#and how its different from what i imagined it to be and that actually i never felt and probably never will feel romantic attraction

[miirohs]

love bites [l.d.n]

pairing: Vampire!Lando Norris x GN!Reader wc: 1.5k cw: dub-con to slight non-con, this is lowkey just me being horny an: its the way this was suppose to come out in october (halloween) then on christmas (yesterday) but i went and put this off a grand total of like 5000 different times like...... the title has nothing to do with this whatsoever LOL

You were sure this wasn’t how Lando wanted to spend his night, forced to bite air as you grinned at his misery from under him, forced inches away from you despite the fact that you could freely feel him up.

It was like the air had stiffened up in the room, and despite the window being cracked open, tension between you almost seemed to mount as he tried to figure out what you’d done.

You could clearly see the sweat percolating on his bare skin with how close he was to you, forming a soft sheen in the moonlight with how hot and bothered he was becoming. His breathing was uneven, pupils blown wide even in the darkness of your room. 

It was almost endearing, save for the sharp glint of his fangs as he barely held back a snarl at your teasing. You could almost imagine what it’d feel like with him running his teeth through your neck, and you shivered at the thought.

He wasn’t happy at all, but you? Oh, you were having the time of your life with this.

"You think this is funny?" He snapped, voice rough and frayed as his eyes ran up and down your neck. He wasn’t even trying to hide his hunger, eyeing you down as if deciding what he wanted to do with you first when he got his hands on you.

“Maybe,” you stifled a snicker, unable to hide your grin as you inspected his face. “Do you like it? I think this necklace you gave me is really my favorite now.”

His muscles ticked as he glared at you, clearly unimpressed by your antics. His whole body was betraying just how much restraint he was exercising, and you were gleeful. "Fun?" he repeated, lowering his voice. "You think this is fun, I'll show you fun when I tear apart your little witch friends, whichever one of them enchanted this for you.”

You shrugged, tangling your fingers in his damp curls, pulling gently at them while he clenched his jaw. “Not my fault, I just thought it would be kind of funny to see you try. Maybe you shouldn’t have tried some of those antics earlier this week, huh?” 

For a moment, you thought he might finally snap, might try to rip it off your neck. But instead, he just let out a low laugh, earning a slight flinch from you. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” He seethed. “Playing games like this. You really wanna keep testing me like this sweetheart?”

The sudden spike in his anger had you scrambling to cover, scoffing to hide your alarm. “It’s just a little fun, Lando. Plus, it’s not like you’re dying of hunger, right? You can live with this for a couple hours.”

Lando’s gaze darkened at your words, and the smile faltered on your lips as you noticed how still he’d gone. “Oh, come on, you’re not actually mad, are you Lando?” His silence was unnerving you, and you barely regained your composure as you watched him shift again, ignoring as you tapped his arm for his attention.

“Lan? Are you upset with what I did because- ” you started cautiously, your hand reaching up to fiddle with the chain.

“No, I’m not.” he murmured, voice void of the pulsing anger from before. The shift caught you off guard, and alarm bells went off at the softness he was suddenly showing, you could see the calculation in his eyes even as they moved away from you. “I could never stay mad at you, even when you’re testing my patience like you are right now, sweetheart.”

You questioned what was with the sudden change of heart, but you allowed him to lean in nonetheless, letting his lips brush against your temple in the ghost of a kiss. You barely noticed how one of his hands trailed up your body, your breath unconsciously hitching as his thumb grazed the chain.

“This thing...” he started, fingers slowly looping under the chain. “It’s really something, isn’t it? A gift for you, and you’ve gone and weaponized it. Clever girl.”

His fingers tightened around the chain, the metal digging slightly into the back of your neck as he gave an experimental tug.

“But baby,” he continued, voice dripping with honeyed venom, “you should’ve known better than to bite the hand that feeds you, yeah?”

Before you could stop him, he yanked it off, the sound of the metal snapping resounding through the air. You could see the indents of the pattern on his palm, burning him to pull it off.

You froze, mind racing at the realization of what just happened.

Lando’s smile twisted into something predatory as he tossed the broken chain to the side, clearly pleased with himself. “That’s better, isn't it?” he murmured, his fingers brushing over the freed area. “You’d think that they’d at least cast a more durable charm. This burn was barely worth all that struggle.”

You yelped when his head dipped against your neck, pressing his lips to your pulse point and scraping his fangs on the area. His teeth almost broke the skin when he stopped, hovering over the spot for a couple of moments before he stopped to look at you.

“You’re trembling. Are you scared?” you hated the fact that you could hear the layers of satisfaction dripping from his voice, smug and undefeated.

“N-no, no I'm not.” You stuttered, the heat rushing to your face as he pulled back, smirking as your eyes met.

“You sure you wanna lie to me about that baby?” he countered, teasing, “I can hear your heartbeat going crazy in there.”

“I am not scared of you,” you hissed weakly, even as you allowed him to dip back down to your neck, close for comfort. “You can’t-”

“Liar liar,” Lando coaxed mockingly. “And I'm not cruel enough to do what you thought I was going to, not unless you want me to...” He positioned himself to bite again, and you squeezed your eyes shut, expecting the jolt of pain keeping your adrenaline thrumming.

Instead, nothing came, and you jolted as he laughed in your ear.

“You know what? I’ll give you a choice if you so desperately want it.”

Your hands tightened on his forearms, keeping your eyes away from his as your nails dug into his skin. You were already mad, mad enough to let him in, what was just a little more? 

“What’s it going to be, sweetheart? You're gonna keep being stubborn?” he interrupted, the kiss on your neck sending jolts of electricity through your body. “Just say the word, or I’ll make that choice for you.”

You didn’t respond, clenching your jaw even as he forced you to look at him, pulling you flush up against him. Your resolve was wavering and he saw it, clear as day.

“I see,” he said finally, his response dripping with mock disappointment. “You’re gonna make it work for it. Have it your way then.”

He sank his teeth into your neck not even seconds later.

The pain was white-hot, spreading through your body, and eventually replaced by warmth radiating from the bite area. Your heartbeat, erratic as it was, slowly started to calm down as well. It was like moving in molasses, fever pitch draining you of energy. The rush of relief from the burn was dizzying, though your nerves were buzzing from the shock all the same. 

He’d pulled back enough to give you a glance, breath warm against the puncture marks. You flinched at the sensation, a small whimper escaping your mouth as he tried to shush you.

“Easy, sweetheart," he murmured, tilting your neck and exposing it further. "I’ve got you, just relax."

You felt his words before you could process them, a swipe of his tongue over the wound. However, it just made your head reel, caught by the confusion at what he was doing.

“What are you doing?” You blurted out, trying to meet his shameless eyes even when he pushed your head back to gain access to your neck.

“Cleaning up,” he replied, continuing to smooth over the ache, “Wouldn’t want this to be a mess.” 

“God, you’re relentless,” you hissed, jolting back from the sensation. “And you’re not a cat either, so stop licking me like that.”

“Are you sure you really want me to stop? I’m starting to think you might actually like it when I get this close. You sure as hell make it easy for me, if nothing else.” He shrugged, pausing for a moment almost as if inspecting his work.

You glared at him and he ignored it, dipping back down to nip at your shoulder. You hit him, startled by his brazen behavior. Although at this point, you fully expected it from him. Lando pulled back just enough to catch your eyes, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “See? I knew it,” he cackled. “You really are into it. Couldn’t stop yourself, could you?”

“You are insufferable,” you fumed, “in-fucking-sufferable.”

“Maybe,” he replied nonchalantly, leaning in to meet your eyes this time. “But you love it. Admit it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the heat rising in the back of your neck told him everything.

“I’ll take that as a yes, you know it’s a part of my charm, don’t you?”

You hated that he wasn’t entirely wrong.

[xxsycamore]

╰┈➤ It’s Halloween night at the Crown caste, and you’re looking for some fun.

- William, Harrison, Liam, Elbert, Alfons, Jude, Ellis, Roger, Victor, Ring, Nica, Darius x f!reader

[ ◄ PART 1 ] - [ ◄ PART 2 ] - ◉ PART 3

• rating: 🔞 E (MDNI) • tags: Monsterfucking; Human/Monster; Mythical Beings & Creatures; Manipulation; Mildly Dubious Consent; Curse play; Non-Human Genitalia; Anonymous Sex; Masquerades; Creampie; Vaginal Sex; Vaginal Fingering; Sirens; Water Sex; Bathtub Sex; Brainwashing; Smoking; Rough Sex; Desk Sex; Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation • wordcount:  3,261 • masterlist

a/n: I got this idea for a story that is similar to Nine Nights, but without any plot or continuity between the different parts whatsoever. Unless, of course, you want to imagine that all of these take place one after another (poor Reader)... Monsterfucking is a new territory for me, so please bear with me. Once again, I tried leaving you with enough hints about who is who and I hope you can have fun guessing them lol

Dubcon warning: The reader seeks out physical intimacy on her own from the very beginning, however, some suitors use their curses' abilities on her without her being aware of it.

NEW: I made a playlist for this fic! It consists of 12 songs, one for each scenario. Enjoy <3

VISIONS OF TEMPTATION 2024/ KINKTOBER DAY 31: Non-human characters/traits

❝ MONSTER VILLAINS' NIGHT. ❞ (PART 3)

IX. A sly Kitsune

"How do you move your tail like that? It's very realistic... It's wagging so cutely too…"

The fox-like man seated at the other side of the table keeps gazing lazily at you, his chin resting on his palm, as he makes a show of wagging his heavy, fluffy tail for you.

"How are you so sure that it's not real?"

Yeah, right. You'd find his teasing cute if it weren't the tenth or so time he's been answering your question with a question tonight. Each one more deceitful than the previous until you're completely confused about which parts are true and which aren't. The conversation flows easily despite that, as you find yourself stimulated by his web of lies, if anything.

With a smirk blooming on your lips, you decide to answer his riddle without words. Standing up from your seat, you walk slowly until you're behind him, and with one swift motion, you pull on his tail.

The teal-eyed stranger hisses as if he can feel actual pain from the faux appendage. He's such a good liar, a play-along comes naturally to him, it seems. You're a little bit impressed.

It begins to seem strangely exaggerated for a mere act when he looks behind his shoulder and his face is beet red when you meet his gaze. Gone is the playful glint in his eyes, and for a second, you're genuinely worried that you went too far. So you wait for him to say something, anything.

"You've got some nerve, attacking the kitsune's most sensitive spot."

You burst into laughter, barely caring about getting eyes on you from the surrounding crowd. What's more, you're absolutely triumphing on getting this sort of reaction from him - he's almost a sorry sight at the end of his wits, throwing another poor lie at you like that.

"Oh? So what's gonna happen if I keep touching it?"

You wrap your fingers more around the fluffy appendage now, the fur so thick that you can't meet your thumb with the rest of your fingers. You give it a nice stroke, bottom to top, feeling its hard center curve and resist in your hold, as if there truly is a bony spine inside. You're not sure how he's pulling it off when you can see both his hands laid out on the table now, elbows settled on the hard surface with his head drooped in between in a display of utter powerlessness.

By the time you let go and place a hand on his shoulder in concern, the expression on his face has gone through another metamorphosis. There's something animalistic to his gaze now, and it matches the speed with which he drags you out of the room and into some secluded part of the castle.

You're suddenly shoved against a cold wall, the stranger's body firmly pressed against your back as he presses his hips against yours, making you feel the arousal tenting his pants at the front.

"So kind of you to check on me after playing with me so lewdly. Did you feel sorry for me back there? It seems like you've been deceived by the kitsune."

You let out a whimper as your lust for him grows. Screw him for messing with your head like that. But mindgames aside, you know you can get a good time out of this, and you don't practically mind the ongoing roleplay, quite the contrary.

It feels like an eternity has passed before he finally aligns his cock with your dripping hole. You moan as your walls squeeze around him tightly, but he gives you no chance to get used to the delicious stretch before he pulls out of you.

"Say it. Say that you want me to fuck you."

What a tease.

"I want you …to…fuck me…" Throwing your shame out the window, it doesn't take you long before you press your hips back into his, hoping that his swollen cock will find its way inside by chance.

You feel the brush of his fluffy tail around the small of your back, the sensation unfamiliar and not unlike being teased with a feather, and it does a great job at distracting you so he can bottom out inside you in a sharp thrust.

"Ahhh!♡"

"Now then. Let's say that I have a trick up my sleeve to keep you impaled on my cock looong after you get what you want from me. Am I lying, or am I telling the truth?"

Another wag of his tail. Your mind is getting clouded by the growing pleasure, and you realize that this is your only chance to answer before you reach your orgasm.

"Nhhg- I'm rather-sceptical! Haven't you thought that you might not be my type?!"

Bold words for someone who has a cock buried to the hilt inside them currently, you know, but you can't help it. The stranger lets out a chuckle, rutting his hips against you once, and twice, and by the third time, your orgasm hits you.

"Wrong."

Something expands at the base of his cock, and a shudder runs through you. Is that... a knot? An overwhelming sense of fullness rules over your nethers, heightening the pleasure, and only then do you realize you might have truly been deceived by a kitsune.

And leaving its grip might be a little harder than you thought.

X. A bewitching Siren

As soon as you step foot out of the hall, your ears detect a melodic singing voice that is nothing like the music played at the party. Is that coming from a singer invited to perform here? Maybe that's the sound of him doing his warmup. With no set direction in mind, your feet take you closer to the source of that music, without thinking.

Through long and elaborately decorated corridors, your step speeds up, as you're eager to meet the talented individual. If he's someone famous, perhaps you'll able to get his autograph, or at least exchange a couple of words and treasure the chance meeting as a memory…

Following the voice to what looks like a regular restroom, you assume that he came here for privacy. Your excuse would be that you wanted to freshen up, yes, that sounds good. Actually, wasn't that your goal in the first place? Your head is full of excuses to follow the voice, and you understand nothing of it, but your hand is already at the doorknob.

The man you find inside, to your utter surprise, is relaxing in a bathtub. He's in costume too, much like everyone else at the party, but his puts many others to shame.

"What a beautiful tail! It reflects the light so beautifully…Oh, I'm sorry for barging in! I was looking for a restroom, and…"

"Why, thank you! Finally some company, I was starting to get lonely here."

Flip-flap. The beautiful siren's tail you just complimented is even more gorgeous when moving, the holographic properties of its scales making a beautiful rainbow pattern under the bathroom light. You're not sure why he chose something so unpractical if he's prone to getting lonely, but you give him credit for the beautiful sight he makes.

"Do you want to keep me company? I can sing for you."

"Yes, please!"

You're unsure of where that eagarness of yours comes from - wanting to spend more time with his beautiful face, or his intoxicating singing voice. But you don't let the offer slide, you'd be a fool if you did.

"Why don’t you come closer?"

Once again, your feet take you near him before your mind can command them to. Taking a seat at the edge of the bathtub, you offer the stranger a somewhat awkward smile, and he gives you one in return. His eyes are like candy, looking at you so sweetly with their magenta color as if daring you to get even closer. But you don’t get a say in that. Because he takes matters into his own hands, pulling you in by the arm until you lose your balance and fall in the tub right on top of him.

Your yelp is masked by the noisy splash of water, but you can't move an inch. The beautiful tail you admired just a while ago now turns into an immobilization tool, wrapping around your legs and pressing them tightly together. Similarly, he wraps his naked arms around your torso, fully capturing you in his grasp. He also appears to be… laughing.

"What are you squirming so much for? I thought we were going to have fun?"

"I'm just- surprised- Ahh!!"

Flipping the two of you around, you find your head dangerously close to being pushed underwater.

"Isn't it exciting to be held like that? Don't worry so much, I'm not gonna drown you! I need a pretty woman like you by my side if I want my singing performance to truly capture the romantic sound I'm trying to give it! And if we were to make love during it, that's making it even more powerful, don't you think?"

His sense of humor is strange, but you can't deny the way adrenaline heightens your need, as much as you hate the part of your brain that does that to you. He begins touching you all over with his gentle hands while humming a tune, and between desperate moans, you have another chance to admire his costume, the scales on his arms a beautiful finishing touch.

When he finally enters you, your world is spinning, and the sound of water continuously spilling over the edge of the tub sounds so distant. The man's moans are like a melody, the way he drags them out, you feel brainwashed by them almost. You'll do anything to prevent him from putting an end to that song, until you can't move a limb anymore. You just have to be careful not to completely drown in him.

XI. A cunning Devil

Wandering off on your own turns out to be rewarding as you truly manage to find another balcony that's not as crowded as the hall's main one. The crisp midnight is heavenly when you take a lungful, instantly putting you at ease. It makes you that much startled when you suddenly register someone's presence beside you. Cigarette smoke rudely enters through your nose just as you've been getting to enjoy your air filtered out from heavy perfumes. The man doesn't pay you much attention upon setting his elbows on the railing, and you can't decide if you're relieved or offended by it. The latter somewhat prevails, and you decide to break the ice after all.

"Too noisy inside, huh? It's good that we found a place to escape, haha…"

You're just a tad awkward with him, and he isn't helping much with the uninterested half-gaze he casts in your direction as he lets out a huff of smoke.

"Did ya come here hoping that I'd fool around with you?"

W-What on Earth…! Just what left him with the impression that you're-

"Take yer decision quickly. I'm almost done here."

What is he acting so full of himself for? It pisses you off, and that's no good, because you know yourself too well when being provoked.

"Fine. Let's 'fool around'. I bet you're not even that good."

The stranger takes another drag of his cigarette.

"And what do I get in return?"

The audacity!

"Excuse me? You get my body, maybe? We're BOTH in this, aren't we?"

For the first time, he turns to fully face you. You see a pair of short, pointy red horns on top of his head, and his tired eyes have a strange glint in them, making him look dangerous somehow.

"Can you repeat that for me?"

"What? I'm giving you my body."

His violet eyes flash red for a second, you swear you see them. It must be the light playing tricks on you. Not that it matters now. Not when the whole demeanor of the stranger changes in the next second, with you being whisked away in his arms and pinned against the nearby wall.

"I'm gonna treat ya to some good time, after all."

"Finally." You roll your eyes, getting used to the new arrangement as the man captures your wrists and pins them above your head. You try to initiate a kiss despite your partial immobilization, but you easily miss his lips when he lowers his head to nibble at your neck instead. The bickering must have rilled you up, because you're moaning already, despite yourself. The last thing you want is to give him the time of day and become a whimpering, moaning mess under his touch. You'll hold back as much as you can, just because. But he's making it way harder than anticipated.

Between your legs, his hand finds your dripping core easily but he's gone the second it starts feeling good. You curse him in your head, but your temper is quickly softened by the way he hoists up one of your legs on his arms and enters you. His cock feels divine, you hate to admit, as he loses no time starting to thrust away in your welcoming heat. Maybe a quick, rough fuck is exactly what you wanted. You open your eyes just so you can look at him through a layer of lustful haze. Is he enjoying this as much as you are?

The smirk on his face catches you off guard, and coupled with a rougher thrust, it becomes the reason why you reach an explosive climax so soon. He follows not long after, pulling out at the last moment and painting your abdomen with his cum.

On wobbly legs, you readjust your clothes to retrieve some decency before you return to the real world. But a hand captures your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"Tsk, where do ya think yer going? Did ya forget already? Your body is mine now."

A thin red tail with a pointed tip wraps around your leg, further preventing you from making your escape. You hear your own heart pound in your chest, and you realize that you might have just made a deal with the Devil.

XII. A beguiling Death

"Awww, I hate this part so much! Seeing the hall get emptier and emptier as the small hours roll in…" You giggle a little at Victor's woes. The social butterfly he is, it only makes sense that he feels that way, on top of him being the party's host. You've chosen his company for a large chunk of the evening, yet you still feel as if you barely spent time with him. He's been excusing himself times and times again, talking with guests, managing the event, making sure that everyone's having fun. All of which, of course, includes you, and you're thankful for that, making sure to remind him what a good time you're having every chance you get. "But Victor, isn't it nice? You'll get to relax at long last! You must be tired." Victor looks at you, a mysterious little smile on his face. For someone who smiles so often, you pride yourself in recognizing the different meanings behind the curling of his lips, but that one in particular worries you. "Are you sure you're not having malicious intent when you're saying that? Something like wanting me all for yourself when the guests leave? Ahahaha!" The laughter doesn't make it any less obscene, what he's suggesting. You feign shock as you gaze away from him. "I never said that!" "Naughty girl, what did you think? I meant it with utmost innocence! We could help ourselves to some sinfully sweet leftovers once anyone leaves, for starters!" Oh! Okay, he caught you there. You both laugh, holding each other's gaze. His idea doesn't sound all too bad. You tell him you'll be waiting in his office, with a wink. He nods and stands to his feet, preparing to see the last of the guests out.

*** "Victor, you're still wearing your costume!" You don't have to wait long for him. Your arms are open and welcoming as soon as he enters the office, and he gives you a warm hug without saying anything. His long, black robes give him an interesting aura. His choice of costume frankly surprised you. For someone as eccentric as him, you were ready to bet he'd pick something flashy and colorful, but no. Tonight, he's Death. Your best guess is that he played along with the Grim Reaper nickname, living up to it at least in appearance. His hug gets… handsy. You're being pushed back until your rear bumps into the edge of his desk, and you've no choice but to sit on it. His tongue enters your mouth as his hands never stop wandering on your body, squeezing there and there and feeling you up. "Little Robin." "Hmm?" You barely have the brains left to answer him, just from a few kisses. You want him, now. You hope whatever he wants to talk about right now is directly related to him putting his cock inside you. "What would you do if Death wants to claim you right this instant?" Yes. Gods, yes. "I will simply accept my fate." "Hoooh? Aren't you a good girl!" Victor's long fingers worm their way under layers of clothing until you feel their coldness on your most burning parts. He's inside your panties now, and the way he loses no time slipping two of his digits inside you is making you practically melt. "Ahhh~" He shows no mercy, fingering you at a steady pace from the get-go. You don't hold back either, ready to give him everything you've got. Letting go, you're inevitably pushed over the edge and drenching his fingers with your cum. "And that, my dear," he whispers in your ear, making a shiver run down your spine, "Is called The Little Death." Your heart starts beating faster as you turn your head to capture Victor's gaze. There it is, this strange light in his amethyst eyes again. As if he's just beginning to have his fun with you after revealing another trick up his sleeve. Barely having time to recover, you start moaning in earnest again, as he scissors his fingers through you. Pleasure builds up, and just as you begin to get used to it, Victor changes the angle and begins hitting your sweet spot at the upper wall of your heat with the roughened pads of his fingers. "Ahh- Victor-Too much-" "Let yourself go, Little Robin. Tonight, I want to take everything you have to offer." Helplessly, you grab onto his dark robes for purchase as an unfamiliar sensation builds inside you. You let go as he tells you to, and you're granted with the obscene sound of water hitting the tiled floor of his office. "Nghh- Victor-" "Marvelous. Let's see how many more you can endure, shall we?" As more liquid escapes you, drenching him completely, you feel shameful, yet it's just so good it turns your brain to mush. You're not sure how many more little deaths Victor can pry out of your body, but you'll gladly leave yourself in his arms until the sun comes out.

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[genderqueerdykes]

Just a rant about some things I have been seeing for a while now on some videos.

Basically the videos I'm referring to usually have something to with LGBTQ+ (Mostly TQ+) and then when I go to the comments I see something like this,

'I'm a gay/bi/lesbian and I don't really care about the TQ+ side and because of (random thing that really isn't an issue like pronouns) this is why the LGB is divorcing the TQ+ side day by day."

It really just annoys me how people can be acting like this to their own community. They make it sound as the TQ+ is the 'louder minority' as so they put it they are less normal than them the other people that a part of this community.

It really just annoys me, with the way they say 'The LGB side should divorce the TQ+ side because they're weird and making us look even stranger than we already are!' Like buddy, I have actually seen those stuff twice, one when I was a homophobe and the second one when I realized I was multigender and cupiromantic/demisexual.

And let me honest, my first reaction to those comments the first time were literally, 'Oh hush, you all still weird as fuck with or without the TQ+". Because seriously, no bigot sees any difference between the casual gay person and trans person. All still abominations in their eyes, talking from my point of view before I stopped being homophobic.

Plus, they are all meant to correlate?? Like you can be trans masc and be gay. You can be a nonbinary lesbian. So people who say the stuff genuinely confused me as I myself is a gay multigender who also so happens to be trans.

It really just hurts how some people don't understand we need to stick together.

yeah i've literally never understood this logic either ??? thanks for coming to point that out, i've been thinking about this a lot lately. like when i see "lgb without the t" my brain just goes ??? because it just makes literally no sense

like why on earth do some people think the queer community "belongs" to cis perisex lesbians, gays and (sometimes, not always) biexuals, and that they're just "lending space" to trans people, intersex people, other queer people, questioning people and so on. i've literallly never understood the logic that cis perisex gays, lesbians and bisexuals are the "real" community, and then everyone else is toxic weirdos trying to "invade" their community. where did they get this from, because it's not historically accurate at all

it's disturbing that this is about controlling the queer community to folks who say "lgb witout the t(q+)". nobody should be in control of the community. we all share it together. equally

trans people have been fighting for queer rights alongside cis queers since the beginning. genderqueer, gnc, genderfluid, agender, multigender and intersex queers have been standing right beside cis queers at marches and rallies. trans people have been writing about homophobia, lesbophobia, biphobia and intersexism alongside the cis queers in modern queer history. why do people think they need to erase that? why would you erase progress for the sake of being petty??

its wild as hell that people genuinely think like this, i agree, it's one of the most unhinged takes i've seen in the longest time. like imagine if us trannies said "gbtqi+ without the L" literally all hell would break loose. tumblr's servers would crash from the monstrous level of backlash people would be facing. you'd be shot dead in the water. but for some reason, it's perfectly okay when you slice off a huge, very important chunk of the community because some people are uncomfy with not being able to tell what genitals a stranger has. it's so petty

i hope people who think this way get past it soon. it's dumb. like you said, queerphobes see us all as gross nasty freaks. it doesn't matter what you identify as. the thing nobody fails to realize:

the queerphobe can't tell what you actually identify as.

let that sink in.

they are guessing. they can't read your mind. even if your pin says "I'm a genderfluid trans neutral butch!" that does not mean a queerphobe knows what the fuck that means. queerphobes see: dyke, faggot, tranny: one of them queers. that's all they see. that's it. they don't know what anything else is. it's not trans' peoples faults that they see us as dykes and faggots, so how is it trans people's faults that other people get slurs hurled at them? it's not. they hate you for being queer. that's. it.

blaming trans people for other queer people's oppression will never make sense. thanks for stopping by! take care. this shit pisses me off too, i'm glad it's not just me

[honeyncherry]

Through the Looking Glass - Two

Rafe Cameron x Reader

content: tension, bad parenting?

word count: 6.3k

previous

The morning time used to be your sanctuary. In the quiet hours before the world woke up, you’d find peace. Those fleeting moments where it felt like the universe had hit pause just for you.

As a child, mornings were your reprieve, a small window where no one demanded anything of you. No clipped commands and no pressure. Just you, the soft light filtering through your bedroom window, and the occasional birdcall drifting in from the trees outside. It was your time to breathe. 

Sometimes you’d sit cross-legged on the carpet, a book balanced on your knees, imagining yourself in stories that didn’t involve expectations and schedules.

Other times, you’d sit by the window tracing patterns in the condensation with your finger, imagining what life could be if it were yours to choose. The stillness made it easier to dream, to let yourself believe, even if only for a little while, that there was more to life than what had been laid out for you.

That quiet was everything, a momentary break from a life that wasn’t truly yours.

But mornings weren’t like that anymore. The peace had been replaced by a steady thrum of tension that refused to let go. You couldn’t escape it, not in this world where every move felt calculated, every interaction weighed. Even on a campus as vibrant as this one, sunlight spilling across the red brick paths, students walking in clusters as laughter rang out, the tension remained. All coiled beneath the surface.

Today was no different, though the stakes felt higher. As you walked with Brooke, Maddie, and Sabrina toward campus, their chatter filled the space around you, light and carefree. They swapped stories about professors, exaggerated tales of late-night cramming sessions, and Maddie’s latest tirade of a group project.

“Seriously, who decides to leave the entire presentation to me?” Maddie was saying, her tone dripping with incredulity. “I’m not a babysitter.”

Brooke laughed, “that’s why I never volunteer for group work. Let them pick the slackers. I’ll take a solo essay any day.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Sabrina chimed in, nudging Brooke playfully. “Besides, you’re better at flirting your way out of deadlines.”

“I prefer to call it persuasion,” Brooke said, grinning.

Their banter washed over you like waves, grounding you in the moment. It was a relief, in a way, to let them take the spotlight. Their vibrant personalities filled in any gaps where you might’ve had to speak. But your thoughts were elsewhere, trailing ahead toward the building looming in the distance.

Personal Relations 201.

This wasn’t just another class. It was the class. The agency had assigned it with purpose, placing it carefully into your schedule. Not because of its content, though it was useful enough, but because of who sat in that very lecture hall every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at precisely 10:15am.

Rafe Cameron. 

“You’re so quiet this morning,” Brooke’s voice cut through your thoughts, light and teasing. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who actually gets nervous for class.”

You blinked, her words pulling you back. “Just thinking about everything I need to get done. You know how it is.” You forced a small laugh, shaking your head. 

Brooke grinned. “Oh, trust me, I don’t. That’s why I don’t think about anything until five minutes before it’s due.”

Sabrina laughed, nudging her shoulder. “And yet, somehow, you still manage to pass.”

“Talent,” Brooke said with mock arrogance. “Pure, unteachable talent.”

You laughed softly, grateful for the distraction. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“But, you’ll be fine,” Brooke circled back, giving you a reassuring pat on the arm. “Just sit in the back if it gets boring. That’s what I do.”

“Or sit near the hot guys,” Sabrina added with a smirk. “That’s what I do.”

Maddie rolled her eyes. “Try sitting where you can actually see the board. That’s what normal people do.”

“Pass,” Brooke said with a wave of her hand before turning to you. “What’s your strategy?”

“Probably somewhere in the middle,” you replied lightly. “Close enough to look like I care, far enough to keep my sanity.” You flashed a grin as if you already had this system mastered to the T.

“Smart,” Sabrina said, flashing you a grin. “See? She’s already got this figured out.”

You gave a small, easy smile as you all stopped in front of Bynum Hall. “This is me. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Good luck!” Brooke called after you as they moved on, their laughter fading into the distance.

The building stood ahead of you, its tall glass doors reflecting the morning light. You adjusted the strap of your bag, your fingers brushing the cool canvas as you stepped inside. The air conditioning hit you immediately, a sharp contrast to the warmth outside. The hallways were already bustling with students, some lingering in small groups, others disappearing into lecture halls.

You kept your steps measured as you entered the room, its rows of seats sprawling out in neat, orderly lines. The space hummed with quiet conversations, a handful of students already seated, their notebooks open and pens poised. You chose a spot near the middle, strategic, of course. It was the sweet spot — the balance you always aimed for.

Unpacking your things and sitting down, you let your gaze sweep the room with casual detachment. The overachievers clustered at the front, their attention already focused on the professor’s notes on the screen. The socialites and athletes occupied the back rows, leaning into each other as they whispered and laughed. It was a dynamic you’d seen, yet never stepped foot in before, one that always fell into place like clockwork no matter the setting.

The door opened, and you didn’t need to look to know it was him. The energy in the room shifted, a subtle ripple of awareness that followed him wherever he went. Rafe Cameron walked in with a kind of confidence that felt almost performative, like he knew the impact he had on a space and enjoyed wielding it.

You kept your gaze on your notebook, feigning interest in the syllabus you’d already memorized. The footsteps grew louder, closer, until they stopped just a few feet away. He settled into the row you were in, leaving a seat between you. The distance was purposeful, a space that felt charged even in its quietness

You barely glanced up, your fingers tapping lightly against your notebook as your eyes skimmed the same lines over and over again. But when his voice broke through the hum of the room, low and casual, it was impossible to ignore.

“Morning.”

You glanced at him, letting a small smile play on your lips. “Morning.”

He leaned back in his chair, his pen spinning lazily between his fingers. For a moment, it seemed like the exchange would end there. But then he turned slightly, his eyes catching yours. “Didn’t think you’d be in this class.”

You tilted your head, feigning mild curiosity. “Why’s that?”

He smirked, tapping his pen once against the desk. “Just didn’t peg you for the communications type. You seem more…” He let the silence linger, his eyes scanning you briefly before finishing, “…reserved.”

You raised an eyebrow, letting his words hang in the air before responding. “Maybe you just haven’t seen enough to know.”

His smirk deepened, like he wasn’t sure if you were challenging him or playing along. “Fair enough,” he said, leaning back again. “I’m usually pretty good at reading people, though.”

The professor’s voice cut through the room then, calling for attention as the lecture began. Turning forward, your pen remained poised over the page though you were acutely aware of the weight of Rafe’s gaze lingering on you for just a second longer.

As the lecture progressed, you fell into the rhythm of note-taking, your handwriting neat and orderly. But every so often, you felt the pull of his presence, the subtle shifts in his posture, the quiet scratch of his own pen on paper.

It was when the professor began discussing the importance of first impressions, that Rafe leaned forward ever so slightly, scribbling something in his notebook. Then, without looking up, he asked, “So, what was your first impression of me?”

The question caught you off guard, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Do you want the honest answer or the polite one?”

He finally turned to look at you, his smirk widening. “Always honest.”

“Well,” you said, keeping your tone light, “you seemed... confident. Maybe a little too confident.”

His laugh was low, quiet enough that it didn’t carry far. “Figures. What about now?”

You leaned back slightly, tilting your head as though appraising him. “Still confident,” you said after a beat, “but maybe not as intimidating as you think.” You had to force down the grin that was threatening to show.

He raised an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving his face. “Not intimidating, huh? Most people wouldn’t say that.”

“Maybe they don’t know you well enough,” you countered, letting your voice dip slightly in mock seriousness.

He grinned at that, tapping his pen against the desk again. “Fair. And I’m guessing you’re one of those people who don’t get nervous, huh?”

You shrugged, forcing a small laugh. “Not much phases me. But maybe I’m just good at hiding it.”

His gaze lingered on you for a second longer before he turned back to the lecture, a quiet “touché” falling from his lips.

The rest of the class passed in a blur of half-heard lecture points and subtle glances exchanged. You could tell he was intrigued, though whether it was because of what you said or how you said it was harder to pin down.

As the professor dismissed the class, students began packing up their things, their voices rising as conversations resumed. Rafe stayed in his seat, taking his time as though he had nowhere to be. You followed suit, slipping your notebook and laptop into your bag with measured movements.

“See you next time,” he said casually, his voice low enough that it felt like it was meant just for you.

“Maybe,” you replied, your tone breezy as you stood.

You walked out without looking back, though you could feel his eyes on you. Let him think he had the upper hand. Let him think you were quiet, nervous, unsure. Every word, every glance, every moment was intentional, and he just didn’t realize it.

You stepped out into the bright sunlight, blinking against its intensity as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. Your mind replayed snippets of the conversation with Rafe — his subtle smirk, the way his eyes lingered just a second too long. The memory hovered like a cloud, equal parts intriguing and irritating. You shook it off. Focus. You needed to focus.

Your feet carried you almost automatically toward the coffee shop Brooke had shown you during her whirlwind tour. Over the past weekend, it had quickly become a favorite. Not just for its cozy atmosphere and strong espresso, but for the sense of anonymity it offered. Everyone here seemed absorbed in their own world, sipping lattes, scrolling through their phones, or flipping through notes. Sitting alone didn’t feel out of place.

The familiar bell above the door jingled as you pushed it open, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You stepped into the line, your eyes scanning the menu even though you already knew what you’d order.

“Fancy seeing you here,” a voice said, pulling your attention.

You turned to see Sabrina standing a few feet away, her signature grin firmly in place. Beside her, Liam held a large iced coffee in one hand and what looked like a half-eaten bagel in the other.

“Hey,” you greeted, smiling lightly. “Small world?”

“More like predictable habits,” Sabrina teased, stepping closer. “This is our go-to post-class caffeine fix. Liam can’t survive without his sugar rush.”

Liam raised his coffee towards you. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

You laughed softly, the interaction easing some of the tension still lingering from class. “Good to know Brooke showed me the right place.”

As you moved up in line and placed your order, Sabrina leaned casually against the counter. “We’re heading to the quad after this. It’s kind of our regrouping spot. You should come.”

“Regrouping spot?” you echoed, tilting your head.

“Translation: Brooke and Maddie will be there, and there’s going to be gossip,” Liam said with a smirk. “The quad’s like our version of the water cooler.”

Sabrina nudged him with her elbow as you laughed at his joke. “Ignore him. It’s chill. A good place to just hang out and unwind.”

You hesitated, but the decision was already made for you. If the group was heading there, it was the logical next step. “Alright. Count me in.”

“Perfect,” Sabrina said, grabbing her drink as it was called. Yours followed shortly after. “Let’s go before Brooke starts texting us every five minutes asking where we are.”

The three of you left the coffee shop together, the sun casting long shadows across the path as you made your way toward the quad. Liam walked slightly ahead, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his drink as he whistled a tune you couldn’t quite place. Sabrina fell into step beside you, her drink in hand.

“So,” Sabrina began, her tone casual but laced with curiosity, “what’d you think of PR class? Worth the hype?”

You shrugged, keeping your response neutral. “It’s… interesting.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Liam called back, smirking over his shoulder. “Bet Rafe made it more ‘interesting,’ though.”

You felt your cheeks warm slightly but managed to keep your expression calm. “How’d you know he was there?”

Sabrina rolled her eyes dramatically. “Please. All the guys have each other's schedules memorized. It's borderline obsessive.”

Your eyebrows lifted as Liam laughed but didn’t deny it. “Rafe was… chatty.”

Sabrina laughed. “That’s one word for it. He can’t help himself sometimes.”

As you approached the quad, the sound of laughter and conversation grew louder. Brooke and Maddie were already sprawled on a large blanket under a massive oak tree, Maddie scrolling through her phone while Brooke gestured animatedly, mid-story. A few other students lingered nearby, their own little pockets of chatter blending into the atmosphere.

“There they are,” Liam announced, lifting his coffee as he waved. “The queens of the quad.”

Brooke’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice, her face lighting up as she spotted you. “Finally!” she called out, her voice carrying across the lawn. “We were starting to think you ditched us.”

“Never,” Sabrina replied as the three of you reached the blanket. “We had to fuel up first.”

Brooke turned her attention to you, patting the spot beside her. “Come sit. We’re just planning tonight.”

“Tonight?” you asked, lowering yourself onto the blanket.

“The party at Beta,” Maddie said without looking up from her phone. “You’re coming, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indecision. “I don’t know. I’ve got a lot to do.”

Brooke gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like you’d just insulted her. “A lot to do? It’s your first day of classes! That’s practically a crime against fun.”

“It’s Beta’s first big party of the semester,” Sabrina added. “Basically a rite of passage.”

“And by ‘big,’ she means chaotic,” Liam chimed in, plopping onto the grass beside Maddie. “But, you know, in a good way.”

Brooke leaned in closer, her expression morphing into one of exaggerated pleading. “Please tell me you’re coming. It won’t be the same without you.”

You sighed, letting a small smile slip through. “I’ll think about it.”

Brooke’s grin widened triumphantly. “You’ll think about it,” she repeated, her tone teasing. “That’s code for yes.”

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the chatter. “I hear we’re talking about a party.”

You turned to see Chase and Rafe approaching. Chase’s grin was wide and easy, the kind that could disarm anyone, while Rafe’s expression held its usual mix of amusement and judgment, his stride unhurried yet commanding. The two moved with the kind of assertiveness that turned heads without trying, their presence drawing the group’s attention almost instantly.

“Always,” Brooke gave a slow shrug, her grin widening mischievously. “And you’re both coming, obviously.”

Chase dropped onto the blanket beside her, his energy infectiously cheerful. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Rafe lingered at the edge of the group for a moment, his gaze scanning the circle before settling briefly on you. Then, he sat down, “what about you?” he asked, his voice low and casual. “You going?”

“Still deciding,” you replied lightly, keeping your tone neutral.

Chase leaned forward. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s coming.”

“Bold assumption,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“Not an assumption,” Chase countered, his grin widening. “A prediction.”

Laughter rippled through the group, the easy banter flowing seamlessly. You let yourself relax slightly, the warmth of the moment grounding you even as you felt Rafe’s presence like white noise beside you. Your gaze flicked to him only once, but his attention had already shifted, his focus split between the conversation and whatever silent thoughts lingered behind his eyes.

As the group continued to talk about the party, you couldn’t ignore the way Rafe’s quiet confidence filled the space, unsettling and fascinating all at once. He didn’t need to dominate the conversation to make his presence known. It was in the way he leaned back, effortlessly commanding the moment, even when he was silent.

“Alright,” Brooke announced, clapping her hands together with finality. “So it’s settled. We’re all going, and we’re going to make it the best night ever.”

“I didn’t agree yet,” you teased, though your tone was playful, a subtle challenge in the words.

Brooke waved her hand dismissively. “Details. You’ll thank me later.”

You laughed, the sound blending into the chatter around you as the group shifted into easier conversations. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the quad in a warm, golden light. It felt almost like one of those carefree moments you’d seen in movies, where the world seemed simpler, lighter. Almost.

For now, you let yourself settle into the moment, even as the undercurrent of your true purpose hummed beneath it all.

Brooke leaned back on her hands, her curls catching the golden light as she tilted her face toward the sun. “This is what college is supposed to be about,” she said with a content sigh. “Good weather, good company, and not a single textbook in sight.”

“Speak for yourself,” Maddie quipped, raising an eyebrow as she gestured to the pile of notes beside her. “Some of us actually care about passing our classes.”

Chase scoffed, leaning forward with an easy grin. “It’s literally the second week of classes. Relax, Hermione. You’ve got time.”

Maddie shot him a pointed look, though her lips twitched as if holding back a smile. “Some of us like to stay ahead. Not everyone can get by on charm and last-minute cramming.”

“Cramming is a skill,” Chase declared, pressing a hand to his chest like she’d wounded him. “It’s an art form, really.”

“Wait, didn’t Brooke say the exact same thing earlier?” Sabrina perked up, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Maddie raised an eyebrow, glancing between Brooke and Chase with a sly smirk. “Wow. Maybe you two really are meant to be.”

Brooke froze for half a second before recovering with a dramatic groan. “Oh my god, Maddie, stop. That is not what I meant.”

Chase smirked, leaning back with a serious expression. “You hear that? She didn’t deny it. Sounds like someone’s got a serious crush.”

Brooke shot him a glare, her cheeks faintly pink. “Don’t flatter yourself. Just because we’ve been talking doesn’t mean I’m part of your fan club.”

“Oh, you’re definitely in the club,” Chase shot back with a wink. “You might even be president.”

Brooke stretched her arms above her head with a dramatic sigh, her voice light but edged with playfulness. “You wish.”

Before anyone could add more, Rafe, who had been silent until now, leaned forward slightly, his tone dry and sharp. “If this is your version of foreplay, it’s painful to watch.”

A ripple of laughter broke through the group, breaking the tension as Brooke turned toward him with an incredulous expression. “Oh, shut up,” she said, her tone exasperated but tinged with amusement.

Chase grinned as he gestured between himself and Brooke. “You know, this is why we’d never work, Brooke. Too much drama, not enough appreciation for my charm.”

Brooke scoffed, swiping her hand through the air like she was brushing him away. “Please. If anything, I’m doing you a favor just by being seen with you.”

“Oh, it’s a mutual favor,” Chase quipped. “Trust me.”

Brooke rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “Speaking of standards…” She emphasized before fiddling with her phone screen, the faint sounds of swiping and tapping filling the air as the others groaned preemptively.

“Here we go,” Liam muttered, shaking his head with mock despair.

“Patience,” Brooke said, holding up a finger as she turned the screen toward the group with a flourish. “Okay… what about this one?”

The phone’s screen displayed Braeden Lowe’s Instagram profile: a parade of gym mirror selfies, flexed biceps, and overly filtered vacation shots. His toothy grin practically screamed “wannabe influencer.”

Rafe groaned dramatically, leaning back on his elbows with an exaggerated wince. “God, Brooke. Even my thirteen-year-old sister wouldn’t give that guy a second glance.”

Brooke’s glare shot toward Rafe as she clutched her phone protectively. “You have no taste. Besides, I’m not asking for you.” She turned her gaze pointedly to you, her grin teetering on the edge of mischief. “What do you think? He’s your type, right?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “You’re asking me?”

“Of course!” Brooke’s tone was light but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her intent. “Someone’s gotta find you a date, and clearly, I’m the most qualified.”

The group broke into grins and scattered chuckles, their amusement filling the space between you. Heat crept up your cheeks as you shook your head. “I don’t need a date, Brooke.”

“Oh, come on,” she whined, tilting her head with exaggerated drama. Her curls bounced as she grinned. “What’s the harm in a little fun? Live a little!”

Rafe snorted, his smirk widening as he gestured lazily toward the phone. “If this is Brooke’s idea of fun, I’m concerned for all of us.”

Laughter rippled through the group, the sound blending seamlessly with the hum of the quad. You couldn’t suppress your grin, even as Brooke shot Rafe a withering glare. She snatched her phone back, brandishing it like a weapon. “You’re so predictable, Rafe. If you think you can do better, be my guest.”

Rafe relaxed into his spot, his smirk growing as if he’d been waiting for this opening all day. “Please. If I tried, it wouldn’t even be fair.”

“God forbid,” Maddie muttered, rolling her eyes as she stretched her legs out in front of her.

“Please don’t,” you interjected, your tone laced with mock alarm. “The last thing I need is Rafe Cameron picking anyone for me.”

“Why not?” Rafe countered smoothly, angling his head toward you with that maddening smirk. “I’ve got great taste.”

“Great taste in what?” Maddie asked flatly. “Flapjacks and trouble?”

Sabrina and Chase snorted, their laughter mingling as Brooke waved them off impatiently. “Come on. College is for having fun, and fun means romance. Don’t tell me you’re going to be the tragic single friend.”

You shook your head, trying to stop this before it spiraled into something unbearable. “No one needs to help with anything. I don’t need a—”

“Boyfriend?” Rafe cut in, his tone dripping with amusement. His blue eyes locked onto yours, daring you to take the bait.

You froze for a beat, your mind scrambling for a comeback that wouldn’t play directly into his hands. Of course, he’d jump in just to throw you off balance. These past couple of days have been like a game of tug-of-war with him, and the more you tried to steady yourself, the harder he pulled.

You pressed your lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Right,” he said, dragging out the word. “I’m sure.”

You sighed, waving him off with a dismissive shake of your head. “Thanks, Brooke, but I think I’ll survive without your matchmaking services.”

“Single and thriving,” Sabrina chimed in, raising her drink like a toast. “Brooke, not everyone needs a boyfriend to complete their college experience.”

“Fine,” Brooke relented with a dramatic huff, flopping back onto the blanket. “But when you change your mind, don’t come crying to me.”

“If she changes her mind, she can come to me.” Liam grinned from across the circle, wagging his brows in exaggerated hopefulness.

“Dream on, Liam,” Maddie shot back, shoving his shoulder hard enough to make him laugh and nearly spill his own drink.

The group’s banter dissolved into smaller conversations, the air light with their laughter. You let yourself relax slightly, slipping into the rhythm of their chatter. It was easier this way, listening from the edges, laughing when appropriate, and staying out of the spotlight. It kept the focus off you, which was exactly what you wanted.

Except Rafe wasn’t letting that happen.

His gaze lingered, sharp and steady, even as the others’ attention shifted elsewhere. When you glanced his way, his smirk softened into something subtler, his eyes assessing. It was unnerving, the way he seemed to notice too much, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle you hadn’t even known you’d left scattered.

“What about you?” he asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the surrounding noise. “No boyfriend back home?”

The question caught you off guard, your hesitation betraying a flicker of surprise. His smirk deepened at the pause, a glimmer of triumph sparking in his eyes like he’d just gained the upper hand.

Little did he know, that pause wasn’t hesitation; it was calculation. His quick quip had only confirmed one thing: he was playing the game exactly as you wanted him to.

“No,” you said firmly, refusing to let the silence stretch any longer. “No boyfriend.”

“Interesting,” he murmured, his tone casual, though his gaze suggested he was testing the waters, waiting to see if you’d flinch.

But you weren’t about to let him think he’d rattled you.

You looked away, focusing on Brooke instead as she picked up her phone and waved it in Rafe’s direction. “See? You should be thanking me. I’m just trying to help.”

Rafe scoffed, the smirk creeping back onto his face. “You’re not helping anyone with that lineup, Brooke. Try harder.”

Her jaw dropped in mock offense. “Okay, that’s it. You’re banned from giving opinions.”

“Good luck enforcing that,” he shot back with a grin.

The group laughed, their voices blending with the background hum of the quad. Around you, students lounged on blankets, paging through notes or simply soaking in the sun. It was the kind of scene that should have felt idyllic. Carefree. But the weight in your chest wouldn’t let you fully sink into the moment.

Every time Rafe’s gaze landed on you, it felt like the walls were inching closer, pressing in on all sides. He watched too closely, noticed too much.

“Don’t tell me you’re zoning out already,” Brooke teased, nudging your arm. “It’s not even midterms yet.”

Her words snapped you back into focus. You managed a small smile. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“Dangerous pastime,” Rafe quipped, his smirk curling once again. He sat up slightly, his posture shifting from relaxed to alert. “You sure you’re not plotting something over there?”

You rolled your eyes, forcing a laugh. “Always. Can’t help myself.”

“You’ve got that look,” Chase added, gesturing vaguely toward you. “You know, like you’re solving the mysteries of the universe or something.”

Before you could respond, Rafe tilted his head, studying you more closely. “Seriously, though. You good?”

The shift in his tone threw you. It wasn’t soft, not exactly, but it lacked his usual playful bite. His smirk had faded into something subtler, almost... curious. Like he was genuinely asking.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, nodding to punctuate your words. “Just... tired.”

For a moment, he didn’t reply, his gaze flicking over your face as if weighing your answer. Then, just as easily, his smirk returned. He leaned back on his hands, his posture lazy once more. “Good,” he said simply, his tone dismissive, as though closing the conversation.

Brooke’s phone buzzed from where it lay in the grass, pulling the group’s attention back. She groaned, picking it up and waving it in the air like a flag of defeat. “Okay, someone else can take over. Clearly, my taste isn’t appreciated.”

“Maybe you should let her pick her own boyfriend,” Rafe quipped, tossing you a glance that felt sharper than it should’ve.

The group laughed, the moment dissolving into more teasing and chatter until the sharp trill of a ringing phone cut through the noise. Everyone instinctively glanced at their devices.

“It’s me,” you murmured, a mix of relief and dread flooding you as you pulled your buzzing phone from your pocket. The screen displayed a stark “No Caller ID,” and your stomach sank like a heavy stone. That familiar block of text only ever meant one thing, and you’d been hoping to avoid it, at least for now.

You stood quickly, smoothing your shirt and offering a rushed excuse. “I’ll just be a second,” you said lightly, though you felt the weight of curious eyes as you stepped away.

Pressing the phone to your ear, you forced your voice to remain calm. “Hello?”

His response was immediate, clipped, and impersonal. “How’s everything looking?”

Your eyes closed briefly, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. How typical. Not a greeting, not even the pretense of concern. Just straight to business. “Fine,” you replied, keeping your tone as brisk as his. “It’s early, but everything is progressing as expected.”

“Good,” he said, his voice carrying the same detached authority it always did. “You’ll have more updates by the end of the week.”

It wasn’t a request, but you knew better than to push back. “Of course,” you said flatly. “I’m working on it.”

There was a pause on his end, brief but heavy, the kind that made you want to fill the silence just to escape the weight of it. But you didn’t. You knew the routine too well.

“When I say ‘progressing,’” he continued, his tone colder now, “I expect measurable results. Not vague reassurances.”

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your voice steady. “I’m handling it. You’ll get what you need.”

His sigh was barely audible, but you could picture it clearly. Him sitting at his pristine desk, lips pressed in a thin line, calculating as always. Likely already rifling through another case file, another project. “Good,” he said finally. “Because you can’t afford to screw this up. Neither can I.”

There it was. The reminder that you weren’t just representing yourself, you were representing him, his reputation, his legacy. It was always like this, a constant balancing act between proving your competence and falling short of expectations that always seemed impossible to meet.

You leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree, the bark rough under your palm as you steadied yourself. “I know what’s at stake,” you said evenly.

“Do you?” he shot back, his voice slicing through any lingering resolve. “Because if you did, I wouldn’t have to call and check in like this.”

Your stomach twisted, anger and hurt mixing into a cocktail you’d become all too familiar with. He didn’t trust you — not fully, not really. And maybe he never would, no matter how many times you executed flawlessly, no matter how many hoops you jumped through.

“I’ve got it under control,” you said firmly, your fingers tightening around the phone. “You don’t need to babysit me.”

Another pause, longer this time. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head, calculating the risk of letting you take the lead versus micromanaging. When he finally spoke, his tone was sharp and dismissive. “Then prove it.”

The call ended abruptly, the line going dead before you could reply. You lowered the phone slowly, staring at the blank screen as his words echoed in your mind.

He never said goodbye. He never said much of anything, really. Just orders and expectations, always dangling just out of reach like a carrot on a stick. You’d stopped hoping for more years ago.

As you slipped your phone back into your pocket, you let out a slow breath. You couldn’t let this rattle you. But the lump in your throat lingered, a reminder that no matter how far you went, no matter what you achieved, you were still chasing something you weren’t sure you’d ever catch.

When you turned back toward the group, their energy felt like it belonged to another world entirely. The laughter was a stark contrast to the weight still pressing against your chest. You moved toward them, forcing your steps to remain casual, your shoulders to relax, even as the tether of that phone call pulled tighter.

Of course, it had to be Rafe’s gaze that caught yours immediately. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes lingered made it clear he’d noticed the sudden shift in your expression. His sharp, discerning eyes seemed to pick at the seams of the mask you were holding in place.

“What was that about?” Brooke asked, tilting her head with a curious smile. Her voice was light, but her curiosity was genuine.

“Nothing important,” you said quickly, shaking your head as you eased back onto the grass. “Just family checking in. You know how parents are.”

Brooke’s curiosity flickered for a moment, but she didn’t press. Before she could pivot the conversation, Rafe’s voice cut in, laced with curiosity but edged with something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Seemed tense.”

His usual smirk was gone now, replaced by a look that made your skin prickle. It wasn’t soft, Rafe Cameron didn’t do soft, but it carried a weight that left you uneasy. His tone wasn’t quite prying, but it felt like he was looking for the cracks.

Sabrina nudged him with her elbow, her tone light as she chided, “Don’t be nosy.” There was amusement in her voice, but not enough to ease the tension winding tighter in your chest.

The weight in your body increased tenfold, everything suddenly feeling heavier, sharper. You forced a small smile, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder as you stood. “I just remembered I need to drop some things off at the administration office. I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay?”

Brooke pouted, her bottom lip sticking out in an exaggerated frown. “But we were just getting to the good part!”

“It’ll have to wait,” you replied lightly, though your voice sounded strained in your own ears.

The others nodded, letting you slip away without too many questions. Brooke’s attention, thankfully, quickly shifted back to the group, and their conversation resumed.

The quad stretched out before you, still buzzing with its lively energy as you walked away, but the laughter and sunlight felt distant. Each step carried you further from the group, yet the weight in your chest refused to lift. You rolled your shoulders back, trying to shake the lingering discomfort, but it clung stubbornly, an unwelcome echo of the phone call.

Thankfully, with each step, the air began to feel lighter, the distance between you and the group growing wider. But even as you moved further away, the flicker of his face lingered in your mind. Not as a point of intrigue, but as a reminder: Rafe Cameron got everything he ever wanted.

And maybe that was why you didn’t like him. Because you never had.

A childhood that was spent under a microscope, every move dictated, every choice already made. Your father had ensured there was no room for rebellion or freedom, no time to breathe or dream of something different.

While Rafe had likely been breezing through his teenage years on a tide of parties and privilege, you were memorizing ciphers and learning to silence every part of yourself that wasn’t useful. You’d been shaped, molded, and stripped of the very things he took for granted.

He was the kind of person who existed with ease, who took up space as if the world owed it to him. And maybe, in a way, it did.

But this was one round he wouldn’t win. Not with you.

The thought steadied you, a sharp contrast to the unease that had been clawing at your chest. Let him smirk, let him watch. Whatever he thought he was playing at, let him keep playing. Because he didn’t know the rules. He didn’t even know the game.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you from your thoughts. You hesitated for a moment before pulling it out, the screen glowing in the fading sunlight.

unknown: Hope to see you tonight.

You stared at the words, your pulse quickening slightly. Not from fear, but from something harder to name. The message wasn’t signed, but something about it felt deliberate. Intentional.

You let the weight of the text settle, your mind flickering to Rafe almost instinctively. It felt like his kind of move. Subtle but strategic, designed to test you. A flicker of a smirk tugged at your lips before you shoved the phone back into your pocket.

If it was him, it meant he thought he had the upper hand.

But then again, you’d already set the board.

divider: @adornedwithlight

a/n: i've had a couple people ask to be tagged so if you'd also like to be, feel free to comment and lmk!

[burningcheese-merchant]

I'm stuck on a train for the next 5 hours, so I'm choosing to lash out at @cuppajj specifically by barging in on the Beast Ancients AU again and having my little fan baby Pepper Jack continue with the crushing loneliness and longing for connection wrought by this godforsaken world he's randomly been trapped in, as per the previous installment

"But Merchant, you sort of wanted to do this anyway" yeah, well, the dummy missile strike got moved up. It's early. Gotta make do on that ACME deposit, they don't do refunds

Just gonna call this "The Skeleton in the Closet" because that's sort of who Spice seems to be here and who/what Jack is essentially talking to

"Father?" Pepper Jack called out, a slight ache in his throat from trying to control the volume of his voice. "I'm here."

No answer - none besides the usual hum of the machines that filled his ears as he flew down to the bottom floor of the laboratory, evading the stairs entirely. Fair enough, he supposed.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said as he approached the container. "Celestial Cheese kept me again. Kept fussing over me like she always does. I had to wait until I knew the hallways were empty to come."

He stopped and stood mere inches from the edge of that hulking monstrosity of steel and glass, staring down at the man trapped within. A frown began to tug at the corners of his lips.

"She..." He paused, looking away. "She doesn't leave me alone often. She's always hovering over me, talking to me... or talking AT me, I guess. I don't really think she listens to me when it's my turn to talk."

Another pause before he shook his head and turned to face his "father" again. "No, that doesn't matter. What matters is... you."

Gone was the frown now - and in its place, a small, tentative smile. "How are you? How have you been?"

He placed his hand on the glass, near Burning Spice's face. Where, at the angle Pepper Jack stood and peered into the strange red liquid, it looked as though his little hand was resting on his cheek. "Did, um... Did you have good dreams while I was gone?"

What did Burning Spice dream of in there, Pepper Jack wondered? What images danced on the insides of his eyelids? What imaginary sounds drummed against the walls of his skull? What thoughts and memories flooded his slumbering mind as he lay still as death inside of his prison?

"I want to say that I did, but... that wouldn't be true." That frown was starting to come back. "I... I never slept much. I always get up when the sun does, no matter when I actually go to sleep. It's why Mother always nags me to go to bed early. But... here, in this place, I can't sleep at all. The harder I try, the wider awake I get. I'm... I'm too scared to sleep here, I think. And then whenever I manage to, I have nightmares. My fears follow me into my head. Into my dreams."

He curled his fingers against the glass, in an attempt at a comforting gesture he knew would go unappreciated. "I hope whatever you see in your dreams isn't as terrible as what I see in mine."

The glass felt cold against his cheek when he laid his head against it - like it always did, whenever he did such a thing. But he did so anyway, pushing past his instinctive disdain for the cold and into what he imagined to be Burning Spice's shoulder.

"I wonder if you'd sleep at all, if it weren't for this," Pepper Jack mused. "My father... Mother always says he's like a light switch at night. Awake one moment, asleep the next. Are you like that, too? Or is that something else Celestial Cheese took away from you?"

Pressing his ear down and listening yielded no sound he could consider a response. Even if he was desperate for just one.

"Maybe... Maybe if you weren't trapped in there, we could sit somewhere and stay awake together. We could talk or play games. We could tell each other stories. You... You must know different ones from my father, right? Because you're different from him, technically? I bet they're really interesting. I'd like it if you told me them."

They had to be better than Celestial Cheese's stories, if nothing else at all. But perhaps his thoughts on the matter were tainted by his hatred of her voice.

"I..." Though he fought against it, a yawn nevertheless rose from his throat and pried his lips open, louder than he'd wanted it to be. "I'm tired. I can't sleep. I actually thought about waiting until tomorrow to see you, but... I didn't want to be alone."

He started to slide downward, still leaning against the container, letting gravity take hold of his body and drag him to the floor. Curling up and letting his head relax against the hunk of metal and surrounded by wires, Pepper Jack sighed.

"I shouldn't be here," he murmured, more to himself than to this strange, sleeping man he found a measure of solace in. "I might get caught. But... I'm so tired..."

Another yawn. His eyelids grew heavier by the second. He wrapped his wings around himself, in a makeshift, lukewarm cocoon.

"Just... Just this once... The sun will wake me. It always does. Doesn't matter when I sleep or where. Then I'll... I'll leave before anyone catches me..."

He rose with the sun, and the sun rose with him. For they were forever bound to one another. For he was its warmth and light made manifest, and so it would obey his commands without question. Or so everyone liked to say. So the threads people used to spin all those tall tales about him aimed to convey to the world, in those tapestries and carvings on the palace walls.

The container was uncomfortable. All freezing, flat iron and sharp edges. But it was fine. It was better than the bed Celestial Cheese gave him. For there was someone next to him, and that alone made the entire lavish bedroom he was made to call his own worthless.

As exhaustion overtook him, Pepper Jack's thoughts began to blur. Those two men that shared a name and face and nothing more melted together into one. He imagined the Burning Spice in the prison before him rising and picking him up. Resting Pepper Jack's head on his shoulder. Carrying him to bed, taking slow, measured steps so as not to make him stir. Laying him down ever so gently - would this Burning Spice be terrified to use his real strength near him, like his Burning Spice still was, even if he pretended not to be when asked? - and pulling the blanket over him. Taking care to leave the boy on his stomach, not his back, because he cared enough to remember that he always wanted his wings to be free. Letting his hand linger in his hair. Petting it. That big, strong, warm hand, offered by the big, strong man who let himself be soft around him, keeping him company. Comforting him as he drifted away.

This Burning Spice wouldn't do any of that. But Pepper Jack was too tired to snap out of it and stop pretending.

The nightmares stayed away this time, at least.

-------------

I have more, but Jack's not the only one who's falling asleep lol. I'll write and post the rest later maybe. Probably. If Cuppa and everyone else is willing to put up with that

Also I'd draw something to accompany this but uhhhhhhhh I'm not sure anyone wants that inflicted upon them lol

[bacchuschucklefuck]

doing chibi is a good design exercise bc it forces u to think on shapes n essential details, essentially thumbnailing ur designs. its also a terrible design exercise bc it ends up looking cute no matter what

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[astranauticus]

Director of the False Last Act

[fatedroses]

I offer the frankly hilarious scenario of zenos and estinien having to work together (probably because of tataru) and a little bit of headcanon-ing I have in regards to the one main issue they run in to when theyre a duo.

[radioroxx]

hmmmm mal du pays thoughts tonight

[tears-of-boredom]

ok so...I wouldnt call myself necessarily "artistically talented", and I famously am very bad at perspectives.. but i drew a thing for @bearotonin-international

[torchstelechos]

How pissed do you think Shen Yuan is when he finds out that a different version of himself (that’s living his transmigrator dream WHAT THE FUCK HOWS THAT FAIR-) sold him out to Bingge. Like on a scale of one to SQH made another sex pollen wife plot, how mad?

[goldensunset]

what if they gave you the actual arcphone instead of just a case

ADFFSHDHNXJSBDJSBJSBDBDJSNSNBGJ

[fuckmeyer]

Wiggins!) the bizarre thing about the vampire men in the cullen family all seem to be at least subconsciously what Smeyer wants Bella to have but can’t seem to get over her initial vision of what she saw in her drafts or whatever. It’s odd that every single one of the Cullen men are like strongly devoted (but mostly devoid of personality because it’s so Bella centric) but when you compare them to Edward they seem interesting in some ways. Like Narratively we’re supposed to have this threat that Edward is constantly holding back from killer her but I don’t feel like we see that. Conversely, Jasper is constantly the one who is suffering about human smells and is the more vampire-like. But he’s also a glorified lap dog. So it’s like ‘oh he’s a monster but he’ll never hurt me” (things Alice has said out loud. Man even psychics slip up. I swear her powers weren’t so accurate until Smeyer needed an excuse for plot reasons)

Emmett feels like when some women say they like waifish guys because they don’t want to seem like they’re vapid for liking “big dudes with muscles” so of course you pair Emmett with the “shallow blonde”

Carlisle, I swear only exists so Edward has someone to model but I would also argue that he’s proto-Edward before whatever reworking she had to do when writing Twilight for a YA audience and brought him back as a different character.

Yeah a rant

hello again bestie Wiglet! (note to self: learn Photoshop so i can shop Jacob's bad wig onto a pic of Piglet)

this is such an interesting take! thanks for sharing. i totally see what you're saying. in all the Cullen men we see both a blend of softness & devotion *and*, interestingly enough, a patchwork of patriarchal ideas of what a man "should" be. & this idea comes to the forefront with the depiction of the love interests

smeyer wants us to see Edward as the chivalric gentlemen from the Days of Yore. we see this in the opening doors, the cutsey little romance taglines ("you are my life now," "look after my heart; i've left it with you," "so the lion fell in love" etc), the knight saving the damsel in distress, the expensive tokens of his affection, etc.

at the same time, in both Edward & Jacob we see the crude traits of the Patriarchy Dreamboat kinda guy. if i had to sum it up, it's like the guy you see in 80s movies. "bad boy." "opposites attract." he's a jerk. he's a hunk. he's domineering. he's allowed to show emotion only & especially if that emotion is anger. he's persistent in his efforts to get the girl, going so far as to kiss her without her consent if it's For a Good Cause (Edward in New Moon post-Volterra, Jacob in Eclipse). he's a cool guy who's In Control 👉😎👉

perhaps that's why the Twilight saga appealed so such a large swath of women & girls. the women, who grew up with the notion that they could have the true love of their dreams so long as they submitted to the patriarchal social contract, saw the contract being fulfilled in Edward. (i.e., "you can be the king if you treat me like a princess.")

on the other hand, the 90s/00s girlies who grew up in the midst of a feminist revolution & who could see the glimmer of a dismantled patriarchy on the horizon were attracted to Edward for the flashes of radical feminist love they saw: the unapologetic expressions of emotion, the honesty of him sharing his vulnerabilities & weaknesses, Bella's ability to override Edward's will when necessary, etc.

sorry, i know this isn't really the crux of the rant you submitted, but it is extremely interesting to see these contradictions playing out in all the male characters of the saga. it's almost like smeyer is having this internal debate with herself without even realizing it...

[elftwink]

have to work on a project today and an unrelated thing happened that just made me so so so so so mad (just some irl personal stuff), which normally derails my entire day because i find it so hard to come out of the angry/upset state and tend to just circle back and obsess over whatever triggered it but! today after 20 minutes of that i had a council meeting about it (<- what i call my decision making process) the outcome of which was putting it aside (!!!) for later when i could actually talk about it and resolve it (!!!) & in the meantime we could just do other stuff.

local man exuberant and jubilated to achieve feats of basic emotional self-regulation and was seen excitedly telling reporters he "never thought this day would come" and began giving a thank you speech to nobody in particular. more on this story as it develops

[blood-injections]

Imagine being a killjoy lost in the desert and looking up and seeing giant fucking birds with ten foot wingspans circling above you and in your half insane state, delirious from dehydration, you don’t realize what they are, you just think of stories you’ve heard and the word ‘thunderbird’ escapes your parched lips like a prayer.