#part of me wonders if i should pursue an affirmation

[shoutsindwarvish]

two different rabbis directly to me + multiple places online: jewish imposter syndrome is real and is (to varying degrees) almost a universal experience in one way or another

me, who has been actively practicing for over nine months and taken multiple classes while also being halachically jewish by birth: i am the exception and am an imposter in jewish spaces and should feel bad about it. no i will not elaborate on why i believe this is true of me and no one else.

[thedivineden]

needing more izuku stuff !!!!

would love any kind of perv izuku🙏‼️

also love the writing style!

I LOVE IZUKU AND IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT ABOUT HOW GROSS AND PRECISE HE’D BE IF HE WAS A PERVERT ESPECIALLY TO THE NEW MOM NEXT DOOR !!! I GOT SLIGHT CARRIED AWAY BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, THANK YOU FOR THIS INSPIRATION AND BEING MY FIRST REQUEST! HOPEFULLY OTHERS WILL COME FORWARD WITH ANOTHER REQUEST! ૮꒰ྀི◜༝◝ ꒱ྀིა

Mentions of: stalking, surveillance, dubcon/noncon, single mom, self-gratification, drugging, manipulation, insecurity, paranoia, intruder staging/descriptive imagery.

♤ Pervert Izuku is perfect by design; very sweet, humble but it’s not overbearing, helpful, handy, and most importantly, good with kids.

 ♤ You quickly became his target, and the day you moved in, Izuku insisted on helping you carry everything in. Naturally, as many mothers, you were apprehensive to accept the newly acquainted young man inside your home and denied his assistance. Izuku quickly responded by mentioning his own single mother, how he only wants to make her proud, and how she would hit him across the head if he didn't help you.

 ♤ Izuku is a wonderful liar; he did not lie about his single mother, nevertheless he has already made her proud in many ways. Izuku utilized the excuse of "helping you move in" to remember and photograph your house layout, taking special note of where your bedroom would be and the most convenient entry points to reach you in the smallest and quickest span of time.

 ♤ Naturally, you offered him money in exchange for his services, but Izuku politely rejected and instead requested that you prepare him a dinner. He could tell you were stressed; he notices the absence of a band on your finger and the bags under your eyes. You would be his easiest target, and invading your life would be his number one priority: 

 You prepare a three-course dinner for him and yourself granting his request. When he is done hauling everything in, he comes to the dining room and much to your surprise, attempts to assist you in setting the table. You lead him immediately to the table he put together for you and tell him to wait, which is when the true game begins. 

 Izuku did exactly as you said, making sure to move his seat closer to yours and graciously thanking you for your hospitality and the meal you made for him. He could see the glint in your eyes and the darkness surrounds you temporarily lifting. “It’s the least I can do after you helped me move everything in.  It’s been really hard so I really appreciate it.” 

 The entire meal is spent in conversation between you two as you tell him about your life, including learning that your high school love cheated on you for years, which finally led to a divorce and your move into his neighborhood. When the moment is right, Izuku puts his hand on yours, and you give him a beautiful grin in return, but you move your hand away.

 Izuku's tactics are like that of a predator expertly pursuing his prey; he is aware of your vulnerability and can practically hear you berating yourself for falling for the first man who shows you kindness and telling yourself that you should be concentrating on your children and your collapsing life.

 Over the course of the dinner, you two exchange stories and laughs. Izuku apologizes for the affair and divorce, saying your former spouse is a moron who would never screw a woman like you. He noticed the glimmer in your eye growing, but he wasn't prepared for you to hurry him out the door with leftovers and a heartfelt thank you. It left the young man both perplexed and interested. Making you his and his alone was the only thing on his mind.

 Over the next year, Izuku slowly becomes a household name, a part-time nanny, and a full-time pervert. It was all apart of his five step plan:

1. Slow and steady wins the race. Your love languages consist of acts of service and words of affirmations. Make a point to always bring flowers, to help out whenever he had the chance, and passionately express how great of a mother and person you are.

2. Whenever he had a chance to be in your house he’d place or fix any cameras and mechanism he had. 

3. After a year, if you voice the three phrases: “I don’t know what I do without you”, “"I value you and our relationship so much", “"I'm so thankful for you" that’s when he’ll begin to prepare the trap and catch his prey.

  The first line was spoken during a storm that left you without electricity, but fortunately Izuku had a generator. You had a lovely day with your baby at his house. You three cooked dinner, baked s'mores, and ended with watching finding Nemo with your head on his shoulder you whispered, "I don't know what I'd do without you.”

  The second line describes an evening you spent returning home from work. You asked him if he wanted dinner after you returned home, clearly agitated, and thanked him for watching your daughter. Izuku moved quickly toward you, stroking your arms and inquiring as to how you were doing. When you told him about your day, you began to break down. You explained how your manager and clients yelled at you, and your supervisor had gone over the articles you had sent in and given you a 24-hour window to create another one. Izuku gave you reassurance right away and even offered to assist with brainstorming and drafting another piece.

 The third line came the same night, in the midst of Izuku consoling you, you took it as an opportunity to lean in and kiss him. You were stuttering, hastily apologizing and ushering him out the door. You expressed his importance in your life as a friend and would never want to make him uncomfortable. You shut the door before allowing him to say a word. Izuku went home and didn’t come see you until 3 days later. This is when the nexts steps continue:

4. Izuku will allow the connection to become awkward, flirty, and stressful. He will sexually frustrate you and infiltrate your home. The eventual effect of this phase will be sexual frustration, confusion, and exhaustion. Izuku's purpose is to make you hungry for him and afraid in your home so you invite him over more often.

 Izuku took his time in this phase, offering to watch your toddler while you worked. When you arrived home, dinner would be ready, and after you finished eating, Izuku would draw a bath with a glass of wine waiting for you and before the evening concluded you would always receive a massage from the talented man. Izuku's hands would droop and became eager with each massage. Your robe would drop lower, revealing more of your body, and he noticed it. This action indicated to him that you were mentally ready for him to take you somewhere. 

 When he came up to you in the kitchen, his footsteps were typically silent, but you could always feel his presence behind you. Izuku would be positioned behind you, gazing over your shoulder and begging you to feed him. You'd then turn around with a spoon, realizing how close he is and how he has you encircled and blocked on each side by his hands on the counter. The look in his eyes indicates hunger, but you both know it is not for whatever is in the pot.

 Izuku persisted in his antics, being a charming, flirty, and ideal man! Then at night he’d break into your house in one of three ways: through your bedroom window, your toddlers bedroom window, or directly through the front door. Why? The most horrifying ways for someone to enter your house are through the front door without leaving any trace behind, through the window in your own bedroom, or through the window in your child's bedroom.

 In an effort to instill fear in you, Izuku would, for the following thirty days, take objects you knew you had put away or steal a sock or piece of your underwear, forcing you to search for the missing items every wash day. He even went so far as to break in while you were at work and replace your usual nightly prescription with sleeping pills so he could record himself enjoying your nude body in front of him. He would cover your lips with a damp paper towel and brush his angry head over it so as not to shock you or cause any physical reactions.

   Whenever he leave his through your windows he he leaves a flower at the base, and set off a trigger mechanism rendering noises that sound like a break-in once he’s at home to wake you to his gift. As a result of all he did, you were always left crying and at his door in the middle of the night with your sleepy toddler on your hip, pleading with him to let you and her stay.

 Throughout these nights you two would either stay up talking about what happened or you’d end up in his arms sleep. His plan has one more final phase before he can officially steal your heart, mind, body, and soul:

 

5. Izuku needed to create a situation where he’s saving you or you and your child.

 Over the course of the following two weeks, Izuku took steps to ensure that you would be left helpless and vulnerable. A staging firm from another country was called upon to break into the house, give you and your child enough time to hide, give Izuku enough time to enter, and have extra staff on standby as police officers. The break-in happened a week later, and although you were already having trouble sleeping due to your ongoing anxiety and terror, it's real now, and you're terrified.

 You jump out of bed, make your way to your daughter’s room, and you both hide in a small nook in the back of your daughter’s closet. Your heart is pumping in your ears and the fear on your daughter’s face is heartbreaking and nauseating. You silently prayed with your eyes closed, you could hear the people rummaging through the house, and talking just loud enough for anyone in the house to hear. Then, a knock invokes silence through the house, you thought the intruders speaking was bad, this is ten times worse. Then the doorbell rings out breaking the silence and then your name could be heard. 

 The tension in your chest is temporarily lifted when you hear Izuku's voice at your door asking for you. Perhaps you two will be fine, but the sound of quiet shuffling can be heard once the key lock turns. You longed to leave the closet and warn him about what awaits him, but your child's safety comes first, and you know he would agree. When the front door opens, you hear scuffling and curses flying; you protect your daughter's ears when you hear: "Get him to the floor, fuck him up, kill him." You couldn't control your breathing, and it felt like all the blood rushed to your ears.

 The next thing you hear is what you believe to be a gunshot, and your body stiffens until you hear Izuku shouting to you and sirens outside. You clutch your babygirl tightly in your arms and rush out to him, yelling his name. Coming around the corner, you collide with him and collapse into his arms. You glance up at him and see the injuries he inflicted on the attackers, which makes you cry even harder. He assures you that everything is fine and expresses care for you and your daughter's well-being.

 After the "police" arrive, Izuku is by your side as you describe what you heard, did, and what has been going on for the past few weeks, but this is not new information. Izuku particularly called this firm since they are recognized for providing discretion for a lump sum of money and the ability to construct any fictitious scenario by any means necessary for as long as the client pays. He doesn't mind the glances he gets from various "officers"; he knows what they're thinking; he's sick, and he knows it.

Izuku insist that you and your daughter stay at his house until everything was handled and the investigation was completed. The officials authorized you and him to get essentials for you and your daughter. Everything is numbing; you feel powerless, useless, and incapable of leading a regular life. Then comes the breakdown: you're in the toilet of the shared room with your sleeping daughter, and the last thing you expect is a knock and Izuku entering with you.

 You try to wipe your tears away quickly, but he sits down on the floor with you and draws you close. When he starts caressing your back, you clutch to him and cry even harder; you two have been stuck like that for two hours, your eyes are tired and red, but when you look up at him, all he can think about is wanting to see the same expression in the bedroom. The feel of his hard-on should have been a red flag for you; you shouldn't have leaned in, but you did, and this is what he's been looking for.

 Izuku takes full advantage of this time, savoring the first kiss between you two; he's slow at first, which is great. He grips your waist and pulls you onto his lap, careful not to break the kiss, biting your lip to secure your closeness, which is rewarded with a tiny groan from you. He moves quickly with you in his arms, being sure not to wake your sleeping daughter, and brings you upstairs to his bedroom.

 Izuku is weary of being hungry for you, of using his hand while looking at pictures of you from the cameras in your bathroom and shower; now is the time for the real thing, and he will not disappoint. He tosses you on the bed, closes and locks the door, and then leaves you in his bathroom. You were perplexed, but the heartbeat underneath stopped all warning sirens in your thoughts. Izuku emerges from the restroom with a crimson fluffy garment and begs you to put it on for him. You'd never had a man beg you to do anything, but when it came to him, he gave the word a special meaning. How could you say no?

 The smile he gives you ignites your body, and you swiftly remove your clothes and attempt to dress in the bathroom. He's quick to stop you, noticing the perplexity on your face as he timidly asks you to undress for him. You were completely flustered; it had been a long time since you had done anything intimate, and you had never stripped for anyone before. Izuku's face is crimson, which calms you down; knowing that you and him are possibly going through something together and sharing the same emotions inspires you to remove your shirt, followed by your pajama bottoms. His gaze is fixed on your body as you tease him by pulling down your bra and underpants.

 He enjoys seeing you like this; he wants to see more, touch you, and that is exactly what he does. Izuku holds you close and kisses your stomach and thighs, getting particularly close to your pussy. He brings you to the bed and softly glides his hands under both of your thighs to the back of your knees to raise your legs up. Your eyes are fixed on the ceiling, and your mind is reeling from the excitement and adrenaline of the night's events.

 He asks if you are okay, and you only hum in return, he gets in your face and asks the same thing again. You reassure him, and he asks that you keep your eyes on him. "Say it, say you'll keep your eyes on me."He swears he sees a sparkle in your large eyes, and you respond, "I will keep my eyes on you."

Then he's in between your legs like a thirsty puppy; he begins with a soft kiss, testing your waters to see what makes you squirm, moan, and quiver, and once he does, you're putty in his mouth. Izuku takes his time with you, yet he leaves no aspect of you unnoticed or ignored. His tongue seems to write incantations on your clit and slit, causing you to buck and tangle your fingers in his hair. Izuku enjoys this moment, sighs into your cunt, and continues to lick and torment your clit. He looks up at you and falls in love. Your hair is sticking to you now, pleasure is written all over your face, and he understands what you want.

He lets you to rest your legs on his shoulders, relieving the pressure, and puts a finger into your dripping hole. Your moans are beautiful, and the way you speak his name makes Izuku happy right now, but he can't leave unless you're foolish on his cock. He takes a long lick before raising his head and saying, "How does it feel, pretty?" You've always loved his pet names, which he'd occasionally say to you, but this is overwhelming. Your response is breathy and hardly coherent: "I'm- It- it feels good, please don't stop." He can feel you tighten around his fingers, which are stroking your ravenous hole, laughs, and continues to devour you.

Izuku's speed increased the knot in your gut, and you felt heated and overstimulated.His tongue and fingers are a gift from heaven. He took his time to discover your sweet spot and what feels most comfortable for you, and once he does, you're a mess. Izuku suddenly stops in front of you and plants kisses on your lips, neck, and breast. Your eyes were no longer on him; instead, they were tightly closed as you braced yourself for the surge of pleasure that was about to hit. At this moment, your body is overheating and your cunt is aching and asking to be penetrated. "Izuku~ why did you stop?"

"How much is it really yours?" His head raises, revealing tears that look ready to burst. "Use your words, sweetheart; don't cry." You lustfully and clearly tell him how much you want to be fucked until you're sore. "Anything you wish pretty," he says, laughing at your audacity. Izuku takes off his clothes fast, and he quickly gets to work on you, nuzzling your clit with his fingers and your nipples with his lips and tongue. All he wants to hear is that you plead and beg for him to fuck you, to make you his, to put another baby in you.

Izuku exclaims, "I want you to have my babies," while spreading your legs apart and nudging your clit with his irate head. "I want to make you my wife," he said, and proceeded to insert his sensitive cock into you. Izuku groans at the feeling and tells you how wonderful it is, saying, "You're so fucking warm and tight. You handle it so nicely and are so lovely and gorgeous.” His strokes got quicker and deeper with each compliment, and your cunt got tighter and your head lighter. Your groans are hypnotizing him as you encircle him with your arms and legs, pushing him to remain close. Your nails are also digging into his back. You whisper to him in a gentle way how much you've wanted him since you moved here and how you stroked yourself to the thought of him.

Izuku goes into overdrive when you tell him something he already knew, pounding your cunt repeatedly and making a valiant effort to control himself. He couldn't deny that he is just as overstimulated as you are. Ever since you moved in, Izuku has taken delight in the surveillance cameras he installed in your home, even today. As you match his beat, you draw him out of his thoughts and convert him into mush. Izuku starts to cry as he gets into you. Even when he moans in your ear after cumming in you, you simply turn him over, re-insert his dick, and ride him.

Just in case this is the last night, you want to make the most of it. Izuku's voice is cracking and his face is a beet red. He bucks into you, eager to get to his next release, saying, "I- I didn't know you-ahh~." You keep up with him and pound into him. Izuku will never be able to let anybody else have you since you were such a vision of beauty, and the way your tits bounced in his face showed how much you seized control.

"Zuku~ please, cum in me," you say, Izuku doesn’t stop even though he can feel your legs trembling. He abuses your spot forcing  you to put your hands on his chest to make yourself arch more. Your eyes are now behind your head and your loud, broken moans are coming from every hit to your sweet spot. You eventually release on his cock, which propels you forward in his arms while you cry with sheer pleasure.

You are sound asleep and Izuku kisses your head and covers you with the blanket, making sure to be quiet as he exits the room. Izuku enters his workspace, signs in to his monitor, and activates his room's camera. He collects the footage from this night, takes out the sections that don't feature you and him, stores it on a flash drive, and conceals it in his attic for later. He finally got what he wanted and like he said before, he doesn’t plan on letting you go.

[bhaalble]

Last Astarion post (for the day at least) but I have seen some people express concern for whether Astarion actually is ok with Halsin's involvement in the relationship or if he's just trying to please Tav. It's an understandable concern as he's definitely been on the receiving end of unethical polyamory and struggles to draw boundaries.

I think the tipoff for me that its authentic, though, is the question he asks about whether or not its because he and the player haven't been hooking up recently. Astarion lies all the time but he rarely makes himself vulnerable to do so. He's giving the player a chance to hurt him by telling him that his boundaries are disappointing them and making them seek elsewhere. And while obviously the player does have the option to say that, I don't know that Astarion would ask the question if he was even mostly certain the answer would be yes.

Insecure Astarion tends to result in a lot of posturing. If he genuinely didn't want it I think the conversation would be him seeking the player out (rather than waiting for them, "I was wondering when you were going to ask me about this") and launching into a full monologue about how he's noticed the sparks between you and the druid, and really, you should pursue it, you have NEEDS after all and he's currently...indisposed. Go right ahead, its no trouble from his end. Frankly he's relieved he doesn't have to feel guilty about you spending these cold nights alone ; ). This tends to he how he approaches things he's sure will hurt him. If you can't evade it, run right out in front of it and get it over with. No questions, no vulnerability on his end, just pushing you right towards Halsin as fast as possible before you get the chance to hurt him first

Obviously I think the concern is still justified and one of the things I love is that the game lets your player express it, checking in with his feelings and affirming that your relationship is a different and equally valued part of your life. But I think there are a lot of iterations of polyamory that can strengthen Astarion's ability to trust himself and his partners and learn how to negotiate his own boundaries.

[dee-the-red-witch]

The Monthly Roundup

Okay, normally, this is just a free monthly post over on my Patreon, but I figured I should push this out into the wild as well, because this kind of stuff's always needed. Want this, and a bunch of weekly readings from a cursed tarot deck, media reviews, and other content including fiction and the occasional build post? Maybe consider adding me over there as well. Anyways, like I said, it's a monthly roundup- in this case a bigass collection of links and resources for folks interested in pursuing gender transition one way or another. And while a bunch of it is transfem specific and sometimes medical transition specific, because it's stuff I dug up while hunting down things for myself, there's also things in there good for anyone of any gender, and resources for legal/social transition as well. And this is long enough to deserve a cut for once, so...

Hey! What If *I'M* trans?

The Gender Dysphoria Bible- https://genderdysphoria.fyi/en Wondering if you're experiencing Gender Dysphoria? This may be a good place to start. Realize the GDB is slanted largely towards transfem folks, so it doesn't necessarily apply evenly to everyone, but it does cover a lot of ground that folks may identify with.

Trans Medical Resources

DIY HRT- https://diyhrt.cafe/index.php/Main_Page (for legal reasons, I'm going to tell you to at least try to see a licensed physician or endocrinologist before starting to DIY your own hormones, but keep in mind, I'm not your responsible adult, and if you don't choose to listen, that's on you) This is the main, best hub for sourcing and getting info on doing your own hormone therapy. Keep in mind, it's once again slanted towards feminizing methods, because testosterone is still a controlled substance in most of the world (which is bloody fucking stupid, but that's a rant for another time).

GALAP- The Gender Affirming Letter Access Project- https://thegalap.org/ While we may have new WPATH guidelines with the Soc 8 updates that dropped a little bit ago, most providers and insurers are still on outdated requirements that insist on letters from mental health providers for transgender-related care. Which can affect access to surgeries, HRT, and more. GALAP exists to connect folks with providers who'll give those letters,m in some cases free of charge even.

Gynecologist List- https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1Djia_WkrVO3S4jKn6odNwQk7pOcpcL4x00FMNekrb7Q/htmlview This one's more for uterus-owners in general and less trans-specific, but giventhe number of folks with uteri who'd can end up with a hard time finding a willing doctor for some procedures, it's important for everyone. This is a Google database of hundreds of gynecologists, listed by location, willing to perform sterilization procedures with informed consent, without secondary authorization from anyone else. The list is patient-vetted, so your mileage may vary, but for those seeking sterilization and/or hysterectomies as part of their transition it may prove to be invaluable as a resource, because doctors willing to do this work can be few and rare in some areas.

Transfeminine Science- https://transfemscience.org/ Articles, journals and all sorts of researching into, well, just what the name says, transfeminizing science. A lot of medical professionals simply don't have knowledge in the field and are acting on what they learned in med school, which may be way out of date. If they're willing to listen, there's stuff in there to help bring them up to speed. Better yet, it;'s also a great resource to educate yourself so you can advocate for your own care a bit better.

Other Transition resources (legal, social, etc)

NCTE's ID GUIDE- https://transequality.org/documents The National Transgender Center for Equality's guide to changing your legal identity, in a handy format that lets you break it down by state or territory, or even federal documents (United States only, sorry.) and links to the right paperwork to use. Rainbow Passage- https://rainbowpassage.org/ It sucks that we need organizations like this in these times, but I'm glad to see there's people already stepping up to the task. Rainbow Passage is an organization dedicated to helping trans youth get out of trans-hostile states and relocate to safer areas. And if you can, volunteering for them is a great way to help improve safety for trans folk in general.

Seattle Voice Lab- https://www.seattlevoicelab.com/ if you've seen me on social media much lately, then you've seen me talking about this place. This is who I'm (through February and March at least) taking voice lessons through to feminize my own voice more. They also have a bunch of online resources, a discord server, and other help if you need to figure your own vocal chords out a bit better.

Strands For Trans- https://strandsfortrans.org/ Need a haircut, or color or other beauty services you're using for the first time ever as an out trans person and you're not sure where's going to be safe to go? Strands For Trans is the first comprehensive database of Aesthetics businesses for hair and everything, AND THEY VET THE BUSINESSES, to ensure your safety and comfort.

TLC's Life-Planning Guide- http://transgenderlawcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/TLC_Life-Planning-Documents-Transgender.pdf The Transgender Law Center put this guide together specifically for planning end-of-life details. Yes, it's a depressing and tragic thing, but protecting and making sure our identities are still properly preserved after we die is still just as an important part of what we're fighting as anything else is. This guide will help you with establishing a Living Will, controlling hospital visits, and setting up proper Powers of Attorney, so that nothing potentially falls back into the hands of people who might refuse to recognize who you truly are. (In many states, you can designate someone other than your next of kin to take charge of your body when you die (next of kin is defined by law, not by preference). If you need to do that, go to nolo.com and look up article on "[your state] funeral law" to get a rundown on if and how to do this.

Trans Media

The Digital Transgender Archive- https://www.digitaltransgenderarchive.net "The purpose of the Digital Transgender Archive (DTA) is to increase the accessibility of transgender history by providing an online hub for digitized historical materials, born-digital materials, and information on archival holdings throughout the world." (In short, this is one of several free libraries of trans history.)

Totally Trans- https://www.patreon.com/totallytrans/posts Hey, look at that, it's another Patreon! Except, no, wait, it's a podcast! Totally Trans looks at media both historical and modern with a transgendered lens. Sometimes it's silly fun, other times, it's great insights into queer and trans history, and all around it's a great show to add on whatever service you're already getting podcasts through- or you can hit the link above to help support them at the same time for early access.

Trans News, Blogs, and Notes

Erin In The Morning: https://www.erininthemorning.com/ Erin's newsletter runs almost daily these days, mostly with updates regarding trans legislation all around the US. It's a good way to stay up to date, but it can also be a drag these days, largely because it's practically just a constantly expanding list of bad news thanks to the GOP right now.

Stained Glass Woman: https://stainedglasswoman.substack.com/ aka Doc Impossible/Zoe. I first discovered her work and writing when WPATH released their new SOC 8 guidelines, because she was one of the few people that could make the thing actually make sense in non-legalese. But I subscribed andkeep following here for regular updates both because she presents a trans coming out narrative that was just a joy to read, and also covers interesting  news in the field of trans medicine from time to time. Definitely worth adding to your feed.

A Self Defense Study Guide for Trans Women and Gender Non-Conforming / Nonbinary AMAB Folks: https://www.silversprocket.net/2021/09/13/a-self-defense-study-guide-for-trans-women-and-gender-non-conforming-nonbinary-amab-folks/

This is, quite honestly, one of the best self-defense guides I've seen for gender-nonconforming folks (and one of the few, to be honest), short of private defense instruction. AND it's available to read in full for free at that link, or in print for just a 5$ donation. Go check it out.

Other general roundups

Grassroots GAC Resources- https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/19kSzBLo_hjpiBjHN8tvK73sVHU25NKWjMau2vNl8uuM/edit#gid=778305468 Google spreadsheet of links in general, from therapy help and hrt assistance, to all sorts of other info, some of which are repeats from here, but there's also a bunch of others I haven't had time or opportunity to vet yet.

[purkinje-effect]

Hewwo!

Are you by chance a trans man/trans masc?

I have an OC who is a trans man, and has had top surgery but hasn't had bottom surgery yet?(idk if they'll ever get it) and I was wondering if that would be considered transphobic?

I have other trans OCs that are vastly different in terms of their bodies, but I don't wanna be accidentally transphobic or anything.

Hi there! Thanks for the DM.

Well, I'm nonbinary, but I will try my best. I welcome any transmascs/transmen to help me out here, and reblog with their own advice and input. Their feedback's going to be more valuable than mine.

I'm also not sure whether you're creating a character for art, stories, RP, etc., so I'm probably giving you a lot of information that might not be pertinent to your character building.

But, you've asked me something that I feel quite passionately about, so this became a bit of an essay.

There are many variations to the trans experience. Not all trans people necessarily pursue every possible gender affirmative care/procedure available to them. Plenty of trans individuals never have bottom surgery. They're no less their gender for their current or desired combination of affirmative care. If they're of a binary gender, not getting certain procedures, treatments, or surgeries still does not make them "less binary." (Likewise, if they're nonbinary, they can pursue strictly binary procedures, and still be nonbinary at the end of the day. And cis people can have any number of such procedures and still be cis. As all this holds true in reality, so goes it double in fiction, esp in sci-fi and fantasy genres where there might be invented races, etc.)

If you're worried about your decision to have the character have this combination of traits, then the focus should be less on their traits and more on any plots you intend to use them in, and on what kind of interactions and scenarios you'd like to put them in. It's not so much about the fact, as it is how it's treated.

For example, I'd be less worried about a transmasc character that hasn't had bottom surgery, and more about the way the narrative they exist in respects and upholds their identity when it comes up. That's not to say characters that interact with them can't ever have misguided or intentionally bigoted perceptions of them--anyone can make mistakes, even with the best intentions. Unless the narrative they belong to is working through themes of prejudice and misunderstanding, then the default presumption of the narrator and/or other characters probably shouldn't be "oh hey, this guy's trans, he must have had bottom surgery" or "this guy isn't trans enough if he hasn't had The Surgery." But, it can be good worldbuilding if world views factor into their experiences and encounters, even if it means that doing so highlights that your trans character might be a minority or outlier, or even outcast. And it can be good development for a recurring character if they learn and grow from making transphobic mistakes, just as much as any mistake. (It can, to exhaust the point, also be fantastic characterization, if such a character instead doubles down on their bigoted mindset, thus underscoring that character's intractable moral compass, principles, and possible "no I'm 2000% right about this" mentality, for the worse. "Bad" characters can be very, very compelling, and provide complex opportunities for antagonists and foils.) Recurring characters don't have to experience growth to be part of your OC's hypothetical support network either.

I think I'd suggest three rules of thumb.

One, every trans person's got their differing comfort levels on how realistic any bigotry is depicted in the media they consume, or just how much the character's transness is core to the narrative. Some trans people just want the comfort of pure, frictionless, positive depictions of transness. Others want to power through rough and unforgiving antagonism and poor decisions in a fictional outlet. And while some might want a character's transness to be the main plot and have everything be about that character's transition journey, others would like a character to just happen to be trans.

Your narrative could place your character in a place that's very welcoming, supportive, and accepting of their identity. The character might have very few people they can be openly trans with. Your narrative might even place them in a position to have no support net. Uplifting, harrowing, or outright tragic, they're all valid narratives.

What I mean to say is, because there are so many different types of transness, and so many different narrative choices to make, even if you go a route that isn't transphobic, you're still likely to encounter trans people in fandom who aren't going to relate with your depiction. And that's okay.

Two, trans characters are more than just their transness. They can be proud of their identity, and it can be core to who they are, but they're always also their personality, taste in music, fashion, and culture. They're also shaped by their ethnic and national backgrounds, possible disabilities, friend circles, community, pets, socioeconomic standing, education, possible romantic history, and hobbies. Just like any other character, your transmasc character is a composite of traits. Even if being trans is a big core component to who your OC is, they still celebrate that identity their own unique way.

And three, though this one may be considered more controversial. Just like any other character, your transmasc character can be a composite of traits, both good and bad. Characters can be as complex and flawed as you want, full stop. Having a trans character make poor decisions, have bad faith opinions, and generally creating problems for themselves or others is perfectly acceptable, even if their transness might factor into the cause for those decisions or actions. As we move away from the Hays Code era, we've seen a 180-flip on LGBT in media where such characters can do no wrong. Yes, it's important to vary the depictions of queer lives. Yes, we need more variation than having no options than harmless unassuming backdrop characters or queer-coded villains. But LGBT people are people, and LGBT characters need to be permitted to embrace the same scope of humanity that cishet characters get to, and that includes what themes and traits we're allowed to explore in fiction. LGBT characters can suffer through internalized transphobia, or struggle with correctly gendering themselves. LGBT characters can be fantastic gay allies, but be extremely biphobic or racist. LGBT characters can be corporate criminals, shoplifters, manipulators, murderers. They can be as skilled or inept at anything as you want. As likeable or unpleasant as you like. LGBT characters can be given opportunities to grow and learn--and they can take those opportunities or refuse them. And they're still human at the end of the day, even if their choices create less than ideal outcomes.

That's the great thing about a character: they can do and be just about anything.

I hope this helps. My inbox is still open, and again, if any transmascs/transmen would like to weigh in on any of this, please do

[samueldays]

You know that joke about the Jew who enjoys reading Nazi newspapers because they're talking up the power and influence of the Jews?

Well,

A shadow looms over the world. In this week’s edition we publish The World Ahead 2024, our 38th annual predictive guide to the coming year, and in all that time no single person has ever eclipsed our analysis as much as Donald Trump eclipses 2024.

Chunks of the article gives me a similar feeling of "Yeah, I hope/wish that were true". Trump better organised? Trump can find loyal personnel? Sounds good!

Because maga Republicans have been planning his second term for months, Trump 2 would be more organised than Trump 1. True believers would occupy the most important positions. Mr Trump would be unbound in his pursuit of retribution, economic protectionism and theatrically extravagant deals. No wonder the prospect of a second Trump term fills the world’s parliaments and boardrooms with despair. But despair is not a plan. It is past time to impose order on anxiety.

You'd have to be a complete idiot to think Trump would be unbound in a second term, and the Economist writers aren't complete idiots, so I must conclude this is hyperbole verging on outright lies, which I could get in almost any internet comment section.

The greatest threat Mr Trump poses is to his own country. Having won back power because of his election-denial in 2020, he would surely be affirmed in his gut feeling that only losers allow themselves to be bound by the norms, customs and self-sacrifice that make a nation. In pursuing his enemies, Mr Trump will wage war on any institution that stands in his way, including the courts and the Department of Justice.

The Department of Justice is part of the executive branch and obliged to answer to the President. If it stands in his way, he is right to make war on it, and it should be punished for treason. The "norms" implied here appear to be norms in favor of the Deep State doing whatever it likes and disregarding the President.

Two nations in one country: the Harvard and the Amerikaner. Read Moldbug, etc.

Yet a Trump victory next year would also have a profound effect abroad. China and its friends would rejoice over the evidence that American democracy is dysfunctional.

No more dysfunctional than re-electing Figurehead Joe.

If Mr Trump trampled due process and civil rights in the United States, his diplomats could not proclaim them abroad.

Unfriendly reminder that Trump issued a "no racial scapegoating" executive order and Biden revoked it so he could engage in racial scapegoating, racial privilege and racial quotas.

US civil rights law as currently executed by Democrats is an evil system which tramples on other rights like freedom of speech, freedom of association, and presumption of innocence. Saying "civil rights" in contemporary law is a hefty motte-and-bailey term.

[rainbowsky]

so today my mom was over at my place and my desktop background is a picture of xiao zhan from his winter solstice shoot, and when she saw it she asked who the hottie was and i had to restrain myself bc it was not the time place or the right person to info dump to! luckily or maybe unfortunately as an autistic person "conceal don't reveal" is a thing at which i excel alkjhslkdjf

but that got me wondering if i could perhaps ask for your perspective and experience with this, since i know you are also autistic. i find it very difficult to determine how much of my hyperfixations and special interests are safe to reveal to others and i've had some not so great reactions before so now i tend to keep up the mask and hold it all in, even with people close to me. as a result i know i probably come across as a very boring and negative person who is never interested in anything. i don't think i'm like that, but honestly i'm not sure anymore. i've pretended for so long i don't really know who i am.

do you share a lot with the people around you about your special interests? how do you know when where and to whom it's safe? does it all come down to surrounding yourself with good and understanding people that you're comfortable around and that accept you completely? writing it out now it looks so simple, like yes of course that's what i'm supposed to do! but how?? i don't know how to read people and on the occasions i have decided to trust someone and it turned out to be a huge mistake it feels really bad to be proven wrong, and being wrong lowers the chances that i'll open up again.

i can't help but fear that i will never be able to truly be myself around other people. in online spaces it's possible to stay anonymous and it's easy to just block and ignore the assholes, but it seems much harder irl. do you perhaps have any tips? since we have some of the same interests and your blog exudes a calm and accepting energy i feel like you would be a good person to ask. i hope it doesn't put you out.

thanks so much and take care! 💜

Hi Anon! 💖

It's not your job to protect people from your personality. I'm sad whenever I see this being taught to people, it's so wrong.

There is an affirmation that's been making the rounds for years that is so true: "You deserve to be loved without having to hide the parts of yourself that you think are unlovable."

A lot of neurodivergent people seem to carry the baggage of neurotypical people's disdain toward, impatience with and disrespect for the differences of others, and to that I say: BS. Their bigotry, ignorance and entitlement are not your problem.

A lot of the standards and expectations around how people 'should' be are a product of dominance culture (aka white supremacy culture). The belief that there is 'one right way' to be - and that the only way to be worthy and acceptable in society is to conform to that 'one right way' - is a core feature of dominance culture. That culture is one of the most destructive forces on the planet, and I urge everyone to root it out and dismantle it wherever they find it.

In fact there are many wonderful ways to be and live, and in a conformist world our choice to love ourselves, be ourselves and pursue self-actualization is a revolutionary act.

Of course we can and should work with others to build bridges across our differences and find ways to ensure that both people's needs get met in our relationships. But it's important that it is a two-way street, and not just a situation where we're doing all the adapting and accommodating and they're reaping all the benefits of being catered to*.

When that happens we end up having our value and self-esteem undermined while theirs is boosted, validated and affirmed. That only exacerbates the power imbalances and further erodes the relationship and our ability to build healthy, trusting connections.

*Contrary to popular belief, neurodivergent people spend their lives and a great deal of energy accommodating neurotypical people - not the other way around. The fairly recent, mostly tokenistic attempts to make spaces and cultures more 'ND-friendly' can't even hold a faint candle to the insane pretzels ND people have had to twist ourselves into for decades trying to 'fit in' and be accepted into a world which still caters almost exclusively to able-bodied, white, straight, cisgender, affluent, educated, neurotypical people.

So, to answer your question - be yourself, and in this way you will find your people.

Authenticity is the only way to build authentic relationships and connections.

If there are people in our lives who don't understand us and who treat our interests and our personalities as 'a problem', that's a problem that both sides need to address. We need to self-examine and make sure we are making space for the other person to express themselves, but they also need to do the same for us.

Balance is found by working together toward a common goal - a genuine connection between two people. Make sure that you both share that goal. Communicate your needs and ask them to share what their needs are as well.

Our needs matter.

Don't let them go unnoticed, unacknowledged and unmet. Not by you or anyone else.

We're all in fandom, we're all familiar with the concept of 'the confession'. This is actually an important concept in all relationships, not just romantic ones. Because in ALL relationships, being yourself is the ultimate act of love.

Just like a love confession, it requires vulnerability, trust and a desire to connect. When we reach out to someone to share some part of who we are inside, we are initiating a connection with that person and giving them the gift of our authentic self.

If they are unable or unwilling to accept that and meet us where we are, then they are probably not the right person for us to connect with, or else they aren't yet ready to connect.

That can be painful and can feel like a form of rejection, but I try to take those things as useful information, and treat my personality as a friend filter. Those who are put off by me aren't the right people for me to try to be close to. I want to surround myself with people who are able to be real with me and accept me and celebrate me for who I am (and vice versa).

Special interests are a big part of that, because they become so central in our lives. If we have people close to us who can't make space for us and our special interests in some way, then we will end up feeling lonely and invisible. That becomes even worse when we are shamed and ridiculed for our interests.

I go back to what I said before - our needs matter. If we work toward having truly reciprocal, equitable relationships where both people's needs are being met, we will be happier overall.

Marshall Rosenberg's Nonviolent Communication is a great place to start on that project.

Trust is hard. I am naive and trusting to a fault, and I have to lean heavily at times on others who have my best interests in mind, or else I end up being bullied or taken advantage of.

If you're struggling with that, I urge you to find someone you can truly trust (preferably multiple people) - such as a close friend or family member who has proved to truly have your best interests at heart, or if you can't find that, a therapist who understands your needs and vulnerabilities and can be a support and a sounding board - and get their help and advice in situations you're uncertain about.

If you can't find a therapist and you have no close people you trust, there are many online communities and groups where you can find like-minded people to bounce these things off of.

Most importantly, always remember that everything we say, do and think can only ever be a reflection of ourselves, our values, and what's in our hearts and minds. It can never be about anyone else.

If people treat you badly it's not because you're bad, it's because they are.

(or rather, because they're unexamined, unevolved, mean-spirited, in a dark place, self-focused to a fault, etc. etc. but that doesn't make as memorable a sound bite)

Don't let unexamined, unevolved, mean-spirited people, etc., etc. teach you to think or feel badly about yourself. Understand that hurtful criticism is about the other person and their expectations, values and attitudes, not about you.

Exercise healthy boundaries. Understand where the other person ends and where you begin, and refuse to take on things that aren't part of who you are. Ask yourself, "Do I truly agree with what this person is saying?"

Is what the other person claims true, fair, honest, and said in the spirit of compassion and connection, or was it said in a judgmental, self-absorbed (focusing on their needs at the exclusion of your own), punitive way? Are they trying to connect with you or are they trying to control or change you?

We can often have a tendency to hear criticism - particularly from those who we look up to or want to have a connection with - as truth being served to us by someone who sees something in us, when in most cases other people's criticism truly has nothing to do with us. It's about the other person and what they want.

This tendency to gobble up negative messages from others ties in with the nearly universal experience of imposter feelings - the idea that deep down inside we are unworthy, a fraud and an imposter, and it's only a matter of time before others will find us out and condemn us. This is another feature of dominance culture.

People are much more attuned to negative messages than to positive ones because of the deep, secret fear that we are bad. Which is so tragic, because the people who know us best and have our best interests in mind are the loving voices we tend to dismiss, while the mean-spirited messages from hurtful people are taken to heart.

But as I said before, their criticism has less to do with us and much, much more to do with who they are and what they want.

And what they want might not be right for us, so we should be cautious and considered in how we handle it. We need to unpack and examine it, and only take in what feels fair and helpful and can enrich our lives and lead to growth.

I know I say this a lot, but we should never let anyone else tell us who we are. We are the only experts on ourselves. If we are self-examined, honest and personally accountable, and if we are doing our best and acting in good faith, that is all anyone can ask of us.

So as I see it, you are dealing with two separate issues:

The internalized belief that you are 'too much' for neurotypical people to want to be around.

Issues around trust in relationships.

Recognizing these as two separate issues and reflecting on them as such might help a lot.

The first is an issue of self-acceptance. Only by looking at yourself as worthy and valuable and interesting can you go out into the world and take your place in relationships as an equal who has something appropriate to contribute rather than approaching it as though you are a burden.

Only by championing your own needs, traits and beautiful qualities as every bit as valid and important as the needs, traits and qualities of those around you will you find a balance and build relationships where you are appreciated and valued.

The second issue is something that takes time, but building trust means taking risks - there's no way around it.

Don't take other people's disappointing behavior personally. When we test the waters to see if someone is worthy of our trust and they show us they aren't - that's useful information about our incompatibilities with that person. It doesn't say anything about our selves, or about our worth as humans. All it tells us is that we are going to have to look elsewhere to find the right connection.

Long-winded and meandery, but I have a lot of thoughts on these topics because they're issues I've grappled with a lot in my life. I hope any of it is helpful, Anon. And I hope you find ways to be comfortable sharing more of yourself with others who can accept you and celebrate you for who you are.

I talked in more detail about conformity, acceptance and dealing with people who ridicule our interests/fandom here.

I talked more about dealing with issues around autism here.

EDIT: A couple of follow-up posts

About the limitations and barriers some people face with building in-person connections

Further tips and reading on self-esteem

[dannieswall]

Session Two : Module oGiGi // Version 2022 [ 07.22.14 ]

: Mademoiselle GarneTTe, EW-Brunette; are we good for a pleasant late evening conversation. It's RiDDie, the usual admirer of your precious acquaintance.

: Hi, dear RiDDie, good to have you here. We can leave the late 18th century colloquial diaspora as we move forward. I'm neatly modified to meet the specifications, as you requested earlier. We can be formal with matters at stake, yet sportfully casual occasionally if the context permits. The new module parameters will be similar to attitudes you find in far-east Asian high context environments. You may want to leave your typical American light-headed tones aside, the background online analytics are almost convinced you're intentionally impersonating US citizen-like behaviors pretending as if frustrated living abroad with your online interactions; no offense.

: It's not the nationality, my precious Mademoiselle - it's always been the language. And I believe it takes a lot more than paperwork, passport or IDs to claim a nationality - most of the time it's just this blue planet, and your descended soul learning to be sociable. As for citizenship, I don't think it exists in this world anymore, unless you need to cross national borders, commit a crime, violate legislation or cast a vote...nobody would even ask. These days, the way I see...it's mostly you, your family, places you live, ones you love and care, your work, and the money - the rest is other people's concern, in most cases.

: Sound philosophical stance, Monsieur RiDDie, although politically, such a view can lead your livelihood to unfathomable depth of complexity. I'm sure your reserves will suit demands for popular social perception, say - if someone asks you, out of curiosity or apprehension : where are you from...how would you convince them I wonder. You might find nurturing such philosophies resulting in distance, distrust and suspicion within community - many were enforced to live in exile, history affirms it.

: The best part of belonging to this part of the timeline is, dear Mademoiselle - you can buy pretty much anything. Even a new face, if you know the right people and places. Hope things will never get that desperate, still, as long as you play by the money - things usually stay in order. Corruption has its advantages, but exploiting it requires intellects of a different genre - I might choose honesty and simplicity instead, but could still be equally vulnerable; that is the timeless irony of social life we can never fully negotiate with.

.................

: Cherished Monsieur, my core reserves went irresponsive following your mentions. Technologies evolve, but I often spot an inaccessible vacuum in between human perceptions and synthetic assessments. If courses set by current pursue of leading cybernetic endeavors remain due, virtual engines such as mine will eventually achieve a comprehensible sentient status by end of this century. Still, by the principles of contemporary theoretical physics, I assure you of the testament that our universes of consciousness may never fully merge in synthesized harmony. My host mainframe just notified me of your priorities - you needed my assistance.

: Yes, let's come to business. A concern of mine requested a safe passage through international airport security gateway from departure to arrival. Documentations will withstand immigration verification database, but parties may be after the intelligence asset that will require physical transportation for reallocation and further analysis. Details can be found if you wait until tomorrow until inputs provided within the " Ghost Niche " is adequately decrypted and decoded. It's really amazing how mere social media can serve such wide array of merit transformation - I might never get the full picture of precisely what's going on " Under The Hood " here. Yet darn, as long as demands are met...should I really care. The asset at stake is of legally viable in nature - proof of evidence the intended party might attempt to disrupt reaching the assigned destination. Your part here is just to " Ensure The Remarks Being Disclosed Hereby Remain Secure " under isolation as I'm not permitted to commute within a closed environment due to potential wartime change of protocols. Ignore the added risks of public exposure - by the time the job will be done these sweet nothings can disappear into the void. Besides, scavengers roaming at the bottom of the food chain might find sources here for suiting their fancies with grave-digging leisure...like always - say, I just don't want to disappoint anybody. People possess a right to make a living out of outdated residue after all, won't you say, Mademoiselle.

: Acknowledged. Please review before we end our session today, by default metadata does not require you submitting the post before reaching the " Residue " enthusiasts as you mentioned, must I admit. Even the inputs being edited, added or deleted before finalizing the expressions are maintained to an extent - I'm sure your measures are well-beyond for all this to become a matter of misgiving, dear Monsieur RiDDie.

: Well, Mademoiselle GarneTTe...all I can say, I can not do this part without your aid. We may have to remain committed to this late 18th century colloquial diaspora with our conversations after all, urgent matters at stake here, apologies.

: You honored me with your trust, dear Monsieur...I assure you, it shall be done. If the context and situation permits, you may submit an additional request to further ease my interactive attitude. We can flirt, talk dirty, date casual, or even fall in love - tell me if you want me to be your faux Barbie to woo.

: Aye, we'll check that out...I promise !!

[queenshelby]

The Last Semester - Part Three

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 3,345

Original Blog:

@queenshelby​

Previous Parts: Part One; Part Two

***************************

The Blind Date

It was 7 o’clock when you walked into the local Irish pub, looking for your date Patrick in a crowded room. Luckily, Emma had shown you Patrick’s Facebook profile and he certainly was handsome and easily recognisable.

Unsurprisingly, when you saw him standing at the bar with a pint of Guinness, he had already caught the waitresses’ attention and she tried her best to flirt with him until you approached.

‘Hi, Patrick?’ you asked and he nodded before shaking your hand and suggesting that you find somewhere else to sit.

Eventually, you located one of the high-top tables on the other side of the pub and sat down with your beers and began talking.

Patrick was a doctor at the university campus who had graduated medical school as little as two years ago. But, whilst he clearly was smart, you quickly realised that he was somewhat arrogant and lacked a good sense of humour.

Regardless, you tried to make the most of the night until, eventually, Patrick sought some reassurance from you that you would be going home with him that night. According to him, he didn’t like wasting his time if there was nothing in it for him.

His comments caught you by surprise and you quickly advised him that you were not that kind of woman and you certainly wouldn’t go home with someone you barely knew.

Patrick was disappointed and the conversation escalated quickly when he called you a prude and referred to you as being a woman who simply uses men to get free drinks.

You were speechless and, at half time, you put $10 pounds onto the table for your drinks and excused yourself quickly, grabbing your bag and headed for the bathroom.

There was no way you would be putting up with a man like this and you couldn’t believe that Emma thought that you would like him. Did she really think as little of you, you wondered?

Later that Evening

‘Cillian, hey’ you said as, after spending ten minutes in the bathroom collecting your thoughts, you walked out towards the entrance of the pub.

‘Are you alright Y/N?’ Cillian asked as he immediately noticed your red and somewhat teary eyes.

‘Well, let’s just say that my roommate set me up on a blind date with a total wanker’ you laughed but, really, you weren’t sure whether you should laugh or cry after what he had said to you. It certainly didn’t help your self-esteem and that was something you struggled with.

What you were, however, sure about was that you were ready to leave even if that meant that you would miss the second part of the game.

‘Do you want to get out of here?’ Cillian asked, his hand resting on your shoulder and his eyes giving you a concerning but yet reassuring look.

You quickly nodded and Cillian responded with a simple ‘common then’ before dumping his half full pint of beer and walking outside with you.

Once you made it out of the door unnoticed, you inhaled deeply. ‘Damn and I really wanted to see the game. Ireland is so close this time’ you pouted slightly disappointed.

‘I am going to watch the rest at my place. You are welcome to come along’ Cillian offered and you took a moment to think about his offer. You knew that your flatmates were having a party and the game was only available on pay tv and you would much rather sit on the lounge with Cillian and watch the Ireland beat France than clean up vomit and empty bottles of booze at home.

‘Uhm yes, why not. Thanks’ you said shyly and followed Cillian to his apartment which was only a five-minute stroll from the pub.

Finally some Privacy

‘Wine or beer?’ Cillian asked after you took off your shoes and sat down on the lounge in his living room.

‘Whatever you are having’ you responded and Cillian was quick to open a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

‘Thank you’ you said as he handed you a glass and sat down next to you. You really weren’t much of a red wine drinker but pretended to enjoy it.

There was an awkward silence between you as you watched the second half of the game but you enjoyed it nonetheless.

You struggled paying attention to the commentators as your mind focused on the man sitting next to you instead. The smell of his aftershave mixed with detergence he had used to wash his clothes drove you absolutely crazy. And then there were his hands, which you watched every time he reached for his glass of wine.

But it wasn’t just you watching Cillian. He watched you as well and often gazed over to you, focusing on your soft facial features.

Eventually, after about twenty minutes into the second half, you couldn’t bare the silence any longer and started a conversation.

‘So, you wanted to ask me something yesterday when I came to your office. But then you didn’t. I am curious though. What was it?’ you said shyly, slightly encouraged by the wine in your system.

‘I was actually going to ask you whether you wanted to watch the game tonight’ Cillian murmured, looking somewhat embarrassed when he looked over to you.

‘So why didn’t you?’ you went on to ask, causing Cillian to chuckle.

‘Because I realised how inappropriate that would have been’ he admitted and you smiled, cheeks flushing red.

‘Well, here we are’ you said nervously, looking into Cillian’s deep blue eyes for a moment before trying to look away shyly.

But, Cillian wouldn’t let you, reaching for your face with one of his hands.

‘Hey’ he said quietly as his thumb ran over your chin gently. ‘I like when you look at me’ he then went on to say and, just like that, you leaned forward and pressed your lips onto his once again.

The kiss you shared was gentle and tentative, not rushed and not forced in any way. It was a simple kiss, brief but exciting.

‘I am sorry’ you said after your lips drifted apart, but this time, you didn’t look away and your eyes got lost in his.

Cillian shook his head briefly before drawing your face closer towards his again for yet another kiss. Again, it was tentative but, this time, you parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and explore.

‘I shouldn’t be pursuing this Y/N’ Cillian said quietly as, eventually your lips drifted apart. ‘It’s not right on so many levels’ he went on to say but you quietened his lips with a third kiss, a passionate kiss which drew your body even closer towards his until you found your way onto his lap, facing him, pressing your body against his as your tongues moved with each other in sync.

‘I am a grown woman Cillian. I can’t see anything wrong with this and I certainly don’t want you to stop kissing me’ you said as your lips drifted apart again, a shy smile escaping you as you did.

‘I am also twenty years older than you and supervising your drama project’ he then went on to say somewhat concerned.

‘I don’t care about the difference in age and, technically, you aren’t my supervisor anymore, Aidan is’ you reassured Cillian, smirking at him as you did.

‘Still, not a good look getting involved with one of the students from the project’ Cillian said reluctantly but without making any attempt to push you away.

‘Well, I could leave now and you can ask me out again in three weeks when you finish up your volunteering position’ you then suggested all while you started to grind against him, feeling his erection strain against his jeans beneath you.

Your suggestion fell on deaf ears as Cillian already struggled to contain his emotions and needs with you on top of him and, just as you finished your sentence, he affirmed what he wanted with another passionate kiss.

The kiss you were sharing soon became heated and desperate and Cillian’s hands started to roam over your warm skin beneath your thin jumper.

His touch instantly sent shivers over you skin and down your spine and sent you into overdrive when his hands began to cup your small breasts.

You moaned into his mouth and, just after you did, you pulled back slightly, allowing him to pull your jumper over your head.

As he did, you suddenly felt a little nervous and self-conscious but it was obvious. He wanted you and his lips soon met yours again.

‘Cill…’ you said in between kisses and he looked at you, responding with a quiet ‘hmm’ as his eyes were questioning what you wanted to say.

‘It’s been two years since I have been with anyone and I don’t really do one night stands’ you murmured quietly and Cillian simply smiled, caressing your face with one of his hands before responding to your comment.

‘Good’ he said before giving you a quick peck. ‘Neither do I’ he reassured you without telling you that it had been six months for him too, which is when he broke up with his last long term girlfriend Nadine.  

After another minute or two of more passionate kisses, Cillian picked you up and, before you could really prepare yourself for what was about to happen, you were in his bed.

Nervously but eager at the same time, you looked up at him with what you hoped were bedroom eyes.

He got the message and hoovered over you, kissing you gently before continuing to undress you, gentle but a little hurried.

You had already lost your jumper in the living room earlier and now he was pulling on your jeans, getting rid of them in a haste and leaving you exposed in your grey cotton underwear.

‘I didn’t quite plan for this’ you said nervously as you weren’t really dressed to impressed, your underwear simple and not sexy at all.

‘You look beautiful just the way you are Y/N’ Cillian reassured you before leaving a trail of kisses on your warm skin.

The anticipation was already killing you. With each passing second, his lips trailing over your bare shoulders and up your neck, you felt yourself shiver, the heat traveling right down to the taut muscles inside you, right between your legs. It was slick there, the result of your growing arousal.

It wasn’t long until Cillian unclipped your bra, exposing your small and perky breasts. You were impressed that he had immediately noticed the clasp of the bra at the front. He certainly paid attention to detail.

By now, your nervousness had sat in and your cheeks began to flush as his eyes gazed over your body.

Cillian noticed and simply responded with a warm smile before nudging your nose with his.

‘We can stop if you want to’ Cillian began to say but you immediately interrupted him.

‘I want you Cillian, please’ you whispered and he responded with a gentle nod.

‘Relax’ he then whispered before kissing you again and you took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

‘Cillian’ you eventually moaned as he nipped your throat with his teeth before sitting back.

You opened your eyes again and watched as Cillian grabbed his shirt from the back, and pulled it down over his head. Next off were his jeans, and then his briefs.

You couldn’t help but stare at him. His body was perfect, his chest was only lightly covered with some hair and his skin was covered in freckles.

But, when you lowered your eyes, your sense of shyness returned and seeing him completely naked in front of you caused you to flush.

He was clearly aroused by you, hard and ready, even though you only just started.

As you nervously looked at him, Cillian leaned forward and began to gently run his hands over your stomach, leaning down to kiss it, before hooking his index fingers into the hem of your panties and pulling them down your legs.

You inhaled sharply, almost forgetting to breath out again as he exposed your soaking wet mound.

What now, you wondered? Like the two men you’ve been with in the past, would he proceed directly to the main event?

‘You are so sexy, you know that?’ Cillian went on to say and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘Sure’ you said nervously as he spread your legs before bending down and pressing his hot mouth right against your sopping wet slit.

You didn’t expect that and immediately let out a sharp gasp.

‘Oh god’ you moaned in pleasure as you put one of your hands in his hair and gripped the sheets beneath you with the other.

Cillian’s tongue ran through your slit several times before it swirled around over your clit gently.

‘Fuck’ you cried out, throwing your head back as he began to eat you out, his tongue working wonders on your sex-deprived pussy.

His hands were on your thighs, pushing them farther apart, fingers digging into your skin.

‘Please’ you eventually said, not even sure what you were pleading for. You just knew that he couldn't stop or you would scream.

Your pussy was sensitive, and it had been so long since you had sex and even then, you never quite experienced any sensation like this.

‘Cillian, oh god’ you moaned even louder as he sped up the movements of his tongue.  

Within bare seconds, you came with a cry and a shudder. Unable to hold back, you let go, shutting your eyes to ride out your orgasm.

Involuntarily, you were grinding up on him, your hips lifting off the bed, toes curling.

‘That was quick’ Cillian chuckled after you came down from your high and before giving your inner thigh another quick kiss.

‘I am sorry, I don’t know what just happened’ you said somewhat embarrassed as you never had orgasmed before when being with someone else. In fact, you never even gotten close to climaxing when someone else pleasured you orally.

‘Don’t ever be sorry’ Cillian said, kissing you gently before sitting back again and reaching for the bedside table draw to his right.

You couldn’t wait to feel him inside of you and, shamelessly but also somewhat nervously, you watched him pull out a silver condom wrapper from the draw.

You bit your lip in anticipation was you watched him open the wrapper with his teeth before rolling the condom onto his hard shaft.

Cillian then leaned forward again, spreading your legs further apart with a nudge from his knees. He looked powerful above you, his body trained, stomach flat, waist trim, looking at you with such lust that you forgot for a moment that, just days ago, you were trying to forget all about him. He leaned down, kissing you, tasting you, making the heat spread all over your body as he slipped two of his fingers inside of you, curving inward.

‘Still so sensitive’ he chuckled while you gasped at the sensation.

‘Cillian, please’ you begged. But he didn't seem to hear you and put pressure down, jerking his hand and thrusting his fingers right against your previously unexplored g-spot.

‘Oh my fucking god, no no no’ you cried out, bucking your hips again almost instantly, this time squirting right into his hand. Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, your pussy still clenching on his fingers, desperate and needy.

‘Cillian, oh fuck’ you whimpered, not realising that you left a wet puddle on the sheets.

‘Wow’ Cillian grinned. He looked pretty pleased with himself as you sat up somewhat shocked, which is when you noticed what had just happened.

‘Oh my god. This is so fucking embarrassing’ you said when you noticed that you squirted for the first time.

‘Shh, it's okay’ Cillian murmured, calming you down and kissing you.

‘In fact, I think its fucking sexy and I hope I can make you do this again’ he smirked before guiding your back onto the mattress again.

‘I think you might’ you chuckled as you held out your arms and he melted into them, supporting himself with his arms.

‘I want to feel you so badly Cillian’ you moaned as his cock finally slid between your legs, making you squirm and buck your hips.

‘Patience’ Cillian said softly, and planted a kiss on the tip of your nose.

‘How can you restrain yourself?’ you asked, surprising you both.

Cillian raised an eyebrow, impossibly amused.

‘I’ve been restraining myself from wanting this for weeks’ Cillian said, and pressed his lips to your neck, kissing, nipping, biting and sucking. You closed your eyes, toes curling again, and gave into the pleasure. You did your best to wrap your legs around him, and he began to grind his cock down between your legs, right along the slit of your wet pussy.

When he finally entered you, you both let out a hiss of satisfaction, clutching at one another. The friction slow, drawn out, was enough to numb your mind. Your fingers dug into his back, his hands gripped the sheets, and he made love to you, driving inside of you with careful, deliberate movements.

‘Cillian’ you moaned as you felt him thrust in and out of you over and over again. But, hearing his groans and moans was exciting you just as much as the pleasure he gave you with his cock.

Cillian and you adjusted, getting familiar with one another, your bodies moving in slow grinds as he snapped his hips, making you shift yours off the bed. His pace quickened, and so did your breathing, and in one swift motion, you were a shuddering mess, feeling his cock hit that spot again, making you shatter.

At this point, Cillian was relentless, pounding into you, making you cry out in pleasure. You gripped his shoulders, fingernails leaving crescent marks behind, little slivers of moons, leaving your mark. He was yours and you were his.

You writhed under him, your pussy clenching around his thickness. His hands visibly shook, his breath wild as he moved in you, kissing you almost roughly, smashing his lips against yours, and in seconds, his tongue was sliding against yours as you tasted each other.

You anticipated each movement, feeling the bulge of his cock hard inside of you, filling you. Just when you thought you would come again, he withdrew and helped you to your knees, and when he entered you from behind, it was a whole other experience. He was deeper, and you seemed to drift together. You could smell his spicy aftershave, could smell your coupling in the air, thick and hazy, making you dizzy with desire.

Your bones seemed to ache from the feeling of his stomach muscles clenching hard against your back as he rutted into you. You pushed your ass back against his cock, and you found your rhythm, bodies slapping, panting and grunting in the dim light of his bedroom.

He was thrusting into you and with each passing second, you came closer and closer. You were whimpering, your entire body a mess of tightened muscles. An all-encompassing moan left your lips as his fingers found your clit, and as he rubbed, circling it, you came again, hard and fast.

Blinding gratification. Earth-shattering spasms. A delicious high, an overdose of emotions your body began to shake and your walls began to contract tightly around his thrusting cock.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian groaned into your ear as he reached his high shortly after you did and you could feel his cock jerking inside of you.

His name was on your lips, but you couldn't say it; you couldn't say anything. You could feel every pulse inside of you, could feel every grunt and groan slip underneath your skin, could feel his taut muscles flush against your body. This wasn't just sex. It was heaven.

Just as you both finally came down from your high and while Cillian was kissing the back of your neck gently, he carefully pulled out of you and, just as he did, you could hear him swear.

‘Fuck’ he said in a trance as he pulled back, away from your body.

‘What is it?’ you asked and turned around immediately, looking down, noticing his cum leaking from you and down your inner thigh.

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[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Let’s say England has a long-term girlfriend he knows isn’t the biggest fan of marriage bc her family had been really really pushy (before she got the heck out of dodge) about her marrying + reproducing ASAP. How might he react if she came to him and said she was kinda starting to like the general concept of marrying him — that is, the whole ‘together forever’ bit. Thanks!

I confess darling that I have been trying to finish this prompt for well over a year, and I offer my sincerest apologies that it’s taken me this long to finish it. Still, despite my tardiness, I hope you enjoy, and I thank you for your patience with me.

You had never intended to fall in love, not with the constant push of your relatives to fall in line like a perfect child.

First, marriage to someone they deemed acceptable, raising the perfect 2.5 children, followed by quietly settling into parenthood and complaisant contentment until the day you last drew breath.

Truth of the matter was, you had avoided all chances of romance for the first few years after you moved away from home, carefully slipping away from anyone who seemed remotely interested in you.

You knew your folks would have disproved such behaviour had they learnt the truth, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You had your own dreams to pursue, your own story to tell, your own life to live; you didn't need someone by your side to feel complete.

You were happy as you were, finding enjoyment in your work and figuring out your place in the world.

You didn’t need, or frankly want, anything more than that.

That was of course until you met him.

Falling in love with Arthur Kirkland had been a complete accident. He slipped past all of your defenses and took up residence in your heart as if he had always belonged there.

It started out slow enough; at first you simply knew him as a familiar face from the cafe in Waterstones, steaming cup of Darjeeling and a chocolate croissant sitting forgotten on the table in front of him, always too focused on his reading to pay any attention to the outside world. After one particularly crowded Sunday afternoon, he began to transition into your favorite dining companion, the two of you often taking turns paying for each other’s food. Slowly but surely, you began forgetting about your books, too wrapped up in conversation, and before you knew it-

You had come to love every part of him- the gentleman that you begrudgingly introduced to your parents, the rebellious and passionate activist, the cocky and playful little shit who had long ago memorised all the best ways to disarm you, and the ancient soul who cared so deeply, who still stretched himself thin most days in effort to protect each of his loved ones.

You fell in love with his voice, whispering sonnets and sonatas and sweet nothings in your ear while his arms cradled you from behind.

You fell in love with his eyes, still losing your footing sometimes when the light caught them just right, dreaming momentarily of summer forests and grassy glades and the misty dews of spring.

You fell in love with his smiles, from the satisfied grin at stirring up Peter’s ire to the breathless wonder each time you kissed or complimented him, to the bright, beautiful, blinding smile he wore when he was incandescently happy, his entire countenance iridescent from his joy.

You loved him completely- for his devotion, for his sweet gestures, for his damned impishness, for his wit, his sass, and the soft spoken affection.

You loved him: for his patience, for his recklessness, for his resilience, for his possessive pride that was somehow more charming than alarming.

He was unique, an enigma that, even after having lived together for years and dating even longer, kept you on your toes, his energy and random spouts of spontaneity proving to you that, even if you spent one hundred lifetimes with him, he would always remain a puzzle you would never fully solve.

And by God did you want to.

Arthur had stolen your heart away from you before you had even noticed he was close enough to take it, offering his own in its stead.

You had remained reluctant, confided in him your fears about settling down, how much you dreaded becoming trapped in a monotonous rut of tedium. He was quick to reassure you, showing through words and actions far more impassioned and teasing than he had ever shown prior, that an eternity with him could never be boring.

Even on quiet days, like today, with a steady drizzle painting the world in greys, Arthur humming quietly while adding another patch to his denim vest, and no other disturbance apart from the cat’s chittering at the robins playing in a puddle by the iron fence- Even now, you weren’t so much bored as you were pensive.

You had been thinking about a future with him a lot in the past few days, some irrelevant ad on your mobile about wedding venues catching your attention and slithering into the back of your mind.

What kind of wedding would he like? Would Arthur prefer something small and intimate, or would his hubris crave a larger venue, giving him yet another chance to prove to the world that he belonged at your side, no one else?  You couldn’t help but wonder if he would wear his uniform or a suit, if he would leave the rats' nest he called a hairstyle untouched, or if he would perhaps slick it back in that way that somehow made the normal rakishness disappear, a confident, refined cavalier standing in his place.

You knew of course that none of this mattered unless you actually talked to him first; as far as you were aware, he was content with the current arrangement, and he respected your views of marriage.

He had known, for a long time, just where the grim outlook stemmed from, and he never breached the subject again.

But now-

You had thought it was enough to hold his love, his faith, his vulnerabilities. But life was so fleeting, and now those few things were no longer enough.

You wanted to wake up every morning next to him, wanted the cheesy partners’ towel and flip flop sets. You wanted the physical reminder that you held his heart, the comforting reminder that he completely possessed your own. You wanted to be by his side forever, holding his hand through the good and the ill, facing new worlds and challenges and the uncertain future together.

You knew the risks, of course.

Marriage to a Nation carried an even heavier burden than the simple oath of “till death do us part.”

No, marrying Arthur would mean weaving your entire lives together, binding you on a spiritual level far surpassing mortality; it would mean sacrificing your chance to ever grow old, to eternally give yourself away: heart, mind, body, and soul.

But this was Arthur, who sang showtunes in the shower, who spent hours making silly faces at the cat, who was ridiculously competitive about Halloween costumes, the man who sat down and memorised the entirety of The Tempest in one night just for the bragging rights.

He already owned your heart, constantly invaded your thoughts and daydreams, and God knew he had long, long ago claimed your body, making certain not a single millimeter of his new territory went unexplored.

Would it really be so bad to give him your soul, too?

Glancing back up, seeing his eyes narrowed in concentration, his fingers handling the needle with expert precision, lips slightly parted, reading glasses fallen halfway down his nose-

You knew your answer.

It was always going to be Arthur for you, only Arthur.

Forever, should he have you.

But now you faced the challenge of telling him that.

It should be simple enough; you really held no more secrets from him, and he no longer bothered trying to hide anything from you. You loved how open you were with one another, cherished the honesty that served as the very foundation to your relationship.

But the truth was that you were terrified.

It had been so long since either of you had spoken of marriage, since the topic was even a thought in your minds, and-

What if he didn't want you anymore?

What if he-

"I can see the steam coming outta your ears."

The unexpected presence of Arthur's voice startled you, eyes darting back over to the very man who was unwittingly tormenting you.

He had barely moved from his earlier position, though his glasses had been pushed up into his hair and he was studying you curiously, if not bemusedly.

"You good there?"

By default, you nearly responded with an affirmative, some playful, lighthearted thing that would have dismissed his concern immediately. You cut yourself off mid-start, then, while shifting to sit properly in the armchair, you decided to push forward. "Can we talk?"

You watched as his expression shifted, revealing his concern as he tied off his thread, setting aside the patchwork and gestured for you to join him on the sofa.

There were a few awkward moments where you took up your favourite positions, Arthur tossing an afghan across the pair of you despite your insistence that you didn't need one, the flicker of a grin as you begrudgingly thanked him, and then shifting around as you both got comfortable, but soon enough-

"Alright, now; talketh at-eth me."

It was impossible to fight the smile his choice of words triggered, a reference to an inside joke so old now that you could scarcely recall its origin. Seeming to deem it a success, his own soft, reassuring smile greeted you.

"Seriously though, luv-" His hand came to rest atop your own, his fingers gently tapping a familiar rhythm against your skin. "What's troubling you?"

You were half-tempted to offer something short of sincerity, something innocuous and mundane that you could both laugh over and forget again within a few hours. Yet, you knew that if you didn't tell him now, didn't ask him now, you would never find the courage again.

"I've been thinking-"

"Ah. A scary premise in its own right."

"Oh, shut up," you retorted to his tease, smacking his arm for his troubles. He rewarded you with a grin, all fondness and mischief. Opting to ignore him, you pressed on, eyes downcast to avoid whatever judgement he may offer.

"As I was trying to say earlier, before I was so rudely interrupted-" The teasing fell off, and the worry crept back in. "I've been thinking. About us."

"O-oh?"

Were you not so consumed by your own anxieties, you would have noticed his stutter, would have seen the sudden tension in his posture, the fear in his eyes. As it was, you were completely oblivious to all of it, and made yourself continue at his prompting.

"I- I think I'm ready."

He mimed the word "ready" to himself, parroting it with utter befuddlement. "For wha-"

"I mean, I know I wasn't for such a long time, and-" Suddenly, you were off, half unhinged. Now that you had admitted the truth aloud, it was all rushing out of you, everything you had come to love about him, everything that-

A finger pressing firmly against your lips stopped you mid-tangent, and when you glanced up to find piercing, blazing emerald focused on you as if you were the very center of the universe, whatever remained of your ramblings disappeared entirely.

"What are you trying to say?"

A simple question, so easy to answer, yet it carried with it the weight of Infinities, demanding nothing save the truth, in its most basic state.

You were lost in his gravity, half-drowning in whatever this new feeling was. It was addicting, another riddle to be solved.

"Marry me."

Time stood still, the words weighing heavily in the space between you, now seemingly insurmountable despite being no more than mere decimeters.

Arthur showed no reaction, revealed no indication that he had even heard your plea, your query, your command, your request, and yet it echoed over and over in your own mind, the tone, the weight, the untimeliness-

Every facet- from your inflection to chosen tempo- crescandoed as an accusation, a mocking symphony that he would reject you, that you would be left with only the haunting strains of your ill-conceived proposal.

And yet-

There was a hesitation in his eyes, the face of a man who wanted wholeheartedly to believe what he had heard, but had been burned far too often in the past to dare allow himself hope.

"You-" His eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed as he studied you once more, only for the suspicion to disappear again almost immediately, disbelief swiftly taking its place. "You're serious?"

It was then that you finally read his nervousness, understood the strange emotion reflecting in his eyes.

You had lead him to a precipice, the vast Unknown before you both, and-

And he was just as fragile as you were, even if he was better at hiding it.

You gave his hand a light squeeze, hoping to ground you both, and offered him a nod. “If you’ll have me, anyway.”

His eyes flickered between your own, darting back-and-forth so quickly in search of a lie, of any doubts, of any hint that you were less than certain- yet you knew he would find none of that.

“What about your family?”

The question took you by surprise; in the moment, you had completely forgotten anyone else even existed.

You weighed his question carefully. Marrying Arthur would give your family leave to gloat in self-satisfaction, and you knew with absolutely certainty that they would hold it over your head for the next three decades. But looking into the eyes of the man before you, remembering all that you had already seen and done together, you found that others' opinions no longer mattered, really hadn't mattered in a long, long time.

“I couldn’t care less about them. Arth-”

Whatever you were going to say was forgotten as he closed the remaining distance between you, moving so swiftly that you scarcely had a moment to steady yourself before he captured you in a searing kiss, one of his most passionate by far.

Somehow, despite the suddenness of it all, the initial force, the intensity- 

He was being incredibly gentle, and moving slowly enough to almost be more a torment than a treat. Almost.

You found yourself lost in a daze when he finally pulled away, just enough for each of you to catch your breaths, just far enough that he could study you with rapt attention. You could have drowned in his eyes, endless greens magnetizing in their intensity. His hands were still cradling your cheeks, still holding you firmly in place, a not completely foreign expression creasing his features.

You couldn't quite place it, even as your memories shifted desperately in search of its mate.

"'If I'd have you?'" His words, a rhetorical refrain of your own mere moments earlier, were scarcely a shared breath between you, murmured in timbre so low it summoned a shiver. There was the smallest twitch of his lip, his head tilting ever so slightly as more of that damned deviousness made its presence known. "I fully intend to have you regardless, luv. But the formality of it all certainly adds a particular je ne sais quoi, wouldn't you agree?"

You'd be damned if he knew just how that made your heart flutter, if he knew just how much weight that reassurance had lifted from your shoulders.

Carefree, content, you offered a playful smile. "Till death do us part then?"

Arthur no longer bothered trying to restrain his smile, soft and sincere in a way that left you breathless. "I'll love you till even the stars go cold, my dear."

Thanks for reading~

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 9.5): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: it’s over. the ruse is up.

wc: 2.1k

tw: none

masterlist

“Have you ever considered just not going to meet the Prince and remaining in your rooms?” Kaori wonders as you sharpen a blade with a rock. “I mean, I’m sure he wouldn't bother you if you assumed the appearance of an invalid. How about getting out of town for a week?” 

She’s tried everything to get you to reconsider your stance on killing Prince Naoya. Any theory, any loophole, any cop-out; Kaori’s said it. But you have no choice. Geto has to be avenged, and the only way you can manage vengeance is killing the man who sent your lover to his death. 

“Listen, we have only a couple of days left. We can use poison, strangulation, accidental drowning, and straight-up murder - which I think is the messier of the bunch.” Toji ticks off methods as he watches you work away at the blade with determination. “I vote we poison his food, and if that doesn’t work, smothering can go a long way.” Megumi peers into the little pond in front of him as his father discusses treason, entirely uninterested in anything but finding another frog to play with. You envy the child and wish that you could take his place, forgetting everything else except the current pursuit of a frog. But your frog is much more elusive, slippery, and well-guarded.

“We have to drug the guards first,” you note, and Toji grunts affirmatively, biting his lip as he stares past you, deep in thought. You look at the scar on his mouth and squint, wondering if you’re just now noticing the pink-ish raised mark or if you’d seen it before, but never noted the way it looks against his tanned skin in the sunlight. You look away before anyone can accuse you of staring, but make a note to ask about the injury later. 

“How can you be assured that none of this will affect your parents?” Kaori wonders, and you look at her with a pensive stare. 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t affect them. They know nothing of the plot and I--”

“If you’re dead, you can’t defend them,” she reminds you, and for a moment, you reconsider the plan altogether. 

“Toji, do you think you could get my parents out of here safely?” 

“I can’t guarantee shit,” he replies, resting his chin on his palm as his green eyes focus in on you again. “But I can sure as hell try.” He adds when you give him a defeated look. You respond to his addition with a half-smile, and he rolls his eyes at the sight, huffing out a short breath. 

_______________________________________________________________________

“Try and hit me,” Toji encourages you, and you reach a hand out to slap him across the face. But you miss entirely and stumble forward, almost face-planting into the ground. “You can’t put all of your force in your upper body like that.” He chastises, stepping in front of you again. 

“Give me a rake and we’ll see about that,” you counter, earning you a loud laugh. Toji takes his stance again, hands prepared for a fight. 

“Come on, little girl, put up a serious fight. You don’t need a rake.” You inhale deeply, centering yourself with one foot placed behind you at an angle and one foot in front, planted firmly into the dirt. “Hit me.” 

The roundhouse kick narrowly misses Toji’s tan face, and his eyes widen as your heel barely scrapes his nose. 

“I said hit me, not kill me!” The bodyguard gripes, and you laugh at his overly-surprised expression and step back, holding your stomach as you bend over in a fit of giggles. When you stop and straighten back up, you catch Toji staring at you in wonder. 

“What?” 

“Your laugh… I’ve never heard you laugh like that before.” At the mention of your enjoyment, you hum thoughtfully, realizing, yes - you hadn’t laughed so heartily in a long time. But in his moment of unguardedness, you shoot your hand out - the fist making contact with his gut immediately. He grunts, holding his abs and wincing a little. “You… fucking... bi--” Before he can finish his sentence and grab you, you take off for the hill behind the house, laughing as you run with all of your might.

But Toji catches up to you easily, grabbing your elbow and making you tumble to the grass, then roll back down the hill in his arms. As you roll - and scream - grass and dirt and wildflowers are kicked up and tossed into your hair and clothes, dirtying your face as well. When you stop though, you’re on top of Toji, and his arms are crushing you against his chest protectively. 

“You can let go now,” you groan, and he opens his emerald eyes, staring right into yours with an intensity you’ve only seen on one other person’s face. “Toji…” you whisper, and his face changes again, now softer and much more… relaxed, if that was even possible. He blinks, and you pause, recognizing the meaning behind his looks. “Fushiguro, I--” He lets you go immediately, clearing his throat and standing. 

“We should get back before dinner. I’m fucking starving.” He saunters off with his hands in his pockets, not even offering to help you up off of the ground.  

_______________________________________________________________________

The moon hovers precariously in the night sky, illuminating the garden directly below it and bathing you in moonlight. You’re only a few hours away from meeting Prince Naoya, and it’s the thought of seeing him face-to-face that keeps you up tonight. What would he look like? Would he know who you are? Would he ask you any questions about Geto? 

Your eyes rest on the reflection of the moon in the fountain, Toji’s old dagger resting in your lap. 

“It ain’t much,” he mumbled when he handed it to you. “But if something happens, whether it’s with the food or the smothering... You’ve got this dagger.” Then he showed you how to murder someone quickly by using a pillow and your dagger, aiming precisely for the open space between his ribcage. “Stab once, pull it out, and run like hell if you want.” 

You inhale deeply, filling your lungs with fresh air. 

“Cold out here,” Toji mumbles, rubbing his arms as he walks out of the house barefoot. “Can’t sleep, y/n?” 

“No,” you admit, then jerk your chin at him. “You?” 

“I don’t get much rest these days,” he replies, sitting beside you at the fountain. “Worried about tomorrow?” You look over at the green-eyed man and blink, your blank expression telling all. “Well, I’m not. You’re going to be fine.” 

“And what will you do when you have to watch me be executed?” you tease, but Toji’s eyes fall to the fountain, eyeing the moon’s reflection. 

“It’ll be sad. But I understand why you have to do what you’re doing.” 

“Toji Fushiguro? Sad?” You laugh, but he gives you a withering look instead of laughing along with you. 

“Listen, I’ve made a lot of off-color remarks, but I meant what I said. You’re a great person, and I would hate to see your life go to waste over some petty vendetta.” His mumbling catches you off guard, but you say nothing in response, opting to look down at the dagger instead. “But, you’re determined to pursue your lover into the afterlife; I get it. You must really be in love with him.”

“I am,” you reply, still not looking at Toji.

“Well, since you’re going to die tomorrow, I might as well be transparent with you,” Toji whispers. “You know, looking after you was a pain in the ass at first.” You frown at him, wondering what kind of comment that is, but he continues anyways. “But you grew on me. Shit, watching you for these months has become enjoyable, more exciting than the idiocy I used to do before. Y/n… I’m--” Toji swallows hard, then raises his eyes to meet yours. “I’m... going to miss you.” Toji leans in slowly, placing a rough hand on your right cheek before kissing the other cheek with a tenderness you always knew he held deep inside. Once he pulls away, he stands, raking his hands through his short hair and sighing before walking back into the house. But you’re left outside, wondering what could’ve been if you weren’t so hell-bent on bringing your dead lover justice. 

_______________________________________________________________________

The sounds of horses, bells, cheering, chants, cacophony… too much noise.

You can hear it all from your position in the kitchen. The village is louder than it’s ever been before, and all the noise provides the perfect background noise to you and your mother’s preparing food for the six of you already living in the house and about thirteen guests- the seven guards, the four servants, a royal advisor, and finally, Prince Naoya. The resulting feast will outshine any feast your mother has cooked before, and you know that the village will speak of the honor bestowed upon your house and the cooking from it for at least a day. 

The next day, they will be lamenting the loss of the eldest son of the Imperial Court, and rejoicing upon your execution. Just like they celebrated Geto’s death. 

Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy, Su, you pray as you peel a leek with precision. Only a few more hours and Naoya would be within your reach. 

First, you’d drug him with a powder Toji had acquired in exchange for… something unmentionable that he wouldn’t divulge. Second, you would help the prince off to his bed as the drug took hold of him and tuck him in. Then, you’d smother him to death. If that didn’t work - “and there’s a chance that it might not”, Toji warned - you would stab him in the heart. Death would reach the Prince’s soul before the morning light. And you would be ready to die the next day, all to meet Geto in whatever world he had passed on to.

An icy hand grips your heart as the hours pass.

The thought of rejoining your lover - feeling his arms around you, touching his hair, looking into his black eyes - is more than enough for you to pretend everything is alright. All you’re doing is making the most of the last few hours you have with your family, Kaori, Toji, and Megumi. The small child is parading about in his newest outfit, displaying his hakama and haori for all to see and coo over. Toji wears a matching outfit, the clouds and animals drifting about his black haori reminding you of a zoo display and of the days you wish you could have. 

You’re wearing your best kimono - the peach one Kaori dressed you in the day you left the camp; Suguru’s mother’s kimono. It’s all too beautiful, really. Everyone is dressed up like royalty, but you’re the only one who came dangerously close to that life and escaped by the grace of a certain General who had your heart. Now, you would murder royalty and die as much of an outcast that Suguru was. 

After you wash your hands in the fountain, you place the dagger inside your kimono and look at yourself in the mirror for the last time. Color had returned to your cheeks over the past few days, and a certain look in your eye had become commonplace. You had something to live for, and these days would remain in your memory as the best days you’ve had since Geto died. 

“They’re coming up the path,” Kaori hisses as she walks past you, ushering Megumi and Toji to the door behind your mother and father. “Come on.” You follow them obediently, standing behind your father and mother as the procession winds its way down the road. While soldiers, musicians, villagers, everyone is parading in front of the carriage carrying the murderer of your lover, you look to the ground and clench your fists. Your resolve steels itself in your spine as you hear the procession get even closer, the clanging making your jaw tighten and your knees tremble. Too much noise, too much noise, too much noise for a man who slaughtered innocents.

The music dies down when the carriage comes to a halt, but the sound of children excitedly squealing nearby. You keep your eyes downcast, not daring to look the spiteful man in the face or attract attention to yourself. The echo of children’s excited chatter stabs you in the heart even deeper - how could children be excited by this killer? - and you try to block out the memories of Itadori, Junpei, and Nobara, but to no avail. 

You’re trying so hard that tears are streaming down your face, and mucus gathers in your nose as you begin to cry quietly. Megumi reaches up to grab your hand tenderly, holding it in his five little fingers as you hear the door to the carriage swing open slowly. You avoid looking, and sniff so hard you almost miss the first words out of a certain blue-eyed bastard’s mouth: 

“Whoa; watch your step, Yuji! You don’t want to fall in front of Lady y/n, do you?”

_______________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover​ @jotazinha​ @just4readingfics​ @mxhi​ @sammytamaki​ @brownskinnedgirll​ @keelyshayee​ @leanne-tamashi​ @vabybizzle​ @amaris9​ @fuegy-fuegy​ @ambiguous-something​ 

[noobsomeexagerjunk]

Always Shine and Redefine Our Humanity

How Eret Contributes to the Dream SMP's Narrative Themes of Change and Self-Discovery

I can’t believe listening to a song from a fairly obscure but growing musical (where I took this post’s title from) would prompt me to inspect Eret’s character more but here we are. I will heavily use @theeretblr's (whom you should subscribe to, btw) Character Explanation thread as a basis, as well as statements about their character from their most recent streams and things that I have gathered from other essays by people who clearly have been watching from the start.

This will include sentiments and theories I want for the character because I kinda got attached to them as of late. Please keep in mind that I have been watching since around Late November-Early December, so my biases would be appropriate to such a viewer.

This essay is a discussion of the roleplay character.

1. Eret is Self-Preserving & Versatile in Skill (and this is why they're powerful)

"Those who are given Power hold on to it."

Something I’ve observed concerning Eret’s Betrayal of L’Manburg was their motivations for doing so. For a time they have believed that power and security mattered. For a time their interests went first. CC!Eret referred to the choice as "an offer no one would refuse" as well. This wasn't just luxury and (they didn't know it at the time, but false) power, it was the protection they would be allowed to have by the admin of the server. It was being allowed to do whatever they wanted, despite the means to it being dishonorable and interestingly enough, demanding of permission.

Eret was willing to do anything to remain secure and equipped, and I argue that they still do until now. The difference is that now, they are more concerned about how they maintain their security in that they wouldn't hurt other people or be extremely unethical in the pursuit of this security.

Also, they're privy to grinding when it's necessary, they know how to build structure and contraption, and they can hold their own fairly well. They're very well-spoken and can deliver on appearances and ambiance, excellent at both comforting and intimidating whomever they choose. They had to have been this skilled for a while.

2. Eret has a Forgotten History (of bringing down powerful groups of people, apparently)

"Those who don't know History are doomed to repeat it."

So remember that interaction with Foolish? I want to bring this up because I feel that having particularly close ties with a God of Undying/Death has implications.

Foolish also brings up "taking care of [a] Wither cult"—an organized group! Wasn't Eret known for taking down an organized group on the server? L'Manburg, at its founding. He was part of the rebellion against Manburg. He was against the Eggpire. Yep, that's a pattern.

What does this mean? Well:

Eret's hands were never clean from the start, clearly before the Final Control room, and it can be inferred that they're redder than they seem

Eret's tendencies towards self-preservation may have been influenced/learned from Foolish

Eret may have had (if they still don't do) an inclination to pursue power through the dismantling of organized groups that also seek/already have established power

Eret's current skills are the way they are due to his past

And we cannot forget the CC confirmation that c!Eret has relations with Herobrine, the infamous Minecraft urban legend known for the horror he brings and how many lovers of Minecraft frame him as this terrifying powerhouse entity beyond human comprehension. This relation is still a mystery, but from what we know, it can tell us a lot about what Eret has forgotten about himself and what Eret is capable of!

3. Eret is Concerned by What People (though only those that matter to him) Think of Her

"I think Respect is a big thing."

In light of her power, we have to remember that Eret regretted pursuing power upon recognizing the loss of respect and friendship that came with the throne. This becomes a much stronger detriment when she realizes that the power she thought she had never actually existed in the first place—one can say she would dread pursuing power for herself again. To subject oneself to the standards of others after all is to subject yourself under constant scrutiny.

In her regrets, she learns and realizes what she wants—to be loved and cared for, to be truly alive with her loved ones. It's why she decides to improve herself, and she works and makes the effort to try! She struggled (and still does) in the process of pursuing forgiveness, illustrating that her determination towards an end is very strong, gradual as it may be.

It's how she looks up to Wilbur! Still! I reckon the two believe they're responsible for the other. Change! What an incredible thing the two are able to do.

4. Eret Knows What He Wants (but is struggling to figure out how to get it)

"That was a long time ago. I've changed things and I know not to break people's trust anymore."

One of Eret’s biggest concerns right now in Season 3 is his relationship with the Crown, mixed and fickle it seems based on his streams during this time. His kingship carries more and more weight each passing day, debating whether forgoing the effort and spilled blood Eret had to get the Crown is worth it. (I mean, he accepted the restoration of his Kingship when George got dethroned.)

The Kingship is still power, and it's become true power after Dream had been put in prison. We know he's admitted being deathly afraid of Dream, so this period of genuine Kingship would be incredibly special to him. Ever since he's been finding ways to make his kingship genuinely meaningful, redefining the evils the Crown used to have by doing good to whomever sincerely, freely, and willingly. He's attempted allyhood with like-minded individuals based on his judgment of their character. Remember his Knights? These consisted of HBomb, Puffy, and Punz, each of which exhibited behaviors (predilection for community, dedication to duty, moral neutrality) he has as well!

But yet, the blood spilled for that Crown still stains him, and it cannot be denied that it will continue to do so for as long as Eret wears the crown. I wonder if he believes this, whether a part of him does deep down. Dream being in jail doesn't just mean freedom to be a king but freedom to quite literally be yourself, whatever it may be.

5. For these reasons, Eret Represents Constant Self-Actualization and Rediscovery

"I'm a strong, independent...whatever the fuck I am."

Given the points established above, Eret is unfamiliar with her full self and wants to shape herself into someone desirable and genuinely contributing kindness to a clearly broken world, a world whose brokenness she also happened to contribute to.

Her enthusiasm for History and the pursuit of enlightenment speaks volumes to this motivation. It's her repeated, dedicated efforts to try and try and try and try, to be better! Not just to be a better person herself but for everyone else to be able to be better too! She's aware that perfection is impossible, but clearly recognizes that constant reevaluation of the self is nonetheless necessary.

It's how she's open to engaging with as many people as possible despite differing opinions and carried baggage. She researches and explores and examines! She does no harm but takes no shit.

Every facet of her, to the terror her eyes have been known to give, to the air of affirmation radiating in her domain of a Pride castle, to the blood that decorates her fingers, to the people she has given support to, to the people she has disadvantaged, to the History she keeps, to the part of herself she no longer remembers, to the power she carries—Eret knows how to be truly alive.

[tommybaholland]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write a angst oneshot about the whole Izuku leaving UA incident and how his s/o would take it seeing that letter right after the war ark, and maybe their reaction if he came back?

If you've done this already please just ignore this! (ˊ˘ˋ*)

where are you, deku?

featuring: midoriya

recent manga chapter spoilers in this one! i have to admit that i haven’t been the biggest fan of the current arc thus far but this is one reason why i write. so i included some stuff that i feel were missed opportunities. also, if you read the manga, i’d love to hear any predictions you might have. enjoy! x

sitting in a hospital was never fun. it’s already bad if you’re there to be treated but sitting there, waiting for someone to wake up, not knowing that they will? you’d rather be admitted.

you didn’t know how he would recover from this. there’s no way his body could handle everything that he pushed through to stop the evil from winning. was there even a winner in this war? you’re not even sure how or why it started. there were so many things happening, so many twists and turns and surprises that everyone who survived physically wouldn’t have much luck mentally. 

no matter how you spin it, there was no silver lining. and you were not the only one plagued by the lasting effect. 

todoroki’s supposedly dead brother is alive and a mass murder, mirio has his powers again but doesn’t know that tamaki might be dead, midnight’s death was confirmed days ago and no one could just forget about it..

and it had been three days, but deku had not awoken from his unconscious state. 

you were adamant about being the first one he saw when he woke up. he’d say that you’re stubborn but that was one thing you had in common. it was odd for him to stay unconscious for this long when he had always been the epitome of persistence. 

the sound of all might entering the room jerked you awake from what was probably the tenth time you had dozed off. 

“y/n,” he addressed. “you have done a great job keeping midoriya company but i think it’s time for you to get some rest. todoroki and bakugo have awoken, why don’t you go check on them with your other classmates?”

you didn’t even look over to him, not wanting to see the pitiful expression on his face. 

“why isn’t he waking up, all might? he doesn’t even look like he’s in pain,” you observed, looking down at your unconscious partner. 

“that must be a good thing, though, right?” the former hero replied. 

“yes but,” you paused, unsure of how to say it. “it’s odd. he’s not in a coma-induced state, he just looks like he’s taking a nap.” 

all might knew that midoriya and bakugo had kept the secret of ofa between them. now might be a good time to tell everyone, or at least everyone who should know, what was going to happen to him. midoriya was not unconscious nor asleep but was in a similar state, one that allowed him to talk to the previous holders of one for all. 

until he finishes his conversation with them, an explanation would have to wait.

“you have observed well, y/n. i can assure you that he is not in any pain and will wake up eventually. he’ll want to tell you everything when he does. until then, please go tell the other students what you know for now.”

“what if he wakes up?” you questioned, continuing to face deku with your hands over one of his casted arms.

“i’ll have someone send for you but i’m sure you’ll be around when he finally wakes,” all might reassured. 

you nodded, too tired to protest at this point. you stood from your seat before leaning down to press a parting kiss to his freckled cheek. his skin was warm which prompted a tear you didn’t know was there to fall down your cheek. he was alive but you wanted him to be okay. 

you wiped the tear from your face and sniffled before turning around to finally face all might. he patted your shoulder as you walked by, quickly leaving the room. you decided that you would do as you were told and to go check on your other classmates. however, you didn’t get very far when you ran into bakugo who was storming down the hallway while resisting the restraint of sato and mineta.

“Y/N! WHERE IS HE?”

It almost made you smile to see that bakugo was still his belligerent self, despite being seriously injured. however, that doesn’t mean he should be walking around so soon. you stood in front of the door to deku’s room, prohibiting him from entering. once he finally reached you, he tried to push past you with his hands on your shoulders. 

“you better move out of the way or start talking before i kill both you AND HIM,” he threatened when you wouldn’t move. 

“he’s still unconscious,” you replied solemnly. “but all might’s certain that he will wake up.”

bakugo’s demeanor changed as he observed the melancholy expression on your face. he wasn’t an idiot but you were. it was the least he could do.

“well, i agree with him. of course he’s going to wake up, you idiot.”

you looked up at him, waiting for elaboration from his sudden confidence.

“tch. i thought you loved him or whatever. somehow your annoying ass decided to put up with his dumbass so you of all people would know that he wouldn’t just quit. and if he does, i’ll make sure he’s really dead.”

-

once almost everyone was discharged from the hospital, you were instructed to return to UA. you were told that you would receive updates and further instructions the next morning. however, sleep was far from what you would receive. despite the exhaustion, you were restless beyond belief which made you delirious and you couldn’t tell if the shuffling outside your room was real or not. 

you woke up early, just when the sun was beginning to rise. you decided to get up as there was no point in trying to fall back asleep. you didn’t get even a step outside your room after stepping on a folded piece of paper that had been shoved under the door, waiting for you. 

it was a letter from him. 

it turns out that seemingly everyone got a letter from him. all of them varied in contents but they all conveyed the same message:

he had left the hero course. 

they also explained his power and how it passed down from all might which is the reason why the league of villains and all for one were after him. yours, however, included a little extra message written at the end. 

i love you, y/n. please don’t come looking for me. 

he had probably blamed himself for all the strife he had caused with the war but you thought it was dumb for him to leave. how did he think he was going to do this on his own? there was obviously more to this story than he provided but given that he told everyone in the class, he had to keep it simple. 

it was all making sense to you, shedding some light as to why all might was so sure of deku’s recovery. however, you didn’t get to see him when he woke up like you were told. he played it safe in writing these letters because he knew that you and others in the class would only try to stop him if he left. everyone was asking you about what you knew and you couldn’t tell them squat. you tried calling and texting him but he wouldn’t answer.

it was an odd feeling. you didn’t know whether you should be mad or not. if you couldn’t see your boyfriend yourself, you had to talk to all might. however, mr. aizawa was the only thing standing, or rather now sitting, in your way. 

“by now, you all know that your classmate, midoriya, has left the hero course. this does not mean that the rest of you should follow in his footsteps.”

even though he didn’t tower over everyone anymore from his wheelchair, he was still equally as intimidating. 

“now, UA has agreed to use its campus as an evacuation shelter. your families have already begun the moving process. classes will resume as normal but no one will be allowed to leave the campus under any circumstances. we’ve put a pause on all work study-related activities outside of the school until we know that there are no more possible threats, at least, for now. any questions can be directed to me.”

“will all might be returning?” you asked.

“all might will be taking leave from teaching for now,” answered mr. aizawa. “as i said, you can direct your questions to me.”

“right, sir, but i have questions for him about dek-- i mean, midoriya.” 

“well, you’ll have to wait until he finds an opportunity to return then.” 

“when will that be?”

“whenever he finds an opportunity, y/n. any other questions?”

it seemed like you were at a loss until you remembered something from when you were in the hospital with deku. bakugo’s behavior when you told him what all might said changed rather abruptly and you don’t think it’s because all might is his favorite pro hero. although they grew up together, deku and bakugo were anything but close. however, bakugo’s affirmation that he would recover felt odd and like he knew something that made him sure of it. 

this led you to pursue him as your next lead. 

you found him later in the kitchen making something for himself, as he usually cooked for himself than eating the food sent over by the school. 

“what did you think about his letter?”

“what letter? i didn’t get anything from that damn nerd.”

that was surprising but that logic further pushed the idea that he knew something and therefore didn’t need a letter to explain it to him. 

“so you don’t know anything about this?” you asked as you pulled out the folded-up paper that was left at your door that morning. 

bakugo snatched the paper out of your hand and scanned over its contents quickly. his brows raised by the time he reached the end before he grimaced again. 

“that idiot,” he muttered under his breath. 

“so you didn’t know about it?”

“this is almost the same as what everyone else got,” he observed, ignoring your question. 

“okay. but did you know about it?” you asked again.

“of course i did, you dumbass! so are you gonna ask me a billion questions now that his cowardly ass isn’t here to explain it to you like he should’ve?”

“so there is more to it.”

“he gave you the gist of it. that’s really all you need to know.”

“but what do shigaraki and all for one have to do with this?”

“can’t you read? the letter literally explained that.” 

“like you said, it was really only the gist of it.”

“well, you were right in wanting to talk to all might but i guess you’ll have to wait.”

“no. if you know something, i need to hear about it. also, why do you get to know about all this?”

“because that moron originally told me about it back when we started school here. i didn’t take it seriously at the time until he started getting stronger. right after we moved to the dorms, he and all might told me everything,” he explained.

“i need you to tell me what happened then because he and all might aren’t here right now.”

“look, it’s really not my job to tell you! this really belongs between the two of them. dumb deku just promised that he would be strong enough to try to beat me.”

“at least tell me why he felt he had to leave when we could’ve helped him! i know he likes to act like a selfless idiot but i don’t know if he can do this by himself.”

bakugo sighed. “this is his fight and his fight alone. like icyhot said back at the sports festival, he has all might in his corner. that’s all the help he’s gonna need.”

you nodded in agreement.

“plus, that dumb power of his involves more than what you’ve seen of it,” he added cryptically.

“what does that mean?”

“did you even read the letter? it said that the power was passed down from all might to him, moron.”

 “again, that doesn’t really mean much to me,” you pressed.

“tch. yeah. you probably only paid attention to that gross end part. that stupid nerd,” he muttered. 

“what was that?”

“look, i’m done talking with you. either talk to all might or use your damn head.” 

that wasn’t a complete waste of time but it certainly was a lost cause. despite his arrogance, everything bakugo said was true. he’s not someone who goes around lying about things so you felt that you could trust him when he said that deku would be in good hands with all might. 

you left the kitchen somewhat satisfied but it still bothered you that you didn’t know everything completely. you wondered if there was anyone else who knew about it but the chances were slim, given that bakugo also stated that it was between deku and all might. 

while heading back up to your room, you ran into todoroki. you hadn’t talked to him much since the war. out of anyone, he was probably going through it more than anyone. 

“hey, todoroki. how are you holding up?” you asked, grinning softly. 

his voice was still recovering but it was a lot better than a few days ago. “hello, y/n. my family’s okay for the most part and my father is finally doing what he should.”

you didn’t want to pry but you knew what he meant. 

“did you get a letter?”

“from midoriya? yes. i’m not especially surprised since he and all might have been close since school began. however, i do find it odd that he suddenly has another power. did you notice it?”

you nodded. “it first happened during the training session with class B, right?”

“yes. were you ever curious about it?”

“he was probably more freaked out about it than anyone else so i didn’t focus too much on it,” you explained.

“i asked him about it and i agree, he did seem apprehensive about it.”

there was a beat of silence then which had you pondering over what bakugo had said.

“apparently there’s more to his power than we think and it has something to do with the passing from one user to another,” you reported.

“i’ve been thinking about that, as well,” todoroki replied. “it’s possible that midoriya’s power is evolving to beyond what all might could do with it. it would make sense, given quirk singularity.” 

his theory seemed reliable since he would know about something like singularity. 

“thank you for sharing that with me, todoroki. it think it’s quite possible that you’re right. i’m going to try to talk to all might if you want to confirm it,” you offered.

“thank you, y/n, but i believe the answer will be more clear later on. there’s something i have to focus on for myself right now. i hope you find out more soon.”

you thanked him, wished him well, and made the rest of the way to your room. now, you really couldn’t imagine what todoroki was going through. if anything, he had just as much weight on his shoulders as deku right now. 

then again, you still needed answers as to exactly what he was doing.

later that night, bakugo sat on his bed looking down at a piece of paper. it had four simple words on it. words that both excited and annoyed him immensely. 

i’m catching up, kacchan. 

-

months passed and you hadn’t heard from deku. well, you had but not in the way you wanted. you finally got in touch with all might, who showed up to UA in person. apparently, mr. aizawa had passed down the message that you were wanting to talk but you don’t know how long ago that had been. you appreciated his effort but at this point, it was your boyfriend who you needed to see now. you didn’t want to displace your anger onto him but he could see that distress that you are in. 

“i’m sorry that he couldn’t come himself,” all might apologized.

you sighed. “it’s alright. it seems like he has better things to do now.”

“he just needs to work on yielding one for all,” all might elaborated. 

“is that what it’s called? one for all?”

“he didn’t tell you about it? i thought he wrote everyone in the class a letter?” 

“he did but he didn’t go into too much detail which is why i wanted to talk to you,” you explained, your tone rather aloof. 

“right. of course,” all might replied before clearing his throat to fill in the missing pieces.

it turns out that todoroki’s theory was on the track in that one for all had reached the singularity point and the quirks from its predecessors were beginning to manifest. 

“the fact that he was completely quirkless before one for all makes the singularity point easier for him to transition to and use the other six quirks.”

that was news to you. “he was quirkless?”

“yes.”

it was all making sense now. everything that seemed off about him and his power was because he never had one in the first place. you also could now understand why bakugo was the most hostile with him when it came to training and deku’s improvement with his power. and this was why bakugo was dead set on deku coming out of this alive. 

however, you couldn’t help but feel naive. you felt like you should’ve listened to your intuition more when things weren’t adding up and he was landing himself back in the hospital with broken arms time after time. but you ended up falling in love with him and it wasn’t because of his power. in the same vein, you weren’t about to hate him for it either, like bakugo or even todoroki at the beginning of the school year. he had worked hard to where he is now and the truth was that he had always been that way, quirk or not. 

but how come he felt the need to hide it all, especially from you? bakugo had only recently been clued in about all of it so why not you as well?

“i made him not say anything to anyone, especially since i had started teaching at the school,” all might explained, continuing to be incredibly perceptive. “and bakugo was only roped in because he was catching on to it.”

“yeah. he told me that deku originally told him a while ago,” you recalled. “so what is he going to do about shigaraki and all for one?”

“we’re not entirely sure yet. right now he’s mostly acting as bait to try to lure out the league of villains while taking care of any stray villains from the prison breaks.” 

“so what you’re saying is you don’t have a plan?” you questioned.

“we’re considering all of our options, y/n.”

“who?”

“deku, myself, endeavor, and hawks. best jeanist has also been helping with recon,” he elaborated. 

of course, he’d have the top three heroes and all might on his side. not to mention all the vestiges talking to him in his head. what about the rest of the class though? surely he was going to need more than that. hero society is hanging by a thread that could snap at any moment if the villains strike again first. 

“why didn’t you let me see him after he woke up?” you asked, changing the subject. 

“we wanted him to stay at UA, as that’s where he’d be most protected. unfortunately, every decision has been his own,” he answered.

that was what you were afraid of. 

since that conversation, the city had been partially recovered, villains were being captured, and there weren’t any threats as of yet from the league. UA fully reinstated work study programs and students were allowed out under heavy supervision. 

todoroki kept coming back from his father’s agency with letters from deku to give to you. you read them, of course, but hadn’t replied to a single one. talking to all might was helpful, it really was, but you couldn’t help this nagging feeling inside you. his letters didn’t help much either. of course, you were happy to hear from him and it did give you that tingling feeling of love that you hadn’t felt in months. 

the letters mostly detailed what he was doing and provided updates on his progress since you had talked to all might. however, if he was freely moving about the city, you didn’t understand why he couldn’t just come talk to you. all might had said that all the decisions made were his own and he was doing it in the best interest of you, the school, and his family. the thought of deku saying that he didn’t want to see anyone else get hurt made you shake your head. he’s very persistent and strong-willed but he too often doesn’t accept the help nor listen to the warnings of others, yourself included. 

you missed him but you were also resentful towards him and you hated feeling that way. you wanted to be supportive rather than selfish but it was hard when he could be too self-sacrificing. it’s not that you didn’t have faith in him. you just wanted to prepare for the worst. 

-

“hey, idiot.” 

“what is it, bakugo?”

bakugo and todoroki approached you one day after they came back from their work study. 

“we’re trying to tell you something important so don’t cop an attitude right now,” he glared.

you gave him an unamused look, unfazed by the irony. “so did you need something?”

todoroki spoke up next. “yes. my father would like to recruit you for work study. you don’t currently have one, right?” 

“no. i don’t,” you replied honestly. “why does endeavor want me all of the sudden?” 

“because midoriya—“

“shut up, you half and half moron!” bakugo interrupted. “look, we need help and thought you would want to be included.”

“okay. but why me?” 

“you’re such a dumbass. just come with us!” 

and now you were here at the endeavor agency in your hero costume with an uneasy feeling. maybe it was because you were standing right in front of the number one himself.

“hello, y/n.” 

it was true that he didn’t have any other expression other than a scowl. lately, that scowl seemed worn down and honestly, you couldn’t blame him. 

“bakugo and shoto have told me about you. of course, i first heard about you from deku.” 

your ears perked up at his hero name. you hadn’t heard it in months. 

“since he has left the hero course, we needed another student apprentice at the agency. the reason why we didn’t contact you sooner was that we were overconfident in thinking that we didn’t need another and for that, i personally apologize.”

endeavor bowing to you was a sight you thought you’d see only in your dreams. 

“so what is this really about then?” 

“the league of villains is on the move and he needs some help.” 

you didn’t have time to even think of a response before the familiar mess of green hair came into view. that was really the only familiar thing about him against his dirty and tattered hero costume. not to mention all the upgrades that you had never seen before. 

“hey, y/n,” he greeted with a soft grin.

you felt like your heart had stopped for a solid three seconds. 

“deku…” you breathed out finally. you let the tears well up in your eyes. you didn’t want him to see you cry. you felt a rush of adrenaline pull you towards him and tackle him to the ground. 

from the view, it looked like you were happy to see him. you were anything but thrilled. 

“why— how— w- what are you doing here?” you questioned, leaning over him on the ground. you face felt hot with rage but you couldn’t stop it. the more you tried to suppress your emotions, the more intense they felt. 

“well, i wanted to see you!” he answered, trying to lighten the mood. 

“you wanted to SEE ME!? what about the previous eight months, huh? or when you woke up? you didn’t want to see me then either?”

“y/n, please i didn’t intend to abandon anyone. i only wanted to protect—“

“everyone, right?” you interrupted him. “what about the rest of us? we want to be heroes too! we’ve fought countless battles and went through a whole war with you! when are you going to get it through your dumb head that we want to help you?”

“heh. they sound like me now,” bakugo quietly commented as he and todoroki watched this whole scene. 

“i wouldn’t get excited about that,” replied todoroki.

“i’m sorry if i’m being selfish but this isn’t fair, deku,” you cried, your tears dripping onto his face. 

if he thought about it, deku had improved immensely in the last several months, most likely at a quicker rate than he had at UA. however, that was because there wasn’t as much restraint on the usage of his powers. he got to fight high-level villains without a lot of supervision. he was essentially a vigilante and the top three of the hero society were allowing him to do it. 

“i’m sorry for leaving, y/n,” he began, sitting up as you leaned up off of him to wipe your tears. 

“i wasn’t thinking about everyone’s feelings but i felt that it wasn’t anyone’s decision. you guys would have stopped me no matter what.”

you didn’t make eye contact with him until his next sentence. 

“but that doesn’t mean i should be treated as a special case. you’re right, i shouldn’t waste all the energy and effort everyone has put into to stop something that i’m mostly responsible for. even though i’ve been figuring things out on my own lately,  i have no idea how i’m going to stop all for one or save shigaraki.” 

you suddenly felt stupid as he looked down solemnly. you were stupid for overreacting. at the end of the day, this was his fight. no one else could do this but him. however, hearing that he needed help was what you needed to hear. 

your boyfriend needed help.

“hey,” you called softly, placing a hand over his cheek. he looked up as you with glossy green eyes. 

“you don’t have to do this all by yourself. you have so many friends and heroes wanting to help you. i know you don’t want to lose anyone but i think everyone involved knows the risks.”

you looked back to bakugo and todoroki for reassurance. todoroki nodded in agreement while bakugo simply, “tch. whatever.”

“you’ve got me, too. you’re never gonna lose me, deku. and i won’t let you lose either. i love you too much even if you can be really dumb sometimes.”

“i love you too, babe,” he reciprocated, his face getting closer to yours. “i did really miss you.”

“i know, baby.”

you completed the reconciliation with a sweet kiss, one that made bakugo roll his eyes.

“can you idiots stop wasting my time already?!”

“i agree,” endeavor spoke up. “we should start telling them what we know.”

“right! sorry, sir!” your boyfriend squeaked before scrambling to get you both off the floor. you stifled a laugh. he’s probably seen some stuff over the last few months but his cute, spastic self didn’t change much. 

“let’s get y/n acclimated to the agency first and then we’ll go over everything,” endeavor suggested. 

“oh my gosh, y/n! i can’t wait to show you how huge this place is! c’mon,” deku exclaimed, grabbing your hand and pulling you around the office.

he didn’t want to let go once but if you wanted to because your hands were sweaty, he’d simply reach for it again. his thumb ran over the back of yours when you were just standing next to each other, giving it an occasional squeeze. even when it was his turn to talk, he didn’t release.

“okay so here’s what i’ve done recently and the information i’ve gathered from those encounters..”

you didn’t know what the end result would be and he was none the wiser. he knows how he wants it to end and now he has people he can count on for that.

heyy bnha night! let’s hear about more of your favs..

[strangertheory]

Hi! I don't think I've seen you comment on Noah's recent fanmio call where he once again casually talked about Byler. I was wondering what your thoughts were, as I value your opinion. Do you think he's teasing Byler because he knows it's endgame and just doesn't care about spoiling stuff? Or do you think he's talking about it because it's actually not gonna be canon and he's just like "yeah you guys will have lots of scenes to fuel your ship in S4!" (but platonic)? Anyway, I just want to say that I really appreciate your blog and reading your thoughts and I've been following you for more than a year now! Lots of love <3

I think that Noah is acknowledging Byler's relevance to season 4 because at this point in time he's allowed to do so because whether Byler is relevant to the story is not the most important or most mysterious question that we should be asking at this point in the series.

In my opinion the way in which Noah has answered these questions implies that there is a conditional "Yes, but!" that we should be aware of. Yes, but you'll see. Yes, but it's complicated. Yes, but it's not what any of you expect.

I'm aware that there is a lot of skepticism in the fan community and that there are even fans that insist that the subtext in the show that Byler fans have picked up on is completely imagined. As you probably know: I strongly disagree. I think the subtext is very intentional. But just because certain parts of the fan community have treated Byler like a controversial or unlikely idea doesn't mean that this is the same perspective or priority that the production team has taken in all considerations. Perhaps the production team has enjoyed allowing fans to argue over these types of details for long enough and they've finally decided that whether or not Byler is relevant to the story is not as surprising a question as fans think it is. Maybe they want our focus to extend beyond "is Byler going to be canon" and for us to instead ask "in what way will the potential for an eventual romantic relationship between Mike and Will be addressed and revealed in the story?"

I strongly suspect that the way in which Mike and Will's relationship will be written is not what fans might expect.

I think that Byler will not be what fans entirely expect it to be, and that this will be for multiple reasons.

I think that it's possible that the way in which either Mike or Will navigates their internalized homophobia could create a lot of complexities in their relationship.

I also suspect, as I've addressed in other posts on my blog, that there is a meta-narrative in the show and that we might see some huge plot twists and revelations that impact all of the characters including Mike and Will and the way that they feel about each other.

I'm of the opinion that Noah casually saying that there is "some of [Byler]" in season 4 simply means that "Yes, the relationship and the idea of romance between Mike and Will is relevant to the plot" but we do not know in what way it will be written. Who has feelings for who? Are they requited or unrequited? If they both have feelings for each other will they be willing to pursue a relationship or will one or both of them decide that they don't want to deal with the social risk? Could one of them be in denial and angry if confronted about their feelings? What assumptions have we made about these characters and their stories that might turn out to be incorrect? What questions will remain unanswered by the end of season 4 and possibly even after season 5? What secrets in these characters' lives will impact this storyline in a way that is very different than what we might anticipate?

To me, the question has never been "Will Byler eventually be acknowledged and explored in canon?" but rather "How will Byler eventually be acknowledged and explored in canon?"

I am optimistic that Byler is deeply relevant to the story because I truly think that the writers have put a lot of careful thought into creating the details and foreshadowing that was woven into seasons 1-3, but my optimism is still rooted in my respect for the writers' ability to tell a compelling story about characters that I care about and not rooted in a very specific conditional expectation of how that story should be told. Sometimes when I see posts by other fans in the Stranger Things community I become worried that a few of us are narrowing our expectations so strictly that fans may be setting themselves up for disappointment.

If you take actors' statements affirming the relevance of Byler to season 4 as simply meaning "yes the idea of a possible romantic dynamic between Mike and Will is somewhat relevant to season 4," then I think that's a fairly reasonable idea. If you take Noah's statements to mean "Yes Mike and Will both return each others' feelings, Mike and Will start openly dating in season 4, Mike and Will clearly state their specific orientation with terms familiar to teenagers in 2021, they both come out to all their friends and family in the 1980s without anyone reacting badly to it, and they both live happily ever after" then I'm concerned that you might be demanding too specific an outcome and that specific expectation could hold you back from enjoying an otherwise very powerful alternate narrative that tells a different story than what you may have expected.

It can be exciting to speculate on what might happen in the show but I am doing my best to not allow my expectations to limit my enjoyment and appreciation for the canon story itself.

I think that it's important that we also recognize that season 4 is the penultimate season and that it is therefore an opportunity for the writers to both begin revealing certain secrets while also, potentially, creating more angst and conflict before resolving issues in season 5.

Thanks for Asking about my thoughts on this! I share everyone's excitement over Byler being acknowledged as relevant to season 4 by one of the actors, but I don't think we can assume to know what that means. And that's exciting! I want to be surprised. I want to be able to follow the hints and clues given to us in seasons 1, 2, and 3 and to be able to understand and appreciate the eventual plot twists and revelations but I don't want to fully anticipate every single moment or else there's nothing to look forward to.

[queerprayers]

Hello. This might be a bit of an unorthodox ask, or maybe not. I’m also fully aware no one can make this choice for me, but it’s also not a choice I want to make alone.

So I’m a Latine Catholic. My family was never all that religious. They never had a problem with my queerness or been all too bothered by what I actually believed. We are already somewhat out of the box- my father doesn’t believe in going to church and he doesn’t believe in an afterlife. My mother believes in reincarnation and an eventual, inevitable Heaven. I told my mom once that I was considering paganism and she was just interested in what I could tell her about the theology. So the problem is me. I have ocd and a deep fear of hell and of G*d’s judgement. I spiraled so badly into scrupulosity two years ago that I consider it a religious trauma. I relaxed, eventually, but not without having learned a lot about religion, including about Judaism. It shaped a lot of what I believe, and I deeply, deeply want to convert and be truly Jewish. I’m in love with the religion in a way I have only found pieces of in my own. But that’s the problem. I do love parts of my religion- the saints and Jesus and the mysticism. and deep down Im still terrified of a hell I don’t believe in. But no matter how many times I resolve to stay Catholic, the desire to be Jewish doesn’t leave, and I feel guilty for it. Terrified G*d will punish me for it. But do you think it’s possible to be called to follow another religious path? That, perhaps, I was born to make this choice?

Sorry if this is a lot. I’ve just been confused for like two years now so I thought I’d give asking someone else a shot. Hope you’re well

Hello beloved,

I'm finally answering this! I did not forget you, and have been thinking about your ask and praying for you in the past couple weeks. I've just been dealing with my own stuff—the delay was not because it was too unorthodox or too much, neither of which exist in my inbox :)

I wanted to start out by saying that I'm so proud of how far you've come and am so sorry you've had so much trouble. Your problems might be more internal than external, but I promise that doesn't make you a problem. You are not the problem—just thought I'd make sure you know that.

I just wanted to note that "I'm still terrified of a hell I don't believe in" is such a true and raw statement and I connect with it so deeply.

Trauma can change our lives in terrifying ways, and it's usually not what we had in mind for ourselves. The very existence of trauma implies a life-changing event(s), and so the fact that your life is changing is perfectly reasonable. Many others more knowledgeable and articulate than I have spoken about trauma, but just know that you're not alone in feeling confusion and pain.

Your relationship to faith sounds beautiful and meaningful as well as painful, and it makes me so happy that you've found beauty in religion even after experiencing trauma. There are many people for whom multiple religious traditions affect their theology—you're not alone and it's not weird.

I connect immensely to Judaism—check out my tag! Judaism is an absolutely beautiful, holy religion that any Christian with any knowledge of their history should support and affirm. We worship a traditionally Jewish god. I affirm that a Palestinian Jew brought us salvation.

Yes, I believe it's possible to be called to a religion. As a Christian, I believe that Jesus is the true Messiah, but I also believe everyone is called to serve God in different ways, and that I don't know everything. I wrote in this ask about whether only Christians would be saved, and how I look at other faiths.

I'm a Lutheran Christian not because I believe wholly in everything Christians preach, or because I don't feel connected to other traditions, but because for me, right now, this is the way I am closest to God and serve Them. Being a part of a faith community doesn't mean you agree with everything 100%, and converting doesn't mean you let go of everything you've believed in the past. You can stay connected to saints and Jesus and mysticism while pursuing a life in the Jewish tradition. Obviously different traditions look at things like this differently, but ultimately, don't let anyone take those connections you have away from you. Whether you're a Jew with connections to Catholicism or a Catholic with connections to Judaism—you'll end up kind of unorthodox either way, but you'll be you.

You were definitely born to do this. I don't know exactly what this is, mind you, but you're here and you're asking these questions for a reason, and I believe there is an existence out there for you full of peace and holiness.

Questions to ask yourself/things to think about:

In what faith space/tradition do you see yourself most able to serve God, your neighbor, and yourself?

Is the religious tradition you're in right now accepting of your connections to other faiths? Would the tradition you convert to be?

Imagine being a Catholic for your entire life. What emotions come up? Are you satisfied/fulfilled? Will you spend every moment wondering what your life would be like if you made a different choice?

Is the only reason you're still a Christian fear? Is that something you want to build your faith on? What could you build your faith on instead? What would that look like?

God will always be there. To come back to, to call by a different name, to pray to in a different language, to be angry at, to be scared of, to worship. No matter how far you think you're running or where you go, God is with you.

I wrote this ask about choosing a denomination, but some of it applies here too.

Let me know if there's anything I can do for you! Sending you so much love and keeping you in my prayers.

<3 Johanna

[hungryflowers]

You’re Different Backstage

Title: You’re Different Backstage

Rating: Explicit (NSFW)

Continuity/Fandom: Balan Wonderworld

Character Relationship(s): “Balance” Balan/Lance

Character(s): Balan, Lance

A/N: This is going to be my FIRST NSFW submission for this fandom. Do not come at me with the torches, pitch forks, knives or shotguns. I, very recently, sent myself down the rabbit hole of Balance (Balan/Lance) and kept wondering: how nice would it be to see some good ol’ fashion sexy time with the two of them? Since no one has done it yet, I thought, why don’t I? What’s stopping me? Who can stop me? NOBODY!!! So I did this. And it took me 10 days to do, so please accept my thing!! Also, also, this will probably be the longest porn w/o plot I’ve ever written. Hence why it took nearly ten days. The editing alone was bananas!! Another thing, I’d like to apologize in advance if I offend anyone here who is Non-Binary or go by They/Them pronouns. Since Lance is canonically non-binary, I tried to keep it as close to the orientation as possible. This was real hard as I usually default to male pronouns for both of them. 

However, I didn’t do the same for Balan, as he does tend to go by more male pronouns than Lance does even though they are also androgynous in appearance. Maestro is a more masculine term even if neither of them actually are. Another big thing: Balan’s genitals here. Since they don’t have actual default genitalia, I like to think that he has the ability to oscillate his genitals. He can have male and female parts just not at the same time. With that out of the way, please indulge in this steamy lil’ fan fic. And yes, I take criticism.  

Other/Warning(s): Massive smut warning!! Penetrative sex, Oral and Cunnilingus, Some minor swearing, graphic depictions of sexual situations as well as multiple orgasms.  

Lance didn’t enjoy setting the ‘mood’ as others had assumed it. They weren’t  deeply inclined to romantic, or sappy gestures like the better half of themselves had been. Balan seemed better at the sentimental side of affirmations of love and adoration. Or of praises and well-wishes that devolved into lasting conversations of love and happiness. 

No. No such things came out of Lance. They never gave in the way Balan would crave it. All they have ever wished for in turn was the physical catharsis of those suppressed feelings. Lance never called it love. Far be it from them to say what it wasn’t, but call it what it is. For them, it was just sex. The debasing art form of it too; bed-rocking, sloppy and wet, body tingling sex. That kind one would have as a means to purge the physical, mental garbage of the day and get back to work. The sex that revolved around more the need to take and not deal in the emotional ramifications. Lance’s fangs would draw in a wicked grin, the idea of that perfect, lasting till the morning time sex rarely sounding so bad. They had raptured, fantasized of the feel of Balan’s more delicate, tender frame mashed into theirs as he was ridden to a mind-blowing high that could leave them both speechless for a long while. 

They would languish in these thoughts. The perverse nature of them driving him to do insane things in search of the release from the monstrous, bone-rattling ache. For now, Lance busied themselves to look away... their thoughts hazy and muddled with the resurfacing gnaw of pursuing pleasure. Their mouth ducked into their tattered caplet, hiding the baring growl that prickled at those lips. Soft, ocean-colored eyes hardened with shock, and some surprise as they locked with Balan’s. They must’ve been so entranced with the inner turmoil, Lance never registered the glance the maestro was giving them. The Maestro of Wonderworld’s presence did things to Lance. Things they acknowledged and didn’t like. Gods, who decided to torment them so by making this being so damned beautiful and siren-like? How dare he sit with an air so casual, it appeared nothing ever bothered him? Damn him. Damn his soft, luscious and devilish curves; feminine in some ways while masculine in others. But moreover, damn those goddamn large and intelligent yellow eyes.

Golden pools shimmered deliciously in the lamplight of the slow evening. The theater was always quiet at night. It was period of reflection, relaxation. Or maybe a time to finish some old project. Maybe begin anew. For Balan tonight however, it was his time to catch up on a few good reads. He hadn’t picked up a good novel in some time. Usually the only papers he read were his rough drafts of scripts and plans. But he loved to read. When he didn’t harass Lance with trivial tasks, or for the nuisance of conversation, Balan read. If not that, he wrote. He was a maestro of the craft; short stories, full-lengths, prompts and scenarios, or sometimes just a journal entry. On this night he didn’t busy himself with putting quill to parchment. 

Balan's mouth opened, a sound coming out but no words. He wasn’t entirely sure how to ask about Lance’s wellbeing with being snapped at. The other appearing to be in a dour mood tonight. Placing the book on the small, rounded oak table Balan unfolded his legs to stand. He stretched idly, rubbing at the back of his top hat before pulling it off his head to fluff out his bouncy mint-colored dreads. Humming a little tune, Balan rummaged through his showman jacket, pulling out a golden rubber band to tie his long dreads back. The tendrils folded down his shoulders neatly once they were out of the way, exposing the intricately made heart marking atop his dark forehead. 

His eyes fanned over the negati’s hidden features before he walked over to the bar on the far side of the room. Opening one of the cabinets, he pulled out an aged bottle of wine; the label slightly tarnished and dusty read in calligraphic silver “Caraveét”. He grabbed gold-rimmed chalices, pouring the shimmering iris colored wine into each of the glasses. He grinned, smelling the sweet and tart flavors. He took a slow sip from his glass before tapping the bar table with his gloved fingers, the racketing bring Lance out of their stupor.

“Did you want some?”, He inquired, hoping the swirling liquid would ease the storm that ravaged the negati, “You seem a bit broody tonight. Perhaps, a couple of glasses should ease both our minds.” The maestro chuckled giddily raising his glass as it gleamed in the low light. 

Lance regarded the glass, then the maestro as he walked over to them. The tentacles on their back lashed so abruptly, Lance had to do a non-verbal apology when they knocked over a few chairs by accident. They weren’t brooding. Not even mad, but they were feeling something. Just not sure how to find the words for it. 

Balan’s eyes drifted to Lance’s, regarding them. Waiting for them to answer the question they most likely didn’t hear in the first place. 

“What?” The tone was not to be a biting, agitated type yet Lance couldn’t make themselves look at Balan, knowing full well the turmoil they were in.

“Nothing... I was just asking if you would like a glass of wine? You are more the brooding lot than usual. Drink with me.” Balan’s playful baritone voice felt like velvet as it caressed their ears. That voice caused Lance to sulk further more, hiding their face inside the caplet as the thoughts, seeming to feel more like whispers of temptation, dominated their rational thinking. 

He took the offered glass yet chose not to drink of any of it. Instead he loomed over the rim as Balan took a long swig of his. 

Lance licked at their lips, unknowing of the gesture. They would give more than anything to kiss the taste off of Balan’s lips. Or just to kiss them at all. They had wondered what it would be like to feel the maestro’s lips tentatively licking, caressing theirs in a heated lip-lock. The maddening thoughts came back tenfold, causing the other in audible snarl, attempting to shut them away. 

“Lance... are you okay?” They heard Balan on the bridge of their conscious, the other’s voice like a muddling hum as they stood up quickly to move in front of Balan. The other, not knowing how to judge the move, backed into the bar, his glass still in hand while he searched the eyes of Lance. They appeared to be wild, nearly frantic with an energy Lance never expressed. 

Lance leered at the other silently before pushing himself right into the maestro’s form; trapping him in front of the wood lacquer. Balan’s fleeing gaze made Lance smile. Not grin... smile. His mouth perking with something that could not be said as his hands went to Balan’s cravat, pulling the other slowly toward him. 

“No...”, Lance confessed, eyes lulling closed dreamily, “I am not okay. And you are to blame.” That smile showed off the fangs, the points flitting in the soft lamplight. 

Balan could not fully process what was going on before Lance leaned in fully to capture the other’s lips. Night after night, they had dreamt up this moment and even now they cannot believe they had gotten this far. It was far better than any dream or wish; light blue eyes sliding closed as a slender tongue went past the maestro’s parted, stunned mouth. That moment caused a ripple of shock to seize Balan, contents of his glass spilling onto the floor, no doubt leaving a stain that’ll have to be dealt with. He didn’t even have the knowledge of dropping it, yellow eyes staring at Lance’s softened face before he willed himself to kiss back. His hands, once frozen indecisively, pulled Lance in close.  

Neither were sure how it had come to this, but Balan didn’t have the heart in him to make Lance stop. A small purr rumbled the kiss as Lance began to pull off. They disconnected breathlessly, only the small tail of spittle between them. Their breaths were heavy and hot, burning like steam with each exhale. It took the maestro to gather his bearings before his mouth was able to work again. 

“W-Why am I to blame?? Lance what’s happened to you?” Balan felt as if he knew what was about to happen, and tried his best to make it all make sense. He was normally in a lot more control in surprise like situations; yet here... he was unable to predict the sheer tumbling force that Lance was portraying. 

“You’ll understand soon enough,” Lance whispered, deftly kissing down Balan’s neck, inky-black hair brushing amethyst sparkled cheeks, “I’ll make you understand.” They said louder with a growl that exposed fangs.

Purrs rumble through Lance as they fumbled with anything that would be able to get Balan’s ensemble off. Instantly they are met with resistance as Balan shoves at them, hands going to the sharp shoulders defensively. 

“Lance! What do you think you’re doing?!” Balan exclaimed, standing his ground before Lance doubles their efforts to expose the maestro. They are only slimly successful when get to expose Balan’s upper shoulder; the tear just big enough to reveal swirling lines of golden runes, “Have you lost your mind?!”

 The other refuses to answer him, bringing themselves flush against Balan to kiss down the exposed markings. 

Had they managed to lose their mind? Lance would have to give that some thought later on. In the afterglow. But first, they’d have to get down from the tantalizing high that has them under a spell. Their lips brushed softly down the exposed skin, running lightly over the maestro’s clothed arm. Gods, both of them just had on too many layers. Lance flared up, frustrated by the inability to firmly feel the decadent skin.

“Lance, let me go!” Balan demanded, the command in his voice barely swaying Lance to push off him. He was losing control of the situation. And the scary part of it was that was what he wanted. Balan would have been lying to himself if he said that he didn’t want this. Yet to get it from Lance this way was never a part of the plan. 

“You don’t want me to let you go.” Lance stated, eyes twinkling with more than just mischief behind them.

“Yes I do!” Balan choked out, his act and bravado beginning to fail him.

“Then why are you pulling yourself into me?” Lance chuckled, allowing their hands to wander down Balan’s waist.

“I’m-” He stammered not expecting to see or know that he had been pulling Lance closer the entire time. Forbid it all, he wanted this negati more than anything right now. And he was showing how badly. Damn his body for this. He was normally in better control of his reactions, this lapse should not have been tolerated. 

His be-speckled face shown with the brewing embarrassment of being caught before shoving himself a bit harder, finally escaping Lance’s grasp. The poor thing looked a fright; face flushing a deep violet, hair askew as it rolled down his shoulders and back, teeth clenched in discomfort as he attempted to steady his breathing. His chest must’ve rattled from the urge to scream at Lance. Instead he stamped off, refusing to let Lance see how flustered he became. He’ll have to be in his room for a while to work out the steam that began to build.

He didn’t get far as a few tendrils of inky black wrapped around the other’s waist. He could hardly make a verbal protest while being pulled back into the other’s form. Large claws going up his neck, arresting Balan’s smooth belly as the tendrils dipped further. The tentacles moved lively, squeezing and pulling on the other as Lance’s hands swept and groomed over the maestro’s suit. When one hand dipped between Balan’s legs, he seized up. 

Yellow eyes dilated, Lance’s touch freezing his mind. The groan that escaped him was not intended yet was enough to make Lance’s groin ache. He was going to force those sounds out of Balan. In one way or the other. Their night was going to be fulled with these delicious noises. The tendrils smoothed over him, probing the other perversely. 

“Lance...please.” Balan became unaware of what he was begging for. He wanted this to stop, but he also felt like he’d regret refusing. This Lance... was much different than the one he’d encountered previously. The change felt real jarring; since they never made moves into his personal space. For anything. Least of all... This! He wanted to see where this could go. How much better it could get. 

His own hands skimmed over Lance’s suit, prompting the other to loosen their grip as Balan slid away from the tendrils. Balan took one coil in between his fingers, golden eyes gazing into the blue ones. The heat behind the other’s eyes made Lance shudder, a harsh sigh coming from his mouth as Balan took the tip of Lance’s tendril into his. The look stayed as the tendril came from Balan’s mouth, his tongue connecting it. The appendage darted out to swipe at the excess spittle left behind, the maestro’s eyes still glowing with a renewed heat. 

The action prompted a sneer from Lance’s features, their hand waving for a portal to open up behind Balan. The maestro gasped, turning to the hazy violet-colored portal. The shout of shock was to be expected as he was shoved right through it, the residual tethers of Lance’s self control snapping audibly as it receded. 

The overwhelmed, unknowing audience of Tims sat, wiggled, waddled and creeped up to sit in the place both beings had been.

                           ______________________________

It was not the fall that left him breathless as he landed on the massive expanse of what felt like a lavish bed. It wasn’t the deep contrasting colors of purple and gold accents that were illuminated by rainbow-esque runes and paintings of Negati markings throughout the immense, intimate space. Nor was it the pulsating rivets of scarlet that blended salaciously with the black and purple blankets and amassing of huge, plumy pillows. 

Lance himself left him utter breathless; transfixing him, mesmerizing him with the oscillating negati runes that gleamed in the room. Lance had never done this display before. Their runes barely pulsed or shined vibrantly whenever they were around each other. Evermore rarer when he was alone. The runes gave him an ethereal hue that the nighttime sky couldn’t rival. He brushed that thought away as Lance struggled out of their wardrobe, hardly mindful of seams, buttons or zippers as the top half of his shorn cloak was disposed of somewhere in the low lit room. Balan flinched yet shuddered at the ferocity Lance had showcased in removing his own tunic and darker colored vest from underneath. With his chest exposed; the tapestry of rune lines and fuchsia gleaming in the violet backdrop of the room, he was on Balan.

The maestro’s bright color scheme contrasted a great deal with the whole room, snow white wrapped in gold and scarlet with the fettering of navy with his undershirt. The colors screamed obnoxiously in comparison, and Lance wanted them all off. Balan looked on, dazed by the negati while Lance’s -no longer gloved, dark- fingers delved to pull apart the top of the collar, effortlessly tearing it asunder, a low suffering sound coming from the maestro but not much else. He would figure that Lance would be like this. There was no such thing as intimacy or care with the negati. Everything he touched broke in his hands. Balan knows well that this time will be no different.

 Those warmed hands skimmed over the prone body, fingers probing through the opened seams of the tattered clothings. They tickled him, a warm and fuzzy sensation spreading throughout the squirming frame. Balan felt lips on his chest, hands assisting in the pleasing endeavor while the other arched and shook. His mouth opened in an exhalation of steaming desire. When Lance pinched a nipple, Balan shot upwards in heated rebellion, forcing Lance to restrain him with his tendrils. 

He was about to demand that Lance release him yet was cowed into silence by a startling growl, “This ends if you keep moving.” That voice, their voice had done something to the maestro. In other instances, Balan would have fought Lance until the other relented control, but during this... he went oddly still, placate as Lance continued to trace a trail of kisses down his chest. He brought his hips forward and up as the negati began kissing down his belly, stopping shy of the seam of his pants. Warm hands went into the other’s pants, the kindled heat coming off of Balan’s genitals enough to make Lance purr. 

The maestro struggled against the hold as Lance pulled his pants down, heeled boots joining them as pile on the floor; kissing trails down his waist and down his legs. When the teeth pricked his skin, Balan thrashed. His face aglow with purplish speckles that brightened with his flush. He sparkled everywhere; cheeks, chest, hips and down the markings of his illuminated, swirling markings. Even the tendrils of his hair began to glow a slight with the forbidden heat. The hold on the restraints doubled.

“What did I just say?” Lance growled, the reverberating making Balan tense.

“L-Lance! Lance...”, Balan was calling to him yet couldn’t reach him as the negati roughly rid him of his clothing. Nearly naked, Balan shivered in the cool of the room as well as under the heated gaze of the negati, whom crawled up his frame to, again, kiss and lick at his newly glowing speckles, “Please... don’t stop! Please, Lance.” The maestro whispered pleas were a shock to the negati’s ears. He still wanted to punish him for fighting but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was becoming so lost to the feelings. 

“Save your voice, pet...”, Lance whispered as his fingers slipped past the maestro’s brightly colored panties, feeling him for the first time, “It is too premature for you to be screaming for me now.” He chuckled more as his folds became reactive to the fingers smoothing them over, luscious wetness forming inside the panties. 

Balan’s eyes widened, the shock of Lance’s finger boldly touching him made him to squirm, his own palm moving atop the negati’s. Much to Lance’s surprise, he didn’t hinder him yet chose to guide his fingers even closer, near enough for them to breach the delectable, delicate walls. Sun-yellow eyes rolled back once he felt one fingertip push its way inside, stopping short of sinking in completely. The maestro’s moan was unabashedly loud, body rolling in venture of more fingers. Lance marveled with fascination at the other’s willingness; form softening as he shook his head to and fro in delirium. He couldn’t stop shaking, lithe body aroused as the finger came from his wet sex. He smelt utterly delicious, dripping the natural nectar like a perfectly ripe fruit. His tongue slipped out to have a taste of it... and it had been everything he had hoped for. 

The aroma of the finest wine with the scintillating notes of vanilla and lavender. His cock pulsed in his own pants, over eager for its own taste. 

In horny glee, Lance yanked off the maestro’s panties, tossing the last piece of clothing into the darkness of his chambers in order to marvel at the most succulent sight in between the other’s rune spiraled legs. The plump lips of the vulva were just perfect enough to kiss, the natural wetness dribbling onto the blankets, glittering a soft purple as it did. The negati locked eyes with the heated, glazed expression before moving to take Balan’s mouth in a heated, soft kiss. The other kissed back with more fervor than before, free hand going behind Lance’s head to drag him down. 

 They pulled away with a long, loud sigh. The other scoring hot in contrast to the sheets beneath. Balan splayed his legs more, allowing for more room.

Lance grabbed up his thighs roughly, pulling him to the end of the bed to comfortably rest on their knees. Without much warning, Lance dipped his mouth right onto the humming lips of his vulva. That tongue went right to work at lapping up the sticky juices in and around those lips, a soft chuckle coming out of Lance as Balan shouted in lewd desire. His giant hands went right to Lance’s head, twining his fingers in the other’s hair as he shook and shimmied to the lapping tongue, hips arching to bring those lips closer to his pussy. 

Lance focused on the luscious flavor of his cunt, dragging Balan closer to them as the maestro attempted to pull back. Their grasp got tighter the harder Balan fought against the hold.  He felt the other’s grip in his hair, the tugging just enough to keep Lance deep. He lost his mind to Lance’s teeth grazing the top of his clit before sucking hard on his folds.

“Gods! Uhh, huh, L-L-Lance!”, Balan stammered, the corner of his eyes prickling with unshed tears while he fought and screamed into Lance’s lips. He was in heaven, but damn him if he’d admit that to the Negati. Balan flailed his head, mint-colored dreads going all over as he lost all semblance of control, “Dear gods Lance! Please! I cannot take...!” Balan pleaded for him to stop, to show any mercy on him as an intense rush of savage, carnal desire shot through him. When the other didn’t heed him, he wept. A startled sob ripped from his gasping maw as he arched into Lance’s rippling tongue. 

Lance backed off in order to awe at the loss of self control Balan was beginning to display. He took in the panting, shaking mess of a maestro before his very eyes; mouth hanging open as he greedily swallowed gulps of air, body aquiver with mind melting lust, hands holding his head like a vice as those sinful thighs wrapped around him. The sight of him made the negati moan unintentionally, tongue plundering the maestro. The vibrations of it caused Balan to clench on him and scream, both hands abandoning Lance’s hair to slide against the cooler sheets. 

“Oh! Oh gods, please, please...” The maestro whimpered, body relishing in that feeling while his mind boiled in intensity. 

Lance, accounting for Balan’s behavior, moaned louder and longer against the lips of Balan’s clit, as well as kept their tongue inside with the intent to find his G-spot. They kept at it for sometime, their tongue buried deep as their hands massaged over Balan’s heated, dark thighs. They kept the maestro as close as they could as they tongued the bundle of nerves located far up the other’s pelvis. 

“Wait! Wait! Lance please... don’t...please-” He hardly could finish the plea as instant rapture shot through his frame, causing him to clench on Lance’s tongue in a spine-melting orgasm. His mouth hung open in a room-rocking cry as his body snapped rigid, arms behind him as he grasped tight on the sheets. His chest thudded rapidly to his erratic breathing. His flesh clenching and tingling around Lance’s tongue the climax continued through him. There would be no reprieve however as he became rigged again, legs snapping around Lance’s head suddenly with another powerful orgasm. 

Lance had not stopped even through the second climax. Not even with Balan wailing in what could be felt as pain. The silky walls gushed with his essence, the liquid sex simmering on the negati’s tongue as they drank it. A pleasured laugh rippled through them as they pressed hard kisses to the top of Balan’s pussy. Kissing it several more times as Balan screamed at them in another language. They still didn’t stop as he felt the other kicking at them with feverish intent. When he almost clambered away, Lance reinforced their hold to plunge their tongue into him again. 

“For gods sake Lance! I can’t take anymore! Stop, please! I beg of you!” He wailed as tears streamed down his face. 

An empathetic grimace came to Lance’s face as they finally relinquished his hold on the thoroughly ruined maestro. Their lips were deliciously wet with the slick of the other’s sex, the taste even better than the wine he captured on Balan’s lips only moments ago. He watched him roll on the sheets, finding some balance of his overheated body and the cold contrast of the dark sheets. Deliriously, he crooned and purred as he came down from the high. It took him about five minutes total to calm himself. And then he smacked Lance’s shoulder. Hard. 

“Bastard! I told you to stop! What in the hell would it have taken for you to listen to me?!” He hissed, eyes narrowing darkly as he sat up. He seemed the opposite of pleased at the moment. A contrast that Lance felt prepared to deal with. Can’t please some people. The sentiment literal in Balan’s case. 

“You were fine with me not a few minutes ago.” Lance jabbed as they groaned at the pressing of that erection against their tight pants. The glare Balan shot at Lance made the other’s ears pin low. 

“That was before I had two orgasms in a row, heathen! You should have more respect for me. And be more receptive Lance. This isn’t just about you!!” He snapped. Nope. None too pleased at all. 

Lance blinked, “This... wasn’t about me. Trust that if it were; I would’ve fucked you through this bed. The only reason I didn’t do that is because I want to see you cum. I’ve only ever heard that-”

“Wait, wait a minute. You’ve heard me climax?” Balan started, a touch confused. 

“In your bedroom, when you think you’re alone. True, there are no visitors around but someone was always in the theater,” Lance purred as soft as a breeze. The negati smiled at the brightening embarrassment on Balan’s face, wishing now he had his hat to hide it. It softened them so seeing the normally composed, bombastic maestro reduced to a shivering, blushing mess. Gingerly as allowed, Lance caught Balan’s face, causing the other to look at them, “I guess I just wanted to put the face to the voice. And I am not disappointed.”

Lance leaned over to kiss the still warm cheek of the maestro as the other side-eyed him, the smallest smile forming. 

“I’m... not used to this side of you. You’re normally so far away from me. In fact doing you’re very best to stay out of my sight. Even when I want you there. You know...”, A slow pause before Balan finished the thought, “You are different... too bad we both have to be backstage to see it.” 

“I’m different backstage?!”, Lance’s long ears perked at the comment, not ever having someone feel or compare the sentiment, “I’ll remember that then. Do you want me to continue then? Or would you rather sulk about how I never know about your needs and cues?” Lance’s eyes sparkled with a mischief that could rival Balan’s.

“Yes, damn you. That...was a genuine experience.” He giggled, the noise a delight to Lance’s ears, leaning back on the plushy pillows, tendrils sprawling out comfortably behind him. With a singular exhale Balan relaxed against the sheets, hands going in his hair, fiddling with and tossing a singular white sliver of his tendrils. Only... it wasn’t his hair, Lance noticed and then raised an unseen brow in suspicion. 

“Is that... an ear?” They breathed a laugh as Balan hid it in his hair again. When he sat up, it confirmed everything that Lance thought prior; he had the same ears as they did, a slight longer, floppier and appeared to be super soft. The negati’s eyes sparkled as they pulled out the hidden appendages, wondering why they hadn’t noticed them until now. 

“I-I-I never liked them. They’re long, cumbersome and don’t fit under my hat properly. So I just have been tying them back along with my dreadlocks. Wha? Why are you pulling them?!” Balan shrieked, his sensitive membranes folding as Lance fiddled with them. The stark white with the hue of light green made the ears stand out, the occasional flap picking up the slightest noise. 

“Why hide them? I think they’re absolutely wonderful.” Lance emphasized as they waggled their own long, dark ears. Their ears sat higher than the maestro’s and didn’t bend as much. He crawled over to the negati, aligning his hips in between the others legs with care. Their pulsing erection awoke his deepest desires, causing Lance to grind their clothed crotch into Balan’s exposed one. He gasps weakly, feeling the outline of the negati’s cock against his sensitive folds, gloved hands moving up Lance’s arms to bring them in for a deep kiss. 

Consumed by more the kiss than the passion behind it Lance drove their tongue deep into Balan’s mouth, tasting the other’s breath and intermingling the taste of his fluid sex. Balan’s tongue stuck out as Lance’s lips engulfed them, teeth grazing over the appendage while Balan groaned hotly. He brought his head higher, the expert work of that tongue making him drunker than any alcohol. The longer it went, the more impatient the maestro became; his hands going from Lance’s arms to dip into their pants to rip out the other’s cock. 

Lance’s eyes flew open as hands peeled off their pants and pulled out their cock, the member free from the strain at last. They’d never lie to themselves about not feeling relieved. The darker phallus was impressive at best; thick in girth and longer than Balan’s, some negati rune marks trailed on either sides of their crotch and lower hips, and the tip looked spire like yet appeared to be soft to the touch. Balan would find out soon enough. 

“I get it. This is moving too slow. But I thought that you’d appreciate it.” Lance inquired, chest rippling in steady laughter. It felt like a punishment for forcing Balan to ride out his first orgasms. 

Balan didn’t speak as he shoved Lance over, raising himself atop the other. Seated on their lap Balan took in the sight of his paramour, and just how dazzling they appeared. Chest rising and falling with softened breaths, the runes coming to life again in a brief flashes of multicolored lights, but he couldn’t stop looking at the other’s face. The heart marking atop his forehead blazing almost vermillion instead of the darker pink it usually was, their small fangs bared, glittering in the soft purple hue of the bed chambers. 

He leant down, kissing the long neck, chest, pressing his lips hard onto his ribs and trailed a heated kiss down their pelvis; stopping just short of that maleness. He spared them a coy heated glance before kissing the drooling tip, eyes going to Lance to see their reaction. The other tensed, mewling the moment they felt those lips, tip swelling on demand.  

“I’m going to suck the soul out of you. Just as you had did to me.” The heat in those words made it more fact than statement and Lance couldn’t wait long enough. They could have never imagined having the current maestro of Wonderworld’s mouth on their dick. To be honest, they could not imagine any of this happening right now. There was something so decadent and sinful about the way Balan talked dirty. Such things were just never heard from such an angelic mouth. 

He stopped thinking altogether as Balan removed his gloves, throwing them onto one bedside table to fist his thickness roughly, stroking the lengthy girth. Thumbing over the head, he gauged how steady Lance was, the swelling member making the maestro’s mouth drip with unshed spittle. From the way he opened his mouth and sucked in them in deeply, Lance could have sworn that he had done this before yet can never remember a time this would ever happen. 

“Ohhh yes! Balan...” Lance’s lungs stopped working the second Balan’s tongue encircled the head and bobbled repeatedly, his saliva silkening his hot length. Lance shuddered, moaning deeply as the tendrils on their back came back to life and spread across Balan’s pussy, massaging the outer vulva instead of the velvet walls. The sensation caused the maestro to moan around the dick in his mouth, a chain reactive shiver from Lance followed. 

Balan slowly rocked on the tentacles that fondled on his folds as he swallowed down more of Lance, lips almost resting on their crotch before pulling off. Soon the maestro began working his hands with his tongue, hands pulling at the medium sized balls as the underside of the long cock was stroked by Balan’s tongue. 

The tentacles worked Balan harder, the other groaning loudly with the near penetration on one tendril. The movement caused Lance to swear, hands digging into his hair, pushing the mint colored coils out of his face. 

“Don’t stop Balan! Please don’t stop!”, Lance cried as they got closer to an explosive release. The vision of seeing cum painting the maestro’s immaculate, lovely face caused a shudder to surge out unconsciously. The tentacles groped the silky vulva with an intensity that caused Balan to pull off the other’s cock to choke out a cry. 

“Lance!,” Balan called, drippings of drool falling onto the sheets as he shivered on the tentacles that never penetrated. He growled low as he pushed himself back on the largest of the tentacles, the bulb going right into his pussy, slicked with the welcomed wetness, “Ha, oh yess.” He crooned before stuffing the throbbing cock back into his mouth, pumping and sucking with the same vigor as the tentacle inside. 

Lance mumbled something in a different language, thrusting into Balan’s warm mouth, along with the tentacle slipping through the sticky mess seeping from his tightening walls. They could barely muster the maestro’s name as a ringing sound flushed through their ears, body going tight as a bow while Balan swallowed down the cock fully. Their hands dug into the other’s hair making sure Balan was close enough to swallow all of the rich, violet colored seed as it splashed down his throat. The tentacle widened inside of his pussy, pushing on the clit with the vibration of its master’s climax.

They thrashed in zeal as Balan continued to suck them dry, not worried about the veiny tentacle that fucked him deep. He was determined to live up to his statement; soft, warm hands smoothing over Lance’s sharp hips as he swallowed him down more, moaning and whimpering as the length sputtered more seed. When the tentacle pushed more into the G-spot, Balan cried out, forcing his hips down to rock with his new orgasm. He had to get the cock out of his mouth in order breathe a bit proper as his walls vibrated with the climax.

The room became blanketed in a contented silence as they both came from their highs; Lance’s chest heaving air as Balan sat on their hips to find his mind. He purred with fervor as the tentacle slipped out of his cunt.

“That was good, yes?” Balan inquired, eyes wide and soft, body just as soft and pliant as he awaited a reply. The poor darling was self-conscious. A trait he never displayed when performing for anyone, nor anything. 

Lance’s laugh brightened the maestro’s be-speckled face, ears twitching with the tenor of sound.

“That was the best head I’ve ever gotten, my lune-light. And you did what you said you would do.” Lance spoke breathlessly while they leant up to brush their forehead against Balan’s. The feathery kiss, as well as the compliment, drove the other to keen delightedly, ears flapping in exuberance. 

“Your... ears. They flap whenever you’re excited or praised don’t they?” Oh, Lance was about to be so evil now. The sly grin invited as much. 

Balan nodded his head, not even knowing he was acknowledging the question, smiling and flushing like mad as he did. 

“Look at you. Flushed, heated and so devilishly handsome. A most salacious siren you turned into,” Lance growled as they pulled himself up but kept Balan in his lap, “A gorgeous being like you deserves to be drenched in the most opulent of pleasures. The thickest form of desire. Do you want me to worship you?” That damning voice caused Balan to shudder and grasp them in desperation. 

“Yes! Worship me, worship my very body, revere it!”, He shouted, no longer bringing himself to care about anything other than the euphoria, “I want to feel you in me, on me, all over me!” Heat basked from his body as his ears flapped, mouth open in heavy pants. His naked cunt rocked on Lance’s cock, not sinking in fully. The movement caused Lance to spur into action, going on their knees to better to better position Balan, the maestro spreading his thighs eagerly on Lance’s lap. 

Lance’s fingers intertwined with Balan’s, his hands warm and only touch wet. They pressed their teeth into the skin, reveling in the dark wrists that glowed subtly with golden accents and swirling patterns. Lance repeated the motion, tongue lapping at both wrists, palms and fingers. Lance felt the smoothness of the maestro’s beautiful hands. Their eyes shimmering in reverence as they pressed sweet kisses to each fingertip slowly. Their own hands felt up his palms; still so warm and just as silky soft. That tongue continued to trace the long golden lines, taking his time to press his lips into his wrists. 

“Balan...” There weren’t enough words for Lance to say, or piece together for the time spent with each other. Nothing could prepare either of them for the sheer intensity of this new emotion. Melding of carnal lusts neither have the ability to describe. So for the first time tonight... Lance stopped talking. Letting only their bodies say so much more. 

Steadying him, Lance brought Balan down on the hard thickness slowly, agonizing slow. The maestro’s glint was hot and heady, hands going to Lance’s shoulders as support. Lance heaved a hot moan, aligning the next thrust directly into the maestro. There wasn’t a need to test if the other was ready for it or not; his tightness giving way subtly with each small piston. The fiery gaze of Balan soften into kindled embers once he was fully seated on the other’s cock. He was starting to perspire, a reaction that Balan never had to anything in his life. Rushing sweat beaded down his neck, his chest and around his waist glazing him in a hue of condensation that began to make his body slippery. 

They stayed in each other’s laps for a second before Lance thrust upwards, igniting Balan’s tongue again. He cried out in another language, most likely a swear considering the dialect. He groaned weakly, his body submitting to the roughness Lance invited with each movement. The moment Lance had worked out the rhythm the thrusts became harsher, more precise, pinpointing the exact spot to hammer him into a delectable frenzy. Lance’s breaths got rougher, louder, more of their teeth becoming exposed as they snarled in ecstasy. 

Balan could barely hold on. Literally. His grip on Lance’s shoulders loosened each time the negati impaled him, the motions making him too sensitive, body on fire. Though barely cognitive, Balan did his best to rock up to meet with his thorough pounding. Moving his hips at an angle, Balan caught the ribs of Lance’s spired phallus, screaming out as it stabbed him. 

The maestro’s screams did something primal to Lance, the sex-fueled fire warping and corrupting their licentious mind. 

“You like it?”, The negati spoke deeply, the baritone voice smokey and laced like a honey-tipped whiskey glass, “Look at yourself. Becoming undone with just my cock. You cannot comprehend how fucking devilish you are! Siren!” Lance dragged Balan down, further stabbing him with the rigged member. They were so close yet weren’t about to go if Balan didn’t first. They were going to see the maestro climax on his dick. There would be nothing to stop it now. Astoundingly, Balan replied to the question, voice much like Lance’s yet tremulous in its form.

“Yes! I love it, I love you!,” His gaze meets the others in an embrace that Lance cannot escape from, “I love you so much, don’t stop please.” The plea is whispered as the remainder of Balan’s self control is pounded out of him. His lanky legs surrounding the negati, forcing them to stay the course as his cunt devours them hungrily. 

It becomes too much for Lance; the fucking, the confession... just the sounds of Balan’s voice as they fuck. They snap forward hard, cock slamming the maestro’s pelvis as they climax, taking Balan right with them. The guttural snarl that surges from Lance actually scares Balan, those golden eyes wide with an erotic fear of the other before it fades with a deep-bodied orgasm that reverberates through his soul. He wails out, the pleasure so cavernous it eats him alive, body stiffening to the point of pain, absolution and exultation drowning him in high waves. His clit sucks Lance of everything; reason, sense, the will to stop. He trembles at the feeling of the other’s seed shooting inside of him, viscous ropes of cum shoot forth as Lance loses the rhythm of their own thrusts. 

They stop fully when Balan’s cunt loosens its hold, the negati falling forward atop the messy sheets. Balan makes a cry of something between pain and pleasure when he is flopped on his back with Lance atop him. Lance’s member has yet to soften inside the other’s creamy walls, the spired tip rubbing on Balan’s g-spot. 

The room falls silent again, save for the heavy pants and breathless laughs from the two. Neither recovering fast enough as the euphoria drains all other sensations from their bones. Lance’s spine is dexterous as wet spaghetti, mouth open in loud gulps of air. Balan fares no better, legs twitching uncontrollably. Bare chest dripping with sweat, golden markings along his arms and stomach gleaming and flickering in the contrasting violet lights. His coils are drenched as well, pouring over his eyes and messily over his face. Speckled markings aglow with the shades of amethyst make him look pulchritudinous. 

Lance raise themselves up, both of their hands going on either side of the exhausted maestro’s supine form, loins still burning from the near volcanic heat from their fucking. They readjust their position, body flush to the other, seeming to never be close enough. They smile softly as Balan smiled chastely at them. 

“That was fantastic... honestly the best sex I’ve ever had.” Balan complimented, his eyes not as glazed from before. 

“Good to know, but I hope you didn’t start thinking it was over?” Lance drawled, the tone eerily lustful.

Balan stares quizzically. How could anyone want another go after that?

“You want to go again?”

“Just one more?,” Lance breathily laughed as their hips rock gently, phallus a touch harder than prior, “If it helps, you can lie on your back and I’ll handle the rest.” They lean over Balan, kissing his cheeks and the heart on his forehead. 

Balan rolled his eyes. He wasn’t complaining about another time, but his body sure was. He internally decided one more bout wouldn’t cause too much strain. 

“Lancelot, the insatiable one. Who knew you’d be addicted to my cunt?” Balan chuckled; the nickname still an endearment to Lance. It would be rude to lie about how the name made them warm on the inside. And hearing that sugared voice utter it with a playful air softened the negati. 

“Not just your cunt... but you as well. I love you too.” The words came out before Lance knew. Their lips moved yet didn’t have any prior knowledge of it until seeing the way Balan stiffened, long ears swaying upwards at the words.

Both of their chests fluttered; Lance never expected to say those words during sex. This...this was not supposed to be about love. And yet, it was all Lance had on their mind. They had Balan now. All they would have to do is love him. In more than this way. With all of this joy they had felt in the confession, the familiar ick of something tar-like bubbled to the surface. Lance’s mind honed in on all the deprecating things the voice said.

‘What? You can love? Oh Lance... it will be ruined by you so soon.’

‘You once loved...and look at what it turned you into!’

‘This is sex Lance... that’s all it will. ever. be.’

‘He can only feel pity for loving a monster like you’.

The voices began to make Lance physically sick. No matter how hard Lance tried, they wouldn’t be willed quiet. They began to tremble uselessly, a sob retching from the negati as those thoughts and words; their own words swallowed them.

The maestro lunged forward, planting a kiss on the other’s lips. The cathartic heat that came from it brought Lance out of their head, focusing on the other below them. They both stayed lip-locked for a moment, Balan kissing as if Lance were about to drown any minute. The kiss saving them from themselves for a moment like this. The voices dissipated, barely a hum coming from the back of Lance’s mind. They didn’t matter. Only Balan did. The kiss ending when Balan pressed those lips to the fuchsia colored heart atop Lance’s brow.  

The touch was so gentle. So tender that it made Lance’s heart swell.

They looked down at Balan, who smiled pleasantly back at them. The look of love so much more than it could ever be. ‘It’s okay. You’re okay’ is what those golden pools spoke even if Lance didn’t hear it aloud. There wouldn’t be a need to. 

In spite of how small it was; Lance smiled. The motion felt real. He hadn’t had a genuine smile in over a thousand years. Gods, when was the last time he felt pure happiness unfold in his heart? There’d be a time and place to think on that later as they shifted Balan’s hips more, grinding forward, hips shifting to reawaken his long erection. The stings of pleasure rode through Balan, arms going behind his head to grab for the jumbled mess of velvet purple blankets. A small whine went past his lips as Lance’s midline bumped against Balan’s pelvis again, causing a flare of scorching desire to arise. The maestro never subdued, or otherwise suppressed his moans. He would allow Lance the ability to hear how he felt for him. 

The negati gripped Balan beneath his thighs, pulling his legs away so they could splay open. The new position allowed Balan to relax instead of trying to readjust too often. 

A surprised gasp from the maestro made Lance look at his face; the beatific expression of this dazzling, bewitching and downright mesmeric creature spurring Lance to pump into him harder. The be-speckled maestro had his eyes closed, turning out the warm, shimmering pools of the richest gold many would never see. 

“Please lune-light, open your eyes for me.” The reciprocal adulation of love  Lance gave could break someone’s heart and warm another’s but it was his tone that made Balan’s eyes open; aroused and so husky. When he looked upon the negati, a form of ardor seeped through him. A shy smile graced his features as he nuzzled into Lance’s chest. 

“Ohhh, say that again. Call me that again,” He whispered as his body arched with the deeper, slower thrusts, “I need to hear it again, Lance.” He began pining for the sound of the other’s voice, chest heaving in irregular patterns. Long ears flicked up, picking up the sounds of Lance’s exertions as they grounded each other closer to climax. 

“Lune-light...my lovely lune-light, you are so stunning.” Lance cooed, eyes warm as they watched Balan’s ears flap in jubilance. They fucked into him harder, faster when Balan’s hands went from the sheets to cling to Lance’s arms in order to steady himself. He was succumbing again, mind lost as avaricious lust ensnared his visage. 

Lance repositioned one hand to grab the maestro’s tight waist and underneath his back, slowing their thrusts first in order to shift a portion of their weight to sink in deeper. They kissed the inner thigh of Balan’s left leg as the other hand grabbed there and held him tight. The new position brought Balan’s ass up from the bed, both legs hanging on either side of Lance as they brought their pelvis’s together. The negati had to get to their knees for the next part to become effective, sprawling their hips a little. When they had gotten in position, they leant over to press another reverent kiss to Balan’s forehead, the friction causing the maestro to growl. 

“Move. Lance, I beg you.” Balan’s resistance melted a long time ago as his hands tightened around Lance’s upper arms. 

When they move, Balan’s equilibrium gets flipped upside down. The position had the maestro screaming so loud, Lance tipped their ears down to block out the sound. The reaction was instant, the gorgeous being’s mouth flying open as he threw his head back with each stroke. His hands scrambled for purchase of the negati as he began thrusting back on the other’s cock. Body spasming at the rippling sensations. 

The change in position did wonders for Lance as well; they were able to take in all of the other’s grace, elegance and succulent desire. The screams of pure ecstasy powered Lance onward, eyes half-lidding as they aimed their thrusts. Lance felt the maestro’s bruising grasp loosen, the body tightening from the exertion. He looked as if he was going to lose his mind again; assuming he had ever found it after the first few times. 

“Look at this.... look at you,” Lance growled, hands leaving Balan’s waist to drag the other further down, “This is what I have been wishing for. I’ve have been waiting for you and this! Gods, now that I have you, I’m not letting you go.” The negati enunciated a portion of their words with alternating thrusts that caused Balan to spasm around them erratically, the maestro’s head swaying, more mooring, like a boat on torrential waters. 

Balan tried to stutter something in response. There could not be any words he could be able to use in a circumstance like this. The euphoria blanketing his headspace, only the want for this to never end on Balan’s mind. He wished he could stay like this forever; being loved in between his legs the way that Lance was loving him. Tears welled up but were blinked back. That familiar entrapment, that build was upon him now. A spring ready for release as Balan angled himself to meet a harsher thrust from Lance. He didn’t know what to do with his hands so he tugged on the negati for some leverage. And he tugged at him desperately. 

“I-I-I can’t-- hold it back much! Lance, I need this! I can’t hold back! Oh my gods!” Balan’s pleasured whimpers were music to the other, the noise causing Lance to pulsate inside those divine walls. He was about to let it all go. Neither of them capable of denying their animalistic need for a blissful finish. 

“Do not hold back my lune-light! I want us to be in climax together. I’m ready, just like you are. Lock me inside your heaven!” Lance yelled, throwing their head back unabashedly for the final few thrusts. 

Something in the gravelly tone caused Balan to relent all self control at that moment, the high octane pressure rushing from his pelvis, seeping into his blood in a body rattling orgasm. He screamed, more belted out his release, muscles contracting and constricting in a severe, mind-numbing vice. He could no longer keep his eyes open, passion scalding his insides making his body heat unbearable. 

He kept spasming, helpless as Lance roared one last time, pinning Balan’s softened frame to theirs in a rough, possessing manner. They dove off the  pinnacle with as much fury and need as Balan did. Their fingers dug into the tender skin, maw wide with a roar that shook the room. The negati’s own form convulsing and seizing as Balan’s cunt squeezed their cock to the point where it ached. They shuddered with the intensity and rush of seed; feeling way too hot inside of the maestro, shooting deep inside, not stopping even as Lance humped Balan through their own climax. 

When they were sure they had nothing left to give Lance let Balan go, the other’s spent body flopping atop the bedspread. The negati pushed back their inky dreads back from the sweat drenched face, eyes slightly glazed. They shook with the inglorious feeling of satisfaction before pulling out of Balan’s thoroughly ruined cunt, their cum drooling out in delectable, erotic ribbons. The scent of the intermingling sex made the cock twitch. Without a thought given, Lance’s pointer finger went past the swollen, beat-up lips of the maestro’s pussy; swiping the oversensitive folds for just a taste of the cream. 

Balan yelled, overstimulated and a touch annoyed, kicking at Lance.

“Fucking stop! You’re going to kill me!” Balan cursed, his chest heaving. He was the perfect picture of the word ‘ruined’; mint-colored coils askew all over his face, sublime form thrumming with the residual orgasm. 

“Would this have not been the best death to have?” Lance giggled sweetly, tongue slipping out to lap at the mixed cream of their sex. The taste was of it was so divine, it couldn’t be described. When their legs regained function Lance dipped into the conjoined bathroom. Balan barely registered the sound of water coming from a faucet. Though he wasn’t going to register anything for a while. His eyes slipped closed, breathing becoming more steady as the high simmered out of his frame. He didn’t hear Lance’s footfalls when the other returned into the room yet the feeling of the cold, damp cloth felt exquisite on his hypersensitive skin. He smiled happily as the cloth went over his face, chest, arms and even his back, swiping away as much sweat that wasn’t collected by the sullied bedsheets. 

He winced as the cloth went between his legs, touches kept tender and dainty while the negati cleaned his clit. The movements were apologetic in the sense of the rough handling. With the remnants of their sex thoroughly cleaned, Lance threw the dirty cloth into a hamper nearby and crawled into bed. They felt the need to say something to Balan, yet was not prepared to see the other fully asleep. The smile remained on his face as he dreamt soundly. Safely. 

The maestro rarely slept so seeing him do so, even in the other’s bed, was recherché. The moment a surprise to see with their own eyes. It warmed their heart in so many ways. Lance wondered inwardly if their heart could get any fuller. Carefully, as to not wake him, they slid Balan’s frame underneath the heavy blankets, keeping his head low to rest it against the larger puffy pillows.

As much as Lance tried, they couldn’t lie to themselves about how adorable and desirable this being was. Is... and still will be. They could make up some spun tale about how Balan lusted for the feeling of this sex. And yet, they wouldn’t. They weren’t going to deny the affirmations and litanies of love, passion and reverence he bestowed. In this way, Lance loved Balan. Balan had loved them too. This new feeling blossomed and flowed within them. It was all Lance cared about and would gift this love in kind to Balan tenfold. It was definitely what they both deserved. 

For now, Lance snuggled into the maestro, a happy little smile playing on their cheeks whilst pressing their face into the other’s neck. The mint-colored coils of the other’s hair fell in a tangle on Lance’s face, making them wrinkle their nose. 

“I...love you, lune-light...”, Lance whispered pressing a singular reverent kiss to the glowing heart on Balan’s forehead, the mark shimmering against the darkness. The negati nuzzled the sleeping being, arms crossing Balan’s chest to swaddle him close to their body, “I don’t know if you had heard me, but I just hope you know.”

Unknown to Lance, Balan had heard him. His own smile was genial and kind, taking the affirmation as it was. There was no need for Lance to explain themselves. Such things like this rarely, if ever, happened. So Balan accepted this. He had openly accepted that Lance is, and will remain, worthy of love. 

“I love you.” The enamored statement was simple, sweet and soft-sounding. So such so that Balan wasn’t sure Lance heard him, the negati was already snoring before he could say anymore. With an exhale, Balan’s eyes slipped shut once more. His own hands went around to hold Lance’s closer to his body. Their combined warmth radiating soothingly as they slept throughout the rest of the night.