#enjoy this before someone somehow finds this problematic

[occamstfs]

Ni Hao!NYC

Morally conflicted journalist puts off questions of ethics until it's just too late. Finally assigned to put his name next inflammatory content Sam finds himself more than appreciating Chinese culture.

Various white to Asian Muscle growth and racial change ahead!

Like many, I saw the final pictures on twitter and had to do something with them haha! Ended up with a piece just a tad different than usual! Hope you all enjoy! -Occam

Samuel Johnston knew he worked for a rag but as long as the checks cashed he could afford to mute his conscience. They made money not from sales so much as some rightwing think tank who wants their views affirmed in any way they can get it. So he lays low and pens little puff pieces, avoiding anything too controversial and introduces himself as an accountant to anyone he cares enough to lie to.

He’s quite adept at staying out of sight and mind when it comes to the doling out of any especially charged or problematic issues. Making sure to bury his own work any chance he gets, even using a pen name in case someone accidentally stumbles on his writing. It’s gone well enough so far he thinks! Sam tells himself that really working for NY:Red isn’t that bad, surely it’s even good that he’s got the job rather than anyone who believes the shit they write. Right?

No job is without its problems, he tells himself. So far he’s done a commendable job keeping his nose down with an almost supernatural ability to duck away from bigwigs or management. That is until now as he’s summoned by name to his boss’ side. His proficiency at staying off the radar of management has kept him from a one on one with the man in charge for some time, but now he is sitting on the top floor outside of Mr. Howard’s office, surely waiting to be assigned some horrible project.

“Come in!” Sam hears the surly man shout before promptly stepping into the gaudy office. He’s immediately taken aback as somehow the editor looks almost younger than he does in the many pictures Sam has seen. Sam hides his shock at the man’s jet black hair as well as he hides the general fear and disdain that begins to send adrenaline pumping towards his mind. Mr. Howard doesn't notice at least, getting straight to business, “I can tell from yer writing that ya like the city Sam, can I call ya Sam?”

Samuel opens his mouth to reply but the chief just continues on, “Anyway I love all yer little toilet paper stories but how do ya wanna write with the big leagues?” This time Samuel stays strong and gets a word in before being steamrolled again, “Actually I-” “I’m puttin’ you on the most important case we have Sam. Surely ya’ve noticed all this, what's da word, influx? Invasion? Bah. All the Asian shit that’s startin’ ta creep in on our city’s culture!” Samuel makes an awkward face as despite knowingly working for the racist, it’s different to hear the words out loud.

He holds his tongue out of shock or fear and his boss continues on his diatribe, “The last couple a schmucks I had on the beat just up’n left me high and dry can ya believe it! Old friends I thought!” He grumbles as he scratches his chin, moving away his hand it seems his beard thinned? He shakes his head in irritation and Sam would swear he saw his jowls tighten and wrinkles smooth over. “Anyway kid. Go out and do some prelim research. Have something on my desk by Friday or yer out just like those galoots!” Samuel stands for a second unsure if he’s allowed to leave before his boss looks up to glare with eyes Sam would’ve sworn were blue when he walked in.

Sam rushes out the door and to the elevator, riding it back to his floor, debating between writing a preemptive resignation or keeping mum and keeping on payroll for one last week. Profiteering from a culture war he may be but he’s not about to regurgitate genuinely racist talking points. He taps his foot impatiently as he thinks about just how cushy this gig is though. “Fuck!” He decides to call the only other confirmed decent human being he knows here, his friend Nick who works in the fashion dept.

The two go to grab coffee at a chain next door, Sam tries not to notice how they’ve started selling Vietnamese iced coffee. “Fuck man I can’t do it! Literally just one conversation alone with Howard was a wake up call.” Nick smiles like he has no problems with working for the dirtiest rag in the city, “Chill out Sam. Huward had my manager on the same beat and he, uh, Hidaka said that is said to just look busy for a bit and we won’t need to worry about all this racist shit anymore.” Sam squints his eyes at his friend, he’s not usually so easy breezy about work. He also racks his brain trying to figure out who Hidaka could possibly be. That can’t be his boss. No way Howard would let someone not white lead a department.

Seeing Sam lost in thought Nick reaches out and grabs his hand in a way Sam couldn’t imagine him doing before this second. In fact as the second drags on he stares down in the hand in shock, feeling the warm hand squeeze his forearm. He looks up to his friend’s face searching for any clue to the cause of this odd behavior. Sam smiles awkwardly and half-jokes “Hah hah, uh- Who are you and what’d you do with Nick… Hah.” Nick bursts out laughing, patting him on the arm jovially and leaving a hand larger than Sam remembers resting on his own. “Hidaka-san just showed me how to worry less about this job un?”

Sam inspects him closely for anything amiss, it looks like he’s picked up a bit of a tan? His hair is messier than usual and definitely a little darker, his skin is alluringly smooth and Sam can feel the heat his body is generating despite sitting across from him. Looking at his clothes Sam finds another surprise, his shirt almost looks strained! As if Nick has been hitting the gym for sometime, maybe it’s just been a while since he’s seen his friend in person? 

Assuaged in the slightest, Sam ignores the glowering red flags and follows this lede, “Woah Nick have you been working out?” Nick blushes and Sam at the very least sees his friend is as shy as ever. He goes to scratch the back of his head straining his shirt almost to its ripping point as he responds, “Ah a little haha! どうぞ(please) don’t you worry about me. Since you have no desire to write the article, why don’t you go ahead and check out the little Asian market down the street for fun? It was quite a good time when Hidaka-san brought me earlier this week!”

Sam awkwardly smiles as he wonders why on Earth Sam is suddenly referring to his boss like this, it’s almost like he’s performatively speaking Japanese. Taking a second to pause Sam looks at the haircut as hands unseen style it into something fashionable he puts two and two together. Thinking to himself, ah! Nick must just be a weeb! Tension disappears from his body with a sigh of relief as he wonders how he didn’t notice before now. He gets up to follow his friend’s advice, what better way to stick it to the man than support the people he aims to malign right?

He bucks up and grabs a Vietnamese iced coffee for the road, tossing a “Sayonara,” at Nick with a wink to which he perks up and slightly bows. Man, how did he not notice before Sam thinks yet again. Blissfully unaware, leaving just as kanji symbols appear on Nick’s keyboard and his friend responds to an email in a language he didn’t know this morning. Blue eyes growing coal dark as his tanned, increasingly muscular arms tap away at the keyboard.

Sam spends the bulk of his day at the little Asian street fair and has an absolute blast. Any residual stains on his mind from his unpleasant morning absolutely fade away as he goes from booth to booth sampling cuisine and chatting with diasporic cultures the world over. Time flies as he goes into journalist mode and basically interviews first gen Chinese immigrants about their time in the city. He finds himself beyond immersed in the conversation, continuing to learn from the couple as the tables around them begin to pack up for the day. 

He offers to help the older couple pack up and they happily take the aid, striking him bashful as they talk of what a sweet young man he is. “Wa! 哇强 (strong) Too!” The wife chuckles as she jokingly feels his less than impressive arms. He was having a better time at this little fair than he ever could’ve imagined, enough so that he thinks about going to stick it to Huaward then and there. Huaward? Whatever. His mind slightly off put by whatever that was, in an uncharacteristic act of transparency, Sam lets it slip that he works for NY:Red. The expressions on the kind couple’s faces immediately sour and Sam is quite shocked that they even know what the paper is.

There is a glint in the husband’s eyes as he starts to motion Sam away from any further aid, “谢谢 (Thank you) for your help, Sam. There have been a few, hm, bad men wandering around from that paper and I uh-” He looks around his table and grabs some miijiu they hadn’t put away yet. His wife nods, her face somewhere between rueful and hopeful as she watches her husband offer Sam the glass. “Again, 谢谢, er thank you for your help young man, enjoy this for the road 好的? (Yeah?)” The two turn to each other and begin talking to each other in mandarin alone and Sam takes the hint.

Kicking himself that he fumbled the capstone on such a pleasant afternoon, though finding solace in the rice wine he’s walking away with. He is blissfully unaware as the couple watch him drink and head down the street debating if everyone from that paper really is an asshole. Grimacing as they think about the vitriol spewed at them by NY:Red readers they decide they had no other recourse. Pleasant as he seemed Sam was consciously working on the side of hate and that could not be simply overlooked.

Sam quite enjoyed the rice wine the couple left him with, it immediately smooths over any lasting regret or concern about his interaction with the couple. They don’t know anything about him! He’s nothing like his other coworkers. It feels as if he’s had far more to drink than the small container they left him with should allow, but every time he looks down there always seems to be more mijiu to entice him. It would be impolite not to finish their gift he thinks; his confident stride quickly shifting to a stumble as he wanders home. 

His phone goes off as he gets an email from his boss, Mr. Huang?  Can’t be right. He squints at the email, deciding he must really have overdone it on the mijiu and stuffing his phone back in his pocket. Beyond the obvious difficulties in ambulation being drunk, Sam is unable to notice as his proportions slowly begin to shift. His ever-so lanky body begins to feel dull and heavy as the warmth of the wine fills his chest to capacity and then some as he leans against his apartment door, wiping his feet on an unfamiliar doormat. 

He kicks his shoes off by the door on some new instinct and immediately goes to collapse on the couch. His small sofa creaking as he puts more than his usual dead weight on it. His legs that usually hang off the end lengthen even further as his thighs grow meatier. Pecs press into the cushions as he snores. He is swiftly ushered into an unfamiliar dreamscape, the jubilee of the fair and the bewildering amount of wine he drank produce a vivid carnival of culture in his subconscious.

He sees the old couple at their stand and begins to speak with them in their mother tongue, seeing the delight as a load is taken off their shoulders. His dreamself seamlessly conversing with a fluency unearned. Sam stirs in the waking world as his mind existentially changes to match his morphing body. His blond hair grows thin and longer as its tint stains darker. Twitching in REM the green eyes that he prides himself on speckle with brown before they are entirely overtaken, becoming a rich cacao like the thick eyebrows framing them.

The discomfort of a new language forcing itself into this memory begins to wane as he prides himself on how fluent he is in both Chinese and English. His hand goes to scratch his pecs and he smirks in his sleep as they pulse larger, knowing pride is not the only thing surging within him. At the edges of his mind he feels the memory of learning a language, words written on a blackboard in chalk, English and Chinese both. For the life of him he cannot recall which of the two he’s learning second. An alarm set on his phone blares and he jolts awake to get ready for work.

Throwing on a shirt, Sam freezes as he sees his reflection. Hundreds of little questions seize his mind, those aren’t his eyes are they? Did he dye his hair last night? Are those abs? God his arms look good don’t they!? As they race through his mind and grow rampant they fixate on how attractive he suddenly feels. Rubbing his pecs and feeling them bounce he cries out to himself, “该死！Uhhh, Damn I look good!” He poses in the mirror and takes in every new angle of his powerful body. Taking note as his body hair seems thinner, and decidedly darker wherever it remains. He looks close at his pit seeing his once dense bush of curly hair thin out and straighten, before the memory of even having dense body hair is washed from his mind.

His phone goes off again and his work is immediately brought to the forefront of his mind. “Fuck I didn’t read Huang’s message!” He finds email after email from his boss, only the first few mention the wretched assignment they last talked about. Sam’s eyes widen as he continues to skim through the emails as the topic lines quickly show some drastic re-prioritization from his boss. Only then does he realize that he’s been reading his boss’ name as Huang. His boss is white. Rather his boss’ whole identity is based around being white! Huang isn’t, right? Incredibly he clicks the last email, subject line Vacation, and is immediately greeted with a mouth watering picture of a powerful man. Everything comes to a stop as he can’t help but gawk at this man’s body.

Ni Hao Sanuel- take the day off shi de? Still only half dressed Sam balks at just how bizarre this is, rereading the name Sanuel he is thrown for a loop as his mind reconfigures this. Tearing his eyes from the man’s torso he finally looks at the cocky face and sees a thread he recognizes,  “天啊! (Holy Shit!) That’s Mr. Huang!” He shuts his mouth before he drools like a dog at his boss’ arms. God, this is unlike him though right? He tries to dig through his memories of the editor in chief as the caustic racist he was yesterday, but with each uncovered the image of Huang changes as this dreamboat playboy overrides more of what was.

Sanuel readies to just stay in for this day of assigned vacation before he gets another notification, this time from his friend, Nobu? An image of Nick flashes through his mind, a handprint burns on his arm, and the taste of Vietnamese coffee dances on his lips. “Meet me on the boardwalk うん？” Sanuel rolls his eyes at his friend tacking on Japanese like that, willing his mind not to think about how his friend’s contact ID now says Nobu. Must be one of those, uh, his own thoughts trail off as he successfully abandons concern to head to meet his friend.

Nearing the meeting spot he looks for his usually cleancut friend, the only body present however is a massive Japanese man awkwardly flexing at himself in a reflective surface. Sanuel shyly speaks up, “Ni Ha-, uh Hey? Have you seen a guy named Nick around here?” The apparent bodybuilder beams and goes to engulf Sanuel in a hug shouting, “Oi! Shan! took ya long enough!” His eye twitches hearing the name, as this man effortlessly lifts him off his feet in a hug far too intimate for colleagues, and certainly from whoever this stranger is!

Shan pushes against the massive man, his body heat broiling him on this already warm day. He strains his eyes looking at the man grabbing him and suddenly it hits him, “Nobu?” The man promptly lets him go and pats him on the back with a laugh he would’ve never expected to come from his sheepish friend in the fashion department. “Wanna go have some ice cream or something Shan?” He feels the need to push back against his friend calling him Shan but as he hears it a second time he can’t recognize the names as anything but his own.

Shan pauses as he sees Nobu stop to chat with some Japanese tourists and something about the picture doesn’t sit right. God it’s that talk with Huang getting him all worked up again that,uh, racist? He clutches his head as contradictions between his past and present collide in his head and he slams his eyes shut as he cannot determine what is true about his current reality. Shan falls to the ground with a deep thud, slightly hyperventilating, his body grows larger as he takes deep breaths from the stress.

Hearing him collapse Nobu runs over to help him up, this time with more effort as his friend’s comatose body continues to put on muscle and grow heavier. Still, having the impressive figure he does, Nobu rather easily gets him on a bench and sits next to him, “クソ野郎？(Fuck dude?) You alright?” Shan slowly nods as his friend throws an arm around him. Looking down at his own arms as they pulse with muscle, he feels his eyes strain as the structure of his face begins to change.

Shan's jawline sharpens and his skin smooths. Stubble that has been a cornerstone of hiding his facial blemishes vacates as his hair stains black and flops longer. He feels clarity grace his mind as he stares at large hands on the ends of pale, hairless, muscular arms and he wonders if he is even himself.

He voices these concerns to Nobu who just laughs them off. “Hah! Of course dude, same Shan I’ve always known!” “那- that’s not my name Nobu.” His friend grins shyly in concern for his friend's mind. “It can't be my name. I’m-” grimacing before he continues as it takes everything in his power to speak against the realities in front of him. Memories of a world quite far away, moving to New York long ago, the youngest in a family of Chinese immigrants, “I’m white aren’t I Nobu?” 

Nobu can’t help but laugh again at the beyond bizarre statement. He jokes about Shan hitting his head when he fell. “You’re the most 2nd Gen Chinese わるがき(brat) I know bro! Imma go get us some ice cream while you chill out.” Shan stares at his friend as he abandons him, feeling his eyes tighten as they shift into the monolid eyes that his memories swear he’s always had.

Shan retreats into his mind racing against his changing memories to find a pillar of truth to grasp on. He sees himself at the gym with Nobu, his black mop of hair flicking sweat into the air as he poses with his bro. He sees just yesterday at the Asian fair, helping an elderly couple pack up their table, twitching as he would’ve sworn that went differently. He remembers sitting at the office getting no work done as he plays on his phone, 是的！that’s it! His job. There’s something there, if only he can remember what the problem was there.

He sees Nobu begin walking back with sweet treats, Nobu works at the paper too. Oh 呃/Duh! He smirks as he goes for his wallet to grab a business card. His eyes see the obnoxious red logo he knows before they read text that will send him irrevocably forward, Shun Jiang - Ni Hao!NYC. His body fills with warmth like a machine overworking as his mind races with information about his new reality. Sweat drips from his hair as he can no longer even struggle to recall his claimed existence as a bystander at the vile paper they produced. His brown eyes steep to a dark black as they glaze over.

“Shan-baka! Here’s a popsicle!” Nobu shouts as he returns to his overheated friend who immediately bursts from his stupor. “混蛋!(Asshole!) It’s Shun- thought we were close!” Nobe smirks as he starts to eat his own ice cream. Unable to recall anything too in depth he feels a pause as he wonders what his Japanese friend is doing working for a Chinese newspaper, before he answers it himself. Clearly his subconscious is more at place in whatever new reality he faces. Their paper is for all NYC’s Asian immigrants. Nobu works writing, or more often modeling, for Konnichiwa!NYC! Huang really was a genius for the idea.

Shun smiles, thinking fondly of his boss as he enjoys the short break from the summer heat that Nobu brought him. Back at the headquarters of their paper everything shifts from the rag it was and into a paper connecting the disparate Asian immigrants of the city, printed in any language they can find translators for, Ni Hao, Konnichiwa, Annyeonghaseyo, Namaste!NYC. Each day striving for a better, more inclusive New York City. Shun beams with his new face, no longer burdened with the just concern of his peddling vitriol, instead possessed with a desire to spread his culture far and wide.

———————————————————————————

As I was writing I remembered a similar series by the now gone Dumb-and-Jocked!

If interested do check out Horizon Zero: One, Two, and Three for quite a different take on a journalism themed Racial Change!

[streetsofsecrets]

A Long List of Paternal Headcanons About Pietro

Although Pietro has looked perpetually miserable in most stories, this is actually the happiest he has ever been in his life. And honestly? In regards to being at work? Pietro is cold as hell, he's far more warm amongst his family.

His children (and Rosaria) are his weak spot. Pietro is similar to his father, in the sense that he has 'older sensibilities' in regards to his expectations for the way his children should conduct themselves and behave. Yet, he's never risen his hand with them. He seldom even yells - his kids know when he's displeased through his glances or how low his voice becomes. He's the master of giving a fatherly face of disapproval.

He often finds himself on the line between wanting modern American sensibilities with his parenting while also honoring traditional Sicilian customs without having the more problematic aspects of his culture. Rosaria always succeeds in balancing him out in perspective.

MORE UNDERCUT

Having Carlo changed him, but having the twins changed him more. This is because they were his first daughters, and the emotions he felt seeing two small girl infants was somehow stronger than what he felt at the sight of his son. He and Sal had a good chat in the hospital that morning, with Sal noting that Pietro was gonna be willing to murder someone for these little girls, he was gonna be a slave for them and their happiness. Pietro believed him.

Everything Pietro thinks and considers about the future, he does so with his children in mind. Carlo made him want to [REDACTED]. The twins made him want to go legitimate. Pietro feels that as a parent involved in the underworld it's so important to have things in order. Plans, a will, incase you suddenly get a bullet in your brain. But upon obtaining fame and large heaps of money from various legitimate sources, Pietro realizes that this isn't the way he wants to live: he wants to enjoy small things in life with his children without looking over his shoulder. He got in the life, now he wants to get out of the life.

NSFW. Currently in Sink or Swim, Pietro believed he was attracted to slim woman, model shaped. Turns out he actually prefers Rosaria's weight gain, he thinks she looks more lively and beautiful. Plus, you know, her weight reminds him of how they started a family.

He finds himself using phrases, stories and songs that his mother use to tell him. He's very good at telling stories, which is something he never expected to be good at.

He's always felt extra tender towards Angela because she was a shy, clingy toddler whereas Antonella prided herself in being extroverted and spontaneous. Angela use to latch onto him and crawl into bed at night afraid of the dark whereas Antonella use to yank at his beard and put M&Ms in his ear when she was a toddler. However, Angela becomes his biggest fear because he sees so much of himself in her sneakiness and occasional lies.

He absolutely refuses to let any of his children, nieces, or nephews get into the entertainment industry or modeling industry while they're minors. This firm stance impacts Antonella the most because she would love to be on TV.

Watches a mixture of old and new things with his kids. Movie nights are commonplace. Pietro's the sort of dad who'll turn on episodes of I Love Lucy or the Caroll Burnett Show for the girls to watch [which does prompt Antonella's interest in female comedians across decades] but he'll watch the latest Disney movie too. However, he doesn't think too highly of the storytelling and characterizations in the latest films.

Angela and Antonella came out of the theatre with him after viewing Wish. Antonella felt the star was cute and that was it, whereas Angela had a moment of silence before saying, "I don't think I like Disney movies anymore…" to which Antonella said, "me neither." Pietro was proud they were able to feel this way, but he also felt like an end of an era was upon them.

Guillermo Del Toro's Pinocchio makes him depressed because he sees too much of his father in the portrayal of Geppeto's coldness. He thought the movie Luca was lovely though. Sometimes he definitely watches animated movies redubbed in Italian for nostalgia and to get the kids in-tune with their heritage.

Usually watches the girls play Dreamlight Valley, and once while they were at camp he and Rosaria had the honorable duty of watering the girl's Pumpkin Patch.

[venjt]

A form of SH? (Self-harm?)

I wouldn't say it's a form of self-harm. Actually, the opposite! It's a form of self-care! From my experience and from friends' experiences, it's a coping mechanism that helps with our trauma. If antis, think we're making fun of the problematic themes that's far, far from truth, and a very harsh thing to think! If people make fun of problematic situations, then that's a problem, and I wouldn't want to associate myself with such a person.

I hope Antis knows that proships are against harassment in general and respect others with different opinions. (Or they should be. That's the definition, lol.) If a proshipper is threatening you, then they're just a shit person and don't belong in a no harassment zone while harassing. Yet somehow, I often see antis like to use their catchphrase "KYS" all the time. I find such attitude to be awful no matter proship/anti/neutral whatever. Harassment is bad. No one deserves to be called a "good person" if someone says awful things to other human beings.

But like I said, it's a selfcare kind of activity in fiction. It's a safe way to control or explore the dark themes in fiction. It's a healthy way to express the trauma without hurting oneself or others. Some antis don't know this, but when you've experienced trauma, it has to come out somehow one way or another. People don't necessarily HAVE to like dark themes to express or cope with their trauma. Everyone copes differently. Some happen to enjoy / cope with taboo subjects in the fictional space. Which there is no shame. Your fictional taste does not reflect your morals (obviously, lol).

This brings me to another topic, Antis, who believes that if a proship likes the taboo subjects in fiction (ex: incest, age gap, what else? Victim and murder? Lol, there's so much that antis doesn't like.), that it means they like it in real life. That's, again, untrue. Your fictional interest doesn't mean you like it in real life. So that brings the question, "Why do they like it in fiction then?". Well, like I said before, often, it's a coping mechanism. Other times, people just like it in the fictional world. Perhaps there's more or less to it, but it's not anyone's job to understand the why. And if you find it uncomfortable thats complety valid! There are some things I find uncomfortable. That's when we have the power to block and remove ourselves from looking and reading things that we are not okay with. LITERALLY. Like we don't have to intrude a "problematic" artists media if we KNOW what they draw! Or read something that says "non-con warning" or anything WITH a WARNING SIGN THATS THE POINT OF WARNING SIGNS AAAH ⚠️

My thing is, if you're a nice person who respects others and doesn't harm others, then you're good in my book lol I don't understand furries, but if they never hurt a person or never been disrespectful to your surroundings then you're gucci. I have some friends who I don't understand their fictional world, but they've been nothing but sweet to me. Who am I to judge their fictional interest if they as a person treat me better than many other actual human beings lol

Also

Proshippers are aware of what's right and what's wrong in real life. We don't like predators, or incest, or victim x murderers in real life. DUH! Antis, we're on the same page. We don't like those kinds of people! We keep telling them, but somehow, many of them can't differentiate reality and fiction, which to me I find that to be a very, VERY big problem in today's time. If the line of fiction and reality is blurred, then how can people express their creative freedom without having to take a chance of being a "problematic person" or getting accused of harsh things. Also HOW YA GONNA FACE REALITY WHEN RENT IS DUE NEXT WEEK?! If a person is a problem to another human being, then that's valid to stand up and speak out. Uh, with evidence ofc. Don't just spread around "so and so is a Predat0r because they like so and so ship." Fiction isn't evidence. People will look at you weird if you claim a person is a problem and provide a drawing of Plantcest LMAO. People are gonna be confused why you're showing a drawing to them.

Policing others on what's right and wrong in a FICTIONAL SPACE like that's a problem itself! They're fighting ghost problems and threatening REAL PEOPLE for their interests, and that doesn't sound like a healthy space for anyone. Activism is good, but to the fictional space where it doesn't affect people in their day to day life if very concerning. Hence, why people say "touch grass".

Not every proshippers are good people. Just like not every antis are good people. Every group have their problems. This whole black and white view is unrealistic. No one is perfect. No victim is perfect. No "unproblematic" person is perfect. The world is grey or as I like the world is rainbow.

This is very long lol

In conclusion, proshippers aren't self harming for indulging dark themes. It's a self-help (many therapists would recommend it). Self-harm is threatening others and policing others what YOU think is okay or not. Self harm is also avoiding your trauma and avoiding your fictional interest because others pressure you to think how they do. You're a person with your own mind. Allow yourself to express how you do and don't let others tell you how to think, feel, and tell you what to do. You're human. I'm human.

FICTION ≠ REALITY and be kind to each other! There's more to life than to get mad over what others like lol take a chill pill and think about what you want to make of this world!

Okay, have a great day, yall!

[idealisticrealism]

TCL 3x05 thoughts

The main things:

This ep starts literally immediately after last ep ended, and then takes place over 2 full days

Looks like Thony and Jorge swapped numbers at some point lol; I guess Dante got tired of being the go-between haha. But for a guy that was so concerned yesterday about Thony missing her interview, he sure seems chill about pulling her away today… only to have nothing for her but an unintentionally murdered guy and an uncomfortable fight with his sister lol. That’s a bit embarrassing for you there, Jorge! I like that he later ended the business call about Nadia’s payout to be able to answer her, and then followed through on her request to talk to Ramona on her behalf. And then she shows up at his office– did she google him or did he actually tell her where to find him??-- and tries to convince him to nullify the Amber Alert, and ngl I enjoy the fact that much of their dynamic so far is basically Thony either ordering or begging him to do something, and him being like “No” and making some mocking remark to her about it… and then later doing exactly what she asked/suggested lol. Thony (and especially the potent combination of Thony and Luca) really does have some kind of magic power over the men of this family… though Arman seemed to accept it far more quickly and eagerly than Jorge, who’s still half-heartedly trying to resist haha. But then again, the man still showed up at her court hearing and not only provided the exact thing she asked for, but he also stayed to see the outcome and her reaction?? Like I’m absolutely hearing Nadia’s words to Arman rn: “You love the way she looks at you when you do these things for her. When you are her hero”... Jorge got his first real taste of that during the last ep, and looks like he already wants more haha

Thony and Ramona are clashing more and more which is potentially going to be very problematic for Thony when they lose Arman and she is no longer shielded by her connection to him… but I guess that’s when Jorge’s growing regard for her is going to come into play, and create an interesting divide with the siblings…

Poor Thony reliving the trauma of losing Luca, only even more terrifying this time because instead of Marco (who sucked but was at least relatively safe), he could be with someone who intends to hurt him. “We’ve been down this road before” yeah in more ways than one

“You and Armando will work together, so when I’m gone…(etc)” okay this is a very odd statement for a 50-something to make??? And she later says something about bringing Arman home ‘while there’s still time’-- time for him, or her?? Like is Ramona secretly dying and that’s why she’s so determined to get Arman back, so Jorge will still have family watching over him? Surely the writers wouldn’t use a plotline like that though, not given how we lost Adan…….? 

Okay let’s all pretend that we believe that a 6 year old kid, who had barely experienced the world outside his own bedroom before a few months ago, managed to navigate the streets of a major city on foot to a location that’s a 10 minute drive away, and then also somehow snuck into a large public facility undetected and didn't raise red flags as an unaccompanied kid hanging there for hours lol

Ugh so much love for the courtroom scene and the fam all giving their testimony. I love that they were all clearly ready to commit perjury if needed (eg by covering up Thony’s shady activities if asked about it) and that they also said such beautiful, heartfelt things, because god did Thony need to hear those things. After everything she has gone through, and everything that her actions to protect Luca put the rest of the family through, she’d clearly started to question (like we saw in the kitchen earlier with Fi)  whether she is actually truly good– a good mother, a good family member, and a good person in general– or if she only brings pain to those around her.  The forgiveness and support of her family doesn’t erase what she’s done, but it is going to be a huge part of how she moves forward and grows as a person, and I’m really looking forward to seeing more of that journey.

I also loved that the people trying to take Luca away were two crusty old guys, while Thony’s lawyer (who looked like she was trying not to cry when Thony did her big speech), and the judge, and of course Susan (who, while on the CPS side, is actually fairly impartial and in some ways shows a lot of regard for Thony, and didn’t raise an objection even though she could have) are all women. It feels like a subtle nod to the themes of both motherhood and women supporting other women in this show, and that’s really cool. 

Other stuff:

Congrats to Fi for finally getting to have her own Traumatised Showering Scene haha, I think Thony has had at least 2 or 3 by this point. But I did feel for Fi and Chris that they barely even got to begin to unpack what happened to them because things were just immediately about Luca. Also ngl that music/voiceover combo right at the start with the abrupt fadeout was a bit weird lol

“Sometimes I wish I was a turtle, so I could hide in my shell” #relatable

Love the sweet JD/Fi stuff, though this dude needs to recognise his place in the family hierarchy and not make calls that aren’t his to make lol. Leave the dealing with big important stuff to the women, buddy, you’re out of your depth!  

Speaking of dudes messing things up… seriously Dante? Accidentally killing the best lead your bosses have to getting their relative back? That’s embarrassingly amateurish. Unless there’s actually more going on here than we realise, and he did it deliberately to keep the guy from talking??

Ok seriously how many doors lead outside from Luca’s room?? I know it’s a converted sun-room and not a proper bedroom, but still, they should at least be locked if not also securely barricaded. Geez.

Ah the many facets of Jorge, comfortable in a homeless camp and while torturing a guy in a warehouse, but also in a courtroom and a fancy corner office, and also while kneeling in a kitchen doorway to earnestly accept a gift of a cupcake from a 5 year old lol

Thony always tells Luca she’s never going to let anything bad happen to him… but uhhh, a little too late there, don’t you think Thony? Poor kid has been through more ‘bad things’ than most adults, and most of them have happened within the last 6 months lol

Lol at Thony trying to tell the officer to drop the charges against Dante and he’s just like ‘nope’ haha. I bet she really misses her surgeon days when she could just give orders and people would follow them without question

No Nadia this week! Honestly it felt weird not to see her; it really feels like she is part of the family now, and I’m looking forward to more of her and Thony working together

Goddamn I really gotta learn Spanish.

[worriedvision]

Alhaitham fic where the reader is also a scribe and they have a rivalry bc of different work ethics go

Nice juicy fic coming up lol, from a frenemies to strangers kinda concept here! Gender neutral reader

--

In your class, the both of you were known to be the real debaters, going back and forth about topics and creating counter arguments whenever possible. At first you thought he disliked you, but when you find out he was just someone who enjoyed a good debate, you happily went with it. When the both of you had the chance of working as a scribe for a prestigious doctor, you went all out, knowing he already had the upper and due to his prior places of work. He didn't seem to care openly, but you knew he was working hard behind the scenes. It became the running debate between the both of you, you working tirelessly under this doctor to gain their trust and Alhaitham working on his own things.

When you were offered the position, you were so proud! Alhaitham crosses his arms, not looking particularly happy, and you assume it's because he lost this battle with you.

You should have realised that the doctor you were working under wasn't looking only for a scribe - this was a doctor that wanted someone to do all of their hard work, and for them to take all the credit.

Alhaitham does his own thing, reporting on whatever he felt was needed to be done, and he had people to gain information from. He does find this more favourable, the idea of solely gaining information for one person being problematic in itself. He watches in the background as you work a shard as you can to "see how difficult this job is", according to the doctor. Somehow, you didn't see how blatant the doctor was in training you unofficially.

It broke his heart to see, now seeing you no longer in classes and you were there doing the doctors work as well as being a scribe. He never saw you, and the times he tried to spark an interesting debate that usually worked, you'd respond with some corporate line about the argument being irrelevant to your line of work, and requesting for him to stop talking to you. Nothing worked to get you to take a break either, and Alhaitham was running out of options. If the General Mahamatra were to find out about this doctor blatantly using you for their own gain, you'd likely lose all credibility in your working life.

"Why are you doing this?" Alhaitham asks, not putting on any mask to hide his disappointment.

"Pardon?" You put on a fake smile, looking up from your notebook as you were having your break and jotting down patient notes from your mind.

"You used to be so... independent." He continues, hoping you'd at least hear him. "You used to enjoy our debates, and you used to show up to classes." He sits across from you, seeing you still maintaining eye contact.

"Oh, well," you shakily sigh out, taking a breath before plastering on an even worse smile than before. "The doctor tells me that I'm the only person to do this job. I cannot let them down."

"...You do realise it's illegal for you to care for patients, right?" Alhaitham whispers, making sure nobody else hears it. You sit up, notepad slamming shut as you grab all of your things and leave without saying a word.

Alhaitham rubs his eyes, and he recognises that you sounded like you were put down for being different, and it was your desire to win this debate you had on who could get the position that he never wanted. He could tell the doctor was incredibly lazy, but him telling you that would have read as him trying to convince you to stop, and for Alhaitham to win by default.

And now? What could Alhaitham do to ensure this doctor got what they deserved, and you safely back into where you were before.

[fiddlepickdouglas]

I just turned 30 and I wanted to hand down some things that'll hopefully help y'all in the future:

Eat what you want. Wear what you want. Like the media you want. You are allowed to like your things and show that you do.

Sometimes old friends come back and both of you have changed to somehow be even better friends than before and it's really beautiful.

Pace yourself. Slower. Sloowweeerrrr. SLOWER. It's okay to not always be going a mile a minute. It's okay, I promise. Say this aloud if necessary.

Drink water and brush your teeth

I have never regretted giving a big tip regardless of the quality of service

Every past version of you is both really cringe and an absolute marvel, that's just how it is

College is your choice, your time, and your money (debatable depending on how your tuition is funded but it's important to include). You can say no to it. You can start it, leave it, and come back later. You can do that multiple times. You can still find opportunities that pay well enough without having a single degree to your name. But do not waste a second making any of those decisions to please anyone else but you.

Asking is a virtue. So is admitting you don't know something.

Being unliked isn't the end of the world

You can't be blamed for what you did not know or fully understand in the past. Everyone has been problematic and it takes time to unlearn old things. You're not entitled to some wokeness award, but you can be proud of your progress.

I still have no idea how to make a fucking doctor/dentist appointment without feeling like a 5 year old who needs another adult to do it for me. Sometimes I talk to someone about it to hype me up.

If you have to consciously hide a side of yourself from someone you call a very good friend/partner/family member, please think it over. I'm not talking about being aware of what is appropriate to share at what times or actively keeping yourself safe - I mean if you cannot speak honestly about your own thoughts and feelings because you think someone who should care will suddenly hate you, that should be addressed.

BIG fan of leaving if things suck!

It's okay to do things alone. There are also some things better done with a group. You deserve to enjoy both.

Please keep at least one bank account with only yourself on it. Also learn how to do fucking online/mobile banking. I cannot stress this enough. Especially after you turn 18 and definitely before you get married.

It's okay to mourn dreams that you never achieved and even no longer want to achieve

Calling something or someone basic has done massive harm to society and there's really no good reason to describe anyone's hobbies or tastes as such, you're just being mean

Always question your assumptions of others. No one is fucking Personality Sherlock. Everyone is strange.

Listen to your body!!!!!!!!

Once you learn to recognize the many forms of ableism, you see it everywhere. Shut that shit down at every possible opportunity (keyword: possible. Choose your battles wisely)

Fandom only gets better from here, ignore anyone who thinks your presence is unwelcome by merely looking at your age

And most importantly:

STAY SILLY 😛🤓👻😽

[o-uncle-newt]

Enter Sir John (and Lord Peter)

This is basically a Sayers blog alongside a Finnemore blog at this point- and this is going to be mostly a Sayers post but also a bit of a window into my other detective fiction reading, which I don't really post about here but kind of want to. A bit of an experiment. (Also, some spoilers to a very old and AFAIK out of print book that I don't particularly recommend below, as well as a Sayers novel.)

So I have been reading a LOT of random old timey detective fiction recently, and at one point made a reading list based on having read the fabulous The Golden Age of Murder by Martin Edwards, which I highly recommend to basically anyone with even the faintest interest in the subject (and even more so to Christie and Sayers fans). ANYWAY, I made the list, then completely forgot where I got it from, ordered a bunch of books through the NYPL's interlibrary loan system, and somehow got all of them at once. So now I have a stack of books from five states on my dresser, many of which are first editions. One of those is my copy of Enter Sir John by Clemence Dane and Helen Simpson, which isn't only a first edition but literally has the pencil inscription by the original owner from Christmas 1928, when he bought/received the book. Gah I love reading other people's old books.

Reading other people's old books in general is fun- reading this particular one was more of a mixed bag. The pacing was kind of weird, the mystery was kind of thin (and the motive was... PECULIAR for a 21st century reader, a mix of oddly progressive and deeply, deeply problematic depending on how you look at it), and the characterization of most of the characters was pretty thin. The atmosphere of the small-time theatrical setting was fun, and the detective, Sir John Saumarez, is reasonably entertaining. To go through, and mildly spoil (you'll see why shortly), the plot- someone is found dead who had been known to have previously quarrelled with a woman in the past, under circumstances which make it clear that this woman had both motive, means, and opportunity. The woman is arrested and her trial is attended by a man with a title who is struck by her and feels compelled to work on her behalf. He works hard to find the actual killer when the trial goes poorly for her, and realizes that he is in love with her and confesses his feelings to her.

Sound familiar?

For context, Enter Sir John was published two years before Dorothy L Sayers's Strong Poison, and to be transparent I fiddled a bit with the timing and phrasing to make the synopsis as CLEARLY correlated as it is (he doesn't confess his feelings to her until after he's gotten her off the murder charges, she's actually in the room when the murder victim is found, she actually is convicted and her conviction is overturned on appeal, among other changes). If the above plot sounds interesting and you HAVEN'T read Strong Poison, just skip and read Strong Poison because it does the whole thing SO much better. For one thing, the mystery is better- this was Dane and Simpson's first mystery, and while I largely enjoyed Dane's earlier novel Regiment of Women (which I may post my thoughts about sometime), this book just didn't really work for me. It's technically fair play, I guess, but there aren't a whole lot of actual suspects or clues (there aren't many suspects in Strong Poison either, but there are many more clues and there's a much more robust structure).

The other major difference, and this is pretty important because it's at exactly the point where the two books are so similar, is that the characterization of the romance in Enter Sir John is REALLY NOT GOOD. Sure, as Sayers noted in her 1929 introduction to her Omnibus of Crime anthology, love interests in detective novels are often shitty and this isn't necessarily significantly worse than certain others I have read. But while there do seem to be attempts to describe the suspect's personality in a way that makes her sound more honest, frank, straightforward, etc (the kinds of ways that Harriet Vane comes across later in Strong Poison), she also comes across really naive and dumb, and really doesn't have a whole lot to do in the book at all to counteract that impression. On the plus side... she isn't AS racist as some other people, I guess? (This plays into the motive, which I can describe in the comments for people- it's too annoying to get bogged down in.) But anyway, Sir John largely (apparently? it's not characterized super well) is compelled by her and falls in love with her because of her striking appearance and her good breeding and gentility or whatever, and it's all just super awkward. (Also, there's the same "oh no I didn't realize you were proposing" awkwardness in this book as in Regiment of Women, which does it MUCH better and for MUCH better characterization-related reasons. In this book it's just kind of skin-crawling to read.)

Anyway, why have I made you all read about why I didn't particularly like a not-super-easy-to-find book that you were unlikely to ever read anyway? Well, partly because it's an interesting curiosity- and because as I was reading I was like "what the hell, how did Sayers get away with this?" So I cracked open my copy of The Golden Age of Murder again and in its description of the book realized that it mentions that Sayers and Simpson were friends and that Enter Sir John is of interest as an inspiration to Strong Poison, which in retrospect is probably why I put it on my list in the first place.

But I'm still left with some lingering questions. While the actual murder plot and motive are entirely different, this particular throughline on the part of the detective is really STARTLINGLY similar, not least because Sir John Saumarez has some distinctive surface resemblances to Wimsey. For one thing, the method used to trap the killer (casually having them be part of a reenactment/discussion of the way the murder took place) is used by Sayers in Strong Poison as a ruse that Wimsey uses to try to catch Harriet Vane out, if there's anything to catch (when he "casually" brings up the murder-for-book-profits mystery plot idea he had). For another, like Wimsey later would in Strong Poison, Saumarez has a whole inner monologue about how he has only a month to solve the case (though in his case it's before the suspect is executed, and in Wimsey's case it's the IMO more plausible situation of being before the retrial occurs).

All that being considered, one major difference is, of course, that at the end of Strong Poison Wimsey and Harriet don't get engaged, and Saumarez and the suspect (whose name I don't even remember, if I'm being honest, she REALLY wasn't that memorable) do. But Sayers famously wrote that she wanted to use this book to marry Wimsey off! If she had followed through, and still used this same book as a way to do it, would she have literally lifted, if substantially improved, this plotline from her friend's book in order to do it? She was such an original writer- would she have borrowed so significantly from another writer to finish off a series that she had worked so hard on, even if it was one she was wearying of?!

It's interesting, because I wrote in a previous post about how it feels like after writing the Omnibus of Crime intro, including how bad mystery romance plots are, she dared herself to do it better. Reading this book makes me wonder if she read THIS PARTICULAR BOOK and decided she wanted to do it better. Which would be fascinating whether that was a decision that she made before she'd decided to continue the series after this book or afterward- before, in which case she'd be wholesale lifting the plot but at the same time elevating it lol I feel like I'm writing crossword clues) just by virtue of better writing and characterization in both that plot and the mystery that surrounded it, or after, in which case one of her ways of elevating it would de facto BE changing the ending to make it less corny and awkward, and writing a detective romance which is actually psychologically plausible and satisfying rather than just pairing pants and a skirt, so to speak.

Anyway- decidedly mediocre book that I don't particularly recommend, but one that made me ask some questions that I had a lot of fun pondering! I also had fun writing this, and am considering doing another one on Leo Bruce's The Case for Three Detectives, which was tremendously fun as a pastiche of Wimsey as well as Poirot and Father Brown.

[aita-blorbos]

Am I the (bigger) asshole for my personal acts of villainy?

Hi! This is a little bit unconventional of an ask. I hope that’s alright. But lately I’ve been debating something with some people and I’m curious.

I have this friend who used to be evil (me too, to be clear. I’ll get to that.) Working under an tyrannical queen who used to be his dear friend, he committed countless atrocities. He participated in the hostile takeover of a foreign country and helped subjugate its people. Not only that, but he kidnapped the leader of a different country and forcibly possessed him, making him attack an ally of his (who was also a toddler.)

Eventually, he turned things around. After his queen betrayed him, my friend sided with the leader of the foreign country and the toddler and helped kill her. Nowadays, he doesn’t cause any trouble. Although I’ve heard he had QUITE some fun with it when he was playing villain, to the point where he proudly declared everyone would ‘bow before him’ (Not even his queen. HIM)

I say this with all of the love in the world for my friend. I’m not trying to make you judge him. It’s just—

Well, let me get into it.

I have a sort of shady past too. I worked for a company ran by my father. We were separated when I was young and by the time I got back he didn’t remember me, brain-damaged by an evil artifact. I started working under him in hopes I could eventually make him remember who he truly was and save him.

That said, I won’t deny our company did some ‘problematic’ things. We invaded various planets and forcibly mechanized them, stealing their resources to expand our vast amount of wealth. We also mechanized people, one in particular who I took care of myself. I kidnapped a different friend of the aforementioned toddler (he sort of tends to somehow be involved in just about everything that happens around here), a knight, and turned him into a mindless fighting machine. I won’t deny that I, too, had fun with this. I believed in our company’s goals and it was fascinating finding ways to ‘upgrade’ people.

But eventually I was forced to make the same sort of decision as my friend. My father was killed by the evil artifact that brainwashed him in the first place (…That was partially my fault, but this isn’t about that.) As such, I realized I had no choice but to help defeat it. I gave the toddler the weaponry necessary to save the entire universe and ever since then we’ve been allies of sorts.

But I’ve noticed the way people treat me and my friend is… different. People are a lot more lenient with him than they are with me. People say that I’m cruel and a bad person for what I did, whereas what he did was okay because he was just sad and doing it for someone he loved. As if I wasn’t!?

We both invaded foreign places and attempted to conquer them for our own selfish gains. We both served a mad ruler who was once someone we loved. We both attempted to beat up a toddler (Don’t worry he’s fine. He’s invincible.) and took away someone’s autonomy temporarily, turning them into mindless battle machines. (Although they’re fine now, to be clear. The ruler is no longer possessed and the knight has been de-mechanized.) We also both had some fun with it and enjoyed our time as ‘baddies.’

But we both also helped save the day when it mattered and are on good terms with everyone now.

I’ve been told my crimes are more atrocious, but… are they? Or are people just biased? Sometimes I wonder if the knight being more popular and well-liked than the ruler plays into it. That, or some misinformation that’s gone around about me. Apparently, there was a smear campaign that implied I was still forcibly mechanizing planets a while back. This is not true.

I do, to a certain extent, still mechanize places and people, but now only with their permission and for their betterment! If a stranger wants cybernetic wings or giant fuckoff laser cannons then who am I to deny them that?

I don’t know. What do you guys think? Am I a bigger asshole than my friend, is he the bigger asshole than me, or are we equally assholes? I got his permission to send in this story because he agrees with me the reception really is peculiar, and he also wants to see what the consensus is.

AITBA?

[imanopossum]

maybe people are just blocking you because you're spamming the henry tag with irrelevent drama? tumblr isn't like twitter or tiktok. no one really cares about that kind of stuff here. most of us just find it bothersome. we tend to adhere to "don't like, don't read" or "block and move on" or "fiction ≠reality". I can see why that might not be intuitive to a newly-adult teenage fan, given how twitter and tiktok work, but we really do like the rules from the golden era of fandom around here.

anyway yeah. people will absolutely enjoy your content until you become more bothersome than it's worth. that's kind of how tumblr works. most of us are over 20 years old, and a good portion are out of college and have a full time job. we just want to see posts about our faves, not a tag full of wank and beef over a non-issue. it kills the mood. none of us want to come home after an 8 hour shift to a tag full of needless negativity. it's just tiring, aggravating, and yes, annoying.

the vibe in the henry tag was really chill before you started picking fights and clogging the tags with posts mocking people for blocking you.

if anyone's bitching about you, they're not doing it in the tag, thank god. i don't think i could handle two people beefing in the tag incessantly.

ok tagging i can understand, and yeah i did just get tumblr. so you’re right about that, i don’t hesitate to agree when you have a valid point. but fiction≠reality isn’t entirely true, it can still affect people in real life.

the issue is if if it was one person, yeah just block and move on. but somehow, the entire henry tag is littered with content of an extremely problematic ship which somehow people don’t understand is problematic. so now i have no choice but to either leave the fandom entirely, which would suck because this is such a niche fandom and i wish i could interact with normal people who enjoy what i enjoy, or call out how weird this ship is. and yeah, when i get on tumblr i want to see good silly posts about my favorite characters too. i don’t want to see his abuse be romanticized all lana del rey core. i don’t want to see everybody calling henry brenner’s malewife after everything brenner has done to him. and vastly incorrect interpretations of characters who get hate for no reason other than that (when the fuck did patty sexually abuse henry? did we see the same goddamn play? did you not see how her saying she loved him snapped him out of mind flayer control and he said he loved her back? i’m genuinely so confused and bewildered by that.)(also, i don’t really care if people headcanon henry as gay, but EVERYONE is so gung ho about it and treat it like it’s fact when it’s not, it’s an opinion, and that’s fine but if someone has the audacity to say he’s not they get attacked and get called homophobic, and that’s not a reason to hate patty.), yet any time i log onto the tag i see that and can’t avoid it. and i’m sick of it

and how am i the one picking fights when all i did was one singular vague post and then certain people have been incessantly posting about me and victimizing themselves and invalidating other peoples traumas ever since

(also if you assume a vague post is about you, and say you were waiting for people to criticize a certain fic you’re writing, maybe that’s a sign you shouldn’t be writing it and know you’re the problem?)

[council-of-beetroot]

I see other anons saying how you made Poland more popular, I say you redeemed Poland from the stuff that early fandom made Poland so annoying. <3 <3 <3

I guess i made him more likeable than how i sometimes see in some fics, and i guess i gave him a bit more rounded personality. If you go way back into older fics Poland is usually reduced to pink, ponies, my entire personality is being so camp it hurts. And i feel like still in a lot of fics where he is a minor character he really still often just has that role of funny camp gay side character.

Other times in fics you just see him as a complete self absorbed asshole which is quite frustrating. Like basically his personality reduced to "I like totally won't help liet, hey look! there's a sale on really cute purses!"

Then i feel like in trying to make Poland a better character some go the route of completely removing everything about him canonically and it's like this isn't Feliks anymore. Plus, i feel like in some portrayals that go this route it really just becomes let's just use him as a way to glorify Poland which definitely is problematic.

Canonically, I feel like Hima has expanded Feliks personality too so it's a bit more well rounded as well which definitely does help.

But as i said you can't get rid of that personality Hima gave him you just have to build on it and add more depth.

Then the other key part is using that personality and seeing how a personality like that would see himself and be viewed by others through out the course of Polish history.

In the show he is shown to be very out of the box in his thinking now tie that to polish history where in the Commonwealth they had a completely out of the box never before seen style of government.

Or the fact that he is both the type to stand out do whatever he wants and pretends not to care but is internally much more insecure and struggles with social situations and that also strangely fits as well.

Also when you first look at Feliks you don't think much or expect much of him and you watch him and think how are you alive you look so dumb? Then that also fits in a way because he's shown to be smarter than he looks, he represents a country that somehow despite the odds is still on the map somehow and that other countries tended to underestimate but you see in episodes like the battle of Grunwald that there is a reason why he is still around and fighting (same with Lithuania)

Then for me it's also quite interesting and fun to play with Feliks' gender identity and sexuality it's fun to explore the both masculine and feminine aspects but that is something i just enjoy exploring personally.

But back to Lithuania as that's the relationship in the show that hima focuses on the most. This relationship isn't perfect which sometimes the pitfall here is that it's portrayed like it is or it's like Lithuania being like "Poland save me!" (I find this in ameliet too sometimes and it annoys me as well)

Or making them absolutely hate each other pisses me off because relationships are way more nuanced than that because while there were problems and rough spots in their relationship usually when you have such a deep connection with someone you are more likely to work through those rough spots. And they understand eachother more than anyone.

Then i think people tend to make Feliks the jerk in their relationship when in reality both people play a role in making a relationship less than ideal (poor wording because no relationship is perfect or ideal) Both do stuff to each other that is hurtful that's how relationships are naturally. Neither Tolys or Feliks is perfect.

Alright that's a pretty long tangent and i could probably ramble on but yep

Granted my interpretation of Poland isn't the only good interpretation of Poland or the correct one and I like seeing people's interpretations.

[namig42]

Hello, I come today with a second chapter of my Wyllstarion fic. Please enjoy.

Just One Yesterday (Ch. 2)

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

Read it on Ao3 as well!

Summary: Originally inspired by the lyric "anything you say can and will be held against you, so only say my name. It will be held against you," from Fall Out Boy's song "Just One Yesterday."

This is a modern AU where Wyll is a police officer and Astarion is a sex worker. Despite a problematic start, the two manage to find a connection and have it build in time into something more.

TW: Non-consensual, dubious con. Please take care!

---

Though Mizora was upset by Wyll’s slow progress on this personal mission of his, Wyll managed to finally bring her his first arrest two days after his encounter with Astarion. Wyll had taken the man’s advice and approached a woman who was by herself on a street corner, this time wearing a wire. The woman was wearing a tight, strapless silver dress with too many sequins around the bust, a short, furry black coat, heels that looked too tall for any person to be wearing, and short auburn hair. She looked like she may have been a woman in her late thirties, but was definitely trying to present as someone in her late twenties at best based on her makeup, which wasn’t as successful as she had likely hoped.

Wyll drove up in his busted car and leaned over the seat in order to manually roll down the passenger side window. His car was a much older model with little in the way of fancy features like automatic windows or an aux cord. He had bought it himself with his own earnings after he left home, which just so happened to be during his first year on the force and right around the time Mizora put Wyll on his leash. Before his father could learn the truth of the trouble he found himself in, Wyll left on his own terms. He found a cheap studio apartment on the outskirts of Baldur City and saved what little money didn’t go towards rent, bills, and food, to buy this used hunk of junk car that was still somehow functional.

The woman, who smelled heavily of cigarette smoke, leaned into the open window and asked, “hey there cutie, looking for a fun time?” Her voice was incredibly raspy.

“How much would a fun time cost?” Wyll asked, putting on a charming smile of his own. It felt awful.

“Depends how much fun you’re lookin’ to have. The full package is gonna run you 150 bucks, but a handy sample, for a cutie like you, only $20.”

Wyll couldn’t shove the thought of Astarion out during the interaction, and how much more charming he had been compared to this woman. His words, even if they had felt rehearsed, flowed so much better and sent Wyll’s heart racing. The way this woman spoke and then grinned with a mouth full of yellow, nicotine-stained teeth did not make Wyll stumble in the slightest.

Wyll unlocked the door for the woman, inviting her into his car. With no hesitation, she opened the passenger door and took a seat, rolling up the window as she sat down. As soon as she was buckled in, Wyll began driving back to the station.

“Mind if I smoke in here?” she asked after about a minute of awkward silence.

He preferred if she didn’t, but since she was about to be locked up, Wyll compromised. “Sure, if you wouldn’t mind cracking open the window.” She took out her pack, did as Wyll asked, then lit her cigarette. She was courteous enough to blow her smoke towards the opening in the window. “So, handsome,” she began as she took another drag. “What’re you lookin’ for tonight?”

“Nothing in particular,” Wyll said politely, “just a bit of company.” He only had to indulge her for long enough, and then when she started to panic and understand what was happening, he’d grab his cuffs out of his back pocket, just like with Astarion, and lock her up.

“A bit of company?” she asked, scoffing a bit. “That’s fine and all, but I could offer a bit more than just some chatter,” the woman’s left hand began to drift over the center console and onto Wyll’s thigh. His body tensed up a bit, but he managed to keep his eyes on the road and not flinch too obviously. Then, her hand moved a bit more inward towards his crotch, and Wyll took a sharp inhale. Both of his hands gripped the steering wheel as he tried not to panic from the uninvited touch. His face flushed, but not out of nervous desire like the other night. It was now from a deep sense of discomfort.

Meanwhile, the woman watched Wyll’s reactions and started to snicker. As she watched Wyll’s flustered face, she began to rub her hand along his crotch, waiting to feel something happen in the young man’s pants. Wyll did gasp a bit at the increased stimulation, but there was no pleasure in the moment. As he drove through the city streets, he began counting down the lights until he made it to the station, but it was becoming more and more difficult to focus. Wyll shifted in his seat and tried to adjust himself. He was not enjoying this. Still, the woman was distracted at least, making it much easier to get her to the station before she could begin panicking and become more difficult.

Three lights away. There were only three more lights, then Wyll would make a right turn into Baldur City Station and be done with this. As he passed the third light, the woman gave Wyll’s groin a squeeze, and Wyll jumped. Gods, this was horribly uncomfortable. “Oh, c’mon there sweetie. Why pick up little ol’ me if you don’t have much in the tank?” She took another drag of her smoke and blew it out the window as her hand continued to lazily rub Wyll through his pants.

They were passing the second light now, and as Wyll saw the light turn yellow, he pressed down on the gas and sped through the light. Her hand left a burning sensation coursing through him. It wasn’t the pleasant warmth of Astarion’s hand on his arm or of Astarion’s lips on his cheek. It felt like fire, like something Wyll needed to smack and stomp to get rid of and put out. But he didn’t. He held on. He gripped the steering wheel tighter as he drove just above the speed limit.

Then came the third light. The light that always made Wyll run almost late to work if he got stuck at it because of how long it took. The red light, especially for the turn lane at this signal, always ran close to four minutes if you hit it at just the wrong time, and of course, as Wyll was much too far away, he saw the signal turn yellow and cursed under his breath. Thankfully, the woman didn’t seem to understand Wyll’s frustration and simply thought he was upset that he couldn’t get it up. As Wyll rolled up to the light and hit the brakes, he finally grabbed the woman’s wrist and pulled her hand away.

Her wrist was so much thinner than Astarion’s. He almost forgot to be gentle when he grabbed her because of how uncomfortable he was. The woman yelped and looked at Wyll with frustrated confusion. All Wyll could think about was how he had grabbed Astarion’s wrist similarly, his mind drifting for a moment to more pleasant company.

“Hey, what’s that for?” The woman shrieked, trying to pull her hand away from the young man’s grasp. Wyll held her hand by her face and properly locked eyes with the woman for the first time during this long, dreadful car ride.

“If it’s all the same to you, miss, I prefer a bit of proper foreplay before jumping into something so intimate.”

“Proper? What, like some kissin’? I can do that for you.” She leaned in, ready to indulge in this new request of her client’s, but Wyll put his other hand up to her mouth and stopped her. She opened her eyes and sat back, confused and a bit annoyed.

“Let’s wait until we reach mine. There’s no rush, is there?” Wyll said with the most charming smile he could muster.

“I guess not…” The woman flopped back in her seat and took another drag from her cigarette, this time not bothering to focus the smoke out the window.

The next minute or so passed in a long, uncomfortable silence. Wyll listened to the rhythmic clicking of his turn signal and thought about breaking the silence, but he had no clue what to talk about. It was more out of courtesy rather than any desire to learn more about this woman. He couldn’t muster up the energy after what she had just spent the past ten minutes doing to him, and so they sat in silence and smoke.

After what felt like an eternity, the light turned green, and as Wyll hung a left and approached the station, the woman seemed to tense up ever so slightly. Wyll resisted his natural impulse to turn on his blinker as he approached the right turn into the parking garage. “Aw shit!” The woman screamed, dropping her cigarette on Wyll’s carpet and trying to get the door open. Wyll was quick to the draw though. He swerved onto the side of the road and slammed on the brakes, then quickly grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled out his handcuffs. Before she could even register what had happened, Wyll had both her hands cuffed behind her back. “Ma’am, you are under arrest for solicitation of sexual acts and prostitution. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.” As Wyll finished reading the woman her Miranda Rights, Wyll couldn’t help but think back to Astarion’s cheeky comeback and how he had handled the whole situation like an adult film. It was comical, in a way, how easy it had been for him to fluster Wyll.

Wyll’s attention didn’t drift for long though as the woman began thrashing in the passenger seat. “No! No! God dammit! Let me go!”

Wyll put the car back into drive and drove up to his parking spot in the employee garage. The woman tried to thrash and smack her head against Wyll’s jaw, but he kept one hand on her arm so that she could only flail around in her frustration at a safe distance. She tried to take a bite out of his hand, but to no avail. When he parked, Wyll quickly got out of the car, moved to the passenger side, and helped the woman up while holding her arm. The woman thrashed about a bit longer like a trapped animal, but once they entered the station, she gave up and went limp. Wyll had to drag her the rest of the way down the hall to a holding cell as she nearly flopped onto the floor in defeat. When he led her into the cell and undid her handcuffs, she turned to glare at Wyll and spit in his face. “Coward. Disgusting, little man. Doing this to an innocent girl, you sicken me!”

As she went on with her insults, she got louder and louder, and the fight came back into her voice. She began to rattle the cage bars and yell at Wyll as the cop walked away. He felt awful, thinking that her words weren’t entirely false, but there was no need to feel guilty. She committed a crime, and he had evidence. She deserved the punishment, of course she did. Who knows if she practiced with protection and was clean? She could be carrying around diseases and not informing her clients. Yes, this was a good thing Wyll had done tonight.

Then Wyll thought back to Astarion and thought if he would’ve felt the same way if he had brought him in like this. Wyll sighed to himself, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to be nearly as cold as he was being right now. He shoved the thought aside as he approached the evidence room and submitted his wiretap from the evening. 

That evening had now been three days ago. Since then, Wyll had managed to bring in two more streetwalkers in similar regards, though thankfully, the other two hadn’t been nearly as handsy as the first. Mizora was satisfied with Wyll’s work, but didn’t dismiss him from this job just yet. There was still plenty more trash to be cleaned up before Zariel would be satisfied.

It was a Friday evening, so spotting workers of the night shouldn’t be a difficult task by any means. Wyll drove down a new alley, as he did every evening so that no one would start suspecting his motives, and parked along the curb. It was still fairly early in the night, only about nine o’clock, so Wyll sat and watched pedestrians pass by. Many of them were walking in groups in wildly promiscuous outfits, likely off to the nightclubs only a couple streets over, but Wyll focused on the people who lingered instead.

After about an hour of waiting, Wyll saw a duo standing near one of the street corners. There was a woman with white hair in a bun and a tall, broad man, likely an athlete of some kind based on his build. They seemed to be chatting as if they were old friends, maybe even a couple, but Wyll grew suspicious of the two standing around. The woman had been facing away when he first spotted her, but when she turned around, Wyll recognized her as one of the women that had been with Astarion by the fountain the other night. Her hair and red lips were styled just the same, making her unmistakable. Wyll began to wonder now if the man was a client or a member of the organization as well. Considering how long they had been standing around for, he assumed that he was likely another prostitute.

While watching the two chatting on the corner, something clicked in Wyll’s mind: if those two were here, then maybe Astarion was around too. Maybe this street was part of their group’s territory. He had told Wyll about the Elfsong for tomorrow, but if Wyll could see him tonight? Even just to exchange a single hello?

Wyll shook the thought out of his mind just as quickly as it came. No, it was a bad idea. He was out here on a mission. He couldn’t get Astarion mixed up in his semantics.

Wyll started his ignition and pulled away from the curb. He needed to move to another street and not be here. It was too tempting, the thought of getting to see his fascinating companion again. Wyll drove down a couple intersections and then turned left, and as he drove down a new street, he spotted a familiar set of silver curls.

Shit, was all Wyll thought. It was Astarion, no doubt about it. He was leaning against a wall all by himself with his arms crossed. His outfit was nearly identical to the one he wore the other night, save for a loose fitting white tank top that was incredibly low cut and presented Astarion’s entire chest, leaving very little to the imagination.

Wyll slowed to a crawl, forcing himself to not pull over and get Astarion’s attention. It was incredibly tempting, especially when Wyll noticed something different about Astarion’s face. Was that… a bruise? Did Astarion have a black eye? What happened? 

Wyll pulled over on the opposite side of the street, just a bit past where Astarion stood. He observed Astarion out of his side mirror, examining the mysterious man’s appearance and seeing if there was anything else off about him. From what Wyll could make out, it seemed like there was only the one bruise Astarion’s face, but the high collar of his leather jacket made Wyll question if there were any injuries on his neck as well.

He couldn’t approach him. Not tonight. No matter how badly he wanted to, he didn’t want to have to take Astarion in. He had a wiretap on again tonight and didn’t want to risk Astarion’s wellbeing for a selfish moment of companionship.

Still, despite all of Wyll’s grievances, he sat and watched Astarion for a while longer. A few people passed by and admired Astarion, but no one engaged with him, and he didn’t seem keen to interact with anyone either. He sat in the same position, staring off into the distance with a vacant expression in his eyes. After about another fifteen minutes of Astarion sitting and posing like a statue, a car finally approached and parked in front of him. He approached the expensive looking black car, a Mercedes from the looks of it, and stood there with his arms crossed and no smile or charm on his face. Wyll was perplexed as he watched Astarion. He still looked cold and distant as he spoke with whoever was in the back seat of the vehicle. He listened to the mystery passenger with a look of disdain, and when he did speak, it looked submissive and frustrated. Wyll couldn’t make out anyone in the car because of the deeply tinted windows, but he wanted to know so badly who Astarion was talking to or what was being said.

Then something was said that caused Astarion to finally uncross his arms and say something with a charming smile that looked full of venom. He had put his hand on his hip and leaned to the side with this new expression, then suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed Astarion’s face. All Wyll could see was a large hand with nails like claws that reached out and squeezed Astarion’s cheeks before pulling Astarion close to the window. He disappeared from Wyll’s line of sight then. Wyll panicked, concerned and confused about what was happening. After another moment, Wyll saw a door open, a patch of silver hair enter the car, and when the car drove off, Astarion was gone.

Wyll had no idea what he just witnessed, but he had a sneaking suspicion that whoever was in the car was the same person who had injured Astarion in the first place. Maybe it was his pimp. Wyll pondered just what the hell he had witnessed. Should he ask Astarion about it tomorrow at the Elfsong? Was it any of his business? Would it be too incriminating to Astarion if Wyll knew what was happening?

Wyll sighed and covered his face, unsure of what to do. He was taken out of his thoughts when he heard a knock from the passenger window. He lowered his hands and turned to look at who it was. Just outside of his car stood a lovely young girl with tan skin, dark hair pulled in a bun with braids that lined the sides of her head, red lips, and an enchanting smile. She wore a baggy black coat over a fitting white tank top and a black leather miniskirt. She waved to Wyll and watched as he leaned over the seat to lower the window for her. The girl leaned against the car door in a posture that was very presenting and spoke with a soft voice. “Hi there handsome, could I have a ride?”

“Where are you looking to go?” Wyll asked with a charming smile of his own. A target, perhaps?

“Hmmm… I was thinking your place, if you’d have me.” The girl said with a flirtatiously coy grin. Definitely a target.

“Is there something I need to give you before I take you home?”

“Maybe just your name and a few hundred dollars?”

Wyll gave a small laugh, then unlocked the door for the girl. She smiled as she took a seat and rolled up her window. “My name is Wyll. Would you mind waiting for those few hundred dollars until we reach my place?”

“Sure, that’s fine,” the girl said as she pulled out her phone and seemed to send a quick text before putting it back into her small black purse. “You can call me Aurelia.”

---

Hi there, hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!

[shipcestuous]

Sorry if it's a silly question or one you've answered before, but what's that "grade on a curve" ask referring to? I tried looking for more context in your discussion and anti tags, but I couldn't find anything, idk if that's due to Tumblr's search system.

Anyway, I personally think trying to prove anything to antis is a wasted effort in most cases. Most of them seem to be looking for reasons to get angry, possibly because they don't feel important or in control irl so they want to play the part of the hero battling the bad guys For The Greater Good online and get clout and admiration for it, so they're not generally the best people to try and have reasonable arguments with. Plus, with how many of them can be hilariously hypocritical about their interests ("you writing a physically abusive relationship in your fic proves you're unstable and dangerous, but me drawing a lot of violence and gore is perfectly okay," "we're essentially shipping the same problematic ship but I see myself as someone with good critical analysis skills and you as someone who's either stupid or evil, so it's fine for me to put it in my fanworks but not for you," etc.) I have my doubts about them reading "incest shipping isn't really a free-for-all, people have different tastes and opinions" and NOT somehow getting "people who like incest ship in THIS way are okay, but people who like incest ships in THAT way deserve all the hate they get" out of it...

On the other hand, I absolutely DO think it's important for incest shippers, proship/anti anti types, and people who just care about other people's comfort in fandom space in a healthy, non-self-centered way to be aware that we all have different preferences, boundaries, and even triggers, and that's okay! Just to make an example, if I like sharing fluffy headcanons about a wholesome brosis ships with you (general you), that doesn't necessarily mean I'll be okay with you reccing me hardcore BDSM darkfics about a codependent twincest ship out of the blue just because I'm into incest. Or, if I like twisted, manipulative parent/child and I've gushed about it you, even on multiple occasions, that doesn't necessarily mean I'll be okay with you suggesting me an extreme underage noncon scenario for the same ship, just because I like my incest dark and fucked-up.

We all have a place in fandom, no matter if our tastes run wholesome or twisted, vanilla or hardcore... and I think it's safe to say that many of us actually like both, even if at different times, for different ships, in different context or different combinations! But to coexist together peacefully, we have to be clear about what we want or don't want from our fandom experience, and respect other people's boundaries. Even when we don't get them, or we think they're too specific, or they're the squshy "X is yes or a soft no for me depending on the day, unless Y happens, then it's a HARD no" or "X is a hard no for me unless Y happens when Z, then it's just a soft no or, in a W context, even a yes" kind. (And, as someone who does have some squishy boundaries, let me tell you: they're actually WAY more frustrating when you try to formulate them in an understandbable manner so you don't accidentally cause any misunderstanding than when you have to hear them out, lol.)

Fortunately, I don't think I've actually seen cases like these happen a lot among incest shippers. But I think it always good to keep all this in mind!

Hi Anon,

I apologize for making things difficult for you. The grading-on-a-curve analogy first came up in this post. It was primarily a discussion of Cathy and Chris, so I didn't link back to it.

I agree with you. Many antis cannot be reasoned with, will always assume the worst, and need to pass judgment to validate themselves, or some other psychological reason. If we start regulating our behavior to appease them, they win. As always, the best way to deal with the issue is to ignore them, create content, and enjoy ourselves. But even though they are prone to assumptions, we also don't want to give them any fuel for assuming the wrong thing about us as shippers.

And then within our community its important not to make assumptions, but I think we have a pretty good understanding among ourselves that tastes vary. But it's good to remember to always give details when recommending things so that people can make informed decisions.

Thanks for sharing these thoughts, Anon!

[pierrai]

Difficulties of being in a relationship with your OCs! What are some things about them that their partner might see as their bad side or something they don't particularly like?

Hello anon! Thank you very much for your request! I'm writing something short tonight (I think! I write the A/Ns before the imagine so I'm hoping it isn't over 1.5K!) because I'm a bit tired and my health is failing, but I hope you enjoy! I included Peri and Florin too because I like them and want to write a bit about them! Hope you don't mind!!

Character: Multiple Word Count: 2526 Scenario: Difficulties of being the S/O of OCs Warnings: Unhealthy relationship dynamic, mentions of death, abuse, alcoholism

For Mira, his most glaring negative aspect is easy to guess. He is, of course, cursed, and so being his partner will naturally come with the heavy downside of hoping he doesn't accidentally (or purposefully) kill you one day along with the rest of humanity.

More subtly however, Mira's downsides range from something as basic as his simple mindedness, to the more complicated existential crisis he's always mulling over.

He is, somehow, both dense and attentive. He can pick up on some emotions yet completely miss others. Sometimes he just needs things explaining to him a couple of times before he's sure he's understood it, so if you're someone with little patience, he's likely to grate on your nerves occasionally.

He is also an indecisiveness people-pleaser. If you want him to make a decision on something, he's more likely to awkwardly smile and ask what you think rather than just giving you the answer he'd actually chose.

Above all, Mira just wants to be liked, and for the as long as he can remember, he's done his best to achieve this want. This can likely make him seem easily swayed at best or two-faced at worst, and maybe someone with a firmer sense of identity would become irritated at someone who is always subtly trying to stay liked rather than being themselves.

Eliot, again, has obvious flaws, though his are definitely centred around his personality in a more severe way than Mira rather than anything world-destroying. Not many people like Eliot as a friend, let alone as a partner, and if he is your partner, you're in for an even more burdensome task.

Eliot's insistence that he's a god can already be difficult to handle as it is. He's incredibly narcissistic and seems to think the world should revolve around him and do as he pleases, and that includes you.

Even if you could read his mind and know his every desire, he's still likely to get upset at you for one thing or another. Even if he really likes you, that doesn't bar you from his haughtiness, which can become quite annoying if it's something you're likely to always take too seriously.

On top of that, Eliot's past has given him abandonment issues that definitely push past the barrier of severe. This combined with his pre-existing god complex means he can become incredibly possessive and controlling, wanting both to keep you in place so that you never leave and believing he is entirely within his godly right to do so.

It's difficult to break through to the more vulnerable and caring side of him without bringing a hammer down on the fragile glass of his ego too. For some partners, the reward of Eliot's undying loyalty just isn't worth the trouble.

Someone reserved like Nen doesn't have any outwardly problematic issues. In fact he's very intent on avoiding most people, both out of fear and introversion.

He's not particularly outgoing or adventurous however and is often just downright moody. Sometimes it might feel like he's actively trying to keep himself trapped in his misery rather than cheer up, which might be annoying for someone impatient enough not to see why he might be doing that.

If the person he finds himself with is someone who needs a lot of verbal communication, then Nen simply wouldn't be able to fit that role. He'd prefer listening rather than butting in with his own thoughts; he's perfectly fine sitting patiently while someone else prattles on so he can be relieved of the burden of carrying on the conversation himself. It's just not his way.

If his partner can handle his muted responses and not find themselves discouraged into thinking he's bored or disinterested, then he's perfectly happy as well.

Being a demon should be enough of a difficulty in a relationship with Haine.

Regardless of the circumstance under which you enter a relationship with him, he's spent near half a millennium hunting people down and pushing them towards their demise so he can devour what's left, and so being with him romantically is bound to present a plethora of issues.

He's almost definitely made you suffer in some way. If Haine ever had the inkling that he liked someone, he'd seek to sabotage those feeling immediately, convincing himself that he simply feels hatred instead all while he eggs himself into hurting you more and more to confirm that. Getting him to finally admit that he loves you would result in enough trauma that perhaps you won't feel the same by the end.

But if you do, and if you decide you can forgive him and stay with him despite what he's done, it still won't be very easy. It's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, and Haine is no different; he's so stuck in his ways that getting him to accept that he doesn't have to have it out for everyone will take time.

Haine's bad side is simply that he's lived a life of cruelty for far too long, and it's easy for him to go back to it when he's feeling lost. Whether that cruelty is regrettably directed towards you or other people, it's bad nonetheless.

Jun may be one of those character where being called 'too nice' or 'too giving' isn't a way of bragging about having no downsides and instead actually is a downside.

There really isn't much to complain about when it comes to Jun at a surface level, and even if you get closer to him to the point of being in a relationship, the positive still vastly outweigh the negatives, but that doesn't mean the negatives aren't there.

Jun really is too giving, in a way that probably ends up jeopardising not only his own wellbeing, but the wellbeing of anyone who decides to become invested in him as a person.

Really what he needs is for someone to tell him that he simply can't be expected to solve everyone's problems just to satisfy some past regrets of his. Sometimes his constant 'do-good' ethos can be more frustrating than it is helpful to those who actually care about him.

Being in a relationship means you've broken through his near-impenetrable walls, but it doesn't mean you've stopped him from slowly building them back up.

For someone who's always so eager to hear about your issues, he's always quick to downplay or downright ignore his own, even if you insist that he's not burdening you in the slightest. To avoid the relationship being incredibly one sided when it comes to talking issues through, it might feel like you need to force him at times to simply say what's bothering him. It's not a dealbreaker, but it's certainly a running theme in the relationship.

In the noble society he lives in, there aren't many who would see Oliver as a suitable marriage candidate, but even if he were amongst the common people, he likely would have difficulty finding love as well. His childhood was marred with trauma that carried on to his adult life, so he's not the most cheerful person around. He often decides it's better to drown his sorrows in booze rather than work through them.

Since he was paid little attention as a child, Oliver has never properly learnt to regulate his emotions properly. He is easily upset and angered and lashes out more easily when with people he's closer to. It's only the purposeful distance he keeps from others that keeps his impulsivity in check, but if he were to actually like someone, he'd find it difficult not to be selfish with them.

His reliance on alcohol to not only vent out his sorrows whilst drunk but also forget them come his morning hangover probably wouldn't be easy to handle. Oliver is quite depressed and oftentimes won't listen to reason. If you're the upbeat type, he's likely to just rain on your parade with his pessimism. He's also filled with insecurities, meaning he'll end up insulting not only himself but probably also you when he feels like he's being picked apart. Over all, he just need a lot of emotional care and delicacy, which may be a bit too much for some.

Damien is what many would label a 'psychopath' if they were to know his true nature, though he would contest this. With that title alone, it should be obvious what difficulties would come with being his partner. If you've gotten close enough to him where he actively wants you to be his partner, you've gotten close enough for him to reveal every part of himself to you.

Damien cares little about secrets in a relationship. He's willing to be an open book, perhaps a little too open, and spill all of his feelings. Sometimes it might feel like he's rambling, actively describing how he feels in the moment as if he and you are both specimens he needs to examine. He loves gaining new knowledge, and this pursuit of knowledge extends to understand love and affection to. He isn't afraid to push the boundaries on his version of love and see where it leads him, and neither is he afraid to push you in oftentimes cruel ways to see how you tick as well.

His love is simply overwhelming. Unless you're the type to feel comfortable under his sick and twisted depths, you'll simply end up drowning instead. Damien has plenty of love to give and plenty of ways to show it, but not all these ways are fun or loving (again, he begs to differ) so for a weak-willed partner, his 'bad side' would often be apparent and all the more inescapable.

Though seemingly smooth and charismatic, Alastor would make for a far more difficult lover than one might think. He's selfish, egotistical and greedy. He wants the world to pay attention to him, and you even more so. He'll have a lot of hypocritical 'one for thee, another for me' rules that you're bound to grow frustrated with, and unless Al is worn down to complete loyalty, he'll treat you as more expendable then he wants you to treat him.

Al can become easily jealous if you treat him the same way he treats you and will make this known. He's not above threats and manipulation so even if you're as sly as he is, he'll somehow find a way to trump that.

Even in love, he must compete and constantly prove his worth. It's hard to get him to fully focus on having a partner and doing what's best for you when there are other tempting things out there for him to set his sights on.

You would have to work around or simply get used to not always being Al's number one priority, while also being expected to hold him as yours.

Orion, despite having a cold exterior, is actually well-liked by noble ladies and lords. Being both capable and from a wealthy and powerful family, there is little reason to not want to be his partner. But this is only the perspective of most nobles who have both their family's interests and their own at the forefront of their mind. For a normal person, a man from a wealthy family who values noble traditions might not be ideal.

Orion is actually somewhat of an outlier in his family when it comes to upholding tradition, likely thanks to his experiences with Alastor, but although he doesn't value the family legacy as much as his parents and can see when placing it before his family's actual well-being is harmful, he values it enough to turn a blind eye when taking action might jeopardise his position.

Orion is dedicated above all to his work in making sure he lives up to his parents expectations. The main issue with being his partner is that it will often feel like he's cheating on you with his position. He's married to work more than any one person, and the time he spends working long nights and early mornings means he'll often leave you to your own devices.

He is somewhat of a coward, keeping up his persona as a dutiful noble lord rather than allowing himself any sort of pleasure, selfish or not, which also ends up being less selfish on his part when it harms those he's close to.

Being Peri's partner requires, on some level, for you to be abnormal. There's a particular sort of resilience you need to withstand someone like Peri, not because he's intentionally evil, but because traits of his race and his upbringing have made him provocative towards humans.

Peri can seem both dense and very perceptive. He'll poke and prod until he's gotten a reaction that entertains him and enjoy figuring out why he got one such as that and how he might be able to get it again. He'll conveniently forget information and suddenly remember it later when it'll hit the hardest. As his race is one that cares little for grievances commit towards each other (they see this mischief as fun more than anything) Peri is much the same.

He isn't the type to harm others out of some sadistic want nor do anything extreme; his decades living amongst humans has at least given him some social grace and empathy and he's hardly about to kill or maim anyone) but he is very casual about matters that other would handle with more tact. He'll easily be the bystander who lets atrocities happen. He is eccentric and needs someone able to withstand him or simply keep up with him. You would also have to reconcile with the fact that Peri, who's lifespan is a lot longer, will love you closer to the way a human loves their pets than a person loves their partner.

Though a prince, Florin doesn't have the fairy tale disposition of one. He is obsessed with wealth and flaunts his money and status whenever he can. He is very loose with himself and those he cares about, often not even seeing why what he's saying or doing might be flat out insensitive or ignorant. He is simply a man with a ridiculously extravagant amount of wealth and privilege, and his personality reflects this.

It would be hard for any partner to get close to liking Florin, but especially if you've ever suffered any sort of hardship. Florin is someone who's never had to struggle for anything and has had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He'll make fun of those unfortunate enough to be poor and mock them for not being born the way he was. He'll also have absolutely no clue why doing so might make people mad. He thinks that, especially with you, that if he just throws money at whatever problem he's caused, it'll solve itself. Money always made him happy after all.

He expects you to do as he wants much like the servants that trail him around. He won't mind if you don't (he might even be amused, but being the subject of Florin's amusement isn't much better) and doesn't lash out like some nobles do when they can't get their way (he's more likely to playfully whine) but being expected to be as his beck and call is bad enough to begin with.

[damianbugs]

I’ve been reading a lot of your works and I really enjoy them because I think the characterization I really well done! I do have a question, though. What’s your opinion on a lot of the canon characterizations and tropes that seem ever present on ao3? I really don’t like certain ones like pit madness because I think they’re a little problematic but I’m curious on your opinion because you tend not to include them in your writing

hello !! thank you so much for reading my works <3 i am usually very picky with characterisations, both in fics and in comics, and so i try my best to stick to one and avoid certain things entirely in my writing as well!

as for your question (i'll focus primarily on the discussion of pit madness since it is a wonderful example); i have to agree with your point! i dislike the trope of pit madness, especially when it is focused around jason todd in particular.

in a storytelling perceptive, i think the idea of the lazarus pit on ao3 lacks the complexity it has in the comics (which are also not completely free of criticism), which leads to a lot of messy characterisations and a rather problematic outlook to mental health — and especially, recovery from trauma.

aside from the obvious complaint that in canon, jason is not the only one to have experienced the lazarus pit in the batfam itself (cass, bruce etc) — i think pit madness has become a fanon idea that a lot people use to excuse or undermine his actions and intentions. depending on which storyline of jason's you wish to write or read, his experience prior and post the lazarus pit can vary.

almost always however, there is a brief moment of uncontrollable rage and insanity that almost everyone who uses the lazarus pit will experience. in jason's case, we can say it affects him harder or for longer due to him actually being dead at one point, while someone like ra's al ghul, who uses it frequently, experiences it for shorter and more controllable bursts.

[Batman #243, 1972] the first appearance of 'pit madness'

i assume this idea of the fanon pit madness originates from this brief moment, however it is important to note that after that, pit madness is not actually a thing anyone experiences. jason todd specifically, recovers fairly quickly from this and begins his re-training and plotting to return to gotham (and thus the proceedings of under the red hood).

in fanon (and canon, though it is not a thing brought up as frequently anymore), jason todd's 'pit madness' is something incredibly delicate and i think needs to be approached very carefully. often times you find stories in which he must be 'cured' of his pit madness (that, again, isn't a thing) and the list of things this pit madness has caused end up just being a list of things he has done as a result of a trauma response or revenge against people who have hurt him. all things that might not have been excusable or the right thing to have done, are understandable given the context.

i have never been a fan of that ideology. that the carefully curated plans, backup plans and missions jason todd orchestrates is somehow caused by this evil magical phenomenon as opposed to his true self. jason is a very intelligent boy, and before his death, was trained by bruce — even before they figure out his true identity, batman and nightwing are amazed and threatened by red hood's obvious training and skills.

[Batman Annual #25, 2006]

and so, to me, the pit itself isn't the thing that drives you 'mad'. it is rather, the reconstruction of your body and your mind when you wake up again that is beyond mortal understanding, that drives you 'mad'.

jason todd was tortured and murdered prior to his death, and when revived, was immediately under the impression that his father moved on quickly and didn't see his death as a reason to change his approach to fighting crime. that would drive anyone to do things they maybe wouldn't normally do, but hey, that's the thing with trauma.

jason todd is not under the influence of magical madness. he is a teenager who has experienced incomprehensible trauma and is doing what he must do now to survive a world where he can't be the way he used to. the adults around him failed him and continue to fail him and so he takes matters into his own hands and thus, the red hood is born.

when it's not written in a victim blaming or excusable way (such as an 'explanation' for The Titan Tower Incident with tim) i assume it can be done well, but as a whole it is not something i am a fan of. for jason in particular, i find the inclusion of this 'pit madness' also tends to remove his characters personality and motivations, brushing off situations that are integral to his development and journey as an anti-hero. it brushes off the terrible things he has done, infantalising or just completely disregarding them, or completely villainises his moments of weakness and vulnerability.

i hope this answers your question? i might have got a little carried away,, i have a lot of opinions about canon vs fanon and characterisations in general, so this was really fun for me answer! feel free to ask for clarification on anything written here or anything else you'd like! thank you again :] <3

[everybody-loves-purdy]

I wish that people who hated Nightheart wouldn’t be so, like,,, hostile about it towards his fans, I guess? Idk I personally relate to him to an significant degree (like I don’t think I’ve ever related this much to a character before ngl) in spite of his flaws. And yet, in saying this (on both tumblr in the past and on other sites), I have been attacked verbally and accused of being somehow misogynistic (uh,,, what? Many of my favorite characters are literally the she-cats, such as Mothwing or Frostpaw or Hollyleaf or Squirrelflight) or even accused of being ‘abusive’ for liking him, which really doesn’t make any sense to me either? He’s not, y’know, Bramblestar or something. This is especially true when it comes to trans headcanons: I personally like to view Nightheart as transmasc like myself because I find a lot of his story elements regarding his name change and identity issues ofc. But,,, whenever I say anything abt this headcanon there’s always some ppl who use it as ammo to accuse me / others of awful stuff. I even got told to unal1ve myself by someone before over this which is,,, not cool. I try not to let this sorta thing get to me but I do feel that it has gotten pretty extreme over this past year and I don’t think it’s okay at all. People can like or dislike whatever characters they want imo (unless we’re talking about, like, Thistleclaw supporters. That’s a bit weird) and they should never ever be sent literal hate or harassment over it. I just kinda want people to chill a bit and maybe consider that there are better ways to discuss any disagreements they may have over the books and not jump straight into being cruel / accusatory towards them, if that makes sense.

I agree, I understand why people may not like Nightheart but it is completely unacceptable for people to be harassing people like that, I’m very sorry you’ve experienced that. I understand people are frustrated about how the female characters around Nightheart have been written in Sky. But that’s a writing issue and not a reflection on Nightheart himself imo, and it is extremely unfair to judge people for liking him. Especially with as you say Nightheart not being problematic in himself.

Of course it’s not excusable to harass people in any kind of character debate such as this but I feel that the Nightheart hate has become extreme in certain areas given how unproblematic the actual character is, if people enjoy the who he is then let people enjoy him. I find him funny, I like Nightheart, and although I can definitely see the issues with how some characters have been presented to suit his narrative more I still like the character.

Obviously this isn’t all Nightheart dislikers I’m talking about, not by any means, but the minority that do harass people like this are just ruining it for everyone.

I do wonder, obviously without reading Shadow myself, if this is inherently an author issue this stems from. In River the world warped around Nightheart much less and the female family members in his life were treated with more consistent and sympathetic characterisation. That was a Cherith book. People after River disliked Nightheary sure but it was more of a “I find him annoying” thing. Sky is where it all went wrong and where I’ve noticed people taking it out on Nightheart for being understandably upset about Sparkpelt’s and Finchlight’s characterisation changes in that book. That book does have much more emphasis on the Firestar thing from characters who are not Nightheart (in River his frustrations were largely self imposed), and the TC female characters act a lot more unreasonable than they usually would in general. That was a Kate book. Meanwhile I have heard that Shadow, another Cherith book, treats his female relatives much more sympathetically again. So I can’t help feel that author bias may be influencing the writing associated with him here? Sorry to go off on a tangent at the end here but it’s just a thought, and one I wonder if could cause a change in fandom perception of Nightheart again once shadow is out.

[alheria]

Insecurity (one-shot)

There was nothing in this world König enjoyed more than waking up in his husband’s arms.

Even though they were crammed on a tiny base bed and definitely way too warm, being tightly pressed to that muscular chest felt like heaven. Sleeping alone always meant staying on a high-alert as his anxious brain kept thinking about being caught off-guard. While sleeping with Ghost however, he did not need to worry about anything - he was more than safe in his husband’s protective, loving embrace.

The only problem with that arrangement was Simon’s persistent unwillingness to part ways. He liked to keep his life-partner close until he himself had to get up, but sometimes their separate work assignments did not allow for that. Just like today, when the Austrian had been scheduled for an early morning recon mission.

-Let me go? -he suggested upon turning the alarm off, knowing there is no way he could sneak out without those strong arms unwrapping.

-I’d rather not. -Ghost murmured, possessively tightening the hold around the younger soldier.

-And I would rather stay, but I really have to go. Duty calls. -König sighed, pressing a delicate kiss to the lieutenant's throat before firmly pushing away. Despite not wanting to, the Brit obediently let go and quickly replaced the other soldier with a pillow to continue sleeping.

After getting out of bed, for a good minute the Austrian just stood in place, fondly glancing at the absolute love of his life he never believed he would find. Or rather that it would find him, since it was Simon who approached first. 

Honestly, the fact that someone as cool as Ghost decided this anxious shadow of a person was worth a fraction of his attention was shocking. Them somehow going from being fuck-buddies to getting married was a fucking unexplainable miracle.

-I love you. -König whispered, gently brushing through the soft strands of his dozing off man. Seemingly dozing off, because he suddenly turned around, grabbed the extended arm and pulled the younger man into a long, breathtaking kiss. Then he looked deep into his husband’s hazed eyes and in a rough, morning voice said:

-Love you too, stay safe.

---

Despite being in the army for quite a few years now, having teammates was still hard to get used to, as his anxiety made interacting and socialising very challenging. It was especially problematic when unexpected changes occurred to his current squad, like a week back when serious injury required temporarily replacing one of the soldiers. The new guy, Fabian, who arrived five days ago, was also Austrian and of similar age, although a particularly extroverted one. He was also ridiculously good-looking with his dark, fluffy curls, immaculate moustache and small but pronounced muscles. And for some unknown reason, that clearly cool as fuck guy turned trying to befriend cold and withdrawn König into his personal mission, which meant they were hanging out quite often.

Somehow this intrusion wasn't very bothersome, Fabian happily took all the attention on himself, making it easier for the other Austrian to blend into the background. The only problem was how open this new “friend” was about certain things, especially his sexuality. He was proudly bi, and very flamboyant, flirting with everyone he found worthwhile. That in itself wasn’t an issue of course, but rather the fact he would definitely find Simon to be his type once their paths finally crossed. It was absolutely unavoidable and happened on the tenth day while they were in the common showers after a long mission.

-Fuck, he’s hot. -the shorter man whistled out of nowhere, bringing spacing out König back to reality. He turned to look at the person Fabian was referring to, and his heart immediately dropped to the ground. Undeniably, his new teammate was eating up the sight of half-naked Ghost examining a prominent bruise on his flexed bicep. 

-Do you know if he’s single? -he asked, shamelessly staring at the oblivious Brit whose wedding ring was perfectly obscured by his dog tags. 

-He’s taken. -the other Austrian answered quickly, although his clenching throat didn’t manage to add by whom. Hearing that, Fabian only smirked cryptically before adding: 

-Honestly, I don’t really care. I’ll shoot my shot regardless, and see what happens. There is no way I am passing on this ridiculously hot body without a fight. And I bet he must be starved after all those months out here. Shouldn’t be hard to convince him to have some fun.

Listening to this rant, König wanted to vomit. There was no way he could compete with this incredibly handsome, ridiculously charming and very outgoing man if he chose to pursue Simon. It would be stupid to reject the advances of someone so much better. After all, he was nothing but a mess that was surely only causing inconv…

No. 

Ghost loved him. They’ve been together for six years, if he was a burden he would’ve been discarded a long time ago. Which meant there was no way their relationship could fall apart because of some random guy showing interest.

But his broken brain straight on refused to accept that fact.

---

For the rest of the day König struggled to keep his composure. All he could think of was the love of his life throwing him away like a broken toy he’s done playing with. Because that’s how this situation would definitely end. Didn’t matter they were happily married, his mind was already fixated on the worst case scenario, even though chances of its occurrence were close to zero.

Ghost would leave him.

He would be completely alone again.

Alone. 

Again. 

This could absolutely not happen. But it was inevitable. His heart was about to be torn out and shredded into pieces. One hundred fucking percent.

Somehow he managed to keep calm and politely excuse himself from Fabian’s unbearable presence. He speedwalked through the base, entered his room, lifelessly sat down on the bed and hid his masked face in his shaking hands.

It was over.

No more stealing quick kisses when no one was looking. No more silent cuddling whenever either had a tough day. No more sleeping together in their tiny, uncomfortable bed. No more love.

Nothing even happened yet, but he could already see himself becoming a merciless, soulless mercenary rotting from the inside as he tried to get over losing the only one who mattered. So occupied with repeating the worst case scenario over and over again, he didn’t even notice his husband’s arrival.

-Is everything alright? -Ghost asked as he walked in, a rather puzzled look appeared on his face when he took the mask off.

-Yeah, just tired. -the younger man responded vaguely, too scared to reveal what’s bothering him. He wasn’t even brave enough to look his life-partner in the eyes.

-You’re lying to me. -the Brit pointed out bluntly, and König’s heart nearly shot out of his tight chest.

-I’m not! -he barked, feeling anger and shame rush through his veins. -And I don’t have the energy to argue that. I gotta go. -added, before rapidly getting up and storming out of the room past the shocked lieutenant. But the second he slammed the door, a loud, flashing warning appeared in his spinning brain.

You shouldn’t have done that.

Simon didn’t need to be with someone who was acting like a child. He deserved a mature, mentally stable lover. He deserved better.

Not sure where to go, the Austrian exited the building and headed for a quiet spot where he liked to hide anytime he had enough. After making sure there was no one around, he hit the wall. And again. And again. And many more times until the physical pain overpowered the mental one. Then he just sat there, on a cold concrete, staring at the dark sky and mourning his soon to be broken heart.

---

König didn’t even realise he was starting to doze off when a loud, angry voice brutally woke him up. 

-What the fuck are you doing?! -Simon demanded furiously. -I’ve been looking for you everywhere! -informed before grabbing the very confused soldier’s arm and forcefully dragging him up. -The fuck is your problem? -he then sighed in resignation while pulling the younger man into a surprisingly soft embrace. At that point, the fully-awaken Austrian was already on the verge of tears. Then Ghost gently kissed the side of his pounding head and said:

-I was worried about you.

That was it.

The waterfall of tears soaked into his mask as he began to cry in his surprised husband's arms. The lieutenant didn’t say anything, nor asked any questions, for which König was tremendously grateful because he was sure no words could escape his clenched throat anyway. For what seemed like eternity he cried and cried until the overwhelming anxiety finally calmed down.

That’s when he began to talk.

He told Simon everything about Fabian and what he said in the showers, although didn’t mention anything other than quiet “I was jealous”. His deep fear of abandonment stayed untold. Ghost made no comments, only listened while holding the Austrian close. And once the reason for his hostile behaviour was fully in the open, they silently returned to their room.

The second the door locked, the calming atmosphere immediately changed, and König knew he was in big trouble. Aware there is no escaping the punishment for the outrageous behaviour, his body instantly froze in place, and heart began to race. He could feel the coldest shiver run down his spine when the eerily quiet lieutenant approached him from behind and just stopped there, unbearably close but not close enough for them to touch. Very unrushed, the older soldier removed his husband’s mask, then vest and gloves. A low sound of amusement escaped him upon noticing prominent bruising on the trembling palm. Soon his own, steady, gently grabbed those sore knuckles and began to tenderly rub the sensitive flesh before suddenly squeezing it hard, making the younger man gasp and squirm.

-I’m very fucking curious what made you think there is a reason to be jealous. -the Brit raised his brow while putting more pressure on the injured hand.

-I…I don’t know. -the younger man stuttered, feeling his throat clench tighter and tighter with every passing second. Tears started to cloud his vision yet again.

-I’m gonna need you to think a little bit harder. -Simon growled into the other soldier’s ear, instantly making him reach the breaking point.

-You’re too good for me! -König shouted before lifelessly falling on the floor, his throbbing palm still at Ghost’s mercy. -I’m fucking insecure about our relationship! -he added, furiously wiping off the tears running down his burning cheeks.

-Elaborate. -the lieutenant ordered sharply.

-You’re just so attractive, and attract other attractive people, and what if you realise I am not good enough and leave me?! -the Austrian sobbed, too angry at himself to be self-conscious about his feelings. -I don’t want you to leave me… -he whispered, and that’s when his husband finally let go of his hand and silently walked past him.

For a moment there, König thought this was over. The one who owned his heart would walk away, leaving him completely alone, broken into tiny, sharp pieces and forever scarred by an excruciating tear in his fading soul. But instead, Simon dropped to his knees and pulled the shaken up man into a tight hug.

-You’re the only person in the entire world I have any feelings for. -he said unbearably softly. -You’re the love of my life —, no one else exists for me. -continued, tenderly caressing the crying soldier’s head, trying to calm him down. -So I beg of you darling, never question my love for you ever again. Or I’ll fuck you to death to prove how wrong you are. -the Brit then barked as he rapidly pulled away to look into his partner’s hazy eyes.

Faster than light König snapped out of his miserable state.

-Can you still fuck me even if I have no doubts anymore? -he whispered, and Ghost’s gaze immediately darkened.

-I fucking adore you, you insatiable beast. -the lieutenant snorted in pure amusement before clashing their lips in a long, greedy kiss. The younger man quickly showed the worries aside. All he could think about were his husband’s big, strong hands sliding under his t-shirt and greedily exploring the warming up skin. His own fingers began to pull on Simon’s clothing, clearly demanding its prompt removal.

The older man smiled at that impatient act and obediently got rid of the top. The Austrian took this window of opportunity to unexpectedly push him backwards on the cold floor. Ghost cursed loudly at that unpleasant sensation but soon got distracted by the other soldier swiftly climbing onto his spread thighs and firmly pressing their growing erections together.

Feeling a little dizzy from the arousal, König stopped for a moment to fully take in that breathtaking sight of the love of his life looking at him with utter reverence, as if he was the only person in the wide world. Especially he enjoyed seeing how Simon’s usually tense muscles relaxed, meaning he gave up charge of this situation, allowing his husband to do whatever he pleased.

So he confidently rolled his hips, forcing out a delightful groan from the lieutenant, and earning himself a nearly painful grab of his muscular cheeks. Happy with the outcome, he did it again, to hear yet another, familiar sound of the Brit immensely enjoying himself.

And then did it so many more times Ghost began to writhe under the Austrian’s weight while swallowing deep moans of ecstasy, obviously overwhelmed by the heavenly sensation of his cock being rubbed inside his tight underwear. Himself, he was not anywhere near composed either, his throbbing penis begging…no…screaming for sweet relief.

-Come for me, please. -he whispered, his voice barely audible, although enough to be heard. A large hand grabbed the back of his head and forcibly pulled him down for a rather sloppy kiss whilst their hips sped up those pleasurable movements.

-Fuck, I love you. -Simon growled into his husband’s mouth as he began to come, and that was enough for König to cross the line. He was pretty sure anyone nearby heard the loud whine he involuntarily produced when the intense orgasm hit him violently hard. His shaking body collapsed onto the spending lieutenant as his own cock generously coated the strained pants in cum. -Love you so fucking much. -the Brit added once they’ve calmed down a little, his palm tenderly caressing the younger man’s trembling spine.

-I love you too. -the Austrian murmured, his entirety soaking in the affection of this loving embrace. But despite being on the verge of exhausted from all those heightened emotions, he was way too needy to end it right there. -Show me how much you love me. -he demanded, pushing himself up and looking deep into those darkened, starved eyes gazing at him like a predator would at its prey. -Show me. I need you to show me.

-Your wish is my command. -the older man smirked. He then swiftly flipped them around, pulled his pants down and said:

-Clean your mess.

König didn’t think he had even gotten this hard this fast. Uncomfortably propped on his elbow, he grabbed that sticky, softened penis and shamelessly licked the full length without breaking the intensifying eye contact he used to so religiously avoid. With satisfaction he watched that burning gaze soften and soon cloud with pleasure as his tongue danced on the salty tasting, sensitive flesh. It twirled on the quickly hardening tip and when the Austrian was about to slide that thick shaft into his warm throat, the Brit told him to stop.

-On all fours and wait. -he ordered, and König immediately followed. While he patiently waited, Ghost stood up and grabbed something from the drawer before continuing what they started.

Once the younger soldier’s disgustingly wet pants were gone, his cock began to twitch as Simon’s rough palms travelled through the naked skin, traced the tense back muscles, caressed the sturdy hips and kneaded the firm cheeks. The feeling of a big, heavy penis resting on his lower spine only added fuel to the raging desire.

But despite desperately wanting to, he didn’t beg for more, knowing that patience brings great rewards. And he was of course correct, because soon enough, covered in cold liquid hand slipped in between his thighs, spreading the lube on the muscular flesh for a very exciting reason.

-I still can’t believe you thought I might leave you for some random guy. How could I ever replace someone like you? You’re fucking perfect. -the Brit rambled, sliding his rock hard shaft between those slick thighs pressed tightly together for maximum pleasure.

-I’m sorry. -the Austrian whimpered when Ghost’s manhood grazed his own.

-No. I should be the one apologising. -Simon shook his head while slowly fucking those thick legs, driving his husband absolutely crazy. -I don’t show enough how much you mean to me. I’ll do better. I promise. -continued, his words clouding König’s hazy eyes with tears. How the fuck could he have any doubts about their relationship?! -I love you —, so much it fucking hurts. -concluded the lieutenant, slowly pressing one wet finger into his husband's exposed hole. This unexpected sensation combined with the emotional power of those heartbreaking words instantaneously brought the younger man to the edge. He dropped onto his elbows so he could cover his loudly moaning mouth whilst their needy cocks rubbed each-other, bringing them impossibly close to yet another orgasm.

Once the second finger joined to work him open, his mind stopped registering anything other than Ghost’s possessive touch and his low voice whispering sweet praises.

-I’m gonna fuck you now. -he said, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to the Austrian’s warm neck. König barely comprehended this important information when that fat, hard penis suddenly entered him all the way in, harshly pushing air out of his lungs. Not wasting any time, Simon started thrusting deep into the overstimulated soldier, his teeth scraping the clenched throat. It was too much for the kneeling man, who barely audibly informed:

-I…I can’t anymore…

-And I don’t care. You’re not coming unless I tell you to do so. -the Brit hummed into his husband's ear. -A punishment for being a brat earlier. -he added, and the Austrian could only sob quietly as his entire body demanded a prompt release. This situation was easily predictable, actually. He knew what happens when he acts up. He acted up anyway, thus now has to suffer the torture of having a euphoric orgasm inches away from his reach.

So close, yet so far away.

Fortunately, he was also able to tell when Ghost was at his limit. His grip would tighten to the point bruises were imminent, steady breathing would lose its rhythm, permission would be given.

-Come for me.

König immediately grabbed the neglected shaft that needed no more than a few strokes to reach the much desired release. His whole body contracted so hard, Simon cursed loudly in the background and thrust so hard, the younger soldier fully slid on the floor, crushed by the lieutenant's weight. But he didn’t even care, blinded by the intense orgasm he kept coming and coming whilst melting from the immense heat of their close embrace.

-It will always be only you. -the Brit murmured into his hair, and the Austrian knew he never has to worry again.

His heart was safe.

---

König didn’t think there was anything better than waking up in his husband’s arms after having a mind-blowing sex.

The definite reassurance of their relationship’s solidity only amplified this blissful feeling of being deeply adored and fiercely desired. With a bright smile on his face, the younger man happily wrapped himself tighter around the older soldier’s naked, slowly raising chest, and his heart nearly melted when the half-awake lieutenant reciprocated the gesture.

They stayed like that, in a tight, loving embrace for the rest of the lazy morning, until they absolutely had to return to their duties. Which also meant that the Austrian had to spend time alongside his troublesome “friend”.

It was not easy to be around Fabian, even though he wasn’t threatened by him, or anyone for that matter, anymore. Luckily, their work for the day required a significant amount of attention, thus all interactions focused solely on what’s necessary to complete their tasks.

Until lunch, that is, when his teammate firmly grabbed his arm and forcefully dragged him to the table where Ghost’s squad was seated. With his extroverted personality, he quickly merged into an ongoing conversation, and soon managed to change the subject to suit his needs.

-Soo…some of us had been thinking about going to Spain after this deployment ends. Would you be interested in joining, Simon? -he offered, smiling suggestively at the unbothered man.

-Can’t. Have plans already. -the lieutenant shook his head. -Where are we going again? -he then asked, turning towards the surprised Austrian.

-Montenegro. -König reminded, a bit confused by Ghost so casually bringing up their private life. It was very unusual.

-Yeah, going to Montenegro with my husband. -the Brit elaborated nonchalantly, making the new soldier nearly choke on his food.

-You…two…are married? -Fabian coughed up, completely shocked by this unexpected revelation. 

-Mhm. Three years now. -Simon nodded. -Three, right love?

-Yes, a little over three years. -the Austrian confirmed, absolutely fucking glad he had his mask to hide the victorious smile that appeared when he saw the terrified look in his “rival’s” eyes, who definitely must have remembered talking about hitting on Ghost to his husband. Faster than the speed of light he excused himself, and quickly left the dining hall, leaving everyone but two soldiers fairly perplexed.

And oh, when their mischievous gazes met, König’s whole body began to itch impatiently.

He could not wait for them to be alone again.