been accused of multiple accounts of abuse within the polyamorous community, with many of his coauthors having spoken out about the gaslighting and emotional and psychological damage they experienced while in a relationship with him. A lot of their stories are documented here: https://www.itrippedonthepolystair.com/ (warning: it is not light material and deals with issues of abuse, gaslighting, and a whole other plethora of Yikes.) While some people still find More Than Two helpful reading, there are now, thankfully, much, much better resources out there.

*** Some people consider polyam/ENM to be part of their identity or orientation, while others view it as a relationship style.It largely depends on the individual. 

[reids-rendering-reality]

Guys My Age

Summary: Y/N is the newest addition to the BAU team and Spencer appears to have taken a special liking towards her. The only problem is, he thinks he’s too old for her. However, that’s all about to change when they share a hotel room.

(A/N: I’m such a sucker for the hotel room trope so I combined it with two of my other favourite ideas: Spencer being older than the reader and catching her doing yoga)

Type: fluff + a sexual innuendo or two

Warnings: dirty thoughts, insecurity about age, age gap, anxiety, yoga?

Word Count: 2.1K

Spencer Reid’s POV

I pulled the handle of my satchel over my shoulder as I sighed. It was a very long day in a small rural town somewhere deep in Alabama. Everyone else had gone back to their hotel room, besides Hotch and I. There was just something about this case I couldn’t get out of my mind. The feeling of being so close to the final piece of the puzzle, as if it were on the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t grip it. Yet I had to let it go for the night and get some rest. The much needed REM sleep could give me an entirely new perspective on this problem to me tomorrow. At least that’s what I hoped.

On the walk to the hotel room I was getting increasingly nervous, the more rooms I passed in the hallway. This small hotel did not have enough rooms to accommodate the whole team separately. They only had four rooms for the seven of us. JJ and Emily had immediately paired up, just like Rossi and Morgan. And Hotch being the team leader took the single room. Leaving me with our newest and youngest member, Y/N.

It’s not like I didn’t like her. That’s not what it was at all. Just, she made me a little bit nervous. She was so beautiful that sometimes I couldn’t get out any words around her. And that says a lot because I always have something to say. But as cheesy as it sounds, in some moments there is not a single fact that I can recall. 

But the elephant in the room demands to be heard. She is younger than I am. And that by a lot. By exactly ten years and three months. That appears to be a lot. I don’t really know why, but that bothers me. We are both adults, but because of social conventions at our age, I feel as though it is inappropriate. Yet if I were 60 and she were 50 or I was 80 and she was 70, no one would even blink at the gap. Yet because we are young it matters. I feel sad when I think about it because I like her a lot. And when we talk I don’t notice the age gap. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say that it wasn’t even there at all.

What surprised me as I was having these thoughts and neared the room was the fact that I actually considered asking her out. Since Maeve I have not been on a single date. And who said she would even be interested in anything beyond a casual friendship or even colleagueship with me? That’s not even considering the amount of courage it would require for me to tell her. But it’s not like that would be a fruitful endeavour.

And that was the last thought I had before I reached the door to room 179. A prime number. Prime numbers would be my lucky numbers if there were such a thing.

As I rummaged around my pockets and satchel for the key card I noticed the sound of music coming through the door.

“Gotta thank him he’s the reason

That I’ll find what I’m looking for.”

I heard a woman sing over the sound of an electric guitar. I still hadn’t found my key card.

“Guys my age don't know how to treat me

Don't know how to treat me.”

My movements stopped when my brain registered the lyrics. Guys my age…?

“Guys my age don't know how to touch me

Don't know how to love me good.”

My breath hitched and I gulped, key card in hand. Did she mean that? Could it be possible that she would be interested in someone ten years older than her? The feeling of hope was beginning to form in my brain, scenarios of what could be clouding my vision. But they were quickly pushed aside by a dark storm of self-doubt. Because most people don’t listen to lyrics as closely. The lyrics to a song don’t mean anything to them. Did they mean anything to her?

I realised I had been standing in front of the door for way too long and gathered all my confidence to go inside. But nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see. After closing the door behind me and tucking away the key card into my bag I turned around for the first time.

There she was. In the middle of the room in front of the two twin beds on a yoga mat. Her front leg was bent as she stretched her back. She was only dressed in skin tight pants and a matching bra that complimented the way her body was contorted. The soft light from the night lamp next to one of the beds made her skin glisten just noticeably as if it were glowing. I could feel my eyes widen as I my brain finally added up the pieces of what I was seeing.

“Oh, hi Spence!” she said gleefully turning her head towards mine, “I was feeling a little tense after sitting in that conference room all day. I hope you don’t mind.”

I didn’t even bother to attempt to talk, I could feel how dry my throat was and how my lips would not listen to any command I would’ve given it. So I just shook my head and pulled my eyes away from her as she moved her upper body towards the floor, holding herself up by her ellbows. I walked towards the beds in her general direction trying not to notice how gorgeous her ass looked now that her body was turned away from me. That I even had that thought surprised me and caused a blush to rise to my cheeks. I was thankful that she couldn’t see my face in that moment as I loosened up my tie. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, my attention drifted back to the song.

“Don't know how to love me good

So I'm never going back”

There was nothing in that moment that could keep me sane. My wildest dreams could have not come up with this scenario. It felt utterly unreal.

As the song ended I saw her change positions again from my peripheral vision.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” she said while turning the music down.

I noticed panic begin to fill my brain. She wanted to have a conversation.

“I um- it’s been kind of a long day,” I said and cleared my throat, while deciding whether or not it would be a good idea to turn around towards her.

“Have you been at the station the whole time? You must be exhausted,” she responded and continued when I didn’t answer, “I thought you could show me that show you’ve been gushing about.”

How was this real life? My brain began to lose control of my executive functions as my body turned around to face her. She was now sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her, her hands wrapped around her feet as she looked up at me. The low-cut top she was wearing gave me a perfect sight into the curves of her-

I dared not continue that line of thought, already flustered enough as it is.

“Really? You’d be interested in watching that?” I said and blinked.

Her lips spread into a smile, twinkling her eyes, “Yeah, of course. The way you described it makes me really curious.”

“We could watch an episode or two before going to sleep, if you want.”

I just had to take this chance. Even if I could only begin to have a friendship with her, I wanted to be close to her because for some odd reason, I couldn’t bear to admire her from afar.

So not long after, I was setting up the odd hotel room tv to watch the show. It took me the entirety of her taking a shower so that I was only standing back up when she was walking out of the small bathroom in a white bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head. She smiled up at me as she walked past me, her hand brushing my arm so casually that I questioned whether it actually happened. 

I hesitated again before sitting down on the bed. Was she going to get dressed in front of me? Because no matter how much my amygdala wanted me to see that, my frontal cortex wasn’t going to allow it. I forced myself to look through my satchel in an attempt to find a distraction as I waited for her next move. But luckily, she didn’t tempt my brain too much into overdrive.

I felt as if there was a higher power not willing to spare me for the night when she came out of the bathroom a second time, now something someone might call dressed. She was in a loose light coloured satin pyjama set that showed off her legs perfectly. And as if that were not enough to torture me for the night, she joined me on my twin bed with her bag of chips.

“I hope that’s okay with you, then we can share snacks,” she said so innocently that I almost believed it. But I could still hear the song ringing in my ears and I noticed her eyes take a short glance down at my lips as she said it. I was almost convinced that I wasn’t imagining things.

What really sealed the deal was that I noticed her scoot a tiny bit closer to me every once in a while. At first I could only feel the warmth she radiated, but after about 30 minutes I felt the bare skin of her arm against mine. My breath quickened, which I was sure she had noticed.

I knew the episode off by heart. Which was to my advantage because then my brain could run in a speed that I could barely follow. I tried my hardest to calm down a little bit, which was hard when I could feel the movement of her body as a whole-hearted laugh filled her throat.

“Y/N,” I whispered with all my courage. It was so low that I almost thought she wouldn’t hear it, but she turned her head towards me her eyes following a few seconds after.

Her eyes met mine and it was like I could feel my neurons firing electrical signals throughout my entire body. And just like that, in one swift movement she had grabbed my face by the back of my head and pulled me into her lips.

That was the first time that night that my muscles began to relax as I eased into the sensation of her soft lips moving against mine. It was as though I was beginning to lose myself in the kiss, all insecurities about her feelings towards me or my inexperience gone.

When she ultimately pulled away and rested her forehead against mine, we were both panting gently. My whole body felt warm with the feeling of her breath on my skin and her hands still in my hair. I didn’t dare open my eyes, still afraid that I would wake up from this idyllical dream.

We both didn’t know what to say as we pulled away further and looked at each other. I wanted to say something, to let her know how I felt, but once again, my brain did not follow my commands.

“Did you know when you kiss someone for the first time it causes your dopamine levels to increase for a short period of time? It also makes your heart rate and the oxygen supply to your brain to raise,” I heard my voice say in something between a whisper and my normal talking voice.

“For the first time, huh?” she grinned a little at me.

I reached for her hand and gently took it in mine. I moved her palm over my shirt to the centre of my chest. I could feel my heart race through her hands and I know she could feel it too. She looked up into my eyes again with a look on her face that told me all I needed to know.

[duckprintspress]

Advice for Writing Trans Male Characters

Hi everyone, and welcome to our second guest post! We approached a trans man, and fellow writer, to put together a list of suggestions for cis people who want to write trans male characters! He has chosen to remain anonymous. Always remember, there is no one trans experience, and no one trans person’s knowledge will reflect the range of ways that trans people live. Our post author writes from his perspective, based on his knowledge and research, and much of this is relatively specific to the modern United States. Always use multiple sources when writing a character with an identity or identities that you don’t share!

*

So, you want to write a trans male character but you're not a trans man yourself. Good! We need more trans male characters out there in the world. There are a few things to consider, however. This is not a perfect list (I would never claim to be perfect), but here are some thoughts from a trans man about writing people like me.

Trans men are men. They talk like men, think like men, and walk like men, except where socialization as women has forced otherwise. By this I mean that descriptions should not include things like “he walked delicately, like a woman”. However he walks, it's like a man, because he’s a man. Other characters should not note that he “thinks like a woman” or that he “acts like a woman.” If you talk about a trans man transitioning and you mention that he is working on ways to masculinize his speech patterns or walking, that's fine, but make sure it's done from his perspective, e.g. “Michael tried to lower his voice, attempting to sound more like his father.” Do not use “Michael tried to lower his voice, not wanting to sound like a woman.” It's his voice and he sounds like a man. Also, many woman have deeper registers and many men have higher registers, and there's honestly not that much difference between a woman who speaks in a low alto and a man who speaks in a high tenor. Avoid gendering voices, mannerisms, and other things. A good rule of thumb is that if it's a concept, idea, or an inanimate or non-sentient thing, it is physically and/or emotionally incapable of having a gender and you should not assign one to it.

1. A trans man who has decided that all he needs to do is come out to be a man is still a man, with a man's body and male genitals, because he says he's a man. Even if he is not out, he is a man. He can be uncomfortable with his body, or with how others perceive his body, but it should not be described in terms of “womanly” aspects.

EX: David's breasts made him uncomfortable, reminding him that others looked at him differently than how he would have liked.

2. 72% of trans men do not ever want full gender reassignment surgery, and this doesn’t make them “less of a man.” The surgeries are expensive, invasive, and don’t always result in a fully functional genital apparatus. Also, there are a lot of them. A trans man, to have a full semi-working penis (one that will not be useful for sex but will at least be useful for urination), is looking at at least three surgeries: to remove the labia, to 'bulk up' the clitoris, and to move the urethra. There are also surgeries to remove the cervix and/or the uterus, to create a scrotum, and to add a pump inside the scrotum attached to a surgical implant in the penis to assist with arousal. Even if a man has all these surgeries, the penis he gets loses most of its sensitivity and won’t become physically aroused (as in, achieve erection) without medical intervention. He may also need electrolysis to remove pubic hair. Ultimately, many trans men opt not to deal with it. Many still want top surgery, or a hysterectomy, or both, and often testosterone is used to help deepen their voice and change their body shape (but, again, gendering a trans man's voice by suggesting it's “feminine” because he's not on testosterone or because his voice hasn't dropped yet is not a great idea). It depends on the type and amount of dysphoria a person experiences, versus their financial and mental ability to deal with the different choices. Some trans men are happy with no hormones and only top surgery. Others want or need everything. There is no “correct” way to be trans.

3. Unless your story revolves around their transition (which, as a cis person, maybe it's best you don't do, honestly), there’s no reason to go into detail about your trans male character's surgeries. If it’s not plot relevant, it's probably not necessary.

4. If you’re writing porn, make sure to always use male pronouns for him, even if he has chosen not to go through surgery. If he has gone through surgery, what he has will be indistinguishable from a cis male penis except that he may need viagra or a surgical pump.

5. Reactions to testosterone are different for every trans man. Some men never have their voices drop, never grow a beard, and/or never bulk up and get all muscle-y. Some men are on testosterone for two weeks and have a Gandalf beard with a voice low enough to sing bass. It just depends, mostly on genetics. If your character's father is a super hairy mountain man who sings bass in his lumberjack quartet, then your character is more likely to end up similar. If your character's father is basically an elf, then he's likely to be similar to that. Also, for a number of reasons, a trans man may choose not to or may be incapable of taking testosterone. Most doctors won’t prescribe it if the man wants to carry his own children in the future, for example.

6. Keep in mind that the order in which testosterone produces effects on a man’s body isn’t predictable, so don't worry too hard about 'getting it right.' Even trans men can't predict what they'll look like after being on testosterone for a while.

7. Also, a note: If your character is transmasculine and nonbinary, and taking testosterone, it's likely they will be on a lower dose than a trans man. That's not always true, but testosterone can be given at a few different doses, depending on how drastic a change a person wants and how quickly they want that change to occur. There’s still no guarantee: a trans man may never be able to grow a beard on a full dose, while a transmasculine nonbinary person might be on a very low dose and have a beard within the first month. But, generally, lower doses are meant to bring out smaller changes over a longer period of time, while higher doses are meant to bring out larger changes over a shorter period of time.

8. A non-fluid trans man is going to consider himself a man at all times, and always use he/him pronouns for himself, whether or not everyone else does. If you're writing a trans man point-of-view piece where he's not out or where he's not fully accepted, make sure he or the narrator always uses the right pronouns when others don't. That helps remind your audience that he's not the person other people think he is.

EX: Daniel was frustrated. His grandmother insisted on calling him “Sarah” no matter how many times he corrected her.

9. Menstruation is a difficult topic for a lot of trans men. Some men lose their ability to menstruate when they take testosterone, while others continue to menstruate. If they retain their uterus, however, the possibility of a menstrual cycle is always there. If/when menstruation happens for a trans man, it's often a time of major dysphoria. A trans man may have a lot of issues surrounding menstruation. Having a cervix also means yearly Pap smears, which can also be uncomfortable or dysphoria-inducing. Dysphoria can also happen during ovulation, when a person is most fertile. The body during this time is “getting ready for a baby” and the changes can be very triggering.

10. Testosterone may stop menstruation, but it doesn't necessarily stop pregnancy. Also, some trans men will go off their testosterone in order to carry their own child. During their pregnancy, it is important that they are still referred to as men. A trans man will generally prefer to be called “father” even if he carried the child, but some may prefer the term “mother.” If a cis person wishes to write a pregnant trans character, it would be better to err on the side of caution and use “father.” A trans man who has gone through top surgery will not likely be able to nurse his own children, but a man who has chosen to use a binder instead will be able to (probably - some people don’t/can’t lactate for other reasons). Whether or not he chooses to will be up to him.

11. Gender Dysphoria is the medical diagnosis given to trans people who want to do any form of medical transitioning. Being transgender is not in and of itself a diagnosis. A person can be transgender and choose never to transition medically. Dysphoria is generally most clearly understood as a form of discomfort in the body you possess. Sometimes a person experiencing dysphoria is uncomfortable with their body no matter what. He doesn't like his breasts, for example, unless they are bound, no matter what his setting is, who is looking at him, etc. His dysphoria takes the form of nausea at the mere sight of them. Alternatively, some people only experience dysphoria relating to how others see them. For example, a man may not mind his breasts when he's alone, and he doesn't usually bind, but on a specific day while he wasn't binding someone glance at his breasts before calling him 'ma'am' and now he can't uncross his arms in case someone else looks his way. For some people dysphoria comes and goes, and they have good days and bad days. Also, images can be dysphoria-inducing. For example, seeing a pregnant person might remind a man that he has a uterus, and make him extremely uncomfortable all day. Other people may go several days, or weeks or months, without experiencing dysphoria, but when it hits it affects them for a long time or very severely. Or a person might experience dysphoria every day, as kind of a low-level mental fog they can't shake.

12. Gender Euphoria is as valid as Gender Dysphoria. Gender Euphoria is the idea that a person might be content in the body given to them, but will never be truly happy unless they make a change. These people can live their whole lives as the gender assigned to them at birth without severe mental issues or physical problems, but it's like living a life without color. They can do it, but if there's a way to get color back, why wouldn't they?

13. Changing names is complicated and takes time. It also differs in every state/country, and may need to be re-done when a trans man moves. In some states, all they need to change their name legally is a court order. In other areas, a trans man needs to have lived using their new name for a period of time, or have doctor’s notes and authorizations. Once the character has changed their name legally through the courts, they need to change their driver's license, banking information, insurance, work papers, social security information, passport, birth certificate, and any other documentation bearing their name. It can take anywhere from a month to a year or more, and is expensive, sometimes prohibitively so. It's okay to have a trans male character who goes by “Mark” but whose parents or grandparents refer to as “Melissa.” The important thing is to make sure narratively you are confirming that those people are wrong.

EX: “Melissa! It's nice to see you come to visit!” Mark's mom said. Mark cringed, hating the sound of his deadname, but he hadn't yet been able to convince his mother to use the right one.

14. Do not portray a character binding for more than eight hours or with unsafe binders in a positive light. Just don’t. Binding, even with professional/high-end binders, is not safe. It's a stopgap - safer than not binding at all for some people whose dysphoria is really bad. It constricts the lungs and can break ribs if not done properly. It can permanently alter a person's chest cage if done for an extensive period of time. It's a necessary evil for people who are waiting to get their surgery done, in order to keep them alive to have that surgery. It's not a permanent cure-all. Binding also can cause dysphoria. A person who doesn't have dysphoria surrounding his chest can develop it after wearing a binder. So, have your character bind safely, or discuss the issues surrounding unsafe binding. (And yes, this applies even in a fantasy setting or world where the technology may be different. A story is a story, but the impact it could have on a real trans man is potentially dangerous, so write with consideration, and if you do introduce a magical or technological solution to this, maintain awareness of the reality.)

15. Transitioning without an in-person support group is one of the most common factors in transitioning regret. Give your character someone to go to the doctor with them, someone to hold their hand when they get scared, someone to talk them through moments when they're unsure. No one who goes under the knife is always completely 100% sure all the time. They need a community. Surgery and hormones are scary, even if a trans man knows he wants them, and trying to go it alone can spell disaster.

16. Given that a trans man will consider himself a man, it can be challenging to make it clear to a reader that he’s trans. If he's the main/POV character, you can write him dealing with some dysphoria. For example, if you decide your character binds, mention that his breasts are bothering him particularly badly one day. Have him adjust his binder. Describe putting a binder on. That kind of thing. If he's a minor character, it can be more challenging, but you can still have him do things like adjust a binder. You could also mention surgical scars, if a character takes off their shirt. Another thing you can do is just have the main character remember a time “before Mark went by Mark” (for example). Another way is to have the character mention some way in which they are fighting for trans rights, and acknowledge that the issue is personal to them. Try not to use the deadname unless he’s facing an actual microaggression by another character. The narrative or narrator character should never deadname the character.

17. FTM is not an accepted term anymore, as it implies that a person was one thing and changed. Generally speaking, if a trans man is not genderfluid, then he was never female or a woman. Likewise, the phrase “born in the wrong body” is not acceptable for use by cis people. The only real use it has is to explain dysphoria by transgender characters to cisgender characters who aren't inclined to listen or try to understand. The accepted term is AFAB, or Assigned Female At Birth. Keep in mind that terms and labels change with time, so do your research. For example, if you’re writing a historical piece, different terms may be more appropriate, and if you’re writing a modern current-day piece, understand that in ten or twenty years the terminology you use will likely have grown outdated.

18. The proper way to write the term is always “trans man” and never “transman”. Trans is an adjective describing a type of man, just like you might say an Asian man or a muscled man or a gay man. This comes back to the idea that a trans man is always a man, first and foremost.

19. An easy pitfall to avoid if your trans male character's setting is modern or modernesque is: Don't make the story all about their oppression. We are aware of the many ways in which the modern world is trying to oppress and harm the trans community, but trans men can still be happy and interesting people. They can have dysphoria without being depressed. They aren’t necessarily the “down in the dumps” character. Also, trans men have a long history of being activists, and are often erased in history, so don't be afraid to make your trans men an out-and-loud activist. Yes, terrible things have happened and continue to happen to trans men, and any trans man who has done any research into trans history will know about individuals like Brandon Teena. Trans men know the dangers they face. Knowing that bad things can and are happening doesn't mean a trans man can't find his own joy in life, despite things not being perfect.

20. Keep in mind when writing in historical settings that trans men have existed for as long as people have existed. Many trans men were able to go through life completely “undetected” until they died and those around them conducted culturally-common burial practices. It’s not unreasonable to have a trans man in Regency England, Yuan China, or Roman times. If you're writing about non-European-centric history, many cultures acknowledged those who didn’t present the way their AGAB (assigned gender at birth) would suggest, and do your research. Also, keep intersectionality in mind, and tread especially carefully when writing a trans man from a culture and period other than your own. This post is mostly applicable to trans men in the modern era, and especially in the United States. The trans male experience will be different in other places in the world, for people of different ages and of different religions and ethnicities and races, so the more traits your trans man has that are outside your own experience as a cis writer, the more you should consider if it’s wise for you write the story you have in mind, or if it might not be better to allow in-group members to tell those stories. And never forget - trans men can and are all things - all races, all religions, abled and disabled, etc. People have nuanced identities and multiple identifiers and trans is always only one of many.

21. In fantastical or science fiction settings, please always ask yourself if oppression of trans people or bigotry against them is even needed. Maybe a society doesn't assign gender at birth, but waits until a child is old enough to tell the society where they belong. Maybe a society reveres those who are under the transgender umbrella. Maybe children are considered genderless until they reach puberty. You have a million and one options; why limit yourself to what modern predominantly Western white Christian society says? If you do make a society that doesn't look anything like the modern world, for example they assign gender at age five, think about how that would affect society as a whole. What kind of pronouns would be used for children under five? Are young children genderless, or are they seen as genderfluid? What about people who age past five and are still genderless or genderfluid? What are the naming conventions for children?

22. There are mixed feelings regarding how a science fiction or fantasy setting should treat transitioning. Should it be an easy fix, with magic or advance science doing it instantly or nearly so? Or should it be difficult, reflecting the modern situation where the process often years before a person can feel “finished?” That's up to you. Trans people themselves are split on this, so there’s no pleasing everyone. Do your best, and whichever way you choose, make sure to tag it accurately or, for original fiction, be clear up front what approaches you’ve chosen, so people can choose not to read something that may make them uncomfortable at best or trigger them and profoundly harm them at worst.

Ultimately, your trans man is your character and you can do with him as you wish. Write responsibly, and do your research, and if you can, get a sensitivity reader or a beta who is a trans man.

So, go, diversify those stories, write the things, and present good representation! Happy writing!

[lovelivingmydreams]

Aaaaw... They are so cute. Why is everyone so freaking adorable in this au? Anyway. Where were we? Oh right. Virgil made a realization. Let's see how that's going shall we?

It was ridiculous how obvious it was now. Roman’s reaction to him when they first met, him running out to find him when ShockWave held him hostage for the first time. His defensiveness and investment when it came to Prince. They way he had subtly but expertly sabotaged Logan’s attempts at figuring out Prince’s identity. How Roman had chosen a deeper voice rather than Prince’s melodic higher tones when voicing him! The fact that they looked similar! “I’m so stupid… Nooo!” Virgil groaned as he let his face fall into his hands, feeling like he could pretty much sink through the floor in shame. How had he not put this together before? He heard Roman put down the canned tuna and rush towards him. “What’s wrong? What do you mean? You’re not stupid,” he assured him gently as he stood before him hands flitting about unsure if he was allowed to touch to comfort. Virgil looked up. “You are Poetry Prince, aren’t you?” Virgil stated. He was convinced, he just needed Roman to admit to it. His roommate paled, his eyes widening in shocked surprise. “Wh… Why would you say that?” he asked baffled. “And that pretty much confirms it!” Virgil groaned. “Fuck! It was so obvious! I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before!” he complained embarrassed.

“Um… I just remembered I gotta be somewhere…” Oh hell no! “Don’t you even think about bailing! We are going to talk about this right now! Like the grown ups do!” Virgil insisted. This was a lot. But if they didn’t clear up everything now, then he’d drive himself nuts and probably chicken out of talking about it later. “We are adults… Technically,” Roman pointed out. Virgil was not in the mood for smartassery. “Speak for yourself, I’m nowhere close to being mature about this,” he huffed. “But you said…” Virgil interrupted the apparent superhero. He lowered his voice, knowing Roman’s guards went down whenever he used any of his character voices. He started with his standard reading voice. “Well answer me this, buddy. Can you convince me that you are not him?” he demanded. Roman flushed. “Well… That’s not fair. Can you prove to me that you are not Zephyr?” he countered. It was true. Proving you aren’t x or y was way harder than proving you were x or y. But he wasn’t going to let Roman get by on just that fact alone. He dipped lower to his murderer registry. “Well… You claim you have super charm, right? Use it,” he insisted. Roman flushed. “… I… You know I wouldn’t…” he stammered.

Virgil dipped even lower, to his villain voice. “Don’t make me go to my command voice,” he threatened. “I’m sorry what?” Roman asked perplexed. Virgil quirked a brow and went as deep as he could. It had scared off bullies in the past and that was before he’d gotten a real control of his range. “If you thought my villain voice left you scatterbrained, you are in for a treat,” he mused lowly with narrowed eyes making Roman flush and take a step back, prompting Virgil to step forward. “Tell me Roman. Tell me you aren’t Prince,” he insisted as he backed his roommate against a wall. “I think this is hitting a part of my ear that has never been hit before,” Roman squeaked. Virgil allowed a chuckle, it was always a little funny to see how Roman responded to his voices. “Oh, you like playing games huh?” he challenged with a growl, making Roman squeak again. “Come on Charming. Charm me. I know you want to get back at me for making you so flustered. So do it. No holding back,” he challenged. Roman looked away. “I… I can’t,” he admitted. “I don’t have super charm… I am Poetry Prince,” he sighed. Virgil took a few steps back to let that sink in. “Holy frick… Wow,” he muttered, back to his normal speaking voice. He turned around and started pacing in the livingroom, trying to put everything in perspective. “Two months… It’s been right in front of me for two months,” he muttered incredulously. “I was planning on telling you. Not like this though,” Roman offered. Virgil just shook his head. “It was literally right in front of me.” “How did you realize it anyway? I rhymed in front of you before!”

From the sound of it Roman was processing as well… Roman was Prince. Frick all those times, but it being Roman who came rushing to save him, who quipped and smirked, who carried him… “I was in your arms both with and without the mask! I was so close to making the connection!” he complained. Then he froze in place. Imagining Roman where Prince was and vice versa. “You did it on purpose…” He turned to Roman with an accusing finger. “When you called Nox Princess that day… You knew… Holly frick!” Imagining it being Roman who threatened to bite him… Prince who did push ups right in front of him… Frick he was way to gay for this… “You interviewed yourself! How did I not notice!?” he demanded. “I wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t make me!” Roman objected. “It’s highly unethical. I had to pretend I was writing questions for Megatron.” Virgil let out a groan and let himself fall into the couch. After a few moments he could feel Roman join him and Nox jump on his lap. He started petting his cat while he sulked a bit more. “Go ahead. Ask,” his superhero roommate stated. “Ask what?” he muttered. “Whatever you want to know,” Roman stated seriously. Virgil thought that over. “That first day… Walk me through it,” he stated.

Roman leaned back. “I was heading to our dorm and noticed you on the other side of the street. Then you stopped, and from your body language I assumed you’d heard something, now I know you felt something. When the alarm went off I dove in the alley and when I cam back out in my disguise, you were being held hostage and police was arriving. We bantered and I dropped you off. When I arrived and saw you, I had a bit of a panic. I realized you were Raven that first day by the way,” he smirked a little teasingly, though it was a bit more awkward than their usual. “I worried, and don’t laugh, but I worried that the registration issue and the villain attack might not have been coincidence. That you were a villain who knew who I was and was trying to get close to me… You sneaking about, leaving at weird times and going weird places…” he let out a long sigh. “I was so relieved when you came home with Nox,” he admitted. “You let her stay because you were relieved I was feeding them and not building a deathray?” Virgil scoffed. Roman let out an offended noise that was so Roman it made Virgil smile. “I let our baby stay because I wanted them to be taken care off,” he insisted. And Virgil believed him. “Next question,” Roman encouraged. Virgil thought it over again. “Who else knows?” he asked. “Other than potentially your father who cheated?” Damn it dad. He went as far as to read his personality? That always felt like an invasion of privacy to Virgil. Usually his dad had to get permission from the suspect. But roommates didn’t have the same protections it seemed. “Just my parents, Remus and Patton. They know my real power so I couldn’t not involve them at least a little… I told you that after I gave up on my dream to live a life under the sea, I bounced around ideas, chief among which superhero.” Virgil huffed. He’d basically told him the truth already. “So I kept my true power a secret from anyone who wasn’t already in the know due to watching me discover it. I didn’t even tell my partner Junior year.”

Virgil frowned. “But you were thinking about telling me?” he pointed out. Roman shrugged. “You put a lot of trust in Prince. And we are coparenting a kitten,” he pointed out with a soft smile as he stroked Nox’s head. “And you are becoming a close friend. It felt inevitable that you’d find out, so I’d rather have it come from me.” Virgil smiled a little at that. It felt like a big deal. “So… What is your power? Of the record,” he wondered. Roman chuckled and his face went pensive for a moment. “Do I still have your permission to use charm on you?” he wondered. Virgil frowned. “You said that you didn’t have super charm,” he stated suspicious. “Answer the question,” Roman pressed. Virgil nodded. He hadn’t been bluffing at the time. He trusted Roman enough to know that if he really did have Charm, then he wouldn’t abuse the power. Roman took a deep breath and then locked eyes. “I will admit this has been a very long time, but I did not make up this faux power of mine, it is a cover a clever disguise, from when I still had to convince my peers at any price, but if you will trust me with this ability, my blinding charm is what you’ll see,” he whispered softly. Virgil swore his eyes lit up pink for a moment.

His very pretty brown eyes that were staring into his soul right now. “Virgil, do you trust me?” Okay… No. Roman’s usual Disney filter was now upped by a factor of at least ten. His voice sounded smoother and there was this aura about him that just… Virgil was pretty sure he could convince people to vote him into any office right now. Heck Virgil hated politics and he would probably be convinced to campaign for him in a heartbeat. “Y-yes… Though not sure… This is different than usual,” he admitted. “It’ll be alright Virgil. You know I’d never use such allure for selfish reasons. But I must say, red is a good color on you,” he smiled gently. Did his eyes always light up like that. Holly frick Virgil was so gay. Roman took another deep breath and suddenly the filter was back to its normal settings. Roman still looked like a main character, but he didn’t have that weird aura thing anymore. “That was intense…” Virgil muttered as he processed all that.

“Wait so the rhyming is part of it? For real?” Virgil wondered. “Yes, and emotions. When ShockWave kidnapped you for the first time… I was… Scared and upset and it manifested stronger and more violent than it usually does. As the emotion fades the power does too. I usually aim for something with my poem, but sometimes I just express a personal need and my powers give me something useful but new. I don’t know what the limit is yet. But I know I have to say the poem out loud for it to work… Any other questions?” Roman asked nervously. Virgil shook his head. He’d had enough to process for now. “No… No I… Thanks. For telling me all that. I won’t tell anyone. And I’ll help distract Logan from figuring you out. I think it’s his way to get some control on the whole ShockWave situation. He’s calmed down since I got the panic button,” he stated as he flashed the skull shaped keychain. Roman chuckled. “I’d appreciate that. And I am glad that you know now Virgil…” Virgil smiled up at him. “I believe you… I might have more questions tomorrow,” he warned. “And I’ll gladly answer them. Dinner?” That was the best idea ever. Virgil couldn’t stop glancing at Roman throughout the evening. Roman did a great job pretending he didn’t notice. When he went to bed he stayed awake for a while, thinking about this new perspective.

Roman was his roommate and his friend. He was stupid attractive and he knew it. And it hadn’t been awkward. They were both pretty upfront of how they affected one another and they teased one another about it. Roman had flexed his muscles to him before. Poetry Prince had been… Harder to define. They had bantered and grown a familiarity. Virgil guessed he would’ve called them friends. Prince had seemed playful and slightly flirty at times. Virgil had been a pain in his ass. And he and Roman were one and the same. Virgil let out a long sigh. All things considered, nothing much had to change. Virgil would still give Roman a heads up whenever Shockwave was going to do something. Now, he just knew that Prince was also aware when he did so. He slowly dozed off with the knowledge that things didn’t have to change. Not too much. Instead of two hot friends, there was just the one. The next morning Virgil was the first to wake up and prep breakfast. It gave him the time to ponder about what he’d learned yesterday. “Morning, thank you for breakfast,” Roman offered as he emerged from his room. “No problem…Can I ask…” Virgil started a little nervously. “Anything,” Roman promised with a smile. “Well… You said something about your power fading depending on how strong your emotions are in the moment. But can you dismiss a power sooner?” he wondered. Roman pondered that for a moment. “Well, I never tried. I usually use them as long as they last or else I just let them be. But I suppose I could I think I could’ve held up charm a bit longer than I did yesterday. But I purposefully calmed my own emotions to dismiss it. So in that sense I do have some control,” Roman allowed.

“How many powers can you summon at once?” Virgil continued curiously. Roman shrugged. “I usually stack two or three if things look dicey. But in theory, I don’t think there’d be a limit honestly,” he explained before smirking. “Anymore questions or am I allowed to have breakfast now?” he teased, confirming that things weren’t that different. Virgil smiled. “I guess I’ll let you off the hook,” he allowed. Roman chuckled and sat down with him. “By the way, I was thinking of getting all our friends together for some games. You know, hang out together on purpose. What do you think?” he asked. Virgil nodded. “Sounds cool,” he agreed. “Splendid… And one more thing, a favor, if you will,” Roman stated slowly. “What’s that?” Virgil wondered. He guessed he owed his roommate a favor of some kind. After all the times he’d saved him. “Can I interview you for the blog?” he asked. On second thought… “No please. Just hear me out. People already kinda know you are the one who Shockwave kidnapped multiple times because of his need to broadcast everything. I can guarantee you other journalists are doing whatever they can to figure out who you are and pester you for an interview. If I write one first, then the scoop is gone,” he explained. He had some kind of a point… “Just make me look awesome,” Virgil huffed. “Like you needed to ask. We can do something tonight. We should head to class soon though,” Roman insisted. He was right about that. Virgil was glad he had classes to focus on for a bit. It was kinda hard to sit next to Adam making small talk though. Especially when he had to try to dodge questions about Roman.

This would’ve been a good epiphany to have over the weekend. Though this weekend was his session with Emile so even then he would’ve had to talk around the biggest thing that was on his mind… But maybe… Maybe he could pass by the bakery for lunch. Patton knew. He could talk about it with Patton for a bit right? To his surprise, he found Janus at the bakery. J told him they had stuff to do today and couldn’t meet up for lunch. Which had been somewhat of a blessing in hindsight. Virgil trusted Janus when they said they weren’t really interested in ShockWave’s goals. But he could completely understand if Roman was not okay with someone so close to his nemesis knowing. “Oh, hey Jay,” he greeted before turning his attention to Patton. “Hi Pat. Can I get my usual?” Patton beamed at him, always happy to see a friend. “Sure thing kiddo. Coming right up I’m just going to check on the oven real quick,” he winked before waving at Janus and ducking into the back. The second Patton was out of sight Janus pulled at Virgil’s sleave. “You know him? Is he like… Single?” they asked urgently. Oh… Plot twist and a delightful distraction. “Technically he’s a friend of a friend. Though our friendgroups are slowly merging I think. We hang out. He’s never mentioned a significant other,” he stated casually before letting his mouth curl into a mischievous grin. “Need some help?” Janus was about to say something that looked like a ‘no’ or something to that extend. But Patton came in first.

“Alright, let me get you two taken care off!” he grinned. Virgil knew Janus to be a bit of a smooth talker. Guarded with their emotions and only letting just the smallest smirk and the lightest softening of their eyes betray any sort of fond emotions. But when Patton entered the room, all their guards seemed to come down. If they’d been wearing a disguise it would’ve faded right then and there. And as Virgil watched closely, he saw that it had. Their scar was a bit more obvious than it usually was outside campus or even private kidnap rooms. “Roman told me about the get together this weekend,” he told Pat who looked up with excited twinkles in his eyes. “Oh, yeah everyone is pretty stoked. Our brothers are gonna be there. Just think, if they get married that makes us brothers too!” Patton stated cheerfully. “Guess there’s no getting rid of me,” Virgil chuckled. “Anyway Pat, have you met Janus? They’re a friend of mine,” Virgil explained. “We did! He’s been a regular for the past week or so,” his flammable almost friend informed him. Regular huh? “Do you think we could invite him over for the party too?” Virgil asked innocently, ignoring the stomp to his foot he’d felt coming a mile away, even without his power warning him something was heading his way. “What are you doing?” Janus hissed in his ear, sounding a little panicked. “Of course! It’ll be at my place though, so our nyanbinary friend doesn’t get shoved to the side this time,” he winked. Virgil chuckled. That was a good one. “You hear that Jay? His place,” he stated with a jab.

Janus nodded. “Yeah, uh I heard. I don’t want to impose though. I mean you all know each other and I…” Patton came from behind the counter with their orders packed up. He handed Virgil his pastry and looked up at Jay with his usual blind excitement. Seemingly oblivious to Janus’ flustered reaction. “The more the merrier. Any friend of Virgil’s is more than alright with me,” Patton stated. Janus swallowed. “Uhm. Well if you insist… Thanks for the food. I uh gotta go.” They pushed a bill in Patton’s hand. “Consider the change an advance on next time. Bye,” they muttered as they went out the door. “They’re a sweetheart aren’t they?” Patton smiles happily, still oblivious. Virgil nodded. “Sure is,” sweet on you. “Roman also showed me his poetry by the way,” he stated with a slight press on the word poetry, hoping that Patton would catch the meaning. He stilled halfway back to the registry to ring up Virgil’s order. “Oh,” he said before continuing his path. “It’s… An adjustment… I worry I might mess up,” Virgil confessed. What if he said Roman’s name next time he saved him? Things would go back to normal soon, hopefully. But until then, he had a whole list of trouble to worry about. Prince getting hurt hadn’t been a thing that occurred to Virgil. He was a dashing hero. Of course he’d be alright. But Roman… Roman was just a guy. He had a brother. He’d told him about some childhood mishaps. He’d seen him tired and in pain after stubbing his toe. Roman… Prince… he risked his life for him. Multiple times. It's not like Virgil hadn’t cared about Prince getting hurt. It had just not seemed like a possibility to him with how easily Prince always seemed to be able to save the day. “What if I get him hurt?” he added worriedly. Patton smiled at him softly. “It isn’t easy. Knowing your friend is in danger… But if I recall correctly. Your dad and your brother both are in similar lines of work right?” he wondered. Virgil nodded. That was true. He’d worked through those worries in therapy a long time ago. “It’s just… Not something I’m used to when it comes to him. Either sides of him,” he admitted. Patton nodded. “That is completely valid. I can’t say I have the perfect solution for that. You just need to give it time, and try to trust that he’ll keep himself safe as well.” Virgil nodded and paid for his lunch. “Thanks for the chat Pat, see ya later,” he offered as he headed out.

He was halfway to the campus when his power triggered. He stopped in his tracks, looked around and saw a shadow move… Literally. He barely had time to hit the panic button before he was dragged into the alley he was about to pass by his own shadow. “What in the peter pan bs hmpf!!!” He felt himself get silenced. Oh just great. “Just be still. I’m not gonna harm you. I just want to have a quick chat with your protector. You did remember to call on him didn’t you?” asked a whispering voice in his ear. Virgil let out a string of muffled curses and struggled to get free of the hold his shadow had on him. “Sorry for the discomfort,” the villain stated, sounding sincere. Weirdest kidnapping so far. His power went off. “Virgil!?” Roman! “Hello poetry Prince. Your… Regular is here, he is unharmed. I just wanted a little chat. And it’s so hard to get a hold of you,” the whispering voice stated. Roman entered the unnaturally shadow filled alley. Or well… Prince did. Which was the same thing but he had to separate the identities or else he’d slip up. “Well, I’m here. Let him go and we can talk,” he promised. “Sorry… Insurance,” the villain insisted. “Okay, but I want to hear from him that he is okay before we proceed. Can we agree on that?” Virgil felt his mouth being freed. “I’m fine… Just a few scrapes from being dragged,” he hissed. “Sorry about that. I don’t have that much control in the daylight. You were too far for a gentler approach,” the villain shadow wielder stated. “Okay. What is this about. You have my full attention,” Ro… Prince, promised.

“Your interview… That last bit… You seem to think everyone can become a hero in some way. I don’t think it’s quite that simple…” Oh… Virgil was kind of intrigued now. “How’s that?” Roman asked. “With an ability like mine? Do you think anyone, even my own parents ever thought I could be anything good?” he snapped. Oh… Now V felt for the guy. R- Prince thought on that for a second. “You know… There’s this guy who works escape rooms. His ability is to possess any screen and come out as a horror creature. He could probably make a terrifying villain if he wanted to. But he chooses to entertain instead. It’s not what his teachers told him would become of him. It’s not his peers who thought he was weird or creepy. It helps when you have people who support you for you. That is true. But in the end, you get to make the choice. It’s easier said than done, and I am in a privileged position when compared to you, I know that. But I think you could use your powers in ways that would lift people up. As a nighttime hero even if that is what you want,” he insisted. Virgil could feel the hold on him slacken a bit as the guy thought this over. “I always loved shadow puppet shows. Bet the kids would love what you can do. It’s all in the context man. Show your folks they were wrong about you,” he insisted. “… Where can I even go at this point?” his captor wondered aloud. “I know a place,” Virgil stated. Remy had mentioned it a few times. “The Sanders Sides youth center.” The shelter accommodated people up to 25 and he didn’t think his captor was older than that. “There are always people who are helping. You just have to look up and see,” Prince insisted.

Virgil felt himself get released. “Thanks…” a tearful voice whispered, and then they heard something move all the way back in the alley. Had he been back there all this time? “How are you feeling?” Roman wondered. He’d approached him while Virgil was looking back trying to catch a glimpse of the guy who was hopefully making his way to a fresh start. “Yeah, fine,” he muttered. Not sure how to look at his friend right now. “You don’t seem fine. Did you hurt yourself in the struggle? You said some scrapes but…” “No I’m just…” he waved to him. “The secret?” Roman- Prince asked perplexed. “I thought we were cool.” He sounded a little hurt. “We are… I’m just… I’m used to being in danger. Not to my friend being a superhero who rushes into my messes… I mean I was with Prince but he was already rushing into messes before I considered him a friend. You… It’s different,” he insisted. “I promise you stormy knight, it is not,” -Prince stated gently. “But it’s okay that you still need some time to adjust. Need a lift to get to your class on time?” Prince wondered. Virgil thought it over. “Sure,” he allowed. It would be stupid to be nervous or awkward about that all of a sudden. They’d done this dozens of times before… But still, he felt himself flush a little while Prince picked him up. Said a little poem that gave him super jumps and carried him off towards the campus grounds. “Thanks,” he stated as he got back to the ground. “Until next time,” Prince bowed. The same dramatics he always used that Virgil had become a little fond off. Dramatics that fit with Roman just as well… He really, really should have put them together sooner. “Bye,” Virgil waved. Heading to his next building and promising himself he’d set this aside for later.

When he got home that evening, he found Roman already there, cooking and laughing at something on his phone. “Better luck next time!” Roman called in greeting before he looked up, mirth in his eyes. “V, you gotta see this one. Remus just sent it in, did you get it?” he wondered. Virgil checked his phone. Battery down. “Um, dead phone. I’ll go check right away,” he stated as he went on the hunt for his charger. Once he was plugged in he restarted his phone, finding the missed text from Remus. It was a link to a youtube video of a fan dissecting the Dove design. Bringing special attention to the pointy elf ears and the question of that meaning that Raven could be assumed to have Elf ears too. Not just that but they also freaked out about Dove’s rings. Especially the one on Dove’s left hand that looked like an engagement ring. The fan admitted that he was looking into this way deeper than he normally would considering Dove came into Raven’s feed way after the Raven Avatar. That being said. He wanted to know what was on Raven’s other hand. “So I thought we could just, do the interview like, casually. A dinner table conversation if you will. After I take a cool picture of you and it’ll be on the parlor by tomorrow,” Roman suggested as he opened the cabinet to get out the plates. Virgil got up to meet him and take over the plates so he could set the table. “Sure sounds good… Mind if I ask another question first?” he wondered as he headed to the dinner table. “Shoot,” Roman shrugged.

“Well… What if a villain silences you like how that shadow dude did to me? What would you do then?” he wondered nervously. “Panic,” Roman stated. “That’s why I keep the way my power works a secret and try to activate a boost before I enter the scene. Lucky for me ShockWave doesn’t seem to mind theatrical back and forth. So I don’t have to worry on that front,” he stated. It didn’t make Virgil feel that much better, but he supposed that Roman was aware of this weakness in his ability and had some sort of contingency. Hopefully. “Anything else?” Roman wondered as they both sat down to eat. “Well… You said that you could like, aim for a specific power. Could you copy someone else’s power? What’s the limit to that?” he wondered. “Well… I haven’t really tested the limits yet. Considering how reliant my power is on my emotions, it is hard to do.” That made sense. “Okay… That was all,” Virgil conceded. Roman chuckled. “Well, then now it’s my turn,” he grinned. Virgil was admittedly a little nervous, but soon found there was no need to be. Roman managed to keep the conversation light and natural. He apologized in advance for asking some stuff he already knew, but needed to hear put in Virgil’s words.

It was kind of therapeutic to talk about all of the craziness in this way. By the time they started on the dishes they were joking back and forth about Roman’s Prince Persona as if it had never been a secret. “Seriously dude, are the dramatic entrances that necessary?” Virgil grinned. “You just want your movie moment, admit it,” he challenged. Roman gasped in pretend offense. “How dare? The dramatics are merely a smokescreen to hide my need for prosaic boosts,” he declared passionately. Virgil snorted as he put the last of the dishes away. “Sure thing. I’m going to work on the next Raven video,” he announced as he headed to his room. He had a cool murder mystery planned and it had a cool twist at the end, meaning he’d have to change his methods a tad for this one. “I shall remain here and keep our darling Nox company while I write our interview. We dragged the interview out a bit too long, I want to try to take a picture before dinner tomorrow, we’ll have the best lighting then,” Roman said as he got settled on the couch, next to a napping Nox. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Virgil promised. “Do grace us with your presence before bed won’t you?” Roman pleaded, both dramatic and sincere. “Sure charmless,” Virgil jested before heading into his room. He heard a gasp and something, a pillow likely, hit his door making it shut with a resounding click.

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Raven poetry

Chapter 14: Click

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