#Sorry for this post but truly has made me so miserable

[maipareshaan]

I may be getting an enema, it makes my skin crawl ugh

[touchlikethesun]

i have a theory that, in nearly every domain, whatever you didn't have growing up is what you desire and fanatise about well into adulthood. the grass truly is always greener, isn't it...

[ariaste]

listen ok so i made some good jokes yesterday about Lestat having an onlyfans but i am back today with a new essay and this one is entitled

Why The Invention Of Social Media Is Going to Permanently Save Loustat's Fucking Marriage

come on this journey with me.

ok so on one hand we have Louis, who does not like to leave the house except when he absolutely fucking has to and even then he resents it. my man wants to be at home with a book 100% of the time and he's so fucking valid for that. When he leaves the house, bad things happen to him. He has learned this and honestly i can't fault his evidence. it sucks out there. it truly incredibly sucks out there.

the problem is that sometimes he is married to lestat, who starts clawing at the walls if people aren't paying attention to him for 12 consecutive seconds, and being Out Of The House is the best place for him to go foraging for People To Pay Attention To Him. my man once had a rock star career the way that some people get addicted to meth brewed in a trashcan in someone's garage. Louis, through no fault of his own, is simply not capable of filling this psychological need no matter how hard he tries, except he should not even HAVE to try like that, because no one can do it, because Lestat is fucked up and like wasn't hugged enough as a child or something

this imbalance in their relationship is the core source of all their marital problems since day 1: THIS man's idea of a good time is chilling on the sofa in silence and maybe staring contemplatively at the wall for a while, and THIS man starts self-destructing at a truly astonishing rate if no one is making eye contact with him. If you make Louis go outside and socialize with people, he's miserable and sulking and whining about "are we done can we go home". If you make Lestat sit in silence in a chair for five minutes he starts crying and claiming that No One Has Ever Loved Him, Ever, Ever, And No One Understands Him, And He Hates Everyone In This House and He Is Being Actively Neglected And Cruelly Mistreated Right Now And No One Even Bothers To Feel Sorry For Him, This Is BASICALLY Domestic Violence Against Him Personally, If Only Anyone Knew About The Quiet Hidden Tragedies Of An Unhappy Marriage, and then he breaks some furniture and a window and isn't seen again for six weeks and comes back like "you will not believe what just happened, i [checks notes] met Merlin and also a dragon who gave me three wishes, brb i'm going to write another book about it :))))"

all you fucking have to do to fix their problems is to hand Lestat a cellphone and say the words "do you know about social media? you can say whatever shit you want and there's always someone awake in some time zone to talk to you." Suddenly Lestat is now very interested in sitting quietly on the couch, Lounging Alluringly and posting thirst traps on instagram and finally getting emotional fulfillment from all the likes and comments of "omg???? omg this is the hottest man alive". he does not have to leave the house anymore to get his attention meth. His yawning abyss of neediness is being fulfilled by having parasocial relationships with millions of strangers online who all think he's sexy and don't have to experience how fucking awful he is up close. he can flirt pointlessly with 200 people at once which is FINALLY ENOUGH FLIRTATIONS FOR HIM TO SATISFACTORILY JUGGLE

Meanwhile Louis is 3 feet away, vaguely reflecting to himself that HE is feeling all emotionally fulfilled because they're spending this great Quality Time together in perfect silence while he reads his book and Lestat plays on his cellular telephone and only OCCASIONALLY giggles to himself or says "louis which of these photos do you think is sexier, the one with four buttons undone or the one with five buttons undone" Louis is feeling like his Opinion is being Valued, Louis feels like he is being Consulted on Matters that are Important To Lestat. He has opinions about the photographs. It is not that much trouble to be interrupted from staring philosophically at the wall to spend five seconds looking at a photograph and then saying "that one". Finally he is experiencing Cozy Domesticity. he is so horny about it. lestat is surprised and bewildered about the sudden sharp increase in the amount of sex he is now getting but before he can make any vaguely mean comments about it (bc he's confused and vaguely defensive and worried that it's going to stop out of nowhere and he doesn't know any other interpersonal skills for expressing a thought) his phone pings about how he's just broken 5 million followers on instagram and he totally forgets to even mention the sex thing, which means that he continues getting the sex instead of inciting an argument about the sex and going through his 800th divorce from Louis

all their friends are extremely confused when a whole month, and then six months, and then a year goes by without another Loud Divorce happening and no one crashing through their front door like "I HAVE TO SLEEP IN YOUR GUEST COFFIN FOR THE NEXT MONTH, HE IS INTOLERABLE". They are worried. they are concerned. what is going on over there. are they both dead. no, they can't both be dead, Lestat just posted another tiktok of him sucking on his own fingers, which he would not be doing if Louis were dead. there is an ecosystem collapse happening in the groupchat and it's because the main Drama Vectors have been neutralized

[that-sarcastic-writer]

A Ballad of Lost Souls

Eric Draven (2024) X f!reader

Summary: what happens when two lost souls find each other? Cling to each other? Love could be a very dangerous drug indeed. You and Eric meet during rehab.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, brief handjob, hair pulling, choking, size difference, size kink if you squint, bit of inexperienced!reader, Eric is actually a sweetheart, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of substance abuse, addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, this movie is dark what do you want me to say

Reader has tattoos, but has no further specifications, y’all get to be tattooed girlies today, you’re welcome

WC: 5.7K I’m sorry

Inspo creds @kingkat12, she also posted an Eric fic with the same concept and some of the elements of this story like some of the dialogue bits were inspired after reading hers. Please give her some love! She’s a great writer

A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT ME. idc, I love Eric okay, stfu. I just had to write him. He just needs love man. That’s all. I want to give him love. So here you go. I might make a part two if there’s enough interest. When I tell you the Eric fic supply is LOW, I’ve never seen one so LACKING. So I just had to yk? Enjoy and don’t cancel me alright.

You didn’t often dwell on the past. You had a live in the moment kind of mindset. You didn’t know where you’d be tomorrow so you made the best of the moment. But sometimes, you wondered just where your bad decisions were taking you. You didn’t mean to end up here, in this awful bubblegum pink sweater and sweatpants, surrounded by people who didn’t care why you were here, or if you got better or not. The disappointed words of your mother played in your head, and the angry words of your father hammered in the back of your head. You were a fucking disappointment, and that’s why you were here. 

You thought about ending it. This mess your life had become. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a razor around here if you truly tried. Who would miss you anyway? What even was the point of it all? By day two you couldn’t take this shit anymore. And then you saw him in the yard. You were almost entranced by him. He was so tall, he towered over everyone he walked past, you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you would look standing next to him. You could see his ink cover his hands and fingers, and you wondered just how far the ink traveled. You were intrigued by him, he was quiet, morbidly so, he didn’t say a word to anyone, no matter how much they pressed or tossed him around, he just stared. Whether it was the doctors, the counselors, the guards. He always chose silence. And he always had this look of defiance, of apathy, he took everything with a locked jaw and deadpan eyes. And that intrigued you.

Should you try to entertain anyone in this facility, let alone the loner covered in tattoos? No, absolutely not. But lord, something about him drew you in. 

You caught glimpses of him for a few days, in the cafeteria when you walked past him to your table, maybe he thought you didn’t notice, but you caught him turning his head to watch you walk by. One time, your eyes met, they were a pretty shade of green. It was brief though, as soon as he realized you caught him, his eyes were in front of his plate, but not before you managed to flash him a tiny smile. Welcoming, playful. 

Eric remembered that. 

The next time you saw him was out in the yard. They encouraged exercise in this place, for some dumb reason. The most people did around here was stand in a corner, feeling completely miserable under the scorching sun. But much to your surprise, after some time walking around the yard you found Eric, lingering by the gym equipment. It wasn’t much, just a pull up bar and that was barely tall enough to accommodate him. No weights, of course, because someone could hurt themselves, or someone else with them. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t help but watch as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing even more tattoos going up both of his arms. You stood in a corner like a fucking weirdo, watching as he did pull up’s, as best as he could having to bend his long legs to accommodate the short bar. Why were you just staring at this man you’ve never even spoken to? Of that you had no clue. But you couldn’t take your eyes away. He had his back to you, but even under the material of his white t-shirt you could see the muscles in his shoulders tense, his arms flexing with each pull. And you could only I magine the true sight of him. Sweat dripping down his forehead, lips pulled between his teeth as he did each pull. God, you felt like such a pervert. You shouldn’t be eye fucking him like this, but you couldn’t help it, something about him twisted the most secluded corners of your mind.

Ultimately your trance was cut short, since it didn’t take long for a group of guys to take interest in whatever Eric was doing and went straight to push him around some more. You frowned, almost upset by the sight of him getting tossed around and hazed like this. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but Eric had his head down, chest heavy as he clenched his fists at his sides, but he otherwise did nothing. You didn’t care, any fucks you still had to give were gone the moment your parents and your ex-boyfriend conspired to send you here. You were about to walk over there, not caring about what weird opposite sex rules this place had. But when you started walking, Eric did too, getting shoulder checked as he pushed his way past the group of guys. You felt awful, you wanted to say something to him, but you were frozen when he walked past you, his green eyes shooting a quick glance at you, a bit of curiosity laced in them. But you were more focused on how his shirt was clinging to his sweaty chest. And just like that he was gone.

The next time you saw him was during a group meeting that afternoon. You were almost disappointed at first when he didn’t show. You sulked into your seat for the first minute or two, upset you wouldn’t get to see him today again. And then you saw him. His expression as apathetic as ever, like he would rather get beat up than sit through this bullshit. His hair was soaking wet, small droplets of water still falling from the tips of his raven hair. Great, now the image of him in the shower was ingrained into your brain. As if you didn’t feel filthy enough.

You bit your lip softly, sitting up as he sat across from you, his expression blank with disinterest as his tattooed fingers played with the hem of his pink sweater. You weren’t paying attention either, you were more entertained by the way his long legs spread open as he slouched on his chair, taking as much space as possible. You thought about how nice it would be to sit on his lap. You glanced at his hands, they were huge. How easily he could grab a hold of your ass, or hold you still by your neck. How his long fingers would feel so deep inside you. You thought about how easily he was doing those pull ups, and you thought just how easily he could hold you down, throw you around to as he pleased with you. Truly, you would happily let him use you. You could feel heat rush to your face as you crossed your legs, trying your best to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. Why were you lusting so hard over him? You didn’t even know his name. 

Almost as if he could hear your pounding heart, Eric looked up to find your eyes lingering on him, one leg crossed over the other tightly. He tilted his head with curiosity, and his fingers twitched around his sweatshirt as your eyes met. He didn’t feel like looking away this time. The longer his hooded eyes were on you, the more nervous you became. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest as his eyes burned you. You only looked away when the counselor said your name, followed by stares. 

Shit, were you supposed to say something? 

You opened your mouth, immediately closing it as you had nothing to say. You didn’t even hear the question. You pursed your lips and shook your head lightly. The counselor sighed softly and looked to the girl beside you instead. It was common for most people here to refrain from speaking so he didn’t think too much about it. But when your eyes found Eric again, there was a small hint of amusement in his eyes, a ghost of a grin tugging at his plush lips. For the first time since you’ve been here, you saw something other than disinterest on his face. 

Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him. 

~~~

You pulled your lips into a disappointed pout as you searched around the cafeteria for his black mullet, not being able to find him. And here you thought today would be the day you finally spoke to him. You were about to sit at the nearest empty table when you found him. Even sitting down he stood out. You smiled to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. You looked around for guards, none were paying particular attention to you so you did it. 

He lifted his head slightly to glance at you, a quick second before his eyes were back on his plate. You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. You smiled to yourself.

“I like your ink.” Were the first words out of your mouth. You said them in one breath, afraid he would get up and leave. His eyes lifted from his hands to meet yours, his eyes then fell to your own hands, one of them covered in distinct patterns and colors from your wrist up to your fingers. He wondered what else you were hiding under your sweater, like him.

“Hm.” He gave you a small nod, his plush lips pulled between his teeth in a way that had you clenching your thighs. “I like yours.” 

You smiled, the first genuine one since you’ve gotten here.

“I have more.” You whispered, leaning close to him, like it was some secret only for his ears to hear. His eyes flickered with amusement and he gave you another hum, his eyes now looking everywhere they could in hope of finding said secrets. 

“Me too.” His lips curved up the slightest bit as he lifted one of his sleeves up enough to reveal more tattoos going up his arm. Your eyes lit up as you excitedly leaned down closer with the excuse of getting a closer look. Your proximity was certainly way too close for this facility.

Leaning impossibly close to him without actually touching him, you looked up at him and with a playful smile you pulled down the collar of your sweatshirt to reveal more designs along your collarbone, the rest of the design hidden by your sweater as the colors continued down your shoulder. 

“But don’t tell anyone.” You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile. He gave you what sounded like a chuckle and he shrugged.

“Who would I tell?” Though his face remained expressionless, his eyes had a glint that mimicked your eagerness, he welcomed your proximity. “Here he comes.”

You were confused by his words and you opened your mouth to question him as he sat back, his head lifting in the direction behind your head. 

“Males and females can’t sit together!” One of the guards, one you had noticed had a particular thing with Eric shouted, roughly grabbing the back of his chair to force him up on his feet.

“Huh? Wait, why are you taking him?” You talked back to the guard. “Hey, he didn’t do anything! I was the one that sat here. I—I’ll move. Don’t be such an asshole! Leave him alone!” You tried to help, even going as far as standing up but the guard was already taking the new owner of all of your attention away. Your heart sank as you watched the guard shout at him as he dragged him away.

He had managed to turn his head back for a second, and when your eyes met, he half smiled at you. He was almost proud of the fact that you tried to stand up for him. “I’m Eric!”

You smiled. 

~~~~~~

“Found you.” You skipped into Eric’s room, finally seeing his door open.

You hadn’t seen him since you got him in trouble at their cafeteria the day before. You got in some trouble too. You had a one on one meeting with a counselor about your choice of words and your “temper” but it was nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Truly, you felt worse about getting Eric in trouble more than anything. You didn’t mean to, you just wanted to talk to him. He must have gotten punished because you didn’t see him during gym hour. You leaned against the doorframe as he turned around to find you. Curiosity filled his otherwise empty eyes, and a glint of amusement replaced the usual apathy in his gaze.

“I never left.” He answered with a shrug as he shuffled through the mess that was made of his artwork. Sketch papers were scattered all over his room, torn off the walls. Perhaps after getting in trouble during lunch they used that as an excuse to go through his room. 

“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” You expressed with genuine regret, shooting back a glance to the hallway before inviting yourself into his room. Much to the protest of the rational voice in your mind. You looked at the floor as you almost stepped on a piece of paper, you happily picked it up, admiring the black charcoal coating the page before you set it on his bed.

“Is that why you’re here? To apologize?” Eric asked almost cynically as he glanced over at you, not moving from where he stood.

“Well yeah. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” You said sheepishly, a bit intimidated under his intense gaze. There was always a look of defiance in his green eyes, determination even. He gave you a sarcastic hum, which made you roll your eyes.

“Why did you yell at the guard? You got in trouble too, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, his head slightly tilted as he searched for that little thing you did around him, when you clenched your hands at your sides, or your thighs on your seat. His eyes irked with amusement when your fingers twitched at your sides and your lips parted open.

“‘Cause… You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do anything, or say anything. And everyone around here always pushes you around. It’s fucked up.” You answered quietly, daring to meet his eyes. He pulled his lips into a small pout and nodded slowly. His silence was always so nerve wracking to you.

“Yeah, so?”

You scrunched up your face, sighing heavily at his questioning. What did he what you to say? You didn’t know why you cared. You shrugged, picking up another piece of paper by your feet. You half glanced at it as you spoke.

“I dunno.. I just.. Oh my—” You cut yourself off as you gave the drawing in your hand a proper look. You narrowed your eyes, giving the drawing a closer look, and your jaw fell open. It looked like you, your hair falling over your face, dark scribbles covering your body symbolizing the unknown designs on your body, the only intelligible one being the patterns on your collarbone, the same one you had shown Eric. But what truly caught your eye was that you were in fact, completely nude. Truly, his imagination surprised you, he had imagined every curve of your body well, despite not having seen any part of it.

Based on your flustered expression, Eric could only assume which drawing you had picked up. He swallowed, his cheeks flushing pink being caught red handed. But he didn’t look apologetic, at all.

“This what you do in your spare time? Draw naked girls?” You asked with big eyes, the still working rational part of your mind screaming alarms, but a part of you also filled with excitement at his perverted mind. Almost as if you were on his mind as much as he was on yours.

He shook his head. “Just one.” He answered with a shrug, a challenging look in his eyes. 

Either you walked out right then and there, and that would be that, or you would go all in. He was trying to figure out which one it would be.

“You are very talented, this is—” You dragged your tongue over your lip as you walked closer to him, catching glances at his other artwork. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached him, his gaze making you shudder. He said nothing as you stooped in front of him, now having to tilt his head down to meet your gaze. God this man was so goddamn tall. “You could totally sell this for some money.”

“But,” you continued, swallowing hard as you looked up at him, and the way his green eyes looked at you made your mind all fuzzy. God, you haven't felt this euphoric since you got here. This rush of adrenaline made you dizzy, but you pushed through it. “I see one flaw in your creativity.”

“Oh?” He bit down on his plush lip, head tilted with curiosity. You hummed and nodded, daring to bring your fingers up his chest. His breath hitched in his chest, but he said nothing.

“I fear you don’t have the full picture. My tattoos are more than just a scribble of ink.” You stated matter of factly, making him breathe out a small laugh.

“Sorry. I work with what I have.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling of your hands itching up his chest.

“Maybe I should give you more to work with?” Your hands found the back of his neck and you instinctively stood on the ends of your toes, itching to get closer to him.

Eric glanced down at you, his eyes lingering on your own for a split second before glancing at your parted lips, soft breaths escaping you as you anxiously waited. He didn’t have to think about it, he didn’t want to. His mouth was on yours so hard you whined. His large hand found your hair, tilting your head back to meet your lips better. 

You weren’t sure when you ended up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped around Eric’s slim waist as he held you up. You were right, he could hold you up like you were nothing. Truly, the oversized clothes you were forced to wear didn’t do him any justice. You wondered what he was hiding under his sweatshirt.

His lips were messy on yours, his heavy breaths joining your soft whimpers. You were so caught up in the delicious feeling of his mouth claiming yours and his hands touching everywhere he could, you didn’t hear the loud voices of guards calling your name and patient number. Reality dawned on you when you heard shouting down the hall for everyone to get out of their rooms. You patted Eric’s shoulder, forcing your lips away from his. 

“Eric—Eric.” You said his name with urgency, making him look at you, eyes filled with greed as he chased your lips. “I have to go. I don’t want to get you in trouble again.” 

He nodded after a second, setting you down on your feet after pressing one last kiss to your lips. You had a stupid smile on your face as you successfully sneaked out his room, the guards being distracted as they probably ransacked some poor bastard's room like they had done Eric’s. You glanced behind you as you hurried down the hall, catching a glimpse of Eric peeking his head through his door. He smiled. And it made your heart race.

You could not wait to see him again.

~~~~~~

“Eric!—” You slapped your hand over your mouth, attempting to quiet the desperate sounds leaving your mouth. But the way his tongue lapped at your sensitive clit and his long fingers rubbed against that one spot within your walls that had you squirming.

You didn’t mean to end up in this position, ass naked on top of one of the washing machines in the laundry room, with Eric on his knees and his face between your thighs. Truly you didn’t, you knew you would be in a lot of fucking trouble if you got caught. But the way his lips claimed yours, his tongue lacing with yours, his large hands grabbing at every part of your body like he didn’t know which one he craved to touch more. He just wanted you so fucking bad, your kisses and little rubbing here and there for the past few days wasn’t enough for him, or for you.

“I wanted to taste you so fucking bad.” He muttered against your clit, a groan rumbling in his throat when you pulled at the hairs on the back of his head, inadvertently holding his face closer against you. Not that he minded, he would stay here, with his fingers scissoring you open until you dripped on the surface underneath you. 

“Please—fuck. That feels so good.” You didn’t remember the last time someone made you feel this good. Not that you had much experience in this area, but this sure felt right.

Eric wrapped his free hand under your thigh, pulling you to the edge, closer to his mouth. He lapped at your pussy like he needed it, like it was the air in his lungs. The sounds leaving his mouth as your juices seeped around his fingers were almost as filthy as yours. 

You felt like such a slut, chasing his mouth with your hips, heaving like a bitch in heat, and quietly begging him to grant you your release, as quiet as you could be with his fingers so deep and his tongue drawing delicious circles around your clit. 

“Just like that baby… Just like that.” Eric mumbled, his fingers slipping and crooking against that perfect spot. 

Your release was so sudden, and it hit you so hard you were shaking, sobbing violently into your hand. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. Eric dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you. 

“Shit—Eric—” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face. 

With a grunt he peeled himself from the warmth of your thighs, he stood to his full height before leaning down to capture your lips. The taste of yourself lingering on his tongue made you moan. Disoriented, you reached down to rub where his cock was straining against his sweatpants. He groaned into your mouth, his large hand flew to catch your wrist.

“It’s okay.” He gave your lips a soft kiss as he pulled your hand away. You gave him an adorable frown, your mind still spinning from your orgasm. 

“But you—” He pressed another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. He moved his lips to your neck, latching on to that one spot that had you whining. Neither of you cared if everyone saw the mark he left. 

“We’ll have time for that.” He mumbled against your skin. The way he slurred the words made your breath hitch. “Right?”

He pulled back to meet your eyes, blinking slowly as he waited for your response. You licked your lips softly, breath soft as you thought, how could he still question it. You were past the lusting. This was something else. You needed more of him, and it wasn't just sex you were craving. You wanted every part of him, even the parts of himself he didn’t want.

“Of course.. This isn’t.. Can’t you tell? What you do to me. I’ve never..” You couldn’t even form the right words, your mind still fuzzy with all these feelings you had no name for. You didn’t need to explain. Whatever it was, Eric felt the same. And he smiled, he genuinely smiled. And what a pretty sight that was.

“We should go.” He pressed his lips to the side of your head, smoothing down your hair and fixing your sweater. “Can you stand?”

You half nodded, gasping when he set you down on your feet and you instantly leaned on him for support. The sly smile on his face made you want to slap him. But deep down, you wanted to smile too.

~~~~~

The next time you saw Eric, he was walking down the hallway, his tall frame towering over the majority of people he walked past. He wasn’t hard to find. You bit your lip, unable to contain your excitement as you hurried after him. Your fingers brushed his, and almost as if he knew your touch by heart, he wasn’t startled, he didn’t flinch either. When he turned his head, his eyes grew big at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curving into a tiny smile. You flashed him a whole smile, unapologetic about how happy it made you to see him. Your obsession with him over the past two weeks wasn’t something you could explain, you knew it probably wasn’t healthy. But when were you ever known for having healthy coping mechanisms? You found something that filled you and you clung to it.

“Where are you going?” You asked him quietly as you walked beside him. He walked slower, but didn’t look at you much, as not to bring unwanted attention to yourselves.

“Laundry room.” He said quietly, his eyes dropping to meet yours. And you shared that knowing and malicious look. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips. This time of day usually meant you could sneak off for a little while since most patients were having their once a week visitor, or phone call, which meant less guards were in every corner.

“I’m supposed to be out in two weeks.” You told Eric in between kisses, his lips trailed your jaw as his hands grabbed at your ass. 

“I’m out in four.” He answered as he pressed you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your face between his large hands, pulling you to meet his eager mouth. You whined, fists clenched around the front of his sweatshirt. You couldn’t go two weeks without seeing him, you would go fucking mad.

“I don’t want to wait a month to be with you.” You breathed out, your chest heavy as the words left your mouth. “I’m supposed to go back to my parents when I get out. They agreed to take me in to follow my treatment, but I don’t want to go. They’re the ones that put me here.” 

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You barely heard him as he spoke, almost as if the words pained him, broke something deep inside him. It broke something in you, too.

“You can come with me. I have a little place and some money saved. It’s not much but.. If you want.. We could.. We could try something for real?” You trailed off, afraid he would reject you. It was one thing to mess around in here, where neither of you had anything else, anyone else to cling to, but this being anything other than a desperate bond by two lost souls was a different story. Outside of these walls, he could find anyone else, he didn’t have to keep the broken girl he fingered in a shitty laundry room.

“I would like that. I would like something real, with you.” His words were soft, as were his hands holding your face as he pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed out a laugh of relief. “Fuck this place. We’ll do it tomorrow, during shift change. There’s a vent up here that leads to the yard.”

You pulled him down by his sweatshirt, your lips crashing against his. He laced his fingers in your hair as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You welcomed it, lips parting as you locked your arms around his neck. 

“Eric.” You said his name softly in a quiet plea. He opened his eyes to find your desperate gaze. He told himself he wanted to be better, he knew you deserved better, but when you said his name like that, when you looked at him like that. He was no better. “I don’t think I can wait anymore. Please, I… I need…”

“Need what?” His words were coated with arousal, he knew fucking well what you meant. But he wanted to hear you say it.

“Fuck—” You kissed his lips roughly, any sanity and restraint you might’ve once had, completely. You can’t trust an addict to have good self-control, now could you? “Take me. I’m yours, just take me.”

“Fuck.” Now it was his turn to lose his sanity. He gave your lips one last kiss as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, licking your lips before he spun you around to face the wall. “You’re a sweet girl, don’t forget that. I swear I will fuck you properly on a bed, with flowers and shit.” 

His words were rough in your ear as he pressed his lips to your jaw, his hands making quick work of pulling down your sweatpants and panties. They pooled around your ankles as he kicked your legs open as far as they went.

“I like carnations.” You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed cunt. You heard him chuckle beside your ear.

“Those are pretty. They’re pretty like you.” He hummed as he brought two fingers up to your lips. You happily took them in your mouth. Eric almost moaned at the sight. One of these days he needed to have you sucking his cock. One of these days. 

Eric pulled his fingers from your lips and with a kiss to the back of your head, he sunk his coated fingers into your hole. Your mouth fell open, your forehead falling against the wall. You were instantly chasing his fingers, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you happily rode them. You didn’t know how he did it, how he could have you dripping around his fingers in a matter of a minute or two. You were clawing at the wall, silent moans spilling from you when he pulled his fingers from you. He watched almost proudly as your slick coated your thighs. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked quietly, tugging at the hem of your sweater. You made a humming sound, as best as you could. As if he needed to ask. Eric was happy to rid you of your sweater, more happy to find more hidden tattoos going all over both of your arms. He craved to find every single one of your tattoos, and kiss every one. But he knew it would be best to be quick.

His own sweatshirt met the same fate, and with a kiss to your cheek, he grabbed one of your hips as he pulled down his sweats enough to free his cock. A groan left his lips as he dragged his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. You gasped, not being able to see him, but already knowing he was big. 

“Let me know if it hurts, hm? I’ll take it easy, I promise.” He pressed his lips to your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank himself into you. Only his tip was in and you could already feel the sting of his cock stretching you wide open.

“Fuck. Fuck, oh my god—” You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers clenching around nothing as he slowly filled your further, inch by inch.

“It’s okay. You want me to stop?” He asked, shushing you softly as he sat still, allowing you to adjust to the burning feeling of his size. Fuck, you should have known someone as tall as him would be this big. Somehow, it didn’t occur to you.

“No. ‘m okay. Keep going.” You reached behind you to touch him, your fingers gracing over the side of his face. He nodded into your neck, one of his hands sneaking to the front of you to play with your clit to ease you as he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. He sat still, speaking filthy words into your ear until you were whimpering, needing to feel more. “Eric, please.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up. It was grueling, how he fucked you against that wall. You braced yourself with one hand, the other holding his face behind you as he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“Fuck, I have been dreaming about this since I saw you. You always looked so pretty when you looked at me.” He whispered in your ear, his hand wrapping around your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck. You cried out, his roughness making you clench around him. He cursed, covering your mouth with his large hand. “I need you to keep it down for me, baby. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” 

You shook your head, doing your best to contain the sounds he was pulling from you. His hand slowly left your mouth, trusting you could keep your sounds to a minimum. You bit down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut as his cock split you open. You swore you had never been this utterly fucked out, so cock drunk before. You had never needed anyone so badly. You had never felt so strongly about anyone. You had always found something to cling to, pain, tattoos, in your more miserable and recent years—drugs, and now him. But him? This feeling he gave you, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. You wanted to hold on to him until your final breath of air left your lungs.

“I wanted this—you—so fucking bad. I needed to have you.” Eric grunted, lips latching on to that spot on your neck where the previous hickey he had left was starting to fade. “I’m so crazy about you, no amount of rehab could fix me.” 

You moaned at his words, letting them sink in. He was down so bad for you, probably as much as you were. Two addicts, seeking refuge in each other, craving this adrenaline, it was a kick you had never felt before. It was a kick only lust and passion could bring. And he ignited that deep within your soul. 

“Me too.” You panted, lips parting in ecstasy as one of his tattooed hands loosely wrapped around your throat. Fuck, the way his whole hand covered your entire neck made you gush all over his cock. “I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. You—ah!—I need you all the fucking time.”

“Then you can have me,” His fingers squeezed your throat tighter, his thick cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your fucking cervix. “All the fucking time. Forever.” 

Tears filled your ears as you could feel your release near, your thighs shuddering as you felt your legs start to give out. Eric was quick to press you further against the wall, his back flush against your chest, sweaty forehead pressed against your cheek as his cock rutted against you, over and over, until you were chanting a string of uh-uh-uh’s, your mind too overcome with the pleasure he was giving you to even speak. 

“I want you to come on my cock so fucking bad. I need it.” Groans fell freely from his chest as he once again slipped a hand to your swollen clit. The pressure of his rough fingers made you gasp, your throat closing under his grip. Your release hit you so hard you were sobbing, though mostly muffled by his tight grip. Tears fell down your cheek as your orgasm left you a shaking mess. You had never felt this way before—so overcome with pleasure you cried.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. Good girl.” The hand on your throat left to wipe at your tears, soothing you as you came crashing down. 

Eric fucked you through your release, frantically chasing his own. His name left your lips with praise, sobs of your remnant pleasure as he pushed you to the point of overstimulation. But it wasn’t until he felt his own release near that he pulled out of you. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his thick cock, his own hand guiding yours up and down his slick length, sweet praises leaving his lips until he was spilling himself. 

Heavy breaths and pants of exhaustion filled the small laundry room, the air smelled like sex, and the remnants of your forbidden times were left as evidence. Eric eventually spun you around to face him, a soft smile on his lips. You had only ever seen it once, after he ate you out days ago. It was rare to see Eric smile, but you made it a vow to yourself that you would always make him smile like this.

“How fucked up are we? Finding comfort in each other like this. Did it ever cross your mind?” You said softly as Eric helped you dress. He was bending down to grab your sweater and he stood up to his full height, towering over you, and his eyes were laced with an indescribable feeling.

“When I first saw you, I didn’t know what it was, but I was so drawn to you, I looked for you everyday, and I thought I would go mad if I didn’t have you. And right now, I can tell you it’s not just lust. I’m entranced by you, I need you all the time. And if there’s one thing I learned from this fucking place is that you have to latch on to something, otherwise you’ll drown.” 

You were speechless, nothing but your soft breaths could be heard. A smile fell on your lips and you leaned into his chest. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, he’d be damn if he ever let you go anywhere but here.

“Addicts will be addicts, no matter how much they try to fix us. But it’s not always to drugs we’re addicted to.” You sighed softly, closing your eyes as you sank into the feeling of his arms. “This feeling? I never want it to stop.”

“It doesn’t have to.” He mumbled into your hair, in his head reminding himself of your limited time, but he refused to let you go just yet. “Forever, right?”

“Yeah, forever.”

[peachsukii]

stitched muses ꒰ tangled hearts series - kiribaku x fem!reader ꒱ ⇢ bakugo's stumped on inspiration for his upcoming fashion line, the deadline fast approaching as he's working day and night to meet it. he's frustrated at his lack of ideas, stuck in his home office while you and kirishima are enjoying your weekly movie night. he's pacing the house, putting too much pressure on himself to excel. little did you know you'd be the solution to his temporary dead-end creativity.

꒰ content ꒱ bakugo's a grumpy goose, fluffy domestic goodness, bakugo has that little "eureka!" moment, kirishima is cute & cuddly, mitsuki asks reader to lunch cross posted to ao3 // wc; ~1.4k ✿ tangled hearts masterlist ✿ ↶ | previous entry (sweet like honey) ↷ | next entry (one-way ticket)

The rain pattered against the Bakugo-Kirishima household, echoing as the droplets bounced of the roof in an off beat rhythm. Spring has truly sprung, the rainy season coming in full force over the course of the week.

“Goddammit!”

Bakugo’s frustration traveled from his office and through out the house, accompanied by the sound of his chair forcefully retreating from his desk. He despised the rain, the miserable storm only adding an unnecessary layer of irritation to his long work day. He trudged out of his office, shoulders slumped as he makes his way into the kitchen.

Kirishima and yourself are sitting on the living room couch, snuggled under a blanket and watching a romcom on tv for your weekly movie night. Bakugo was supposed to join you two, but he’s been shackled to his laptop all day long. He’d step away for a minute, thinking he could take a break, and then shuffle right back to his desk to pace like a caged animal.

“I’m gonna check on him,” you whisper to Kirishima, giving him a quick peck on the cheek as you peel the blanket from your lap.

Sauntering into the kitchen, you see Bakugo making himself tea, silently staring at the countertop and tapping his fingers against the laminate. His gaze shifts sluggishly from the tea kettle to you when you approach his side.

“Hey sweetheart,” he sighs, turning to pull you into his chest. “Sorry for workin’ late. I know you and Ei have been waitin’ for me.”

“It’s okay, Kats, we know you're working hard. Here,” You break away from his embrace and take his mug from the counter, using your hip to playfully bump him out of your way. “Let me finish this and make you something to eat.”

"S'fine, baby, I can—"

"Katsuki," you interrupt sternly, followed by a sweet smile to soften the bite in your tone. "I made dinner for all of us earlier, I'll get you a plate with your tea and bring it to you."

Bakugo grumbles under his breath, not having it in him to fight your stubbornness. He leans down and meets your lips for a brief kiss before moving to the living room, hovering behind the couch for a moment.

"Hey babe," Kirishima says, flashing his toothy grin backwards toward him. "Try and call it a night soon, yeah?"

Bakugo bends over the couch, cradling Kirishima’s jaw in his hands and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. “M’tryin’. This deadline is killing me.”

“Mom hounding ya again?”

Hearing Kirishima call Mitsuki “mom” made your heart flutter from the kitchen, such a simple sentiment making you melt. Watching your boyfriend’s love for one another naturally flow will never get old, even though they’ve been married for years, it still was new to you to witness casually.

Bakugo rolls his eyes. “She’s been bitchin’ at me all week.”

“She loves ya and knows she can push your buttons to get you to succeed,” Kirishima assures, kissing the tip of Bakugo’s nose. “Anythin’ we can do to help?”

He releases Kirishima’s face from his grasp and steps back from the couch, shaking his head with a frown on his face. “Unless you suddenly have a knack for fabric and textiles, don’t think so.”

You round the corner of the island in the kitchen, a plate in one hand and cup of hot tea in the other, making your way to Bakugo’s office. Kirishima sighs contently as he watches your silhouette disappear down the hallway.

“That woman is a damn goddess,” he swoons, deflating back into the couch cushions. “Go eat and wrap up. We can start another movie when you're done.”

Bakugo nods his head and turns to head back to the office. He peers in the doorway to find you mesmerized by the designs scattered across his desk - multiple sketches of clothes, scribbled notes about fabric choices and design suggestions on every page. You glance toward the door, catching him staring.

"These all look great, love. What's got you stumped?" you ponder aloud while organizing the papers back into their proper piles.

Bakugo crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "It's too bland, shit's been done a thousand times. Need somethin' that'll be versatile."

"Maybe you're thinking too much into it."

He blankly stares at you for a moment - you can see the wheels turning in his head while he processes your statement.

"...Do y'know who you're talking to?"

You can't help but laugh, walking around his desk and to the doorway. "I do, hotshot. You're an incredible designer, but not everything needs to be fashion week quality. Most people would just walk around in a t-shirt if they had the option."

Something in his mind clicks the moment you mention 't-shirt,' immediately sending him bolting upstairs and to the bedroom without another word. Bakugo comes barreling back down the stairs with a few t-shirts in hand moments later, tossing all but one onto the back of his office chair.

"Strip," he demands, hands on his hips impatiently.

You quirk your eyebrow at him, but discard your sleep shirt and sweatpants as ordered. Once you do, he shoves the shirt he grabbed over your head, threading your arms through the sleeves and taking a step back to analyze it in full.

"...this is one of your shirts? What does that—"

"Gimmie a sec to think."

The t-shirt is worn out, heavily loved over the years with a faded band logo over the chest and spotted with bleach stains. It was slightly too big for you, cascading over your figure and ending around your mid-thigh area.

Bakugo clicks his tongue while pushing up his glasses back into place. "Turn around."

You obey, turning your back to him. He cinches the back of the shirt with one hand and pulls at the hem by your thigh with the other, as if he's fitting you into his imaginary garment.

"Think ya just solved my problem, sweets," Bakugo says with excitement, letting the t-shirt fall back into its natural state before scooting past you and sliding into his office chair. He turns to the screen, opening a new e-mail and begins furiously typing, paragraphs flowing from his fingers in the matter of minutes.

"Don't forget your dinner and tea," you remind him, turning on your heel to head back to the living room. "I'll leave you be."

"Don't let Ei finish the popcorn without me."

Returning to the couch, you plop down next to Kirishima and fold your head into his lap. He looks at the shirt your wearing, noticing it's definitely not the one you were in 15 minutes ago. And that you're not wearing pants.

"Ah, so he needed that kinda motivation," he snickers, ruffling a hand through your hair.

You chuckle and wiggle in his lap. "No babe, not this time. He should be done soon."

Half an hour later, Bakugo comes into the living room, sighing dramatically as he falls onto the couch, head landing on Kirishima's thighs.

"Made it with three days to spare," he rasps, putting up a victory fist with exhaustion. "Ma approved it, too. S'goin' to be expedited to production tomorrow."

"Way to go, superstar!" You exclaim, bending down to kiss his forehead. "Knew you could do it."

"Good work, Kats! What did you end up going with?" Kirishima asks, a hand massaging Bakugo's shoulder to help him relax.

"She was right, I was thinkin' too hard about it. You'll see it when it's released next month."

"Aw, you're not even gonna tell us after all that?!"

Bakugo snickers, turning to face the TV. "Nah, you two can wait like everyone else. S'nothin' out of this world, but I'm proud of it."

───

Later that night, your phone pings a few times with multiple messages while you're getting ready for bed back in your apartment - they're from Mitsuki.

How did she even get your number?

"Hey sweetie, it's Mitsuki. Thanks for being patient with my brat. Even at 30 he's still a pain in the ass sometimes! He's lucky to have one, let alone two, people tolerate him long enough to stick around." "Are you free for lunch sometime? I'd love to get to know you better. Katsuki and Eijiro talk about you a lot."

Mitsuki wants to meet for lunch? You've met her a handful of times, but she doesn't...know about you guys yet.

Right?

You respond with a simple "Sure, I'd love to!" and leave it at that.

You're not sure why, but there's a bundle of nerves knotting in your stomach over the thought of having to impress Katsuki's mother.

No, it's not like that...yet.

mitsuki's always been perceptive...you think she knows about you and the boys? and what'll happen when you celebrate katsuki's new fashion line with friends in a few weeks and you tag along? 😉 ⇢  wildflowers; @maddietries @smolbeanzzz @camila2201 @lik0 @pixel4ffecti0n @moonlight-dreamer04 @lumi-cent @pastelbakugou @hannahk @camryn-ciel67 @c4prisuna @perfectsukii @screechingpeachdelusion @lightsgore @cuntpiercedprincess @aphrodite-xoxo

[tears0fsatan]

I have something in mind

Can brothers+ Simeon (If you can) react to a smutty fanfic with male mc written by some random succubus?

They're just randomly scrolling on devilgram (or any other platform) and they see this fanfic (if you know what I mean)

Sorry if it's a bit confusing.

✦ ⊹ ˚˖ warnings... nsfw??, below 16 do not interact u'll be blocked if u do, male!mc, mainly implied dom!mc, mainly implied top!mc, possessive language yeahhhh 🤘🤘🤟, praise, levi has two dicks lol (its canon atp yall source: trust me), implied blowjob lol (levi), lowkey exhibitionism (satan&beel), mention of somno (belphie), mention of body worship lol (simeon)

 :¨·.·¨ ♥︎  a.n... wait this is actually pretty cute??? HAHAHA had so many ideas for this thank you hon <3 (lol lets move past the fact that this req is almost a year old and it reminded me of svsss lowkey)

LUCIFER !

he doesn't really remember how things had gotten to this point, one moment he was busy doing his paperwork and the next he was reading this... obscene nonsense on his phone. it was horribly vulgar and terribly inappropriate, not to mention how it invaded his and MCs privacy.

yet for some reason, he couldn't look away.

lucifer was no teenage boy, he had the willpower to move mountains and never felt the urge to masturbate, especially to something as crass as smut of someone he knew personally.

he had no need to read horrible stuff like this since he could easily have the real thing, yet he had to admit, there was something rather enticing about someone's lewd fantasies between him and MC. it annoyed him to no end that someone thought of his MC in such a way but knowing that they knew it was lucifer that was the one making his human feel so good eased his jealousy.

it was comical almost, how the author depicted him fucking MC into the next day when in reality it was the opposite. it was lucifer who was under the mercy of the human, the one who would cry and beg for more, not that anyone outside of the two of them needed to know.

however, there was one commonality between the vulgar post and reality that made his pride flare, no one, not human, angel, or demon, could ever make his little human feel as good as he did. it was interesting to see how accurate yet inaccurate this succubus's fantasy was at the same time and only lucifer would know.

lucifer thought about leaving a comment correcting the author on what a satisfied MC really looked like, on how it was really he himself that trembled under the human's touch, and how MC managed to get the avatar of pride into such a state. yet, knowing that he was the only one who truly knew those little things pleased him greatly, and quickly dismissed the thought. some things were better left unsaid.

MAMMON !

during one of his nightly visits to his favourite casino, mammon couldn’t help but notice how some of the succubi keeping the gambling demons company were whispering amongst each other and giggling to themselves while occasionally throwing glances at him. at first, he thought nothing of it, he was a demon lord after all and the second oldest of all seven avatars of sins on top of being a model, it was no surprise people would recognise him.

throughout the night he caught wind of bits and pieces of the succubi’s whispering and immediately opened his D.D.D. to see exactly what the hell they were muttering about. what he found left him speechless and unable to focus on his bets the entire night, though he tried (and subsequently failed miserably) to not let it show.

there was a flare of anger at the thought of other people thinking of his MC in that way but the fact that they imagined him with MC had a different feeling flaring up in the pit of his stomach. a sense of smugness bubbled up from within, damn right it was him that was fucking MC, as if he would allow anyone else touch his treasure.

mammon's thoughts kept flitting back to the post despite himself, images of scenes the author described coming to haunt him through his bets and they had him shifting in his seat, eager to keep the money rolling in but also desperate to have MCs arms wrapped around him and make the dirty fantasies of a random succubus come to life.

he wanted to feel MCs desperation on his skin, he wanted the humans attention all on him, his eyes focused on the demon and him alone, but most of all, mammon wanted to hear the cascade of praises that the human sang his way, just like how the post had described. he needed all of it.

before he realised, his thoughts were no longer focused on the money he could've been earning and instead on his human. he'd deal with the perverted succubus and his increasing debt another day, what he needed right now was MC.

LEVIATHAN !

now, leviathan was no stranger to fan fiction, especially smut and x readers. he was what one could describe as an expert on internet culture, so how could he not know about something as infamous as fan fiction? they were his guilty pleasure, not that anyone knew.

he was also no stranger to searching MC up online, whether it was on devilgram to see the most recent photos captured of him or fabsnap to replay the videos of him doing a silly challenge with one of his brothers. while he knew that the real living human was merely a few steps away, leviathan wasn't sure if he wanted such a useless and gross otaku breathing down his neck.

so, when he was scrolling through devilgram to see updates on a new anime he was into and accidentally stumbled upon a once in a lifetime goldmine, how could he pass up the opportunity to read it? i mean, to think that some other basement dweller thought of him with MC in such an intimate way... that was pretty fucking awesome, wasn't it?! leviathan was divided between feeling like the luckiest demon in all three realms and feeling like he had tainted something he shouldn't have, as his eyes shakily scanned the blob of text with bated breath.

there were several moments that sent a shudder down his spine, the description of MC taking his cocks oh so sweetly had him running laps in his mind. even after he finished reading the entirety of the post, he had to go back again, as if to burn the text into his memory.

a whine made its way out of the demon's throat when the mental image of the human stroking his cocks with a lazy smirk on his lips and sharp eyes analysing his every move took reign over his thoughts, the image coming back despite how hard he tried to will it away and focus on the post again. his attempts proved futile, thoughts of MC on his knees in front of him with a cock in each hand, movement stopping completely just as he was about to come flashed in his mind with every breath⎯ leviathan couldn't get him out of his head.

hidden beneath the guilt that came with thinking of such lewd acts with MC lay a flare of envy⎯ how dare someone think of the revered human in such a manner? the more he thought about him and the post, the brighter the flare burned, and soon it consumed him, on top of the sinful thoughts of his human.

SATAN !

while waiting for a certain human to join him at the library for their promised tutoring session, satan decided to scroll through his devilgram, chuckling quietly to himself when he comes across a silly video of cats. however, his laughter soon died down when he scrolled onto the next recommended post and saw that it was about his study date and himself.

after a moment of pondering whether he should take the time to read the horny rambling of a random succubus or not, he ultimately decided, fuck it, why not? it was crude and quite poorly written, he noted, but the thought behind the post was made clear; satan took MC to the library under the guise of tutoring him when in reality it had only been a front to fuck the human in public.

a concoction of emotion bubbled underneath his skin and his mind ran rampant, the thought of someone naively believing that satan would be the one who would do something as ballsy as that nearly made him laugh, but he imagined a scenario where the dynamic flipped, and the chuckle died in his throat. various images of MC using him in a place he deemed to be his haven weaselled past his wall of self control and it became the only thing he could think of.

it wasn't something he hadn't thought of, it was just one that he tried not to acknowledge. after all, it was a public setting and satan had the reputation of a demon lord to keep up, he couldn't just do something indecent where lesser beings could see him and MC. yet, in a way, the vulgar musing of some unknown succubus brought an onslaught of unwarranted thoughts about him and the human doing uncouth things in places where someone could randomly stumble upon them that he didn't hate all that much.

the idea of the human covering his mouth with his hand to silence all the obscene noises so people wouldn't discover them had more of an effect on the demon than he thought and he had to stop himself from divulging in his horny daydreams further.

he was pulled out of his dirty fantasies by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and satan looked up to see that the human had arrived, chest rising and falling faster than it would normally, giving him the idea that he had run to meet him. the demon put on a smile and continued with the date like he never read the post in the first place, but unbeknownst to MC, there were endless plans swirling around in his mind.

ASMODEUS !

there is no demon in devildom who is more active on devilgram and fabsnap than asmodeus, the avatar of lust himself. it was no surprise to find him scrolling through his phone whenever he wasn't checking himself out on the nearest reflective surface. he isn't ashamed to admit he often checks posts tagged with his name, he enjoyed seeing all the compliments random succubi and inccubi showered him in.

though as of late, there was another name he found himself searching up alongside his. there was no one else it could've been besides MC, the human had somehow managed to worm his way into asmodeus's self fulfilled heart, which shocked even asmodeus himself. the demon always read every caption and comment under a post with either his or MCs name in it, especially posts tagged with both of their names. he made sure to never miss a post, regardless of whether they had something good or bad to say (of course the negative ones all got mysteriously bombarded with death threats and soon after were taken down). it was how he found the random musing of one of his fans.

it was scrambled and all over the place, not to mention the number of inaccuracies woven into it, and yet it turned asmodeus on nevertheless. there was one thing they got right; how the demon absolutely adored milking the human dry. the way his spit coated lips would bleed from how hard he bit on them and the way the filthy, degrading names that made asmodeus tremble in all the right ways would tumble past his lips as he rode him, he loved it all.

he fed off of MC's grunts and delirious praises like they were his last lifeline, both in this fan's fantasy and in real life. he never thought that someone could look as beautiful as himself while orgasming but then the human came along and suddenly it was like he had found god again.

the demon found himself getting more and more worked up as he read the text, the detail in the writing of what the two did sent a delightful shiver down his spine, and asmodeus had a sudden urge to stalk the human down and jump his bones. who knew someone's horny rambling could make asmodeus, the avatar of lust, feel this heated? as he skipped off in the direction of MC, thoughts about commissioning the fan kinkier work in the future cycled through his mind.

BEELZEBUB !

the avatar of gluttony wasn't someone who was constantly glued to his D.D.D. like a certain brother of his, if not for communicating with his brothers and MC or using his food sleuthing skills to find new and upcoming food businesses, he hardly even glanced at his phone.

yet somehow, beelzebub found himself unable to take his eyes off of his phone after one particularly tiring fangol practice. while all the other players had finished washing up and changing, the avatar of gluttony was still seated on the bench, unaware of the world around him. the post that had the demon so entranced was one about MC and himself doing sinful things that he only thought asmodeus would indulge in inside the very room beelzebub was situated in at the moment.

a shiver went down his spine and goosebumps broke out all over his skin, both from sweat that clung to his skin and the cool air and the post on devilgram. he was already hungry from not being able to eat during practice, but the description of MCs equally sweaty chest pressed against his back while his hands roamed beelzebubs waist made him feel a different kind of hunger⎯ a different sort of want.

usually his sin felt like a neverending void that he couldn't fill no matter how much he stuffed himself, and he still felt that, but the constant buzzing was somehow not as strong as the ache in his chest and the fire in his lower belly. amidst the heavy racing of his heart and the adrenaline from practice was still pumping through his veins, the post didn't exactly help with his current predicament.

he knew he needed to shower, to go back home and see his family, to stuff his face with all the food he could imagine in hopes of one day being able to silence the ravenous hunger, but after reading the post, he didn't know if he could take a shower without his member getting hard at the thought of MC doing him there too.

to be pressed up against the wall with his hands bracing his weight, the feeling of lips leaving evidence of their activities and lingering on the spot that drew out all sorts of uncharacteristic noises from the demon for a beat too long, the rough yet gentle touch of the human, all the thoughts swirled around in beelzebub's mind and it overpowered his insatiable hunger.

BELPHEGOR !

he had just woken up from the perfect after school nap with nothing to do, MC wasn't around and beelzebub was most likely in the kitchen emptying out the fridge. all homework that needed to be completed was filled out, it wasn't his turn to make dinner and he had already finished all of his chores. with nothing better to do, belphegor slid his phone out from where it was tucked underneath his pillow and scrolled through devilgram with no real goal in mind.

all the posts that flooded his feed were of fellow RAD students he couldn't have been bothered to remember and random promotional shots of RAD from the student council account that he felt the sleepiness creep back into his mind. just as he was about to shut off his phone and continue his nap, a flash of MCs name caught his eye and he scrolled back up to the post.

it was a relatively long post and belphegor mentally groaned, not in the mood to read something so lengthy, but he caught a glimpse of a few rather enticing words along with the human's name thrown in between and he was suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to read the entire thing.

the way the author had detailed how MC fell victim to late night wood and couldn't sleep it off no matter how many times he tried while cuddling the demon, resulting in him rutting in between belphegor's thighs until the demon stirred awake had him squirming underneath his blanket.

with the help of his sleep addled mind, he could feel the ghost of MCs touch on his skin and he had to suppress the whine that wanted to crawl out of his throat. his eyes continued to skim through the fat chunk of text, swallowing thickly when he read about how the human sucked on his neck to muffle the sound of his own groans, leaving marks in his wake.

belphegor could hardly finish reading the post due to the onslaught of vivid scenarios of MC being all over him and feeling him up in his sleep, to which he felt his half hard dick twitch in his sweats. content with the train of thought his mind was heading in, the demon shut his phone off with the perfect dream to indulge himself in.

SIMEON !

all he was looking for was a new recipe and yet somehow, he found himself entranced with the filthy, sinful words. simeon was by no means the perfect angel, he had done his fair share of dirty deeds in his time but nothing quite enough to make him fall like his former brothers.

temptation was, naturally, an angel's worst enemy and simeon was known to flout the rules every now and then, and this was of no exception. the words on his D.D.D. were familiar yet strewn in a way that was foreign to the angel. it wasn't as though he was completely ignorant of such activities, but his status as an angel certainly meant that he had limited understanding of it outside of reproduction purposes.

so when this post suddenly showed up on his feed, as an author himself, how could he pass up the opportunity to read such a miracle?

the writer described MC in such a way that left simeon feeling flustered, with how this written version of him became so pliable, like putty in the human's hands. he didn't consider himself submissive, but rather something in between. however, there was something about MC praising him for doing well that made the angel think corrupting himself for the human wasn't all too bad of an idea.

he particularly enjoyed the way the writer entailed that MC was gentle and didn't limit himself when it came to praises while he caressed simeon's body, worshipping his body like it deserved. the angel could practically hear the breathy whisper of his name on the tip of the human's tongue, could see the satisfaction on his face whenever simeon couldn't hold back a noise from how good the human was making him feel.

well, as long as he didn't actually act out what was written, he wasn't breaking any rules, now was he? then, it wouldn't hurt to indulge in a few more similar works, right?

© 2023 TEARS0FSATAN. please don’t translate, modify, repost or plagiarise my works anywhere.

[sunsetsentiments]

idk but piper and jason being a tragic love story makes me love them even more lmao

like can we talk about i miss you, i'm sorry by gracie abrams being about them from jason's pov???? 😭

HEAR ME OUT

"Do you remember happy together? I do, don't you? Then all of a sudden, you're sick to your stomach. Is that still true?"

piper broke up with him,, and while he's the most polite and understanding boy ever,, he's not invincible. he can't help what he feels,, even if he thinks/knows that piper's decision might have been for the best (or the logical choice,, which is interesting but a different topic for another day).

the burning maze doesn't go deep into it,, but he's clearly heartbroken. "the truth was enough to break jason grace",, to me,, means a lot of things, one of them being the end of his relationship with piper. part of him accepts it,, but another part of him is miserable because of it.

"Thought you'd hate me, but instead you called and said, "I miss you". I caught it." // "I don't wanna go, think I'll make it worse."

we know that post-breakup,, they had a hard time working together, yet still contacted each other especially for the quest in the maze before apollo showed up. plus,, mellie mistakenly thought the breakup was something to blame on jason specifically.

it was all very awkward and confusing. even if piper was the one to end it,, we know she still has conflicted feelings towards him, and he likely felt that, which made him unsure where they stood. but like the gentleman he is,, he let her be despite whatever desires/longings he had himself.

"Nothing happened in the way I wanted, every corner of this house is haunted. And I know you said that we're not talking, but I miss you, I'm sorry."

i don't even need to explain how much jason loved piper and thought they were going to grow old together 😭 she has always been his safe space too,, someone he could truly be himself and vulnerable around,, so losing the person he knew best/cared for most must have been devastating.

anyways it's crazy bc i'm convinced i love you, i'm sorry is about them too but from piper's pov,, but i'll save that for another day lol

[wsdwriting]

little snippet of writing for these guys \o/ if you’d like, listen to Susie Save Your Love by Allie X to hear the song that inspired this bit!!

(go here for character information)

reblogs appreciated \o/!!

Luz wakes up with a piercing headache, and curled around someone. She squirms—pulling herself in closer and pressing her face more firmly against the other person. Tries desperately to block out the light leaking through her eyelids. 

Her movement wakes them, though. They stretch, before laughing softly and running a hand through her hair. 

“Good morning, Luz.” Comes Amalia’s amused voice. 

Luz freezes. Tries to run through her memories to figure out what events led her to here—except she can’t recall anything. Stupid alcohol. 

She pulls away, braving the sunlit room. 

“‘Morning.” She mutters, throwing an arm over her eyes. 

“Let me get the curtains.” 

The bed dips and creaks as Amalia leaves it. Luz listens to the sound of curtains being tugged tightly closed, and removes her arm to probably the darkest they’ll get during the day in a room like this. 

Amalia flops back onto the bed, crawling under the covers. Her hair is messy, and she still hasn’t taken her makeup off from last light, and she looks beautiful. 

And Luz really shouldn’t be having those thoughts even if both of them are single. 

But… then again… they also spent the night together. And she’s wearing one of Luz’s shirts. 

“Um…” As much as she’s almost too nervous to ask, she has to know. “Did we…?”

“Luz!” Amalia exclaims, sounding a little scandalised. But before Luz can panic too much, she laughs. “No, no. You were much too drunk, anyway. I just drove you home, and you got clingy.”

Embarrassing, but probably less of a mess than fucking her friend. 

“Ah.” She tugs the covers up to hide her face a little. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine—I don’t mind.” Amalia smiles. “I wouldn’t have signed myself up as designated driver if I did.”

“True, true.”

“There’s water and painkillers on the bedside table, by the way.”

Luz turns so fast she flares up her nausea and has to take a second to recover. Amalia does not manage to cover her laugh. Not that Luz thinks she was particularly trying to. 

“You’re a life saver, Pedra.” Luz declares, quickly swallowing down the painkillers. 

“It’s nothing.” But Luz can tell she’s pleased. “I just figured since I was already here… oh, and by the way”—she plucks a small piece of paper from her bedside table—“you got someone’s number.”

“Oh, man…” Unsurprising, even though she’s been trying not to do that recently. “Do you remember who’s it is?”

“Not really.” Amalia looks over the paper like it’ll help her remember. “She was bald, I think. And pretty butch. I don’t know, I wasn’t paying much attention—too focused on getting you home, you know?” 

Luz tries to conjure the memories to mind and fails miserably. 

“What should I do with it?” Amalia asks, leaning to the side to dangle it over where Luz knows her rubbish bin by the desk is. “Put it with the others?”

They’ve gone through this whole post-club song and dance before—even if Amalia has never actually stayed the night. Luz throws away almost every number she gets, but that’s usually because she was just flirting to get free drinks. 

This time she can’t remember what happened. It could’ve been someone she really hit it off with—like Amalia. And even if it truly is like what happened with Amalia and she just gets a new friend, that’s a good thing, too. 

“No, no, I… I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll… think about it?” Amalia raises her eyebrows.

“I just want to see if I remember more, you know?” Then she groans. “Besides—I, um… I need a rebound after that last guy.”

“I thought you were over him.”

“I am! Miguel even made sure I deleted his number because they’ve seen what happens if I don’t. Just…” She sighs. “It’ll be easier with someone else, you know? So I can stop thinking about him entirely.”

Amalia opens her mouth likes she’s going to say something. Then she seems to think better of it and leans back to the bed, depositing the paper on the bedside table again. 

“If you’re sure.” She settles on. 

“Well… I guess I am… Maybe I’ll get some memories back after breakfast and decide to chuck it, anyway.” Luz says, laughing a little. “But we exchanged numbers at a club. So you never know, right?” 

“Right.” Amalia climbs out of bed, and heads to the door. “Wait here, I’ll go make breakfast.” 

“You’re my saviour, Pedra!” Luz calls after her. 

She doesn’t get a response, but figures Amalia was already too far away to bother. So, she curls up in the blankets again, content to catch a few more minutes of sleep before breakfast is ready.

——

hope you enjoyed \o/!! this is set kind of like… towards the end of the start section I would say. if you have any questions about the story feel free to send them in \o/!!

(also let me know if you want to be on a taglist for this writing!!)

[ficnation]

Withering Wildflowers - Daryl x Reader

Prompt: a bouquet of flowers

Word count: 864

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: pure angst, usual twd themes (e.g. descriptive gore, use of weapons, violence, cursing), major character's death

A/n: This is a piece for @the-slumberparty writing challenge week 1! I'm so sorry I'm posting it right now, but I've just realized it was sitting in my drafts for weeks :") Enjoy some angst!

☁ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☁ || ☁ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☁

You were withering like the bouquet of flowers he left on your bedside table almost two weeks ago. Your skin lost its glow, greying like the petals of the wildflowers. Your limbs felt too heavy for your body, and your hair framed your face sticking to your sweaty skin.

Life was unforgiving for Daryl. He’s already lost so much—his family, friends, brother, and the life he used to know. Now, the world wanted to take you—the person he loved the most on this miserable fucking planet—away from him.

He sat beside you on the bed, holding your weak hand and pressing it against his cheek, trying to make you feel less alone.

“Daryl, I don’t want you to do it,” you rasped out, fingers brushing over his stubbled chin. You tried to meet his eyes, but you were afraid you’d break down right there in front of him, and he didn’t need to know how scared you were to die or worse—become one of those things.

“Not gonna let ya turn,” he mumbled out, leaving a soft kiss on the tips of your fingers. “It has to be me.”

He was calm, almost too calm now, after he lashed out at everyone that tried to talk to him about your condition and what to do about it. The anger subsided, making space for the fear, grief and agony the prospect of losing you brought. He didn’t want you to see it on his face and feel even worse. He just wanted to make your last moments peaceful and make sure you knew how loved you truly were and how much he’ll miss you—how much they’ll all miss you.

“Can ya at least look me in the eyes?” Daryl’s gruff voice sounded from beside you again, but the only thing you could do was shake your head and look down. The tears fell freely down your sunken cheeks. “Hey, c’mon, jus’ look at me,” he pleaded. He reached out, taking your face in his hands. “I know yer afraid.”

His last words got your attention, and you looked up, meeting his baby blue irises. “I’m dying, Daryl. It’s fucking terrifying, but…” you paused, taking a deep breath in to steady your voice, “leaving you scares me even more.” You didn’t burst into sobs; you had no more tears left to cry.

“I’m gonna be alright, ya know that. I promised ya.”

Daryl leaned in, leaving a gentle kiss on your lips. It took him a long moment to pull away. He wanted to cherish the kiss, but all he could focus on was the roughness of your lips that were once the definition of softness—always making him think of the delicacy of flower petals. It was another reminder of the state you were in—closer to death than you ever were.

“Can I ask you to do something for me? One last time,” you whispered, looking at him sadly.

Daryl knew you could read him and his thoughts like a book. He cast his gaze down shamefully, nodding his head to agree that he’d grant your wish. Why couldn’t he pretend just for a little while that everything was going to be okay? Why did he have to remind you and himself that you’d soon stop being you? He despised himself for it and for lying to you. He’d never be okay without you there.

“Can you pick some fresh flowers for me?” You looked at the bouquet by your side with a melancholic smile. “They’re withering.”

Daryl snorted quietly, “Since when do ya care ’bout a bunch of wildflowers?” His response made the grimace on your face become a genuine smile. He could swear his heart thumped madly at the sight—just like the day he saw it for the first time. “I’ll get ’em for ya, darlin’.”

The archer got up from the bed and rolled his shoulders to loosen them up. If you wanted flowers, he’d go to hell and back to get you some goddamn flowers; he’d rip them out of walkers’ hands if it came to that. Daryl glanced at you again thoroughly before he leaned over and pressed his lips against yours in a longing kiss. His fingers smoothed down your hair before he pulled away.

“I’ll be back real soon. I promise.”

You only needed to give her a slow nod for her to understand that it was time. She took the gun out of her waistband and stepped to your side, one of her hands reaching out to grasp yours. Carol knew how terrified you were, standing eye to eye with death itself, and she knew how Daryl would’ve never forgiven himself for being the one on the other side of that gaze; that’s why she agreed to your plan—to make it all less insufferable.

The moment you heard the front door slamming shut, you called out for Carol.

The woman barged into the room, her eyes murky with sadness and unshed tears.

Her hand was steady, holding the weapon against the side of your head. “Just look at the flowers, sweetheart,” she whispered.

“Thank you, Carol,” you mumbled out, your eyes glued to the bouquet of withering wildflowers.

@whiskeypowder @hopefulatrocity @witheringblooddemon @humanmistakes @yttricuz @twdeadlysins @donttelltheelff @spidergirla5 @depressedfrog2 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @wonderful-writer @sexyseabass @sweetpotatospock @witchygagirl

[monstersandmaw]

Male werewolf x female character (Gabe & Odessa) - Chapter Twenty One (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Oof, folks. It’s been building to this, and some of you have added your thoughts on what’s going on, but I promise you he will tell her...

Content: werewolf transformation, shifted sex, knotting, biting (gentle, no blood), aftercare and fluff Wordcount: 4926

Catch up here:

Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw), Part Four (sfw), Part Five (sfw), Part Six (sfw) Part Seven (sfw), Part Eight (sfw), Part Nine (sfw), Part Ten (sfw), Part Eleven (nsfw), Part Twelve (sfw), Part Thirteen (sfw), Part Fourteen (nsfw), Part Fifteen (nsfw), Part Sixteen (nsfw), Part Seventeen (sfw), Part Eighteen (v. light nsfw), Part Nineteen (nsfw), Part Twenty (nsfw) 

Gabe’s back gave another great heave and, still human, he let out a roar that was all animal, bearing his teeth and snarling, head dropping forwards as he shook from the effort of holding back a transformation that had already started to take hold of him.

“God, Odessa, I’m so sorry,” he hissed. “I’ve never lost control of it like this… I… I don’t —” he broke off and half-swallowed a yelp of pain as his back twisted a little and he braced his arms wide on either side of her body to stop himself falling forwards on top of her. “Shit. I can’t… I’m…”

He retreated down the bed and his back curved upwards again like an angry cat.

“You can shift, Gabe” she said again, heart still pounding. “Let go. Don’t worry about anything else. Shift.”

Snarling and snapping, he pushed further away and she watched, fascinated, as he gave in to the wolf without another word.

Dark fur grew along his spine, and the grinding crack and clunk of bones realigning under his skin filled the air. His whole body trembled and jerked convulsively, claws growing, limbs elongating and skull changing, muscles tearing and reforming, a tail growing, until he crouched, hunched on all fours on the bed near her feet, breathing erratically.

“Gabe?” she whispered, hardly daring to breathe, let alone move. “Are you alright?”

His cock was still hard, she noticed unavoidably as she took in his new body. Achingly so, and it was huge like this; red and thick. The longer she looked at him, the harder he got it seemed, and in only a few seconds, it twitched and began to leak pre-come in a thick, steady stream onto the sheets below him. There was also a thicker bulge beginning to form at the base. Gabe whined and tried to shrink away, curling inwards on himself. His ears were back, his eyes were closed, and he looked the picture of miserable shame.

“Gabe, no…” she said. “No, don’t. Come back?” she asked as she sat up and extended her hand towards him, palm up. “Come back… Please… It’s ok.”

At that, he did finally look up at her with those familiar golden eyes. He looked so vulnerable, so uncertain. She nodded reassurance and smiled. He glanced down at himself in a wry, self-deprecating kind of way and tilted his head in a question.

“I want you, Gabe,” Odessa said with a fluttering laugh, and she found that she truly meant it. She’d had ‘human Gabe’ any number of times by then, but there was something about him in this form that made her core burn. “You’re still you, whatever form you take. I want you. And,” she added with a wry smile, “You clearly still want me…”

Cautiously, he nodded and then crawled up the bed towards her.

The sight of his black, clawed, paw-like hands on the stark white sheets sent a thrill through her and she bit her lip as she lay back once more, simultaneously relaxing and buzzing with renewed energy. He loomed over her as she lay there, and she smiled up at the werewolf who already had claimed her, body and soul.

With his inhuman hands splayed across her thighs, black claws glinting, he parted her legs and she opened willingly to him. He inhaled slowly, tongue starting to loll, and he lowered his great wolf’s head and pressed his cold, wet nose to her clit. She immediately bucked beneath him but he held her down with no effort at all. His jaws parted and he let his hot tongue rake over her, tasting her, and as he did, he let out a rumbling groan of pleasure. He licked her, tongue laving through the wetness that had gathered anew between her folds, and as he started to focus more on her clit and on her pleasure, Odessa’s body began to tremble and heave in time with every stroke of his tongue. The pads of his paws were rough on her skin and his grip was breathtaking, but the contrast between the strength of his body and the delicacy of his touch left her gasping and crying out.

“Oh my God, I’m going to come,” she grunted as the pleasure that had been growing in her core suddenly unfolded like a flower.

In a blinding starburst across her vision, she came against the heat and pressure of his tongue and he closed his mouth on her. His upper teeth pressed into her mound as if he were trying to devour her while his tongue pressed tight against her fluttering heat. She tried to lift her hips against his mouth but he pinned her down and growled at her to keep still. The vibrations ran through her whole body and she threw her head back into the pillows and yelled as a second wave tore through her right on the heels of the first.

Finally she came down, twitching and gasping for breath, and he drew back slowly. He licked her a few times, not wanting to waste any of the taste of her, and then he regarded her steadily. He was still the Gabe she knew when he wore this form, but he was also a little different. Human-Gabe was relaxed and affable and easy-going, but Wolf-Gabe was quiet and intense and very observant, the way a pack’s sentry might keep watch: cataloguing every movement and noticing every detail about her. It made her skin tingle just to bear his golden gaze on her.

His jaws were softly parted to show his teeth and the tip of his wet tongue, and his eyes glowed bright gold in a face that was as kind as it was inhuman. He loved her. Of that there was no doubt.

“I need you inside me,” she whispered.

His cock twitched visibly at that, and it drooled a thick line of pre-come down onto the sheets between her legs. Trusting her, he didn’t hesitate as much this time, and he prowled the rest of the way up the bed until he loomed over her with his inhuman hands braced on either side of her head and his cock leaking pre-come all over the sensitive skin between her legs every time it twitched.

Flushed red, hard, and messy, with the knot showing visibly at soft fur around the base, Gabe seemed more aroused than she’d yet known him, but still he began slowly, simply rutting his cock against her thighs and smearing the drooling pre-come all over her. When he met her eyes and understood that she really did want him like that, he lowered his muzzle to her collarbone and slowly opened his jaws. His huge teeth locked carefully around the bones of her shoulder and chest, and she bucked up into him with a broken, needy grunt.

“Oh my God, Gabe…” she breathed, revelling in the new sensation.

It was like being held, but it was so intense on so many levels. If he chose to — or if he lost control, she supposed — he could kill her in an instant, snapping her collarbones like kindling, but instead he just held her still while he rutted luxuriantly against her, savouring the pleasure and slide of her body against his.

“Gabe…” she said again, and she raised her hands to his chest, watching as her fingers sank and disappeared into the thick fur there. “I still want you inside me…” she reminded him.

A long, low, quavering note left his throat at that and his whole body fell still.

Then, without releasing his grip on her shoulder, he shifted his hips just a little and the searing heat of the tip of his cock nudged against her entrance. With Odessa wetter than she could ever remember being, and with Gabe even messier than usual, the slide of his huge cock inside her was easier than she’d expected, though the stretch was still immense.

This time, a long, high whine left him and his jaw quivered before he released her and bowed his back to drive himself all the way inside her to the hilt.

Except it wasn’t to the hilt, she realised as the bulge of his knot nudged at her sensitive entrance and he began to pant and whimper. He clearly wanted more, to slide completely inside her, but even lost in the wolf, he apparently couldn't bear the thought of hurting her.

At first he moved with an aching, cautious slowness that bordered on frustrating for her, but when he sensed that, he got a little faster and a little bolder, and the apex of each powerful thrust punched the air out of her in a low, inelegant grunt that he seemed to adore. He tilted his head, dark ears pricked forwards, and listened to every noise she made for him. It seemed to stoke his ardour and he gnashed his teeth, black lips peeling back to reveal huge, white teeth, while his red tongue lashed behind them as drool began to drip from his jaws.

As the minutes ticked by, and his pace and the depth and power of each stroke increased, Odessa realised that he was losing himself more and more to the sensations of their joined bodies, and she loved it.

She loved it because despite all  that unbelievable power, all that monstrous wildness in him, he cared for her.

Each time she sang him a new note of pleasure for him, he repeated the gesture to make her do it again, and each time she told him how wonderful it felt, he let out either a pleased growl or a chuffing whine. He scented her too, hunching his lithe back enough to bring his cheek to her neck without breaking the rhythm he’d set, before raising himself up to look at her with his pupils blown dark and wide, and his jaws slightly open and intimidatingly inhuman.

He used his new and bigger form to wring pleasure from her in ways she’d never experienced before, and she loved him fiercely for it. She found herself gently shunted up the bed towards the headboard each time his hips pistoned into her, and he picked up one dark, paw-like hand to close his clawed fingers around her breast as it jostled with the movement. Mindful of his sharp claws, he kneaded it luxuriantly for a few strokes before returning his palm to the mattress to buttress himself up properly.

This, she realised as his cock pushed deep against her inner walls in a gloriously slow stroke, was the closeness she’d been seeking all along.

“I love you, Gabe,” she whispered through welling tears. She felt full for obvious physical reasons, but her chest felt tight and her heart was beating in her throat. “I love you. I don’t want to leave. I love you.”

With a broken whine, he lowered his face one more time and nuzzled her neck and cheeks, desperately scenting her, rubbing his scent all over her wherever he could reach while his muscles trembled at the torturously inadequate pace he was inflicting on himself. He licked briefly at her mouth and her throat and his thrusts grew irregular and much, much deeper. He was shaking all over, but it was only after another few minutes of tempered bliss that she realised he was trying to restrain himself from sliding all the way in.

He was trying to avoid knotting her and it was all he could do to hold himself back.

Odessa wanted to weep at how blessedly careful he was being with her, and realised that he was never going to do it himself. She waited until he reached the apex of one particularly slow and gentle thrust and looped her legs around his middle. She tightened her hold on him, tugged, and pulled herself fully onto his knot.

With a flash of his wide, golden eyes and a snatched gasp of surprise, Gabe’s wolf jaws closed around her bare throat, teeth locking him in place like a vice around her neck, and he snarled long and deep and loud. Incoherent bliss rushed through every fibre of Odessa’s being as his knot swelled and filled perceptibly inside her, and her whole body went completely, instinctively slack beneath him with a softly-uttered ‘oh’ of pleasure.

A sensation of utter rightness and true ‘oneness’ with him was the only thing she could feel. Gabe started to rock and rut his hips repeatedly, frantically, against her, snarling and panting, but the movement was futile. They were sealed together, and he didn’t have an inch to move inside her. It felt incredible though and her core tightened, muscles clenching around him.

“Yes,” she smiled against his ruff, her body still limp with ecstasy.

His teeth dug into her but he never broke the skin despite the pressure. His hot tongue pushed against her pulse and drool slipped between his teeth to slide down her shoulder while he rutted wildly a few more times against her. He was growling and whimpering in time with each desperate, helpless thrust.

Then, only a few seconds after she’d pulled herself onto his knot, she felt his cock begin to pulse inside her.

His back rounded and hunched, his jaws tightened, his eyes rolled, and he started to come.

She could actually feel him spilling in huge spurts inside her, flooding her fuller than she’d ever been in her life, and the sounds he made against her throat were raw and deep and visceral. After a few seconds of lying there, pinned by his crushing weight to the bed, she felt his hands and arms slide underneath her shoulders, and he lifted her upper body right off the mattress. With his hands supporting her shoulders and lower back, he sat back on his heels and rutted up into her, still coming blindly, desperately.

Held upright but lolling weakly in his arms, Odessa let her head roll back. At the new angle, Gabe’s huge cock and knot caught her just perfectly inside, and at last the wave of blinding pleasure that had swamped her on first feeling his knot took her with it, and she came with a broken, convulsing wail.

Gabe threw back his head and howled.

It was a long time before Gabe shuddered to stillness, though he was still breathing hard and cradling her in his shaking arms. His cock still twitched and spilled the last of his orgasm inside her, and the only sounds in the room now were their shared, panting breaths and the occasional grunt from Gabe.

While she’d been coming, one of his hands had moved to cradle her head. His huge claws pricked her scalp a little and grounded her, and as the last echoes of her own orgasm rippled through her, she finally opened her eyes and found him staring at her.

As if he couldn’t quite believe what he had just done, Gabe slowly started to lower her down and regarded her, wild-eyed and panicky, ears back.

“Gabe,” she smiled, consonants still vague with pleasure. “That was perfect. You’re perfect. I love you, and I’m yours.”

At that last, he trembled all over and began to scent her again. He looked like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“Shh, it’s ok. I’m here,” she said, losing sight of her fingers again in the thick, soft fur of his ruff as she scrunched and tugged at it. “You feel so good…” She kept talking to him, reiterating that she had loved every second of it, until he slumped down on top of her, slightly askew to keep his weight mostly off her chest. He held her head in his hand and lay there, shivering and whining almost imperceptibly with each exhale. They were still tied together and the sensation of utter fullness helped to ground her.

While still idly stroking his fur, she wondered how long he would be locked inside her. She half-recalled him saying that because she wasn’t a werewolf, they probably wouldn’t technically be completely tied. Odessa didn’t feel like trying to move just yet, but she was pretty sure he was locked in place inside her as securely as if she had been a werewolf. They weren’t going anywhere for a while.

Before too long, she felt Gabe begin to fall asleep. His weight dipped incrementally down on top of her and he exhaled roughly, so she brought her hands to the soft fur around his left ear and stroked it. He flicked it and twitched up to look at her, and she smiled at him. “If you’re going to go to sleep, we need to change places,” she murmured.

He grunted in agreement, nodded, and then rolled, pulling her with him so that she lay atop his body, still joined to him. She could feel the tug of the knot against her when he moved, the pressure of it deep inside her, and experimentally, she squeezed her core around him. The most blissful pleasure she’d ever experienced rolled through her, and at the same time Gabe jutted his chin up and let out a long, quiet howl.

“You want me not to do that?” she asked but she didn't get an answer from him. He just lay there on his back with his throat completely exposed and his nose pointed to the wall behind him. “Gabe?” she asked, and did it again.

He made another noncommittal huffing noise once the reflexive moan had died away, and she laughed. She leaned forwards and scratched his jaw and fluffy throat with her nails in slow, luxuriant rakes, and he made low, happy noises in his throat. It wasn’t quite a purr — more of a rasping exhale — but it was evident that he was deeply contented, and she loved the feeling of lying on top of him with his knot locking her in place. His arms closed around her middle and he held her tightly. His hands like this were huge, dwarfing her lower back where the rough pads pressed against her skin.

Odessa loved every second of it.  

Perhaps a quarter of an hour or so later, his knot began to go down enough that his softening cock started to slip free of her, and she inhaled in surprise as she felt his release slide down her thighs. There was so much of it. “Oh…” she breathed. “That’s going to make a mess…”

“Mmph,” said Wolf-Gabe without opening his eyes.

“Don’t sound so darned pleased with yourself,” she laughed, touching the tip of his cold, wet nose with her fingertip. He half-sneezed in protest but otherwise didn’t move. “It’s going to ruin these sheets.”

He shrugged. That was clearly not a problem for Wolf-Gabe to worry about. That sounded like a Human-Gabe problem. She laughed at him and he finally cracked an eye open. Leaning towards her, he licked her nose once and flopped back down, clearly exhausted. She joined him, lying along his torso with her cheek resting on his collarbones, and she drifted into sleep along with him.

It hadn’t felt like it at the time, but the strain of taking his knot, and of being so thoroughly filled, had sapped her almost completely of energy, and when she woke a while later, she felt heavy and exhausted, and, she realised with a shiver, cold. Gabe’s fur would keep him more than warm in the room, but with her body exposed to the air, she had grown uncomfortably cold.

She sat up a little, and Gabe’s soft cock finally slipped all the way out of her, making him grunt and stir too.

“Any chance you’ll run me a bath?” she muttered, only half in jest and groaning as her insides protested the movement and her thighs trembled. She really did ache now, despite how good it had felt at the time, and she didn’t want to move any more muscles than it took just to talk. “I think I’ve had more sex in the last two weeks than I’ve had in the last five years combined,” she added.

Wolf-Gabe rumbled something that sounded very pleased about that statement, and then after another couple of minutes, he rallied his strength and rolled over. He let the movement tip her gently into the middle of the bed. Instead of getting up right away though, he licked at her neck where his teeth had left a string of tiny bruises like dark, freshwater pearls across her collarbone and over her shoulder.

He looked apologetic, but she smiled and stroked his fluffy cheek. “I would have told you to let go if I’d wanted you to stop,” she said firmly and he nodded. He tipped his head into the touch, eyes closing briefly, and then he laved his hot tongue affectionately over her chest and breasts. Goosebumps followed in the wake of the warmth and she shivered without the strength to swat him away.

Gabe seemed to adore the softness of her stomach and thighs, and he almost got lost in the feel of her body in his huge, paw-like hands. He nosed her thighs apart and licked across her sensitive folds, but when she twitched and grunted at the over-stimulation, he drew back and tilted his head to one side to expose his throat in apology.

“It’s ok,” she smiled. “You didn't hurt me. I wanted you to knot me, and I’m glad you did.”

A long, beautiful groan left him at that, but he gave one more lick across her belly and then stood and walked away to the bathroom. She wondered if Wolf-Gabe would have difficulty processing what he’d need to do in order to get the bath going, but before too long the sound of water hitting the tub reached her ears, and after another few minutes, she felt steady enough to sit upright and swing her legs off the bed. God, she felt tired and she ached beautifully. The sheets beneath her were a complete mess though. She stood shakily just as Gabe nosed the bathroom door back open and padded out on all fours this time, and she ran her fingers over his thick coat as he passed. He licked the outside of her hip and she laughed affectionately before vanishing into the bathroom.

“Bath’s almost ready,” she said a little while later as she stepped out with a towel around her, more for warmth than modesty.

To her surprise, she found that Gabe had returned to his human form while she’d been in there, the sounds of a transformation masked by the running water, and he was now sitting naked on the edge of the bed, his hands in his lap.

“You want to share a bath with me?” she asked. When she didn’t get any reaction from him, she frowned and crossed back to him. “You ok?” she asked, running her fingers through his hair.

He shuddered and exhaled a huge sigh, chest heaving, and he leaned into her touch. “Yeah,” he rasped.

“You didn’t have to shift back for me you know,” she said, wondering what had sent him a little sideways.

“Wanted to,” he said, eyes closed and still leaning the weight of his head into her palm. His voice was hoarse and gruff, and he sounded exhausted.

Odessa took his rough, lovely hands in hers, her towel staying in place with a fortuitously folded corner down her cleavage, and drew him to his feet and then into the bathroom. The water was gloriously hot, and she let him get into the bath first, legs parted so that she could sit between them.

When she sank in and leaned back against his chest, he let out a long, relieved hum of pleasure, and snaked his arms around her middle. He caressed the side of her head with his cheek again, not so much scenting her, she suspected, as just simply enjoying her presence through constant touch.

“I love you,” he whispered into a kiss that he pressed against her hair. “I love you, Odessa. I’m yours.”

The contact anchored them both as they lay in each other’s arms in the hot water, and while his hands began to wander and worship her again, there was none of the charged spark that had driven him to lose control earlier.

He did get valiantly half-hard behind her, but when she nudged her backside against him and hummed a question, he just shook his head. Instead, she let her fingertips play idly along his quads and around his knees, enjoying the feel of his skin and the soft hair on his shins while he cupped her breasts adoringly and pressed his palms across her soft stomach and kissed her over and over.

Drowsy and heavy with contented pleasure, she let him buttress her body up, surrendering completely to his touch.

When his fingers found their way between her legs again, her knees fell open as much as they were able to in the confines of the bath. Despite the heat of the water, she was sore from where Wolf-Gabe had stretched her, but with the warmth and the tenderness of his touch on only her clit and the surrounding, swollen flesh, she found herself sighing into his embrace again. Pleasure overrode any lingering discomfort, and she found herself aching to give him another one.

“Yes?” he asked with reverent surprise as he stilled his index and middle fingers and began kissing the shell of her ear instead, moving slowly down her neck as far as he could reach, raking and biting with blunt teeth until she gasped.  

“Yes,” she breathed, shivering and arching a little to get him to start moving his fingertips again. “Gabe, please…”

With slow, careful circles, he coiled her up again, and when she came it was almost without warning. With her head tipped back against his shoulder, moaning and sighing, and with his mouth on her neck and his fingertips pressed up against her clit on either side, it was so tender and overwhelming she began to cry.

He kissed the tears as they rolled down her cheeks and scented her again, all the while keeping his fingertips unmoving against her, holding her floating in that dreamy, in-between place for as long as she could bear it. Finally she slumped back into him and lay there, exhausted and on the verge of sleep again in the hot water of the bath.

It was only with a great effort of will on both their parts that they hauled themselves out of the tub, and after drying off, Gabe disappeared to fetch some clean bedding from the back of the wardrobe. In the end all they needed was a clean base sheet, since the duvet had been kicked off when he’d shifted, so with that done between them, she wriggled into some pyjamas and Gabe pulled the covers up around her as he climbed in beside her.

She lay facing him, and he curled up on his side too. Together their mirrored bodies almost made up the shape of a heart, though her half was smaller than his. Their knees touched, their foreheads touched, and their hands touched, but it wasn’t enough. She shuffled in close and burrowed against his chest while he rolled onto his back, one arm beneath her head and the other draped loosely across her waist. She slid her right thigh over his left and squeezed, and he kissed the crown of her head.

“Are you really alright?” he asked in a hoarse whisper, his left hand circling idly around her hip and backside. It seemed he couldn’t stop touching her.

“I’m more than alright, Gabe. If you don’t believe me and can’t smell it in my scent, I don’t know how else to convince you.”

He huffed a quick, shy laugh and kissed her forehead. “You smell happy,” he admitted. “And you smell like… mine,” he added, speaking into her hair. The words were so barely-audible that part of her wondered if he’d meant for her to hear them at all.

In the stretch of silence that followed, Odessa got the impression that there was something she was missing in all this; some extra depth to his worry that he wasn’t articulating, but she sighed, too exhausted to untangle it.

“You know,” she said drowsily, struggling to unpick exactly what she felt from the tangle of emotions in her chest. Silently, she blessed him for just lying there, with his thumb making small movements across her hip while he waited. “You make me feel like I’m… I’m the only thing in the whole world that matters to you.”

He swallowed audibly and kissed her forehead. “You are,” he said.

She squeezed him so tightly he actually wheezed and they both laughed. “Stop it,” she snorted, tapping his ribs with her fingertips. “How am I supposed to go home when you say things like that to me?”

He shrugged. “I’ll be here,” he said simply. “I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that simple knowledge tolling through them both like a midnight bell, they drifted off to sleep.

Odessa wasn’t sure where she ended and Gabe began as they lay with their legs intertwined and her torso draped across his, but she did know that she was exactly where she belonged.

__

Oh Gabe...

Next chapter (season finale) -->

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[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

(I’m popping a extra disclaimer here because I don’t know if I worded this very well, and I understand if this isnt the kind if question you feel comfortable answering, but this is a genuine question made in good faith. I also apologise if this sounds really stupid)

I read one of your recent asks about inclusivism and it reminded me of something that always sat in the back of my mind with this train of thought.

If we say that everyone regardless of religion, or absence of it, gets into heaven, doesn’t that seem disrespectful to their faith. By saying that people of other religions get into christian heaven, is that not inadvertently telling them that their religion or their gods are fake, and that when they die it’ll be okay because they’ll learn the real truth? I hope this doesn’t come across as blunt or disrespectful to anyone, I’ve just never be able to come to a conclusion that isn’t exclusive (which is kind of a depressing thought), but is also respectful. Because it’s a beautiful idea that god loves us all regardless of who we are or what we believe, but what about people who have the kind of faith we do in a completely different god, or multiple gods, do they have the same thoughts about us? that their god loves us even though we dont believe?

I feel like I’m asking questions I’m not supposed to but I’m just really curious about your perspective if this is something you’re comfortable answering.

Hey anon, this is an important question, so thanks for asking it! You don't sound "stupid"; you're thinking like a theologian :) I'm probably not going to do it justice, I'm afraid, but maybe folks will hop on with more ideas or resources?

This got really long, so the TL;DR: I agree with you, and so do a lot of theologians and other thinkers!

In a religiously diverse world, it makes sense that people of various religions ponder where people outside their religions "fit" in their understanding of both the present world and whatever form of afterlife they have.

If someone has a firm personal belief in certain things taking place after death (from heaven to reincarnation), I don't think it's inherently wrong to imagine all kinds of people joining them in that experience, when it points to how that person recognizes the inherent holiness and value of all kinds of people, and shows that they long for continued community with & flourishing for those people.

However, this contemplation should be done with great care — especially when your religion is the dominant one in your culture; especially if your religion has a long history (and/or present) of colonialism and coerced conversions.

Ultimately, humility and openness are key! It's fine to have your own beliefs about humanity's place in this life and after death, but make yourself mindful of your own limited perspective. Accept you might be wrong in part or in whole! And be open to learning from others' ideas, and truly listening to them if they say something in your ideas has caused them or their community tangible harm.

In the rest of this post, I'll focus on a Christian perspective and keep grappling with how to consider these questions while honoring both one's personal faith and people all religions...without coming to any solid conclusions (sorry, but I don't think there's any one-size-fits-all or fully satisfying answer!).

I'll talk a bit about inclusivism and how it fails pretty miserably in this regard, and point towards religious pluralism as a possibly better (tho still imperfect) option.

And as usual I'll say I highly recommend Barbara Brown Taylor's book Holy Envy: Finding God in the Faith of Others to any Christians / cultural Christians who want to learn more about entering into mutual relationship with people of other religions.

In previous posts, I brought up the concepts of exclusivism, inclusivism, and religious pluralism without digging into their academic definitions and histories — partially because it's A Lot for a tumblr post, but also because it's by no means in my sphere of expertise. I worried about misrepresenting any viewpoint if I tried to get all academic, so I just stuck to my own personal opinions instead — but looking back at some posts, I see I didn't do a great job of clarifying that's what I was doing!

So now I'll go into what scholars mean when talking about these different viewpoints, with a huge caveat that I'm not an expert; I'm just drawing from notes and foggy memories from old seminary classes + this article from the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy (IEP), and anyone interested in learning more should find scholarly articles or books rather than relying on some guy on tumblr!

Defining exclusivism, inclusivism, & religious pluralism

When we encounter traditions that offer differing and often conflicting "accounts of the nature of both mundane and supramundane reality, of the ultimate ends of human beings, and of the ways to achieve those ends" (IEP), how do we respond? Do we focus on difference and reject any truth in their views that conflicts with our views? Do we avoid looking too closely at the places we differ? try to find common ground? try to make their views fit ours?

Exclusivism, inclusivism, and religious pluralism are three categories into which we can place various responses to the reality of religious diversity.

It's important to note that this is only one categorization system one can use, and that these categories were developed within a Western, Christian context (by a guy named Alan Race in 1983). They are meant to be usable by persons of any religion — all sorts of people ask these questions about how their beliefs relate to others' beliefs — but largely do skew towards a Western, Christian way of understanding religion. (For one thing, there's a strong focus on salvation / afterlife and not all religions emphasize that stuff very much, if at all!)

Drawing primarily from this article on the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy (IEP), here are basic definitions of each:

Exclusivist positions maintain that "only one set of belief claims or practices can ultimately be true or correct (in most cases, those of the one holding the position). A Christian exclusivist would therefore hold that the beliefs of non-Christians (and perhaps even Christians of other denominations) are in some way flawed, if not wholly false..." . (From my old class notes — Exclusivist Christians believe 3 things are non-negotiable: the unique authority of Jesus Christ as the apex of revelation; Jesus as normative; salvation exclusively through repentance and faith in Christ's work on the cross. Some will allow that God does provide some truths about Godself and humanity through general revelation, including truths found in other religious traditions, but the Biggest most Important revelation is still Jesus.) .

Inclusivist positions "recognize the possibility that more than one religious tradition can contain elements that are true or efficacious, while at the same time hold that only one tradition expresses ultimate religious truth most completely." . Christian inclusivists tend to focus on salvation, claiming that non-Christians can still achieve salvation — still through Jesus Christ. Sometimes they hold that any non-Christian whose life happens to fit Jesus's call to love God and neighbor, etc., will be saved. Other times they hold that only non-Christians who never had the chance to learn about Jesus can be saved; if you know about Christianity and reject it, it doesn't matter how "good"you are, you're doomed. .

Pluralist positions hold that "more than one set of beliefs or practices can be, at least partially and perhaps wholly, true or correct simultaneously." For Christian pluralists, that means believing that Jesus is not the one Way to God / to heaven/salvation; Christianity is one way of many, usually conceived of as all being on equal footing, to connect to the Divine. .

(These three categories are not all encompassing; the IEP article also brings up relativism and skepticism.)

Issues with Exclusivism & Inclusivism

I hope the issues with exclusivism are clear, but to name a few:

Christians who are taught that all non-Christians (or even the "wrong kind" of Christians) are doomed to hell are taught to see those people as Projects more than people — there's a perceived urgent need to convert them asap in order to "save them." The only kind of relationship you'd form with one of them is centered in efforts to convert them, rather than to live and learn alongside them as they are.

Doesn't matter if they are already happily committed to a different religion. In your eyes, they're wrong about feeling fulfilled and connected to the Divine.

Doesn't matter if you have to resort to violent and coercive practices like wiping out all signs of non-Christian culture or kidnapping non-Christian children to raise Christian — the ends justify the means because you're looking out for their "immortal souls."

...But what about inclusivism? If you're a Christian inclusivist, you aren't forcing anyone to convert to Christianity right now! You acknowledge that non-Christians can live holy and fulfilling lives! You even acknowledge that there's scraps of value in their valid-but-not-as-valid-as-Christianity religions! So what's the problem?

Turns out that this is a major case of one's good intentions not being nearly as important as one's impact.

You may be pushing back against exclusivism's outright refusal that non-Christians have any connection to the divine at all, which is nice and all — but by saying that non-Christians will basically become Christian after they die, you are still perpetuating our long history of coercive conversions.

There's a reason some scholars argue that inclusivism isn't actually a separate category from, but a sub-category of, exclusivism: you're still saying everyone has to be Christian, "so luckily you'll See The Light and become Christian after you die :)"

This is very reasonably offensive to many non-Christians. If nothing else, it's ludicrously smug and paternalistic! I won't get into it here but it only gets worse when some inclusivist positions try to get all Darwinian and start arranging religions from lower to higher, with Christianity as the "evolutionary" apex of religion ://

For now, I'll only go into detail about Catholic Jesuit theologian Karl Rahner's particular version of inclusivism, because it's quite common and really highlights the paternalism:

Rahner's Anonymous Christians:

A question that Catholics and other Christians struggled with in the 20th century was this: If non-Christians cannot be saved (because they held firm in believing that salvation must be in and through Christ), what happens if someone never even had the chance to learn about Christianity? Surely a loving God wouldn't write them an automatic ticket to hell when they're non-Christian through no fault of their own, right?

German Jesuit Karl Rahner's response was to conceive of a sort of abstract version of Christianity for non-Christians who lived good, faithful lives outside of official (what he called "constituted") Christianity:

"Anonymous Christianity means that a person lives in the grace of God and attains salvation outside of explicitly constituted Christianity. ...Let us say, a Buddhist monk…who, because he follows his conscience, attains salvation and lives in the grace of God; of him I must say that he is an anonymous Christian; if not, I would have to presuppose that there is a genuine path to salvation that really attains that goal, but that simply has nothing to do with Jesus Christ. But I cannot do that. And so, if I hold if everyone depends upon Jesus Christ for salvation, and if at the same time I hold that many live in the world who have not expressly recognized Jesus Christ, then there remains in my opinion nothing else but to take up this postulate of an anonymous Christianity." - Karl Rahner in Dialogue (1986), p. 135.

So someone who has intentionally devoted themselves to another religion, someone who does good work in that religion's name, is...secretly, unbeknownst to them, actually Christian?

I hope the offensiveness of that is clear — the condescension in implying these people are ignorant of what religion they "really" belong to! the assumption that Good deeds & virtues are always inherently Christian deeds & virtues! the arrogance of being so sure your own religion is The One Right Way that you have to construct a "back door" (as Hans Küng describes it) into it to shove in all these poor people who for whatever reason can't or don't choose to join it!

One theologian who criticized the paternalism of "anonymous Christianity" is John Hick, who was one of the big advocates for religious pluralism as a more respectful way of understanding non-Christian religions. So let's finally talk some more about pluralism!

Religious Pluralism!

As defined earlier, religious pluralist positions hold that there are many paths to the divine, and that all religions have access to some truths about the divine.

For Christians, this means rejecting those 3 non-negotiables of exclusionists about Christianity being the one true religion and Jesus being the one path to salvation. Instead of claiming that Christianity is the "most advanced" religion, pluralism claims that Christianity is just one religion among many, with no unique claim on the truth.

Some other pluralist points:

Pluralism resists antisemitic claims that Christianity is the "fulfillment" of (or that it "supercedes") Judaism.

Various religions provide independent access to salvation rather than everyone's salvation relying on Christ. (Note the still very Christian-skewed lens here in emphasizing salvation at all though!)

When we notice how different religions' truth claims conflict with one another, pluralists reconcile this by talking about how one's experience of truth is subjective.

Pluralism tends to give more authority to human experience than sacred texts

John Hicks' pluralist position

I mentioned before that Hicks is one of the big names in the religious pluralism scene. The IEP article I drew from earlier goes into much greater detail about his views and responses to it in the section titled "c. John Hick: the Pluralistic Hypothesis," but for a brief overview:

His central claim is that "diverse religious traditions have emerged as various finite, historical responses to a single transcendent, ultimate, divine reality. The diversity of traditions (and the belief claims they contain) is a product of the diversity of religious experiences among individuals and groups throughout history, and the various interpretations given to these experiences."

"As for the content of particular belief claims, Hick understands the personal deities of those traditions that posit them...as personae of the Real, explicitly invoking the connotation of a theatrical mask in the Latin word persona."

"Hick claims that all religious understandings of the Real are on equal footing insofar as they can only offer limited, phenomenal representations of transcendent truth."

We must accept that world religions are fundamentally different from each other, rather than falling into platitudes about how "we're all the same deep down"

Each religion has its own particular and comprehensive framework for understanding the world and human experience (i.e. we shouldn't use the normative Christian framework to describe other faiths)

Another angle: hospitality

As various philosophers and theologians have responded to and expanded upon pluralist frameworks, one big concept that some emphasize is hospitality: that all of us regardless of religion have an obligation to welcome others to all that is ours, if and when they have need of it — especially when they are of different cultures or religions from us.

Hospitality requires respect for those under our care, honoring and protecting their differences.

When we are the ones in need of hospitality, we should be able to expect the same.

Hospitality implies being able to anticipate our guest's needs, but we need to accept the impossibility of being able to guess every need, so communication is key!

Liberation theology & Pluralism

I also appreciate what liberation theologians have brought into the discussion. Here's from the IEP article:

"Liberation theology, which advocates a religious duty to aid those who are poor or suffering other forms of inequality and oppression, has had a significant influence on recent discussions of pluralism. The struggle against oppression can be seen as providing an enterprise in which members of diverse religious traditions can come together in solidarity.

"Paul F. Knitter, whose work serves as a prominent theological synthesis of liberation and pluralist perspectives, argues that engaging in interreligious dialogue is part and parcel of the ethical responsibility at the heart of liberation theology. He maintains not only that any liberation theology ought to be pluralistic, but also that any adequate theory of religious pluralism ought to include an ethical dimension oriented toward the goal of resisting injustice and oppression.

"Knitter claims that, if members of diverse religions are interested (as they should be) in encountering each other in dialogue and resolving their conflicts, this can only be done on the basis of some common ground. ..."

Knitter sees suffering as that common ground: "Suffering provides a common cause with which diverse religious traditions are concerned and towards which they can come together to craft a common agenda. Particular instances of suffering will, of course, differ from each other in their causes and effects; likewise, the practical details of work to alleviate suffering will almost necessarily be fleshed out differently by different religions, at different times and in different places. Nevertheless, Knitter maintains that suffering itself is a cross-cultural and universal phenomenon and should thus serve as the reference point for a practical religious pluralism. Confronting suffering will naturally give rise to solidarity, and pluralist respect and understanding can emerge from there."

Knitter also sees the planet as a source of literal common ground for us all: "Earth not only serves as a common physical location for all religious traditions, but it also provides these traditions with what Knitter calls a 'common cosmological story' (1995, p. 119). ...Knitter makes a case that different religious traditions share an ecological responsibility and that awareness of this shared responsibility, as it continues to emerge, can also serve as a basis for mutual understanding."

When Knitter and other liberation theologians speak of suffering or earth care as rallying points for interreligious solidarity, it's important to point out that such solidarity doesn't happen automatically: it is something we have to choose to commit to. We have to be courageous about challenging those who would pin suffering on another religious or cultural group. We have to be courageous about having difficult conversations, again and again. We have to learn how to work together for common goals even while accepting where we differ.

How to end this long ass post?

My hope is that as you read (or skimmed) all this, you were thinking about your own personal beliefs: where, if anywhere, do they fit among all these ideas? where would you like them to fit?

And, in the end, did I really address anon's question about whether it's disrespectful to people of other religions to assert that everyone is loved by God, or gets into heaven? Not really, because I don't know. I think it probably depends on context, and how one puts it, and how certain one acts about their ideas about God and heaven.

For me, it always comes down to humility about my own limited perspective, even while asserting that we all have a right to our personal beliefs, including ideas about what comes after this life.

When I imagine all human beings together in whatever comes next, I hope I do so not out of a desire for assimilation into my religion, but a desire to continue to learn from and alongside all kinds of people and beliefs. I hope I remain open to learning about how other people envision both what comes after death, and more importantly, what they think about life here and now. What can I learn from them about truth, kindness, justice? How can we work together to achieve those things for all creation, despite and in and through our differences?

I'll end with Eboo Patel's description of religious pluralism, which sums up much of how I feel, from his memoir Acts of Faith: The Story of an American Muslim:

"Religious pluralism is neither mere coexistence nor forced consensus. It is a form of proactive cooperation that affirms the identities of the constituent communities while emphasizing that the wellbeing of each and all depends on the health of the whole. It is the belief that the common good is best served when each community has a chance to make its unique contribution."

___

Further resources:

Explore my #religious pluralism tag for more thoughts and quotes

You might also enjoy wandering through my #interfaith tag

Two podcast episodes that draw from Eboo Patel, Barbara Brown Taylor, and other wonderful people: "No One Owns God: Readying yourself for respectful interfaith encounters" and "It's good to have wings, but you have to have roots too: Cultivating your own faith while embracing religious pluralism"

My tag with excerpts from Holy Envy

Post that includes links to various questions about heaven

Here’s a post where I talk about why I don’t believe in hell

My evangelism tag (tl;dr: I’m staunchly against prosletyzing to anyone who doesn’t explicitly request more info about Christianity)

[space-blue]

Hi, I'm not sure if you've talked about this before and it might be silly to ask this, but I'm curious about your opinion:

There was a scene that surprised me quite a bit in episode 6 when Vi escapes. Initially, Silco was sitting calmly, and then boom! Everything explodes. It's understandable, but it's strange because Silco has always reacted in a cautious and calm manner, except for one time in episode 3 when he was talking to Vander. After that, he has been someone who knows how to stay calm. I've seen people say that Silco's reaction is because he's a megalomaniac who doesn't like anything being out of his control, but I don't think that's the case. I think it's something more complex. I see Silco as someone who internalizes everything to maintain control or appears to have it, keeping his thoughts and emotions to himself. That's why you see Silco exhaling or releasing tension before and after meeting with his associates, but I might be wrong. Anyway, I'd like to know what you think is the reason for Silco's actions.

And I'm sorry if I made a mistake in my grammar, I don't speak English very well

Hello anon! Thank you for reaching out and asking me this question... It sends me back to my Arcane meta days with a big smile on my face.

But honestly, I don't know who looks at Silco in that episode, having finished the story, and thinks he screams because he's megalomaniac. Not only does this not go with the rest of his character, it just fails to comprehend his character arc.

Silco doesn't want power. He wants freedom, and he wants his mission to realise itself. Silco has more of a religious fervour to him. He's a zealot. He speaks of the 'Nation of Zaun' with an air of rapture. He believes it, lives only for it. Just because we may not like his ways doesn't change that. I mean look at this guy :

#fully lost in the sauce

A character who really wants power would be Finn. We see him fallen to the trappings of wealth, plotting to uproot Silco from his position. Finn never shows any care for the cause. He only cares about supplanting Silco.

If Silco truly cared about power, then why is he still leaving down deep, on top of a night club? If he's a megalomaniac, why are his list of conditions for Jayce not covering him, but demanding amnesty for his people and equal access to the Gate for commerce?

No. Silco isn't a megalomaniac. He definitely wants to be in control, but that's hardly surprising for a leader. We also only ever know Silco at crazy important moments of his life, where his plans are running wildly or exploding in his face. It's not exactly every day Silco.

Most of the people we see him interacting with also tell us things : of course he needs to be ruthless and in control while facing Marcus. That man would lash out at the slightest show of weakness. Same with the other chembarons, who actively turn on him after the factory attack (that makes him look weak).

Silco isn't a control freak to be a jackass. He's like that because he's a Zaunite, and a Zaunite in a dangerous position of power. He's shaped by his environment too.

Anyway, why does he lose his cool in episode 6?

It's actually a very short answer! It's because of Jinx.

Jinx is his everything. Across my many meta posts I covered how codependent they are. How she physically abuses him, yet he never reaches out with any force towards her. The most violent he is, is after she nearly ruined his life plans and won't listen, and all he does is snatch a pen from her hand to make her pay attention.

They exchange caresses, rest against each other. He keeps her gifts on his official desk and actively uses them. And in the end, he can't accept her mortality, and sacrifices everything he's suffered and fought for his entire sad, fucking miserable life, because he loves her more than his cause.

So why does Silco lose it? Because Vi is alive, Vi is looking for Jinx, and Vi is the only person who could actively take Jinx away from him.

I mean like a day or two prior Jinx lost her shit and nearly killed Sevika because she saw a pink haired girl. Silco takes her to the pilt to try and soothe her and put her demons behind her, the only way he knows how. And then she happily gets to work! She's doing well!

But Silco isn't dumb. He knows Jinx is unstable and unpredictable. And finding Sevika hung like a ham from the ceiling? With a broken arm? Yeah, he knows she knows, and she's pissed... And he KNOWS that he just told her that VI IS DEAD. Which he 100% believed! Since when Sevika tell him about Vi being back he's like "From the dead???" in total horror and disbelief.

Marcus completely blindsided him, and it's a race against time now.

A race in which if Vi lives and finds Jinx... His Jinx, the only person he thinks he has... The girl he loves more than his cause, even if he hasn't fully realised it yet... Might hate him. She might decide to leave him.

Then he'd be alone again. And uhm... IDK if you all noticed but like... Silco isn't exactly a picture of clean mental health either. He's trauma ridden, set in very harsh ways, and has a solid spark of paranoia (which has kept him alive, but also isolated).

So the Silco screaming and spitting and kicking is a Silco who thinks that potentially everything will be fucked up now. He's stressed about the developing situation (the one where he asked his unstable daughter to basically make a nuke with stolen uranium, while juggling an increasingly strained sheriff and actively traitorous colleagues), AND the potential idea of his ONE person, his one broken, fucked up, twisted emotional bond, potentially being ripped from him.

Last time that happened, Vander was trying to drown him.

So he's just in a Bad Place™️

Cut the poor man some slack ahaha. I think it's normal that the mask finally cracks and reveals his emotions.

Silco isn't a cold character! His speech to Vander shows his zealotry and his passion! He has a dark humour too, and is aggressive and bitter when cornered. Silco wears a mask of cool professionalism when it's convenient, which is very often, as a leader in the undercity. But he also shows lots of emotions whenever suits.

I don't think you can be a cold character and stay riveted on your insane freedom fight for like 20+ years. He's got a big fire burning in there, and the scene in episode 6 is the proof of how hot it gets when he thinks he's about to lose it all. All your examples of him 'reining it in' are great too! He clearly has strong emotions. He just manages them a lot.

I hope this answers your question! AAaaaahhhh look at me, I just went and gushed, didn't I?

Thanks a lot Anon. And your English is better than some native speakers I know, so don't worry! <3

[fittlebottom]

I know I just posted about pip but back when I was waiting for my contacts to come in I was like very blind for a day or two. And during that time I only drew once. No joke this drawing, if you can even call it one, has taken over my life. I've thought about it everyday for almost a month straight.

Washing the dishes? Where the geese at. Folding laundry? Where the geese at. Trying to read? Where the geese at. Trying to draw? At least one Where the geese at clone made. I have had to stop during multiple conversations with friends and family to hold back a giggle if I'm even remotely reminded of this fucking image. When I drew it originally I genuinely thought I was the funniest person on the face of the planet and everyone else, every comic every comedian, would need to pack up and go back to Alaska. The worst part about it to me is that no one else gets it. It's a fucking inside joke with MYSELF. You know how the trolls guy when he got arrested said under his breathe "this is gonna ruin the tour..." quite literally I have done that so many times but with "where the geese at". I was giving my grandmother a pity visit because she's senile now and acts like she's still in the '60s. We were looking at a physical map and she said something along the lines of "where is *insert place from my county*" . I, without thinking, whispered under my breathe "where the geese at." And her, being the Christian woman she is, thought I was chanting the devils incantations. And now for the next 2 Sundays I have to go to church with her. ALL BECAUSE OF WHERE THE GEESE AT. PIP BERNADOTTE YOUVE RUINED MY LIFE I AM DONE FOR. Genuinely I feel as if I can't draw anymore because all I want to do is where the geese at. I feel like I'm being brainwashed by this fucking drawing. I'm not a religious person but I think I've been possessed by an evil spirit that just wants to make me miserable. I took a break from drawing for a few weeks after finishing a piece that left me very burnt out. You wanna know what brought me back? What motivated me to open up my program? I was going through where the geese at withdrawals. I only came back because I was getting angry at the fact I hadn't drawn where the geese at in days. I am addicted to this drawing like it's black tar heroin. Where the geese at has rotted my brain to the point of no return. It's only been a month of its life and so far it has only made mine worse and worse. I eat, sleep, breathe where the geese at. I feel the need to use my own tears as paint and draw where the geese at all over my metal enclosure. I see him everywhere I go. Thinking about it and writing this all out has made my face flush red with rage maybe? Frustration? Geese withdrawals? Lord please save me from this curse I cannot live like this.

I feel really bad if anyone reads this at all. I have no hellsing friends so I haven't been able to mourn my loss of sanity with context to anyone. I am very truly deeply sorry for anyone who reads my rants of a madman my dehydrated dying words.

Where the geese at amiright folks? I'll be here all night.

[cinemaglow]

This isn't going to be very coherent I'm sorry. I'm not a Buck-Tick superfan. I very easily *could* be but I've held myself back since I don't really have the time and energy to invest and become voraciously obsessed with a band like when I was younger. I haven't listened to all their albums. I've only watched or read a few translated interviews. Idk why I feel like I have to preface this post like this. I guess it's just weird that this is the most profoundly affected I've been by a musician's death in years, and I don't even have the encyclopedic knowledge that I do for some other musicians to have built a parasocial relationship on. I think it speaks for the depths of the beauty that Sakurai contained, that even while maintaining a respectful distance and just catching a surface level glinpse of his inner life he was so, so compelling. And even though I never learned a lot about his personal life I feel a kinship with him.

There are a few bands that have changed my life, not just in a general sense but in specific, measurable ways. Buck-Tick is one of them. I've had treatment resistant depression for most of my life. In 2020 I was, not as actively suicidal as I have occasionally been, but just so so tired and hopeless. I couldn't imagine a future for myself and I was fully prepared to never get out of bed again until I starved and decomposed. Somebody shared a picture of Sakurai on tumblr. I don't remember who or why or what picture but I thought he was compelling and beautiful and me being always a slut for men with long hair I was like 👀👀👀 and that's what led me to Buck-Tick.

Discovering Buck-Tick in late 2020 convinced me to keep fighting for my life. In fact it was reading the translation of these particular lyrics that literally gave my an epiphany or an internal eucatastrophe, like something fundamentally changed in the workings of my brain and the trajectory of my life made a sharp turn:

Your living heartbeat in this world is ephemeral, but it’s beautiful

The living heartbeat of everything in this world is ephemeral, but even so it shines

Your living heartbeat in this world—there’s nothing sad at all

A person I love can live in this world—there’s nothing sad at all

It's honestly kind of cheesy that something can change your outlook so immediately but I remember distinctly realizing that living depressed and miserable is still being a living person and therefore an expression of the goodness and beauty in the universe. I sobbed. I felt truly glad to be alive for the first time in a long, long time. I posted as much on facebook, so you could actually go back and find the exact date it happened. Anyway. I accepted that even if I never get completely better it's still worth fighting to be a bit better. I started grad school. I've made it alive through a lot of rancid shit associated with grad school. I still feel an underlying current of hope and ?cosmic joy? even when my more immediate mental health takes a nosedive because my fundamental view of the world has changed.

People who are a lot more knowledgeable about Sakurai's personal life than I am are posting about how even though he struggled deeply all his life he always fought to live, to find the beauty inherent in living, and that mindset clearly came through in his words and music, because he transmitted it to me. He was so, so beautiful, his mind, voice, countenance, artistry.....he and the rest of the band gave me a blueprint for aging fabulously when I literally couldn't picture myself being middle aged. I think he did a good job, with everything. I kind of feel the same way now as I did when I found out about a friend's suicide earlier this year. Like, it's all okay for him, on his end. One of my spiritual beliefs is that death is a reward, a well earned rest after engaging in the Sacred Work of living. Even if it's a few decades earlier than expected Sakurai deserves to rest after all he's given and I'm happy for him. It's the rest of us that have lost something. It's like we have one less star in the sky. I kind of had a dream that maybe I could make so stage clothes for him one day but oh well.

I was up for several hours just kind of numb last night after I heard the news so I am going to get something to eat and go back to bed for a bit (being unemployed does come with privileges haha). I'm feeling a lot more at peace now than I was last night. Later on I'm going to take a shower and then paint my nails, which seems like the best thing I can do at the moment to honor him. And I'm going to keep living, and making beautiful gothy clothes, and putting more beauty out into the world and appreciating the beauty that is always there no matter what happens.

[terraliensvent]

On behalf of someone not in the server, /what/ is the whole myo scandal going on rn? Did they hand out fake myos...? Did they revoke paid myos....? Did staff trade illegal myos to people....??? I'm lost.

OK SO im just gonna give a whole summary of the events of the past few days since it seems a lot of people are confused (also i dont have screenshots EVERYTHING what im about to say, but this is just what i remember from personally seeing it. ill link posts as they come along for context):

the other night, when staff made this announcement regarding coy, shit started to hit the fan pretty fast

this announcement came after almost a full 2 days of weird behavior from staff, like how a lot of them put almost all their terras up for trade and how there was basically radio silence with the staff questions and design concept channels going unanswered. a lot of people noticed how suspicious this was, and this anon was pretty on the money with their theory

so suffice to say everyone was pretty much on the edge of their seats waiting for something big, and after the announcement was made the entire server basically exploded. in the chaos of people trading and running around like chickens with their heads cut off, the mods said they would approve anything submitted to the site. they said they were doing this so they could make the species as bad as possible for when coy took it over, and mods were in the server being very apathetic about it and having an attitude like “idgaf what happens now because we have been getting treated like shit so this is finally the consequences.” this attitude can be seen in the screenshots included here too

during this chaos, people could also ask for myos to be uploaded to their acc for free, which mods would do. so tons of people got “illegitimate” myos. people used their illegal myos and real myos that had been purchased before the downfall to upload tons of characters and some joke characters too, like one that was just a PNG of ellen. during this huge chaos, people were also hating on coy and freely talking about things they disliked about how the species was run as opposed to the chokehold toxic positivity attitude that the server usually had. truly the most euphoric the server has ever been. some coy meat rider was also defending them, and got really aggressive about it and telling people to go fuck themselves (for which they got banned). someone else also made a branch-off server so people could stay in contact with their friends from the terra community seeing as the future was totally uncertain

after a while the “we are approving everything” stopped, and things were a bit more quiet. temul and some mods joined the branch-off server and gave some more deets about the shit coy would do. i also made my Big Post; initially this post was just gonna be positive stuff about how i has a discussion with tycho about suggesting things for the species, but after the announcement was made i was given screenshots to post here by a mod so i just threw it all in the same post. the Big Post made public opinion of coy a lot worse since now there were animal abuse allegations being talked about, but later on with further scrutiny the conclusion was reached that the screenshot was mainly coy exaggerating to try and be funny, but miserably failing. either way, public opinion of coy was and still is totally in the shitter.

the next day, mods put out another announcement that can be summed up as “lol sorry guys everyone get back to business” which is total bs to me considering the shit they were saying the very night before. so now they wanna try and reign in this species when they already did irreparable damage, and now people are switching up and acting like nothing ever happened (i assume its because mods are gonna be looking for new staff soon and they want a piece of the pie lmao)

to fix the monumental fucking issue they created for no reason, they put out another announcement (which i forgot to post here oops sorry pookies)

so basically what theyre gonna do is:

- if you uploaded character(s) that night using illegal MYO(s), you can choose ONE to unvoid (with any changes that need to be made in order to be legal if you have illegal traits and stuff, like for example eyes + mouth), the unvoided terra will be account bound and non voucherable

- if you had an illegal myo from that night but DIDNT use it, or if you didnt get any illegal myos at all, there will be a form to fill out where you can get one free MYO that will create any subtype up to modified (meaning no limited subtypes), the MYO will be account bound until designed. theyre also in the process of figuring out whether theyll give people the choice of using x amount of lim traits or having the terra be voucherable. some of it is still up in the air

- if you used a legal myo to upload your terra, there will be a process a little down the line for you to get your myo and any items back

and this is where were at now, people in the terra server are acting like everythings normal and going along with the toxic positivity mob once more, people in the branch-off server are freely expressing their grievances as they did that night, and im pissed off because i think its a little unfair that people will get to unvoid their lim terras meanwhile other people only get up to a modified. hand out lim myos instead of modified, why are we STILL doing the artificial scarcity youre all acting just like coy

[lainalit]

hey, about your sjm's abelism against lucien, i'd just like to say i 100% agree!! i'd like to point at other abelist things in sjm's writing and i apologize in advance bc this might be long.

as a disabled person, yeah sjm is pretty fuckin abelist, unintentional or not. tower of dawn's disability storyline starts out as ehh to downright awful as it employs the abelist fantasy trope of *~magical healing*~. although chaol comes to accept disability and others who are disabled by the end (which is good!), he gets fully healed :/ also yrene's treatment of him in the beginning was atrocious. telling him to stand up even though he couldn't?? it read like an abusive medical care worker

on acotar-related things, i disliked how feyre's father is depicted as useless until his death, where he "finally does something" buuut it ends with him dying. if someone is ill enough that they cannot do anything, calling them useless and then killing them when they save the day gives me the ICK.

finally, the way nesta's mental health was handled was abelist (same could be said with feyre and tamlin in their own ways) sjm cannot depict PTSD/trauma consistently or, hell, equally between her characters. her knowledge of this disorder seems so misinformed, either that or she purposefully cherry picked qualities, which is an awful way to portray any disorder. nesta's """healing""" in acosf was absolutely miserable. sorry not sorry but i don't think getting dicked down, chocolate, and meditation will help anyone get better from literal Post Traumatic Stress Disorder!! it's giving a middle aged white woman telling my disabled ass "have you tried yoga?"

anyway, sorry about my rant 😭 as someone who liked sjm as teen during early tog and acotar book 1, i am. very bitter sometimes.

Hi,

It is definitely good to get a perspective from someone who has a disability rather than from someone like me who is ablebodied and only has family members who are disabled, so my perspective is limited in that regard, so thanks for your views on the matter.

I hadn't read ToG yet, so I can't judge if it's ableist or not, but if it's true, like you said with the whole magic healing, then that's pretty bad, especially if she has no knowledge or even personal relations with topics like paralysis. The thing is magic healing in itself; I don't hate so much. It makes sense in a fantasy setting to maybe have advanced healing abilities, but to outright make a character who is disabled to completely heal and have no side effects or struggles later on is such bullshit, and this trope should die out as it is right now.

The problem with Papa Archeron I have is that he is a nonexistent character till the end. I don't know why sarah even bothered to write him in the story; he hasn't even gotten a name.

Also, his health problems are so vaguely described that I often forgot that he had any, and the fact that he is a deadbeat makes it even more atrocious that she portrays a man with physical and mental health problems as such an unlikeable throwaway character.

Don't get me started on Nesta. I hated every second of Acosf; everybody was constantly dogpilling on her, and for what?

Did she have problems and made mistakes? absolutly, but why is the inner circle (besides elain and feyre) in nestas business? Like,  nobody besides her sisters truly cared for her and wanted her to get better; they just wanted her powers and making her amiable so she could sit with them on their stupid dinner table and fondle rhysass ballsack.

The fact that they know to some extent that mental health problems existed in the night court since we got the library with the sa survivors, but the ic couldn't fathom to maybe just ask some healer what the best course of action for nesta is since she obviously struggles, is so baffling to me.

But since SJM thinks hiking/ training= therapy, I'm not surprised by anything anymore.

Don't worry, rants here are always welcome💙