#and you demons keep your discourse away

[intimidating-fettuccine]

AH REQUEST TIME OH GOODNESS GRACIOUS GUMMY WORM ANON TIME

Could I please possibly get teen slender, with his s/o trying to stand up for him with his dad or maybe at a party? If it's possible, thank you and have a lovely day/night

You're beautiful and I deeply appreciate you<3

Gummy Worm Anon welcome baaaaaccckkk! It's been so long since I've been able to add to the teen Slender series. You're also beautiful, and I deeply appreciate you as well, I hope you enjoy <3

This got... Very long :p

Slender wasn't a coward, not as an adult, and not even as a teen, and that was one of the first things you learned about him when you started dating him in his teenage years. He could be shy and reserved, but he was most certainly not a coward, and you knew that very well, which was why it made you so nervous to see the way he and his siblings acted around his father. Slender's father was one of the strongest Eldritch beings in the Underworld, right alongside his mother, but while his mother was kind and nurturing, his father was cruel and unfeeling. Every time you'd encounter his father earning even just a glance from him would send a terrifying shiver down your spine, which was why it was so shocking to yourself that you'd ended up in this situation.

His father, to put it bluntly, did not like you. He already harbored a dislike for Slender at his continuous refusal to follow in his footsteps and take over the family business, but you made that much worse, as he only saw you as a distraction, a contribution to what he determined was a rebellious phase in his oldest son (and Slender always stood up for you immediately and defended you as strongly as he could against his father's criticism of you). How dare you make his son happy and encourage him to pursue his passions, right? Such discourse led you to where you are today, cowering behind Slender's taller form as his father yelled at lectured him for refusing to continue his lessons in taking on the business once more. His voice was one of the scariest parts of him, so loud and booming that it pierced through your flesh and punctured your bones with its demonic tones. Slender was doing his best today, you'd certainly give him that, not bowing down or cowering away, but he also wouldn't speak against his father, wouldn't fight back to defend himself and the life he wanted to live, and that made you sad. It made you sad to watch him be torn down again and again and again, and despite the obvious fear coursing through you, you'd reached your breaking point, stepping out from behind Slender and finally snapping at his father. It was easier with the anger fighting against your fear to lecture him back, to yell about how it's good that Slender is trying to live his own life, that he has passions and hobbies he wants to pursue, that he's trying to become his own person and doing a fantastic job at it, even if his father refuses to accept that.

Chest heaving, trying to catch your breath, it took you a moment to realize just how quiet it had become since you'd spoken up. Slender's hands were clutching your shoulders, pulling you back against his chest, his nails digging into you in an effort to keep you safe against him. His father's face was impassive, not letting a single thing leak through as he analyzed you until a huff left his body, his brows quirked up in amusement, a disbelieving expression blooming on his face. His father conceded this time, stating this conversation would be finished another time, at a time when you weren't there. You felt some sort of proudness blooming in your chest at being able to stand up to him, at least, until the violence returned to his eyes as he seemed to stare through you, stating that while you talked back to him this time, he would not allow you to do so again in the future. Figure retreating deeper into the house, Slender nearly collapsed on top of you, smothering you with his body as he held you tightly, his body wracking with tears as he cradled you as though you were the most delicate thing in the world. Slender would lecture you himself later, of course, more delicately, about how you should not stand up to his father like that again, as his father was a loose cannon, and Slender just wants you to be safe in his house with him. However, he can't help but feel overwhelmingly grateful, to know you love him and support him so much that you'd stand up to one of the scariest beings in the Underworld just for him. He spends the next few weeks constantly trying to spoil you and make it up to you, even when you tell him that it's fine and he doesn't have to, because he's just so unused to someone doing something so impactful for him. While Slender has always treasured you, that feeling has multiplied so much after your demonstration of love for him, and he knows that he simply cannot lose you or allow harm to come to you, the first person to prioritize him and love him so openly and freely.

[coffeecorenix]

Some people are getting so worked up about what devs are and aren't saying about Veilguard, and about what is and isn't canon. Like holy crap -- if you don't like the discourse, don't partake in it. You only have to accept what is in the game as canon, chill. And if you don't like the canon, make a head canon, or just move along. Damn. I stay away from social media for this precise reason, because people are now harassing the devs? Because they gave fans what they wanted by giving us more information/interaction and are now just being bullied online? You don't have to argue against what they do or do not say, hot damn, just walk away.

The sheer level of immaturity and entitlement that takes some people over, you'd think they're also abominations (possessed by a demon, for anyone reading this not versed in Dragon Age terminology).

People have found a way to be upset over absolutely everything about this game. It's like everyone forgot how to have fun. I also cried at my friends about feeling tormented by the Lucanis romance (that slow burn, that tease), until I completed the game. At which point I told them that it was fantastic, that the slow burn and lack of physical content (more. kisses.) made sense if you kept in mind that he has been imprisoned and tortured for a year, and that the tenderness in what we do get was more than worth it. If anything, as someone on the ace spectrum, I for once did not feel overwhelmed by the "horniness" levels in a romance.

And when I saw that Kirby said he was demi, it was a lightbulb moment. They didn't have to state it in game, you don't have to go around flinging your labels around if they're not the "norm," you can just live and deserve to be accepted regardless. He reads demi. And if you don't like it? Pretend you never heard, reject it as canon calmly and maturely, and play the game you want! You have headcanon artistic license!

And for anyone who still feels cheated, there is fan fiction! Or other characters you can romance! If you keep harassing people and abusing devs, we're going to end up with no people willing to be devs and no games. Grow the f*** up and learn to be grateful for things that are nice instead of lashing out like a child who was gifted the wrong color dollhouse for their birthday.

I, for one, absolutely loved this game. As I have loved every Dragon Age game that came before it. I'm grateful for all the work that has gone into it. Were there extra things I wish I had seen? Definitely! Were there some choices I feel very strongly against? Also definitely! I replay them differently in my brain whenever I go through them in the game. Because I get to do that. Because no one can stop me. And because that way, I'm still getting all my money's worth and having a great time living life.

[codename-adler]

i’m afraid of diving into good omens tumblr discourse but i just–i have to say

Aziraphale’s face. it’s. that is the expression of someone who does not want to be kissed, but knows it’s inevitable. though even more subtle than that, it’s the face of someone who does not want the thing to happen not because they don’t want it, but because they do, they really do, and yet it is not the way they wish it would be. Aziraphale knows something here. and he isn’t telling Crowley, nor us. he’s got some kind of higher pressure weighing down on him, forcing him to act against his nature and heart, forcing him to act against Crowley. he backs Crowley into a corner with his talk of joining Metatron in Heaven, and knows it. and that is what he wants, because that’s where he needs Crowley to be–away from him; but he pushes too strong, pushes Crowley to risk it all and end up cornering Aziraphale right back. all Aziraphale wanted, all he needed to do, was protect Crowley by breaking his heart and abandoning him, but you can’t undo 6,000 years of companionship without a miracle. it’s a failure.

whatever the Metatron told or did to Aziraphale that was hidden from us, it terrified him enough to make up a wobbly plan that could keep Crowley safe, if he would just go along with it. Aziraphale may have been strong enough, may have loved Crowley that much, to put his heart on the line and sacrifice himself if it meant Crowley could live on, but he underestimated Crowley’s love for him. underestimated Crowley’s courage and capacity for honesty.

the angel lied and the demon spoke his truth and everything crashed and failed.

and it is painful failure and remorse that i see on Aziraphale’s face.

it’s Please don’t ruin my attempt at saving you and Can’t you see what I’m trying to do and I’m sorry I’m breaking your heart but I have to if I want to keep you and To choose you I have to choose Heaven but I know you’re not seeing it that way and Crowley look at me I’m lying just go along and

Oh no, you believed me entirely too much, what have I done?

with the kiss, Crowley seals his fate as undeniably tied to Aziraphale’s. and Metatron will know.

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 7: Complications Abound

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.7K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

** Warning ** This chapter contains implied/attempted sexual assault. Please be careful and read at your own risk.

The Sussur Bloom’s glow pours like a phosphorescent waterfall over the delicate blue petals. You can taste the honey-sweet aroma of the flower suspended in the air.

You observe it acutely, trying to figure out where the boundary of its effect terminates.

Aldous grins deplorably, “You would not believe how much this cost to procure.”

Does he think that will impress me?

Drawing in a deep breath, you calm your rampaging heart and swallow the terror balled in your throat.

Adorning your face with an overtly sweet, innocent smile, you summon every snippet of charisma you possess, “A beautiful flower indeed.”

“Not half as beautiful as my current company,” Aldous winks.

Ew.

“Where is your father?” your eyes flash around, assessing the surroundings for advantages you may be able to exploit, “I believe he should join us.”

“Father is away on business. He will not be participating in this discussion tonight.”

Convenient.

“Perhaps we should postpone this little discourse until your father returns.”

Aldous ignores you, “Did you know that the Sussur Bloom nullifies all magic in its vicinity? A useful item against an ornery sorceress.”

“Aldous…”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he sneers, wagging his finger at you, “You will give me the respect I am due.”

HA! A ludicrous notion.

You clench your teeth so hard that the nerves sing, “Saer, I’d like to-”

“Where is the man who was with you?” Aldous cuts you off, “The Elf.”

The door lock clicks, and you nearly wince, but you keep your illusion of poise intact. A grin slinks across Aldous’s lips as he stalks toward you.

“There was no other Elf. You were roaring drunk.”

He chuckles sinisterly, “You may have been able to pull the wool over my father's eyes, but I am not so easily fooled.”

The distance between you and Aldous recedes as he continues his menacing approach. You take wary steps backward, striving to retain as much space as possible.

The poorly lit gloom only deepens as you’re pressured further to the rear of the shop.

Glancing at the door behind Aldous, you concentrate on the stained-glass window. Daylight is fading fast. You silently rejoice and then scold yourself harshly for it.

I shouldn’t be counting on Astarion to save me.

You soak your voice in your most persuasive, candied inflection, “We can sort this little mishap out. There’s no need to involve anyone else.”

“Who is he?!” Aldous rasps.

Anger. A weakness I can exploit.

“No one.”

“Don’t play dull, Sorceress. I will pry it out of you one way or another.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you smirk patronizingly, “It seems you’re seeing ghosts. Perhaps a visit to a healer is in order?”

Aldous growls threateningly at your taunting. His teeth scour together harshly, sending shivers rushing up your spine, making your stomach reel and pitch.

“He means much to you,” he sneers, “You protect him by putting yourself in harm’s way,” Aldous’s finger taps his chin, “I can’t help but wonder why he would let you come alone. Perhaps you don’t mean as much to him as he does to you.”

“Perhaps,” you shrug, “I don’t."

“You shouldn’t settle for that, Sorceress.”

This little shit dares scold me?  

“As if I care what you think.”

“You deserve someone like me,” his hand comes to his puffed-up chest arrogantly, “prestigiously bred of noble blood, wealthy, handsome, and influential. Someone who can provide you with a life of luxury.”

“Gods, you sicken me.”

Aldous places the Sussur Bloom on a table behind him, but close enough that you are within the negating influence.

His face burns red, brows pinched in a nightmarish scowl, “You’re going to have a very miserable night then.”

“If you fucking touch me, I will kill you.”

Not a threat, a fucking promise.

“You’re all bark and no bite without your magic. I will take my apology in whatever form I choose.”

Your stomach warps nauseatingly, and you swallow the bile that soars into your throat.

Grabbing the hidden dagger in your boot, you swipe at Aldous frantically, grazing a weeping cut across his pudgy stomach.

Aldous lunges at you with a howl, grabbing your arm and twisting it, slamming it hard against the corner of a towering bookcase. The dagger rattles to the floor, and Aldous kicks it away swiftly.

“You miserable swine!” he barks, eyes savage and enraged.

Aldous pins you to the bookcase with a bruising grip. His chest puts so much pressure on yours that the air you inhale whines when drawn into your constricted lungs.

Gods, please, just a little longer.

Aldous wrenches at the high collar of your robe, and a snarling shriek tears from your throat. His forehead slams into your face, cutting off your scream.

Pain causes a disorienting parade of light to erupt behind your eyes, and your lip swells and aches furiously. The sharp, ferrous tang of blood coats your tongue.

You spit, and red-tinged droplets splatter across Aldous’s face, “I should have killed you.”

“My, my, what's this on your neck?” he snickers while eyeing the bite mark marring your flesh, “If you like to be bitten, all you had to do was ask nicely. I would have happily obliged.”

Your stomach churns with the insinuation. You yearn to see the little worm beg and plead for you to spare his life."

Pale hands rip Aldous backward.

Astarion’s voice resounds in the dark, “I hear you like to bite, but do you like to be bitten?”

Aldous shrieks as sharp fangs sink into the supple flesh of his neck. You stand, a wicked smile on your face, watching the life slowly drain from Aldous’s eyes.

You could ask Astarion to stop. You could spare the feeble runt his life. You could, but you don’t.

I was never a hero.

Astarion releases him when his eyes are dull and listless, and Aldous’s body crumbles to the floor.

The door creaks unexpectedly, making you jump, and you grasp at the intrinsic magic usually ever-present, only to find a yawning void.

Right. Where is that godsdamned flower?

Gale jogs in, huffing harshly out of breath. Eyeing the Sussur Bloom sitting innocently on the table, you throw it down and grind it to nothing but a blue paste smeared across the floor with your boot.

Astarion and Gale study you with apprehension as if worried you may buckle and break apart. You cross your arms and frown at them.

How soft do they think I am? 

“I don’t need mollycoddling like a spoon-fed babe,” you tut, clearly vexed, “What are we going to do about him?”

Gale’s fingers his chin, “This will certainly complicate things.”

“I will handle this,” Astarion concludes.

“No,” you stammer, “I can help.”

Astarion shakes his head, “You and Gale go for a lovely, very long, relaxing night stroll. Greet, chat, mingle with everyone you see, stop at a pub and drink; I care not, just make sure you are seen far from here.”

Gale nods, “We must set the lanceboard in our favour, so to speak. Astarion can handle this. This is hardly the first body he’s had to make disappear.”

Astarion smirks, “Far from it.”

“I could simply set this whole place ablaze,” you muse.

An excuse, more than anything, to see this place eradicated from existence.

Gale pales, “Burn all these books?”

Astarion snickers and sighs dramatically, “Truly, darling, did you not consider the books?!”

You roll your eyes, “They would make for fine kindling.”

Gale mumbles, mouth agape, “How unseemly.”

Astarion giggles at the ill-humoured scowl darkening Gale’s face before looking at you, “Still that twitchy palm of yours. Nothing screams guilty like a raging, fiery inferno.”

“I suppose you are the expert in these matters, Astarion.”

“Oh,” he grins, “Please do continue showering me with your praises.”

“Good Gods,” Gale grumbles, “We should not linger, my friend.”

“Fine,” you throw your hands up, exasperated, “I will spare the damn books.”

Astarion snaps his fingers, “Gale, the scroll, if you please.”

The scroll?

You cock your brow at him. Astarion unrolls the scroll, recites the incantation, and it vanishes.

The swell and tender ache in your lower lip dissipates. Astarion pulls a handkerchief out and wipes the leftover drops of blood from your chin that had dribbled down from the split in your lip.

“Good as new,” he purrs, but there is concern laden in his eyes.

“Your incantations need work,” you tease to relieve Astarion’s anxiety.

He grins but clicks his tongue in disapproval, “As do your manners, it seems.”

Gale weaves you through small, dim alleys and paths while avoiding the populace until you’re far from the shop.

Once you can return to the main thoroughfare, Gale skillfully greets passersby, striking up mundane conversations to ensure you’re noticed and seen.

Neither Gale nor you speak of what happened until you’re safely back in the manor.

“Fuck,” your fingers wrack through your hair, “I’m so sorry, Gale.”

“You need not be,” Gale squeezes your shoulder, “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“We need a plan.”

Run. Run. Run. Take Astarion and run - your mind chants.

Hells. My inclination toward avoidance has gotten out of hand.

Gale pats your arm, “What have we always done?”

“Outflank. Outsmart,” you echo his words.

“Spot on,” he grins, “We can delve further into the particulars come morning.”

“You’re right,” you take a calming breath, “I think that’s about enough excitement for today.”

“You have a strange notion of excitement, my friend,” Gale chuckles, “Now if you will excuse me, I am in dire need of a bath. Hells. That vampiric bastard can move swiftly. Perhaps I have gotten indolent in retirement.” 

After bathing and changing, you sit on your bed and stare at the unfilled space beside you. Just this morning, you had awoken in Astarion’s room, and your eyes overindulged on the sight of him still peacefully at rest.

Can I go back to resting and waking up alone again? Moreover, do I want to?

No.

Your heart whimpers in your chest at the concept, sinking into your stomach with a quiver. The battle between your fearfulness and what you want continues to war on. Everything you crave is situated on the other side of your doubt.

Why do you keep yourself seated in the dark abyss you retreated to when he left when the light is right in front of you, and all you have to do is walk into it?

I’m still running.

Coward.

Reprimanding yourself for being so spineless, you leave the emptiness of your bed behind and make yourself some tea. Sinking into the chair on the terrace, your legs curl up under you.

The waves flourish and flaunt in the inlet, making the boats dance in concert and the tangy brine of the sea wafts in the air. Coasting clouds cause the pastel glow of the new moon to wax and wane.

The fluttering beat of wings alerts you to Tara’s approach before you see her soar and land on the terrace with a grace only she and Astarion could muster.

The pitter-patter of her little paws on the wood boards makes you smile as she draws near.

Tara stretches her wings before settling, “Would you like some company while you await the vampire’s return?”

“Tara, do you know the vampire’s name?”

“Of course,” she scowls, “You’ve been calling out to him in your sleep for months.”

Oh… 

Right.

“Why do you keep calling him vampire then?”

“He calls me cat or cat with wings, does he not?” she huffs exasperatedly, “It does not vex him as I hoped, though.”

You giggle at her, “You must try much harder if you wish to aggravate him.”

She nods curly as if she’s taken that into advisement, “I have not seen you out here recently. What is troubling you this night?”

Patting your lap, you invite her up, “It’s hard to find enough peace to rest when your heart is at war with your mind.”

Tara jumps up and lays down with a soft purr, “Have you always been so meek?”

Meek? Not a word I would have ever described myself with.

“No,” you stare off into the distance blankly.

Her round eyes reflect what little light the moon provides, “You have been lonely here, yes?”

How does she know these things?

The unmistakable glint of unshed tears brims in your eyes, “Is there a cure for loneliness?”

She cocks her head, confused, “You do not seem lonely when he is near.”

“I-” your brows pinch together, she’s right again, you think, “I suppose I’m not.”

“Then he is the cure you seek.” Tara concludes, “May I speak bluntly?”

She’s never asked before. This should be good.

“Please do.”

“You are being an idiot,” she says factually.

You laugh, almost spewing your tea at Tara’s curtness, “I’m sorry. Care to elaborate?”

“The longer you keep yourself tethered to this unhappiness, the longer you will live a life not meant for you.”

I hate how right she is.

Your fingers tap the mug fretfully as tears tiptoe out of the corners of your eyes, “What if I can’t get over my fear, Tara?”

Tara puts her paws on your chest, levelling her green eyes with yours with a stern yet empathetic glower, “Then you must do it afraid, Sorceress.”

She makes it sound so simple.

But it is really that simple, isn't it?

You stifle back a sniffle and scratch behind her ear, “Stop being so smart and wise.”

“Perhaps when you stop being an idiot.”

Another strangled laugh escapes your throat as you stroke her silky fur, making her purr loudly. Resting your head on the high-backed chair, your eyes flutter shut.

“You must do it afraid.”

I will.

I just need a little more time.  

Tara leaps off your lap, and your eyes open sleepily to see Astarion standing before you. Dirt streaks the pale skin of his face and hands, and trails, where sweat rolled down his temples and forehead, are evident.

“Wake up, sweetheart.”

You scan the sky as the haze clouding your vision disperses slowly. It must be only hours from dawn.

Your nose crinkles, “You smell like dirt.”

“I thought I would try something new; groundskeeper with a hint of grave robber,” his brow cocks seductively, “Is it working for you?”

You giggle, “Absolutely not.”

“Well,” he pouts with a dramatic sigh, “don’t be afraid to tell me what you really think.”

“I think you really need a bath.”

“I do love it when you sass me,” he tuts, “Naughty thing. What are you doing resting out there? You’re shivering fiercely.”

“I was talking to Tara,” your teeth chatter together, “I must have drifted off.”

He kisses your forehead, “Come on. Let’s get you warmed up inside,” Walking through the kitchen, Astarion turns to you, “Are you gracing my bed with your delicious self again tonight, friend?”

Hells. I was heading to his room without even thinking about it.

“Do you want me to?”

“It’s up to you,” Astarion shrugs as if it doesn’t matter, but there’s a hint of hope reflected in the scarlet of his irises.

Gods, tell me we belong together. Please.

“Tell me what you want, Astarion.”

“You, my love. Always and forevermore, you,” he purrs, taking your hand, “My bed it is.”

Astarion’s room is a chasm of blackness when you enter. With a flick of your wrist, you light the candles instantly with a smug smile.

He chuckles, “I forgot how handy you are to have around.”

“Truly indispensable,” you chime back in jest.

“Better set that ablaze as well,” Astarion points to the fireplace, “You get grouchy when you’re cold.”

You gasp, hand coming to your mouth theatrically, “I’m never grouchy!”

“Oh, don’t fret, my dear,” he glowers at you playfully, “You’re adorable when you're grouchy.”

“Go bathe, you smell.”

He giggles with a shallow bow, “As the lady wishes.”

You sit on the edge of Astarion’s bed, and a smile trails across your lips. These moments with him feel so familiar, so right, and they quiet the clashing present inside you.

Why are you making things so complicated for yourself? It could be as simple as telling him you want to be with him, so why don’t you?

He would finally stop calling me “friend,” at least.

Astarion returns with only a towel hanging loosely around his waist. He nudges your legs apart with his knee and leans in close. His hands slip up the bed by your sides, forcing you to lean back until you’re propped up on your forearms. Your heart parades in your chest, seemingly skipping beats the closer he leans into you.

“Well, you’re not wrinkling your cute little nose at me anymore,” Astarion taps the tip of your nose softly, “A good sign.”

Leaning in close, you kiss his shoulder while making a dramatic show of inhaling deeply, “You stink… less.”

He giggles and gives you a gentle shove, “Less?! Darling, I’m hurt,” he imitates shock with a sulky flair, “I smell excellent.”

Hells, does he ever.

“How do you know?”

Astarion taps your chest over your heart in rhythm with the quickened pace with a sly, boyishly handsome smile, “Your body tells me everything I need to know.”

“Pleased with yourself, are you?”

“Indeed,” he coos, “Now, to bed with you, sleepy love.”

Yes, rest. Gods, I’m tired.

Astarion’s thumb sweeps lazily back and forth over your arm, and you lay your head on his chest. Your eyes feel heavy and sag closed.

Lifting your hand, you draw all the flames from the candles into an orb floating above your palm, extinguishing them. The flaming sphere winks out, bathing the room in darkness except for the glow from the ebbing embers in the fireplace.

Astarion kisses your forehead, “Braggart.”

You giggle, but your voice sounds distant to your ears as the current of your trance pulls you under. Astarion starts to hum while running his fingers through your hair.

“I love you,” you say in a whispering sigh.

Wait… did I say that out loud?

Astarion’s crooning hum cuts off, and his fingers come to your chin, guiding your face up.

The silky skin of his lips caresses yours tenderly, “I love you too. Rest, my only one.” 

Gale rubs his eyes, “Where was Mr. Blackwell?”

“Aldous said he was away on business,” your leg bounces nervously, “He didn’t elaborate further.”

Astarion’s hand slips over your thigh under the table, stilling the ferocity of its jostling.

“We have some time then,” Gale concludes, “I have business in the city today. I could make some inquiries.”

“Bloody Hells, you are terrible at this,” Astarion groans, clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes, “Gale, if you go making odd inquiries, you’ll implicate yourself.”

Gale scoffs, “Oh, my deepest apologies if I am not proficient in the matters of covering up a murder.”

“Apology accepted,” Astarion drawls, “We could always kill Mr. Blackwell. What’s one more murder?”

“Mr. Blackwell has a wife,” Gale scowls, “Aldous’s mother.”

“You say that as if it’s a problem, Gale,” Astarion shrugs, “The wife as well then.”

Gale’s skin goes a deathly white as his mouth drops open, eyes round, “You cannot seriously be suggesting we murder an entire family!”

You cut them both off, “Astarion is trying to get under your skin, Gale. Don’t let him.”

“You’re no fun,” Astarion’s lips purse into a pout, “I had the wizard going.”

Gale’s body unknots with relief, “Very funny, my sharp-toothed friend.”

You rub your temples to stifle the headache brewing, “How well connected is Mr. Blackwell, Gale?”

Gale’s fingers tap his chin, “Connected would be an understatement. The man is friends with every high-ranking official in the city.”

Certainly a complication.

Astarion’s fingers drum on the table, “Could we not convince him that his son ran off with some trollop?”

“I could try,” you nod, “but Mr. Blackwell is already suspicious of me. He will not make an easy target.”

“You do have a very delicious silver tongue,” Astarion’s hand slips up your thigh and between your legs, “I have no doubt you could persuade him.”

You sit stiffly, trying not to expose the crudeness happening below the wood tabletop as Astarion’s fingers sweep over your crotch.

“I could try,” you choke out as you clench involuntarily at the sensation, “but it’s not foolproof.”

Astarion scoffs, “If you want foolproof, my dear, we better circle back to the murder option.”

“Do you not feel any remorse for what you’ve done!” Gale explodes out of his chair, irritation creasing his forehead.

Astarion stands with bared teeth, leaning threateningly close to Gale’s face, “I feel only pristine satisfaction. You have NO idea what he was about to do to her, Gale.”

“Stop it! Both of you,” you roar, slamming your hands on the table to get their attention, “I could have stopped Astarion, and I didn’t. If you must hold someone responsible for this, the blame is mine, Gale.”

“Enough!” Astarion’s crimson eyes send shivers down your spine, “You are not accountable for my actions!”

This is about more than just this event.

“Gale,” you sigh with a forced smile, “Go make your inquiries, but be discreet.”

Gale bows shallowly and excuses himself, glancing between you and Astarion. There is a grim tension in the air.

Astarion’s finger taps rhythmically on the table, a telltale sign he’s upset with you.

“Spit it out, Astarion. What is really troubling you because it isn’t this.”

Astarion’s forehead creases as his brows pull down low, and he shouts, “You must stop holding yourself at fault for what I’ve done!”

“Aren’t I?” you scream back at him, coming to your feet abruptly, “The night you left, I made you uncomfortable, and what happened? You fucking ran from me, from our life, from us!”

He left. Gods, he left, and it nearly killed me.

“It-” Astarion’s eyes dart around, “It wasn’t because of something you did.”

“My fault or not, I paid dearly for it.”

You ran and took my heart with you.

You rush to your room, locking the door. It’s too much. It’s all too much at once, and you cannot process it quickly enough.

It was my fault Astarion left in the first place, wasn’t it?

I pushed him too hard, didn’t I?

Gods, you don’t know. You’ve been punishing yourself for all of your missteps since he disappeared, and you can’t relinquish your guilt no matter how hard you try.

Why will I not allow myself to let this go?

Astarion’s soft knock resonates on the door, and your head plummets into your hands.

You cannot do this right now, and your voice rumbles, “Go away, Astarion.”

Astarion plunks down on the floor outside your door, “I will wait until you are ready to speak to me.”

He used to do this when you lived with him, giving you space but ultimately staying close by.

Wrenching the door open, you seethe, “Go. Away.”

Astarion rights himself and pushes into your room as if nothing is amiss. Despite your fiery temper, Astarion was never easily goaded into a fight with you.

“Astarion,” you leer at him in a warning.

“You’re angry with me,” he retorts, “I’m well aware and well acquainted with your ire.”

“Then you know you should be leaving me alone,” you admonish him.

“You never used to retreat from arguments with me.”

Fuck. He’s right. I ran.

Again.

You groan, slamming your door and drop to the floor. The headache you had felt starting is now throbbing in your temples like a battering ram. Pressing your eyes shut, you kneed at your head with your fingers.

Astarion sinks to the ground opposite you, and his hand settles on your forehead, “Darling, are you alright?”

The chill of his skin eases some of your discomfort, and you push into his touch with a relieved sigh, “Just a headache.”

“You did not get much rest last night,” his fingers massage your temples, “I’m sorry. I should not have shouted at you.”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“You do not have to talk, but you will listen, and listen closely,” Astarion tilts your head up, and you open your eyes to meet his, “You must stop blaming yourself for what I’ve done. The guilt is not yours to endure.”

“But…” you swallow the lump in your throat, wrench your eyes down and fidget with your fingers, “But I made you uncomfortable the night you left.”

“My leaving was not due to anything you did or did not do. I’m-” he sits back, running his fingers through his hair, tousling it, “I’m a coward,” he shrugs, “I’ve always been a coward.”

“You have never been a coward, Astarion,” you shake your head, “What’s changed? What will stop you from leaving again?”

“I am no longer afraid,” his fingers sweep across your cheek before rubbing your temples again, “Well, perhaps that’s not entirely true. I am afraid of losing you again.”

How did he get over his fear?

“Astarion,” you sigh as his fingers skillfully knead the throbbing ache, “you could never lose me.”

“I did,” the corners of Astarion’s mouth creep downward mournfully, “did I not, friend?”

This word haunts me.

“May I ask you something?”

You nod, “Anything.”

“Ever since I returned, you have been exceedingly gentle with me, far beyond customary, even for you. Why?”

“You mean,” your voice trembles slightly, “when it comes to being intimate with you?”

“Yes.”

Fuck, I don’t want to tell him this, but I must stop trying to escape from the truth.

“I-” you inhale a long, slow breath to calm your pounding heart, “You left me the night I made you uncomfortable. I suppose,” you pause, trying to gather yourself, “I suppose I have been worried that if I make that same mistake, I will scare you away again.”

Astarion takes your hands, “I promise you do not have to be afraid. I am here to stay. You need not be so gentle with me.”

Don’t I though?

“Can I trust you to tell me when it’s too much?”

“I will always tell you,” he says conclusively, “Could we please get off this floor now, beautiful?”

Right…

“Sorry. Where would you like to sit?”

“The bed,” he says, helping you to your feet, “Does your head still hurt?”

“Yes,” you groan.

Your brain is bashing against your skull, trying to escape your head.

“Sit. I will rub it for you like I used to.”

Sitting on the bed, Astarion pulls you between his legs, your back against his chest, and you let yourself sink into him. His fingers work the achy spots perfectly.

“What happened yesterday,” Astarion says in a low timbre, “with the boy. Are you alright?”

Am I?  

“It’s not the first time I’ve been attacked.”

“Yes,” Astarion looks around anxiously, “but there is a difference between being attacked and being,” he pauses, searching for a way to put it delicately.

“I know what you’re getting at,” you sigh, “I’ve lived a hard life, Astarion. This is just another one of those things that’s better forgotten."

“I understand,” Astarion kisses the top of your head, “But if you cannot forget, I am here if you need me.”

I always need you.

“Thank you.”

“You will tell me more about your life someday, yes?” Astarion’s voice is hopeful, “I wish to know everything.”

My past - another thing I run from.

“Will you tell me more about yours?”

“For you, my love, I am an open book,” Astarion murmurs, “Ask, and I will tell you to the best of my ability, but there are things I cannot recall.”

“Like your face?”

He smiles sadly, “Yes, like my face.”

You and Gale have been practicing magic together, and you asked him to teach you Mirror Image. The incantation was straightforward to learn, but Illusionary magic is not your realm of expertise and mastering the hand movements was tricky.

Mirror Image was meant to be used on yourself, but you and Gale often try to find new ways to use or cast various spells.

After many trials and failures, you’ve figured out how to use Mirror Image to mirror someone other than the caster.

Should I?

“Do you-” you trail off, wondering if this is a good idea, “I could try something - if you want. If I can pull it off, you will be able to see yourself.”

“What?” Astarion jolts off the bed, eyes round with astonishment, “How?”

You turn to look at him, “Do you remember that night in camp when Gale was inspecting a magical copy of himself?”

His red eyes shift around, crazed, and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake and stepped too far.

“Of course,” he groans, “How could I forget his incessant preening?”

Astarion looks anxious, and unease blooms in your stomach, “Are you okay? Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Please,” he pleads, his scarlet eyes wide and wild, “If you can, would you please?”

“This may feel odd at first,” you warn, “like countless fingers running over your skin. Don’t be alarmed.”

I can do this. I will do this.

Grasping the Weave, you wrap it around you and Astarion with the finesse of an archmage. Reciting the incantation is as easy as breathing, and it rolls off your tongue poetically.

The hand movements are far more complicated, but you’ve practiced this, and your fingers dance the perfectly choreographed pattern.

Astarion’s eyes stay locked on you.

You pull the threads, and the Weave unravels, only for you to stitch it back together in the image of Astarion.

“It’s done,” you smile, “All you need to do is turn around.”

Astarion takes a deep, shuddering breath but doesn’t turn, “What should I expect?”

You cock a brow at him. You’re not entirely sure how you expected him to react, but hesitancy didn’t even cross your mind.

Is he scared he won’t like what he sees?

“You will see yourself as the world sees you,” you say, calm and encouraging, “You don’t have to, Astarion. If it’s too much, I can always recast this when you’re ready.”

“No, I want to. Gods. It’s been so long, and I just… I just do not know,” he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “Will you hold my hand? I do not think I can do this without you.”

“I’ve got you,” you interlace your fingers with his, “When you’re ready, love.”

He smiles, “That’s the first time you’ve called me that since I’ve been back.”

No… No, I couldn’t be. Is it? 

“I- Uh…I-”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he giggles, “I won’t get my hopes up, friend.”

Astarion takes another slow, shaky breath and turns around slowly. The image of Astarion faces him, but its eyes are closed. For a moment, you think you didn’t cast the spell correctly, but when you look at Astarion, the figure mirrors him as it should.

Giving him this moment, you lean your head on his shoulder and wait patiently.

Astarion recoils slightly when his eyes open, and he sees the image standing there. The figures stare at each other, awestruck.

Astarion takes a step closer to the image and touches his face, running his fingers along his jaw, down the bridge of his nose, and over his cheekbones. He racks his fingers through his hair. Leaning in closer, he inspects his eyes and fangs, utterly captivated.

“Good Gods,” he pants breathlessly, “That’s me?”

“It’s you, Astarion,” you can’t help but smile, “in all your earth-shatteringly, realm-ending handsome beauty.”

“I am positively magnificent, aren’t I?” he muses agog, “Now, all your fiery jealousy makes perfect sense.”

You nearly chastise him, but when you look at him to shoot back some witty retort your mind hasn’t yet formulated, he’s staring at you with tears shining down his cheeks.

Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Fuck, Astarion,” you wipe the tears spilling from his eyes with your thumb, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He looks at the image of himself again, “I- I don’t believe I’ve ever cried happy tears before,” he chuckles low, his eyes downcast, “Not that I can remember, at least.”

Happy tears?

Before you can process his words, he sweeps you up in a cradling embrace, pulling you off your feet, “Thank you, my love.”

The spell wanes, and the figures form flickers before fading away. Astarion lowers you to the floor and looks at the empty area woefully.

“Astarion,” you guide his eyes back to you, still shiny with unshed tears, “I can recast that spell whenever you want. You only have to ask. This need not be the last time you get to see yourself.”

“Gods, don’t tell me that,” he sighs dramatically, with a striking crooked smile, “I’m likely to overindulge."

“Fine,” you giggle, “You will have to earn your overindulgence.”

“Oh,” Astarion smiles devilishly, eyeing you through thick lashes and hooded eyes, “How would you have me earn it?”

“Oh,” you tap your lips, “I’m sure I can think of something like warming Tara her milk,” you taunt.

Astarion scoffs, “The cat can wait for her milk. I was thinking more along the lines of depraved carnal lust?”

“Now?”

“Well,” Astarion smirks, “Now is as good a time as any, but I need to ask something of you.”

“What?”

Astarion sweeps your hair back and looks deeply into your eyes, “Stop being excessively gentle with me. I’m not as fragile as you presume me to be.”

Isn’t he?

“I-” you stammer with worry in your voice, “I will try.”

“Good girl.”

“Lock the door,” you tug at this shirt, “and lose this.”

“Demanding thing,” he chuckles, sliding the lock into place, “As you wish.”

Astarion pulls his shirt off and stands so close that your breasts graze his chest with the rise and fall of your breath.

Astarion’s fingers curl under the hem of your top, “May I?”

You nod, and Astarion lets his cool fingers caress the warmth of your skin as he strips you. The temperature contract makes your skin prickle, and desire flushes your complexion red.

Your nipples skim across the chilled skin of Astarion’s chest, making them harden into peaks instantly, and you shudder at the sensation.

The pad of Astarion’s thumb teases your sensitive peak, “You have no idea how perfect you are, do you?”

His teasing causes a breathy whimper to escape your lips, and heat pools as your nerves are set alight. Astarion takes your lips in his. The kiss quickly becomes primal, urgent, and all-consuming.

He nips your lower lip gently, forcing your lips to part, and his tongue traverses your mouth. Bolts of electricity ripple down your spine, awakening the achy need in your centre.

Astarion grabs your hips and rolls them against his throbbing erection with an urging grunt. The swell between your thighs sings with the decadent banquet of friction, and you moan low, ghosting your lips over his ear as you melt into him.

“You have no idea how much I miss being inside you,” Astarion growls with a voice soaked in burning want.

Gods. I miss it too.

The walls of your core clench uncontrollably as depraved thoughts and memories of him stretching you, claiming you, swim through your head.

Astarion shoves you hard, and you fall onto the bed with a giggle. Pushing your legs apart, he crawls up, kissing your stomach before swirling his tongue around your nipple, making your back arch and body twitch.

Gods. He could undo me with that alone.

Your splayed fingers slip us his chest, sweeping across his nipple, eliciting a pleasant rumbling groan deep in his chest. His lips meet yours urgently, and he bucks his hips into you, pushing the throbbing bulge in his trousers against your swell.

His presence is intoxicating, and you can’t control your body. Hells, you don’t want to control your body, and you writhe against him greedily, needy for relief.

Astarion’s hand slides up your thigh and his fingers ghost over the pulsating flesh, “How wet are you?”

Embarrassingly so. Nigh on soaked.

You groan as the flush of embarrassment courses through you and cover your face with your arms.

Astarion gently moves one of your arms away from your face, “Do not hide from me. You never have to hide from me.”

He rocks his hips against you, and you convulse and tremble against him with whimpering, sputtered murmurs.

“You’re soaked, aren’t you?” he teases, “May I, friend?”

“Gods, yes.”

Astarion slips his fingers into your waistband in an agonizingly slow descent that makes you wonder if you might combust before his fingers find their target.

He parts your folds while expertly avoiding that pulsing bundle of nerves that is craving his stroke.

“Hells, you are positively soaked,” he drawls, “You’re making quite a mess. We should get these off, yes?”

Astarion hooks his fingers into your waistband. You lift your hips in silent consent, and he slips your pants off you.

You squeeze your thighs together, feeling far too vulnerable under those piercing hooded crimson eyes studying you.

“I wish to look upon you, friend,” Astarion glides his hand between your thighs, “Will you let me?”

He uses gradual force to encourage your legs to part, and you allow your legs to spread for him.

Those cardinal red eyes devour the sight of you, full of unwavering adoration, “You’re beautiful.”

His fingers roam down your thigh to your folds, slick with desire. Breathy, sputtering moans escape your lips as your hips lurch at his touch.

His fingers trace the swollen border of your achy clit, “Do all your friends make you drip with need?

“Astarion,” you gasp.

“Yes, love?”

“Please,” you beg, “For the love of all the Gods. Please.”

“How many fingers?” he growls.

What?

Your mind can’t focus enough to string together what he’s asking. You squirm, trying to motivate his fingers to move faster, but he stills and waits for you to stop your writhing.

“When was the last time you were filled?” Astarion says firmly as he eases the contact of his fingers to nothing more than a light tease.

Do I admit this?

“You.”

Astarion’s brows pop up, eyes round with surprise, “Me? You haven’t been with anyone since I left?”

You stare at him, confused by his shock, “You are all I want, Astarion.”

Wait, does his shock mean he’s been with others since he left?

Don’t be so blind and naive. Of course, he has.

He has...

Under the overwhelming realization, your heart warps and bursts, violently rocketing the razor-edged shards you’ve been cutting yourself with, trying to glue them together. You clutch your chest as they tear you asunder anew.

The world feels like it’s crumbling down around you and drowning you in it.

Your cheeks feel wet. Are you crying?

Astarion’s hand cradles your cheek, and you leap off the bed to your hands and knees on the floor, recoiling from his touch.

How many others has he touched with that hand? 

Stop.

But Hells, how many since you?

No. Stop.

Astarion is coming toward you, distress twisting his brows and shining vividly in those beautiful crimson eyes.

How many people have looked into those eyes since you while he drove them to their release?

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Fuck. How many?!

His mouth is moving, but Gods you hear nothing over the stampede of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears.

Run. Run. Run. Run and never stop , your mind wails.

You can’t breathe. Hells, you’re suffocating in this room as it caves in around you.

You can’t take anymore. You must escape. Picking yourself up off the floor, you throw on your clothes in a panicked scurry.

Astarion’s cool hand grazes the skin of your arm, and you shrink away, gritting your teeth.

How many? Fuck. How many?!

Astarion backs away from you, alarmed.

Run. Run. Run.

You’ve barely finished dressing before you find yourself sprinting through the manor.

You need to get away from this place, get away from him, get away from yourself.

Swinging the door open, the sunlight floods in. Someone cries out, but you barely register Astarion’s pained yelp. You launch out the door, slamming into a startled Gale, eyes wide with confusion.

Gale tries to halt you, but you push him away with a hard shove that nearly sends him toppling over.

You don’t stop. You can’t stop.

You run. 

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I hope you're enjoying reading this! Let me know what you think :)

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes: - Well, the noble is dead (yay), but how will they deal with the consequences? - Poor Tav :(

[theeeveetamer]

Netflix DMC Episode 1 impressions

Okay I'm going to say some nice things and I'm going to say some less nice things. I acknowledge that I'm only on the first episode so things might come together in future episodes, but for now these are just first impressions. I'm trying to keep an open mind. I'll stick it under a cut so you can avoid spoilers.

Things I like:

The animation is great. My biggest complaint about the original anime is just how low budget the animation obviously was. They did well with what they had at the time, but you could tell they had no money to do anything

I like some of the nods to the original anime (like the diner and the waitress character)

There were some good jokes, like how Dante's "out-of-context humor creates a corny joke atmosphere" and he "acts as if his demon-hunting missions are video games"

Lucia cameo! Poor girl got so boned being part of the worst game in the franchise. I actually really like her (both as a character and her design) so I'm sad she doesn't get used as much as Lady and Trish in canon

It's cool to see some stuff from the supplementary material brought to life. For example, Dante breaking all of his guns until he gets Ebony and Ivory was a plot point of the first DMC novel, and Enzo was a presence in the first and second DMC novels as well as the DMC3 manga, but he's never been referenced in the main series as far as I know

I have been told there isn't really any romance. I haven't confirmed this for myself yet but. Good.

Things I dislike:

This isn't just a dislike. I hate that they explicitly set this in America. DMC has always been a series that could have been set literally anywhere in the world. I see no reason why it needed to be Americanized

Hate that they have a sequence with specific focus on political commentary, specifically common American discourse (news programs, radio shows/podcasts, talk shows, etc. that involve religious zealots and ranting and raving about liberals). Again there's the "why did this need to be Americanized" gripe, but also I just think it makes the show immediately dated. To be blunt, I don't need every show I watch to make a statement about American politics and discourse. It doesn't add anything to the show. Devil May Cry has never been about that. I wanna watch wacky woohoo pizza man go pew pew and be a sad alcoholic about his twin brother, not Fox News Parody Man rant about liberals destroying our country and how the Russians totally did it. If it's meant to be a joke then it's an incredibly lazy one. If it's meant to be commentary then it says nothing of value. It's just kind of nothing, hanging out in the middle of the episode, when I could be watching Dante doing something cool. I know it wasn't that long of a sequence, but any length would have been too long for me.

So much focus being on the American government specifically, and they are being extremely, painfully American. Again, why did this need to be Americanized, exactly? I'm American. Not everything needs to be about us. Why can't this just be a nonspecific world government organization or something. And I hate "shady world government" plot-lines so I hope that's not where this goes

The explaining. I am not a big fan of when shows or movies try to explain the magic away. I don't need a scientific explanation of why the amulets are the key and blah blah blah. Trust your audience to be invested enough in the world that they don't care about the nitty gritty explanation for how it works. If it is necessary to add, don't waste time having a character look into the camera and explain it in the driest manner possible.

The ratio of "government dudes stand around explaining things or other characters do things" to "Watch Dante do cool things" feels like 70%/30% in this first episode. I get that we need exposition but do we need this much? Can Dante not deliver some of it? Why can't I see Enzo talking to Dante about the job instead of just hearing Enzo talk about talking to Dante about the job.

The funniest jokes were constrained to on-screen blink-and-you'll-miss-it text, which I had to go back and pause several times to catch (Netflix flashing me with an ad every time I paused did not make that task easier).

Neutral observations, not exactly positive but not negative yet either.

1.I do not think I will ever get used to the recasting of Dante and Vergil. No hate to the VAs because they're all wonderful and exceptionally talented individuals. It's just, y'know, Reuben Langdon and Daniel Southworth are Dante and Vergil. Reuben Langdon nails the devil-may-care laid back so-lame-he-wraps-back-around-to-being-cool vibe. Daniel Southworth imbues Vergil with that kinda dorky, relatable quality that hints at the inherent contradiction of his character (acts serious and aloof, is in reality very childish and dorky just like Dante). Johnny Yong Bosch has a completely different vibe that doesn't quite work for Dante IMO, and I haven't heard much of Vergil's VA but it just doesn't communicate the same thing from what I've seen

2) Something that immediately sticks out to me is the heavy focus on the world ending consequences. Like 70% of episode one is committed to establishing it. DMC as a series is kind of funny, because, while the world-ending consequences are always present, they're rarely actually the focus.

Dante basically says in the DMC4 novel that stopping cults who try to end the world is his typical Tuesday. Morrison is surprised when it takes him more than about ten minutes to fight Urizen in DMC5. Dante's success is so assured that he has to make it fun for himself by messing around (that's why he does it). That's why it's a big deal when he's knocked out for a month in DMC5. The tension usually doesn't come from worrying if Dante can do it or worrying for his safety. The tension comes from the characters and their relationships. Can Vergil ever come to a place of healing for himself? Will he and Dante ever mend their relationship, or are they doomed to fight until one of them is actually dead? How does Nero feel about his place in the world, and what does it mean for him when he discovers his family?

I've seen glimmers in how Dante reacts to the Vergil-phantom, but the focus seems squarely on the end-of-the-world plot in the first episode. Now this could pan out to be subverted within the anime. Like the big bad government is freaking out and Dante handles it all in an afternoon. It could also be played completely straight, in which case I don't know if I'll like that. This is a wait-and-see for me

Overall conclusion: some of my fears were assuaged, others were put on steroids, and new ones were unlocked that I wasn't even expecting.

[khaire-traveler]

This is a difficult thing to accept sometimes, but it's really important that we do not immediately demonize those who disagree with us. If we ever want to find common ground in the future (because people can and do change), we need to ensure that we don't completely polarize our standings with people who don't hold the same perspective or opinion.

Especially online, this is difficult to do. People are prone to react immediately to information rather than take time to digest it. Reading tone is considered to be essentially impossible online by many researchers, which contributes to the intense debates you'll often see floating around some platforms.

It can be extremely difficult to keep our wits about us when topics hit especially close to home, but the best way to win over an opponent is to deliver a well-thought, neutral-leaning argument. Always acknowledge their points, whether or not you agree with them, and their perspective respectfully. Do not outright attack or insult someone; this immediately loses your opponent's engagement and greatly diminishes your argument. If the conversation gets too inflammatory, step away. You are not required to "win" the argument, and some people simply cannot be reasoned with online (or at all). Make sure you're informed on logical fallacies and that your arguments do not contain them.

Be aware that sometimes we just have to agree to disagree, even if it stabs us straight in our pride. It sucks, but that's simply the nature of being human: we will not agree on every single thing, and that's ok. Also, sometimes it's simply not worth engaging with someone. I've met people who choose to live in an echo chamber, regardless of how you present your information to them, and in those cases, for your own well-being, it can be better to simply not interact. Whatever you choose to do, always try to be nuanced and think critically. Take care, everyone.

-

***Disclaimer: This post is NOT referring to human rights issues and the like. It's referring to general Internet discourse.***

[celestiall0tus]

Adamsapple Angst Week - (Technically) Day 1 - Garden of Eden/Temptation/Lies - She is my Sin

A short note: This is technically for the first day of the @adamsapple-angst-week-2025 , but there are hints of some of the other days in here too. This is also using my nephilim AU/ Truth Beneath the Rose, so these are possible events that may happen. Anyway, enjoy!

~~~

Day 1 || Day 2 || Day 3 || Day 4 || Day 5 || Day 6 || Day 7

            Lucifer sat on the bar knee-deep in another round. The demons of his past returned and nipped at his heels. His attempts to drown them away had been in failure as they barked and howled everything he longed to forget. He shook his head, desperate to drown them away just for another night. He took a shot and drained his current round.

            “Bar keep, another,” Lucifer slurred.

            Silence.

            Lucifer blinked as he fought to focus through the blurred vision. He saw the back of Husk’s vague silhouette before him. He stumbled and reached out when his vision cleared up that sent a wave of sharp pain through his head. He cursed and looked again to see a woman with snow white skin, long black hair, and red piercing eyes dressed in a black strapless dress with matching ballroom gloves and thigh-high boots. Her lips parted into a toothless, unsettling grin.

            Lucifer yelped and fell back as the world around him fell into shadow.

            “My, my, what sweet discourse, Red Delicious. What troubles you of all people this dreadful evening?” Roo cooed.

            “Can’t you go bother someone else?” Lucifer demanded.

            “Perhaps. There is a whole city and seven circles, but it’s you! How could I pass up such an opportunity? Besides, I’m bored.”

            “Seek your entertainment elsewhere. You won’t find it here.”

            Roo guffawed. “And by what power do you possess to expel me?”

            Lucifer opened his mouth, then shut it. He considered before he spoke.

            “If I said ‘please?’” Lucifer asked.

            “No,” Roo remarked.

            “Fine! What will it take for you to leave me alone?”

            “What else? Entertainment. And what better way than to explore those demons of yours,” Roo cooed.

            Lucifer opened his mouth but was swallowed into a void. He plummeted and crashed into the ground. He shook himself off and looked around. His jaw dropped when he saw he was in Eden. He got to his feet as Roo appeared beside him.

            “What are we doing here?” Lucifer demanded.

            “Come now, Red Delicious, this is where it all started. Why wouldn’t we be here?” Roo commented.

            Lucifer snorted. He looked around when he saw Adam in a clearing surrounded by animals. He smiled remembering the silly names Adam gave each creature and how more flocked to them, almost eager to be named. Pain soon struck his heart as he noticed Lilith’s absence. He glanced around and saw her lurking further off in the trees.

            “Such rebellion. Never content. Never happy. Always looking for more. Nothing like what you angels strive for, no?” Roo mocked.

            “And what of it? There’s nothing wrong with it,” Lucifer shot back.

            “Even if it led to the downfall of the order you angels love oh so much?”

            Lucifer’s heart dropped when he heard Adam call for Lilith. His eyes widened as he saw Adam’s blissful, ignorant smile with a little bird cupped carefully in his hands. Adam searched for Lilith until he saw her. Adam called again, but Lilith ignored him as she escaped from Eden. Adam’s smile dropped as he ran after her, calling for her.

            “And from the dust of Earth, they created Adam and Lilith, equals as the first of mankind. But despite this, Adam demanded control and Lilith refused to submit to his will. She fled the Garden,” Roo recited.

            Lucifer froze. He opened his mouth but was cut off.

            “Drawn in by her fierce independence, Lucifer found her, and the two rebellious dreamers fell deeply in love together. Was that how it went?”

            Lucifer panicked and laughed. “Who’s to say? Right?”

            Roo’s smile widened as they were placed outside the garden. Lucifer’s blood ran cold as he saw Lilith. She sat on a rock and fumed. His past self materialized and came to her aid. He had sought to comfort her, drawn in by her beauty, and held captive by it. He swallowed hard and listened to the conversation.

            “I hate it here. It’s too perfect, too orderly. I want something new, something amazing. I want to be free from it,” Lilith said.

            “I’m sorry, but there isn’t a way. Not with how the Elders have created everything,” past Lucifer admitted.

            “Are you sure? What about the Tree?”

            Past Lucifer gasped. “You mustn’t! That tree is evil to its roots. Who knows what it could do.”

            “But what if it has the power to free him? Don’t you want him to be free too? For future humans to be like me?”

            “That… that wouldn’t be terrible,” past Lucifer admitted with a slight blush.

            “Will you help me? I’ve tried to get near the Tree, but the angels shoo me away every time.”

            The scene with Lilith and past Lucifer faded as Lucifer and Roo were back in Eden at the foot of the Tree of Knowledge. Lucifer looked around as Lilith stood near the trees bathed in shadow while the past him slithered up the Tree to retrieve the apple to give to Eve, Adam’s second bride.

            Lucifer’s chest tightened as he once offered Eve the apple and she ate it. Eden sundered as the lush, green paradise shriveled into a desert wasteland. He felt the chill all over again as evil surged from an unseen rift created by the single act of disobedience. His heart raced as he struggled with each new breath when he saw Adam’s face when Eden fell. The sheer panic and fear seen in a painful new clarity. The Tree of Knowledge shriveled to a corpse of itself as Lilith and Lucifer were scooped up and thrown into Hell.

            Roo snorted and lounged on the roots of the dead Tree. “My, wasn’t that a fan blast to the past?”

            Lucifer didn’t answer. He watched as Adam rushed to Eve’s side as Adam attempted to calm Eve, but she was inconsolable. She broke down into hysterical sobbing fits as Adam called to the angels, but no one came to him. They were alone. Guilt tore through him and mingled with the panic. He fought himself when Roo spoke.

            “Your silence bores me.”

            Lucifer’s panic melted into anger and annoyance. “Why did you do this? You think this is funny?”

            “Of course! You wallow in pity and self-loathing all day and night because you were played like a cheap kazoo.”

            “And just who are you to judge? This is all your fault! That was your tree in Eden, in paradise. It wasn’t supposed to be there!” Lucifer snapped.

            Roo’s smile diminished to a shadow of itself.

            “And you know what? While we’re on it, a lot of this is your fault. Adam being in the hotel, your ‘little birds’ constantly trying to get to him that are putting everyone in danger, and all these little reminders of everything. I don’t want to be reminded of all this. I just want… I want it to go away.”

            “Are you done?” Roo asked.

            “I-!”

            “Because I am. You can sit here and blame me for your own actions, for screwing over humanity in the name of a pretty face, but it won’t change anything. Adam passed divine judgement and was thrown down here after Little Star’s janitor killed him. My birds still seek retribution after you further pushed Little Star to save Adam. Adam is that hotel because of you and Little Star. He would have been contained and tortured for eternity if not for the brilliant stars shining from their pedestals.”

            “I-.”

            “You could have lived a happy life. Not a care to him still, if you didn’t chase the deer into the dimension I crafted to be Adam’s prison. He was taken care of, receiving his due punishment, but you showed him mercy. You wanted him freed more than anyone. Be it your guilt, or some other reason?”

            “Now hold on! Charlie did too!”

            Roo chuckled. “Little Star only did because of the False Queen. You, on the other hand, wanted to save him for your own reasons. What reason though, I wonder.”

            “And what do you really care? You’re just doing all this because you’re bored.”

            Roo hummed. “Just bored, or making you see the flaws in everything you preached to me?”

            “I don’t-.”

            “It’s not fair, is it? To condemn one for their past mistakes. We all can change. We all can be better. It doesn’t need to be this way. Though our pasts remain, they don’t have to be us. We can all be more. Is this not all you preached to ME?”

            “I… I mean… it’s still true, I-.”

            Roo stood and grabbed Lucifer by the jaw. She glared at him as she tightened her grip on him.

            “You sit and judge me, but you’re the hypocrite here. You are no different than the rest of your ilk. Blind to your own failings, but quick to judge everyone else. To preach from up high while it’s the rest of us that suffer.”

            Lucifer struggled against Roo’s hold until there was a loud crack. Roo froze before she took a few deep breaths and released Lucifer. He hit the ground with a hand protecting his jaw while she turned her back to him. He collected himself and stood while she remained where she was.

            “Are we done here?” Lucifer demanded.

            “Might as well. Creatures like you never change. It really seems you are no different than Her.”

            Lucifer opened his mouth when he was thrown back. The desert faded to darkness and Roo was gone. He woke with a start, still at the bar. He blinked against the light that filtered through the windows as a headache pierced his skull.

            “Morning, your Majesty. Sleep well?” Husk asked.

            “Uh, yeah, sure. Could I get some water, yeah?” Lucifer asked.

            Husk grunted and turned away. Lucifer rubbed his aching head when he heard Adam’s scream. His heart raced as he looked up and saw one of his bodyguards raced in, her holographic wings deployed that bathed everything in an angelic, white light. She hovered in the air while Adam slammed into the ground and rolled into the room. Lucifer chuckled as Adam shook his head and snarled at the bodyguard.

            “You fucking cheated!” Adam declared.

            “I fail to see how I cheated,” the bodyguard said. Lucifer shuddered every time he heard their distorted, echoing voice. It reminded him every time of Roo.

            “Because you got that fancy suit, that’s why. I bet I could bet you without it.”

            “And you’re a dragon. Maybe you should lay off the ribs and eat a salad for once.”

            “Uh, fuck you. I’m a dragon! I need that meat. Not that rabbit food.”

            “That’s what she said.”

            Adam opened his mouth, then stopped. He looked around as he pieced together her remark before his face flushed. He stumbled over his words before he lunged for her. She pirouetted around him and kicked him in the groin. He let out a breathy shriek before he hit the ground. She held her head high and approached the bar.

            “Whatever carbonated sugary drink the lazy ass usually gets.”

            Husk pulled a soda cup and filled it, then slid it down the bar top. The bodyguard held it as Adam rushed up and grabbed it.

            “Ah, fuck yeah! This shit’s the best. Thanks, pussy cat,” Adam remarked.

            Husk growled and flipped off Adam as he gave Lucifer a glass of water.

            Adam laughed. “What’s the matter, oh great king of Hell? Can’t handle something a little more than some sparkling water?”

            Lucifer rolled his eyes and snorted. “Says the man that can’t handle his liquor.”

            Adam snorted. “You mean that shit that tastes like ass and burns going down. Yeah, no thanks. Still can’t believe you drink that shit.”

            “It drowns away their pain and suffering,” the bodyguard remarked.

            Adam laughed. “Losers. I’ve never felt any pain or suffering in my life.”

            Husk rolled his eyes while Lucifer looked away. The bodyguard snorted and kicked Adam in the groin again. He collapsed and spilt his drink on the floor.

            “Oh, Niffty, the bad boy did it again,” the bodyguard said as their voice reverberated throughout the entire room.

            “Oh shit, shit, shit!” Adam yelled as he took off and disappeared.

            Niffty ran in and gasped at the soda on the floor. She stomped her foot and climbed onto the bodyguard, sitting in between the horns of their helmet.

            “After him! The bad boy must pay,” Niffty giggled with a gleeful grin.

            The bodyguard deployed her wings and chased after Adam. Lucifer chuckled and sighed before he took a sip of water. He looked up at Husk, who shot him a strange look.

            “What? Did I drink it wrong? Am I supposed to do the pinky thing?” Lucifer asked.

            “Uh, no. Your Majesty, it’ not my place, but are you… and Adam… you know?”

            Lucifer raised a brow as he fought to puzzle together Husk’s words.

            Husk sighed. “Are you two fucking?”

            Lucifer’s eyes widened as his face turned red. “What? No! I mean, sure, he’s hotter as a sinner sure, but I-.”

            Lucifer paused when he saw Husk’s disturbed face.

            “I mean! He’s ok as a sinner. Not saying he wasn’t hot before, because he was. But I-.”

            Lucifer stopped as Husk’s expression worsened.

            “I… I’m just going to go back to my tower. Good talk, barkeep!”

            Lucifer teleported away to his tower. He sunk down into a pile of his ducks as he curled up into a ball. Tears welled in his eyes as he struggled with his new conflicting feelings over Adam and Lilith along with everything Roo put him through. He felt doubt Roo had planted bloom as he replayed the scene with Lilith. He tried to push it away, but it held fast in his mind as regret blossomed with the doubt. He shook his head as he looked at the portrait of him, Lilith, and a younger Charlie.

            “No. No, no, no. Lilith loves me. This is all a bump in the road. Right? Everything will be as she said, right?”

            Silence answered his questions and his feelings reinforced the silence. Tears fell from his eyes as he looked down at his wedding ring and thoughts of Adam snuck their way into his mind. He sighed and curled into a tight ball.

            “What do I do now?”

[thisismeracing]

LEWIS HAMILTON MASTERLIST

✦ LEWIS HAMILTON ▶ LH44

All my Lewis posts here

▸ main masterlist | patreon guide ▸ taglist ▸ who I write for & guidelines ▸ subscribe to Patreon for exclusive content ▸ tip me on ko-fi

KEYS: s: smut f: fluff a: angst ✷: Patreon exclusive

― ✦ SOCIAL MEDIA AU

it's just us against the world (f): Some fans noticed how Leiws is constantly listening to Y/n’s songs and decided to back him up and make it happen a bit faster. Will their cupid play work?

jealousy, jealousy (f): After a red carpet interaction, people are shipping Yn with Chris Evans without knowing that she’s dating a pilot. What will Lewis do when he sees the fuss internet is making about it?

a friend of a friend (f): After a friend in common introduced them, Lewis and Yn can’t seem to stay away from each other, and the fans are quick to catch and manifest a relationship.

part of your world (f): What happens when Lewis goes to the theater with his nephews and realizes he now has a new favorite Disney movie. The princess? Ynl Yln and she’s definitely fairytale-worthy outside the screens as well.

she's that girl (f): Lewis would never imagine that something, or rather someone, could take his attention off Beyonce during her own show, but one of her dancers did

sunshine (f): In which Lewis starts dating an earthy/spiritual girl who just loves nature and good energy.

moonshine (f): In which Lewis is sunshine, but dates a grumpy!reader and fans start noticing how different they are.

food baby (f): Yn is used to posting her belly after meals, claiming it’s her “food baby”, but fans are hell-bent on waiting for the reveal of a real baby Hamilton.

mó paz (f): It’s time for the Interlagos GP and fans are excited to see how Lewis’ Portuguese sounds after becoming a citizen AND dating Yn.

after the afterparty (f): Fans have been watching Yn and Lewis interact since she first started attending races. Nothing seemed enough for them to pinpoint what was going on between the two until the Las Vegas Gran Prix happened, and contrary to the belief, what happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas. Yn and Lewis are about to find out.

your time (a): A couple months after the biggest breakup in the F1 paddock, your song gets leaked, and the internet uproars about your relationship again. This time they have more ammunition than ever to feed the narrative that Lewis Hamilton cheated on you. Are they right though?

more than friends (f): You’re friends with Lewis, but fans don’t buy the “just friends” discourse - for them, you and Lewis make the most powerful couple, even if you’re not famous. And maybe they’re right, maybe you’re supposed to be more than friends.

― ✦ BLURBS

Home (f)

Essays and cuddles (f)

More than friends (a)

― ✦ REGULAR IMAGINES

the phantom of miscommunication (a): Dating a professional athlete is hard, and it’s even harder when you are famous too, and your schedules just keep crashing. How will their love beat their insecurities? 

haunted (s): Lost in the years, lost in the days, Lewis Hamilton haunts the house that once was his. The house where he was killed. And the house that now has new inhabitants. He was used to blowing candles, breaking chinas, and it being enough for the curious newbies to leave. However, it was the first time he met someone who wouldn’t act terrified by his presence. Yn was curious, and that curiosity had a price. Lewis was the one who would collect the debt.

bad religion (s)✷: He used to be a sinner, maybe that’s why nowadays he has so much compassion for those. Your kindness, however, can be your downfall. Especially when directed towards a demon. A breach and a hand to hold were all that Yn needed to complete the Devil’s wish. Lewis should have crushed the snake’s head before she swiftly bit him.

this love is ours (f): Relationships aren’t usually easy. Add to it the fact that you date a world champion racing driver, and your dad doesn’t really like said driver and the media is ready to dissect every move you make. At the end of the day, the stakes are high and the waters can be rough, but what you share with Lewis is true love, and it’s yours

heartdresser (f): When Lewis finds himself just a couple days away from a racing weekend and without his usual braids he desperately searches for suggestions of available hairdressers in the area. As the saying goes, love can come from the most unexpected places, and Lewis is about to discover that this is, in fact, true.

falling (in love) (f)✷: When your kid found a new friend in his new school, you did not expect that would mean you would find yourself friends too. And sure enough, you weren’t expecting to fall for his friend’s uncle.

falling (asleep) (f)✷: You had dinner with a few friends, and Leo loved the fact that Lewis was included - so much so, that he wanted his new favorite pilot to tuck him in bed and read him to sleep

― ✦ HEADCANONS

♡ lewis dating a korean girl ♡ lewis marrying a desi girl ♡ lewis as a dad ✷

©thisismeracing do not copy, steal, or translate my work. do not repost on a different media platform.

[teojira]

[ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴛᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴀʀ]

ᴛᴇᴏᴊɪʀᴀ (ᴇꜱᴛ 2ᴋ24)

《Introduction》 +

《! Please read me !》

¤ Hi! My name is Teddy and this blog as it says on the tin, is a multifandom blog! I'm into a wide range of characters and interests, so I'm sure I have something that'll strike your fancy!

¤ This is an 18+ blog. This is to keep me and you safe should you be a minor. Please stay away! I can't police you, but use common sense.

¤ I will not deal with discourse here, don't like what I write or who I write for? Block me and move on, I don't care.

¤ I am a woman person of color, no hatred towards ANY group is tolerated here. It will end in an IP address block.

¤ My interests fluctuates alot, I have severe adhd and some characters will get special treatment depending on which mood I am in!

¤ I'm always down to chat and make conversation but please remember I'm human and I have a job outside of tumblr, this is just a hobby for me! Please be kind and understanding.

《RULES/GUIDELINES》

¤ Every character I will write romantic ideas for must be of age. Any minor will ONLY be platonic. (Exception being the tmnt brothers, they are aged up accordingly.)

¤I write comfort, fluff, angst, pretty much anything tbh.

¤ My own rule of thumb is that if a furry character is sentient, can consent and is of age, and speaks/thinks/acts like a human, it is akin to monster loving. (Harkness scale pretty much). I don't care for your take on it, block me if you disagree!

¤ I will not write nsfw if you are on anon, your age must be somewhere on your blog. I will delete it from my askbox.

¤ A please and a thank you go a long way!

¤ I usually write with she/her pronouns or gender neutral pronouns.

¤ I am not looking for critique, this is all for fun. This is a heavy boundary, I will block if you do this.

¤ NSFW will be tagged accordingly so you can black list, if I forget to tag something, kindly let me know. I am not responsible for your experience beyond that, act accordingly if I write something you don't like.

¤ Please include some details with your requests, such as character and a general idea on what you'd like me to write! Please don't write an essay in my ask box.

¤ Things I will not write: Pregnancy, Underage, harder kinks (Scat/Noncon/vore/piss), Character harming reader physically, Parenthood, character x character.

Not sure if I write something? Just shoot me a text!

¤ Do NOT share my writing anywhere else (Quotev, Ao3, wattpad, Tiktok). A Simple reblog is appreciated here and only on tumblr.

¤ Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! It's nice to know something I wrote was loved!

And finally what we've all been waiting for, put your hands together for the :

《 Fandoms I write for》

Genshin impact

Honkai Star rail

Transformers

Tmnt

Monsterverse (platonic only for the Kaijus)

Planet of the apes (remake) (NO nsfw)

My hero academia (Dabi and Tomura only)

Demon slayer

Overwatch

Twisted wonderland

Devil may cry

Apex legends (Revenant only)

Fire emblem three houses

Puss in boots: the last wish (Death only)

Stranger things (Eddie Munson only)

Red dead redemption 2

The Wolf among us (Bigby only)

Five nights at freddys: Security Breach

Sonic (platonic for everyone except Shadow)

DC comics/ DCEU

Horror icons/slashers

Countless other video game characters probably lmao.

Though I write for many fandoms, I'm more comfortable with specific characters so I'll let you know if I'm comfortable enough to write for them!

Don't see a character you're sweet on? No worries, shoot me a text and I'll see if I know anything about them to whip something up for ya!

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

[zalrb]

I have been seeing a lot of discourse on whether nosferatu is a “horny monster-fucker movie” or a harrowing story of abuse, and I think it’s a bit of both, but I lean much more toward the latter.

A lot of people have read it as an allegory for CSA and I think that fits. I get why survivors have said they felt seen by Ellen’s character. the combined fear/horror/disgust, longing/lust, and shame she feels wrt orlock seems very in line with what a survivor might feel for their abuser. I also think LRD portrayed those emotions well. I am not sure how I feel about Thomas making her fits go away or her sacrificing herself at the end tho. Do you think this allegory was intended and do you think the movie does it well?

Looking forward to hearing your thoughts!

So. While I understand why there would be that reading re: an allegory for CSA, I do not think that reading of the relationship and of the movie was what Eggers was going for. This interview with the cast has been circulating

where LRD doesn't consider her character a victim and points out different parts of the movie, the most telling is in the beginning when she tries to initiate sex with Thomas and is rebuffed, that indicates that this is a story of yearning and repressed sexuality and this led me to read an interview with Eggers in which he says:

"She's an outsider. She has this understanding about the shadow side of life that is very deep, but she doesn't have language for that. She's totally misunderstood and no one can see her," he says. "Because of this gift, in her teenage years, she ends up reaching out to this demon lover, this vampire, who is the one being who can connect with that side of her. But then that other, sensual, erotic world is connected to this evil force, which only increases her shame."

and that's reiterated throughout the movie: "you are not of the living world", her possessions/sleepwalking in the beginning have an erotic undertone (and overtone) she keeps asking questions about whether or not people feel these dark emotions that she feels and they simply re-emphasize God and propriety etc. when she's called a child in the movie, I think it's a way to indicate that they don't see her as a woman with agency, so while the story is about a toxic romance (Orlok does kill everyone around her after all) I don't think it's meant to be a story about abuse, I think it's meant to be a story about battling aspects of your nature you don't understand or necessarily want, the professor even says there's evil in all of us and she has to know hers in order to triumph over Orlok and Ellen dying is her know that, succumbing to her own appetite but it's also a sacrifice and therefore good triumphing over evil.

[velvetvexations]

My apologies if you've already been sent this post, but I came across it a few days ago and haven't been able to stop thinking about how laughable (and frustrating) it is. https://www.tumblr.com/princessefemmelesbian/766811116737363968/maybe-im-just-being-dramatic-but-it-does?source=share "[...] to say nothing of the fact that the largest people in this group (including, but not limited to, its creator!) have misogynistic rape/detrans kinks centered specifically around preying on lesbians and trans women [...]" "[...] defended viciously by every single transandrodork that I’ve ever encountered who argued with me (a lesbian!) that actually there’s nothing wrong with getting off to the corrective rape of women because two consenting adults can do whatever they want in the bedroom (yeah, right!)" Ignoring the fact that half of this is just lies, these people keep contradicting themselves when it comes to transmasculine people and kinks. I have seen several TRFs complain about transmasculine people attacking transgender women over their kinks, including, but not limited to... FTM detransition, forcefeminization, and misgendering. Why is it okay for one side to do, but not another? Are transgender men evil sex puritans or misogynistic porn addicts? Be consistent! (also worth nothing that OP scoffs at the idea that you don't need to justify your kinks when mutual consent is present) Beyond that..."die-hard, raging Zionists?" What? I honestly find it incredibly disgusting how these people will tack on any negative label just to further other and demonize people they disagree with. Tumblr discourse has nothing to do with /genocide,/ and I can't put into words how disrespectful it is to conflate the two, especially when this post seems to be addressed to young teenagers. I don't want to leave a big essay in your inbox, so I'll stop here, but it's nuts to me how these people can write this infantilizing, vilifying, lying nonsense and think they're in the right.

these people will never acknowledge that trans men into dykebreaking from the dom perspective are a vanishingly small demographic that are one or two Tumblr bloggers away from total extinction while there are about a billion transfems into dykebreaking

there is literally a very popular transfem user on this website who has TERFs comparing her selfies to disguised selfies on a trans supremacy kink dykebreaking blog

why do cis people like this think they're safe for transfems

why do transfems think cis people like this are safe

[zmediaoutlet]

This is a situation I am facing so maybe a drabble or discourse or whathaveyou on the boys having to deal with rats/mice making it into the bunker and finding the pantry? Or anything particularly domestic. I love domestic Winchesters. Dean probably complains that battery vacuums don't maintain suction and Sam could not care less as long as he can make a full lap as efficiently as possible.

omg -- I have to feel sorry that you are facing domestic mousies and apologize for the fact that you probably don't have like a... 1920s era Men of Letters vermin-zapper spell that stops unwanted rodents in your 75 year old pasta. (But great point, how tf are they keeping bugs out of that place. Maybe the magic is the answer. All those sigils all over the place keeping out unwanted demons and stopping people from tracking their phone calls and also, nooo roachies in the ancient brown sugar. Bug free since 1943, or w/e.)

Domestic things I believe to be true:

they probably don't vacuum but they sweep, and both of them think the other one is bad at it in the tradition of all married couples. Dean doesn't get deep enough into every single corner because it's fine, he'll get it next time; Sam gives up on that little line of dust that's left at the pan edge way too fast.

they take turns on grocery shopping with their little lists, but Dean does most of the cooking and Sam does most of the dishwashing. Granted we see Dean washing in that scene in Lebanon but it's not like these are hard-and-fast rules. But this is one of those little equities that just happens -- Dean's sitting there finishing his second helping of spaghetti with meatballs and Sam rolls his eyes and starts putting away leftovers and running the sink and then finally Dean finishes, brings his plate over, tells him he missed a spot on the pan, and Sam says bite me and then Dean grins at him and starts drying.

either of them will start a load of laundry but Sam's more fussy about washing the sheets more often, and Dean's seen Sam's attempts at ironing and so he took over ages ago. He finds it vaguely therapeutic, especially if he can get away with the 'ironing Sam's suit with a blonde lager' trick. Neither of them are the type to leave the laundry in the dryer for ages to get wrinkly because they had 30+ years of using laundromats and you gotta fold-and-go, and luckily they didn't fall out of that habit. Although with the dresser drawers instead of just a duffle, Dean kinda tosses underwear and socks in all willy-nilly. (Except his special novelty socks that Sam gets him for Christmas & birthdays -- those get paired for day off use.)

[angrylilcyclops-art]

Hi so I fell into this hole you see... and got caught on THIS

And because of THIS I'm now back on my 1920s bullshit and my brain is mathing here.

Alastor died in his late 30s early 40s in 1933. He lived in New Orleans, which means he was probably in his late teens to mid 20s when one of the most buckwild (heh buck) serial killers was a live.

That guy would be the Axeman of New Orleans who had a thing for Jazz.

READ THIS LETTER FROM THE GUY

"Hell, March 13, 1919

Esteemed Mortal:

They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the ether that surrounds your earth. I am not a human being, but a spirit and a demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians and your foolish police call the Axeman.

When I see fit, I shall come and claim other victims. I alone know whom they shall be. I shall leave no clue except my bloody axe, besmeared with blood and brains of he whom I have sent below to keep me company.

If you wish you may tell the police to be careful not to rile me. Of course, I am a reasonable spirit. I take no offense at the way they have conducted their investigations in the past. In fact, they have been so utterly stupid as to not only amuse me, but His Satanic Majesty, Francis Josef, etc. But tell them to beware. Let them not try to discover what I am, for it were better that they were never born than to incur the wrath of the Axeman. I don't think there is any need of such a warning, for I feel sure the police will always dodge me, as they have in the past. They are wise and know how to keep away from all harm.

Undoubtedly, you Orleanians think of me as a most horrible murderer, which I am, but I could be much worse if I wanted to. If I wished, I could pay a visit to your city every night. At will I could slay thousands of your best citizens, for I am in close relationship with the Angel of Death.

Now, to be exact, at 12:15 (earthly time) on next Tuesday night, I am going to pass over New Orleans. In my infinite mercy, I am going to make a little proposition to you people. Here it is: I am very fond of jazz music, and I swear by all the devils in the nether regions that every person shall be spared in whose home a jazz band is in full swing at the time I have just mentioned. If everyone has a jazz band going, well, then, so much the better for you people. One thing is certain and that is that some of your people who do not jazz it out on that specific Tuesday night (if there be any) will get the axe.

Well, as I am cold and crave the warmth of my native Tartarus, and it is about time I leave your earthly home, I will cease my discourse. Hoping that thou wilt publish this, that it may go well with thee, I have been, am and will be the worst spirit that ever existed either in fact or realm of fantasy.

-The Axeman"

Alastor was probably having a time when this was happening. Idk what kind cause he's parents/mom was probably terrified, and who knows what was going through his head at the time. He could have been having a fun time or was scared out of his mind.

Anyway, I seem to be stuck still. This deer man is based on one of my favorite decades, and I can't get out, send help.

Awful man. Awful awful man. I love him.

[tellmerp]

"So how is it our fault that YOU guys keep sending us negative posts? We've been asking for some other tea and other positive posts but nobody wants that. Not our fault. Don't hate the messenger."

It is your fault for accepting and choosing those messages and publishing them. So we can hate on you for that. Yes we are to blame for sending the shit as well, 100% with you on that one. But you (plural even, since you're more than one person if I am safe to assume each artist name is a different person altogether) are to blame from spreading it out even more.

You ask for tea. People give it. And you act as if you're not to blame for any of it, and say you've been asking for positive stuff and other tea, claiming nobody wants that. While you're the one spreading it more and putting it out in the open for everyone to see.

Yet the positive tumblr is also still on going. So you're wrong with that claim. Having both positive and negative things on your little slice of tumblr is also not really going to work out.

You're just as much to blame as the people sending the anonymous messages in. You're allowing them to stay anonymous, and you're adding to the discourse happening on stream by doing so. Props for not allowing screenshots or whatever, and props for not going the political route and spreading hate that way. But saying "don't shoot the messenger" while publicly giving people a space to rant about whatever bullshit they're on, and doing so anonymously, is definitely giving a reason to give you blame.

Don't allow for anonymous posts, and see how many people will talk shit then. Hardly anyone would.

Don't allow for negative posts in general for a bit, if you want positive ones so badly as well. Let them shine through. And I mean genuinely positive ones. Not people trying to back other people up who have been put through the ringer here. Just genuinely positive messages.

Thing is. That these kinds of blogs, are a bane to many people's existence and mental health. No it's not up to you, obviously. They should also stay away from these blogs. (Seriously guys, you should. Don't come here to look to see if you've been mentioned. Chances are you were, and it's better to accept that than to check constantly if you were. It's not doing your mental health any favours.)

These blogs are a reason for some people to really go all out on their high school fantasy, where this kinda gossip runs rampant and destroyed many people's lives at that point. And some people really take these to heart. More so than they should have.

And you are to blame for spreading those things out.

For those who are struggling with mental health.

Take the time to center yourself. And stay away from blogs like this. Simply block them and ignore that gnawing feeling of still wanting to take a look. I know it's easier said than done. But it will be the best outcome and allow for you to feel better in the end.

And those who intentionally want to spread hate among the people. Just do so without trying to stay anonymous. Put your big boy / big girl / big them pants on. And talk the shit you want to spew so publicly, with your face and name shown on it.

And to you, blog owners. Don't hide behind a mask either, and don't say that you're not to blame. You asked for these things, and backtracking, saying you're not a hate page, while allowing all of that shit to be said, on your page. Definitely shows that you were.

To my friends who may or may not have seen their names on here. I will always have your back, and never believe any of the shit that's said here.

I may not be on the site anymore, but I still talk to those I care for, and gladly write with you.

Much love to everyone.

Be better, honestly.

Payne / Defiant Demon.

(And let the shit talk about me commence.)

I ain't reading all dat.

[theonevoice]

Sorry if this is a little foggy and poorly worded, but I have been sitting on this thought all day, after working on a scene from Mamoru Hosoda's Wolf Children, and might as well put it here. The scene in question is the one where little wolf-boy Ame, sweet child who loves stories and picture books and who struggles to come to terms with his hybrid identity, one day while out in the woods with his sister and his mother on a sort of wolf-training excursion suddenly starts crying. And the reason why is crying is that, in all the picture books, he keeps seeing the wolf depicted as the bad guy that ends up shooed away or killed. And because of such representations, now he wants to repress his wolf identity, that has always been a lively and funny, although hard to figure out, part of his life. He is terrified of being what he is because the narrow representations that he has access to tell him that the world does not like people like him. It's a powerful little moment in a beautiful movie, that always makes me tear up, and if you missed it I highly recommend you watch it. If you are not into anime movie and just curious of the scene, I found a clip on YouTube:

Anyway, this scene made my lonely braincel twitch, and I was thinking, now that we are approaching the end of this glorious - as far as the mediascape is concerned - year 2023, that many people underestimate the enormous power of fantasy narratives in expanding the borders of gender (and minority in general) representation. Having an author canonically establish that certain fixed categories do not apply to one or more characters for in-universe reasons takes away that nasty oblique excuse that some people use to deny and disparage diversity in media (where I live they usually sound like "they only made this character a person of color to please the woke liberalsTM even if the historical context doesn't allow it", or even, comically, "it is narratively implausible that this character is or shows to be queer but they were forced to do it by THE GAY LOBBY" - yes, this is an actual conspiracy theory loudly promoted by Italian journalists and politicians, and yes, I am personally deeply ashamed by it). Obviously, almost none of said people has the faintest actual interest in narrative aspects, but they still use the excuse to pollute the public discourse and attack minorities. And I am aware that there is a possible dark pitfall here: in the best possible world, we should not need to take the route of fantasy settings to have something that should never have been denied in the first place, but from a pragmatical standpoint it does work. Having authors saying "nope, sorry not sorry, they are wolf-children / angels and demons / weird vampires / anachronistic pirates in a fantasy context so your self-proclaimed laws of plausibility do not apply and you can shove them where the sun does not shine while we enjoy the show and put this beautiful, funny, delicate, deep and sad things on screen", is like having a cultural picklock which is also a cultural battering ram thrusting the representation-door open. Shows like Good Omens, Our Flag Means Death, What We Do in the Shadows (and their fandoms with their massive collective creative endeavour), by offering the symbolic shield of a fantasy setting can establish a safe space where 1. queer people (especially young people but not only) can finally recognize themselves and stop feeling like they are alone and don't have the words and images they need to describe themselves; 2. not queer people can get used to a larger set of possible identities and not only realise that 100% of said idenities are in fact - hold on to your butts - still people with thoughts and feelings and needs, but also, through the power of mimesis, acquire a deeper understanding of forms of life that they don't directly experience. Including, hopefully, understanding how similar we all are when it comes to us being ultimately a bunch of naked apes who walk on this spinning rock trying to be as little miserable as possible.

Again, sorry if this sounds clumsy and blunt, given how delicate and complex this subject is (one does not simply walk into Mordor talk about the lives and needs of other people like that), but I had this thought stuck in my shallow brain wrinkles and I wanted to try and put it into words.

[deep-sea-anemone]

I don't know you, I don't know who or what you ship, but my understanding of anti vs. pro means being anti vs. pro-shipping children with adults and if you think the majority opinion is that that is perfectly fine and normal, you need to go outside and touch grass.

Hi!

I assume you're referring to my addition on that poll post. I'm happy to clear a few things up.

Firstly, Proship IS the default opinion and only in recent years has this anti-ship ideology come about (I have my own theories as to why that is, but that's its own can of worms and I specifically just want to adress this ask).

Any Pro vs Anti definitions were made up and forced on proshippers (again, because pro is the default and Antis are new). As such, Antis have skewed the meaning of proship into basically stating that "all proshippers like and endorse this content, and do not discriminate between content or judge the individuals who make it". This actually goes against what proshippers believe. The entire pro-ship philosophy can essentially be boiled down to "don't like, don't read".

There is a whole hoard of fiction that grosses me out. For instance I hate yandere and non-con, and find incest and minor/adult relationships incredibly gross. I even block the "age-gap" tag because even if they are both consenting, having that much of a power imbalance wiggs me out. I've unfollowed some of my favorite artists because they've posted dynamics and scenes that I don't like (Most recently I unfollowed a very popular artist because I found out they ship Sukufushi: a ship between a 16 year old and an ancient demon possessing another 16 year old. Since it's fiction and not reality, you get these wierd nuances that could never happen in the real world and it is up to the individual to decide what they are comfortable with).

A lot of proshippers actually WILL tell you that people who like pedophilic ships or other dark content (such as rape and snuff fics) ARE gross and sick in the head and that the people who think otherwise are delusional. That doesn't mean that I don't believe that they don't have a right to create that content. I just want them to keep it away from me. Hence why I have those tags blocked on tumblr and why I filter them out when I search for fics.

The proshipper philosophy isn't that problematic ideas/ships are good and should be celebrated, and everyone certaintly doesn't believe that it is "perfectly normal", we just think that if you don't like it then, rather than berating the "freaks" who do, simply block and move on and do your best to keep them out of your thoughts, because ultimately, as disgusting as it is, there is no actual harm in it.

Secondly, Antis seem to believe that we proshippers endorse gross/dark content in real life. I assure you that that is NOT the case. And if an individual does, in fact enact their ficticious-but-irl-illegal fantasies, then that is not an example of the pro-shipper caving in and acting out their sick desires in the real world. It is the case of a REAL LIFE pedophile (or whatever) coming into fandom spaces and then interacting with or creating dark content. Is it possible that this happens? Sure. That doesn't mean that it is the default or even common, and basically every proshipper is in agreement that they are disgusting individuals. Again, this is because proshippers believe that fiction should remain fiction. Any time that make-believe turns into real-world actions, it is no longer make-believe and is now a real danger. Antis refuse to see the difference between the two.

You also mentioned touching grass which I think is a little ironic. The proshipper philosophy is that as long as fiction remains fiction, it has no bearing on the real world. It is Antis that have a hard time recognizing that playing pretend isn't the same as physical wrongdoing. Hence, why proshippers use the term "touch grass": it's meant to remind people that there is more to life than fantasy and online discourse, That it's important to log off and go "touch grass" to remind yourself that there is a difference between the tangible real-world and the imaginary scenarios that people create in their heads.

If you (and others! This isn't meant to be a callout, just informative) have difficulty comprehending this, I encourage you to consider the following scenarios:

1) Murder Mysteries: just because someone writes someone getting murdered, does not mean that they would want to see it happen,and certainly not commit it in real life.

2) BDSM: no party that willingly engages in bdsm is truly getting hurt (except to the extent that they want to be). Smacking someone during sessions does not mean that that person would ever do it in real life, and certainly wouldn't support others doing it

3) rape fantasies: this sort of goes along with bdsm, but there is a large difference between having faith that your trusted partner would never hurt you and only acts out a scenario because you ask them to, and being forced against your will to engage in harmful and/degrading sex acts.

4) Shooter Games: For a long time, people believed that playing violent video games corrupted children's moral and made them crave violence and increased the likelihood that they would want to renact that violence and turn into school shooters. There was actually a study done a while ago examining the link between video game violence and real life consequences....and they found nothing. There was no correlation between committing fictional violence and real world impact.

Fiction =/= real life.

Secondly, Antis have a tendency to invade people's inboxes and leave hate comments everywhere. Sometimes this is just saying "this is gross", but often Antis start harassment campaigns, recruiting multiple individuals to scare and intimidate people whose content they don't like (One tactic is to dump hundreds of graphic, gory images into peoples inboxes. I'm sure you can see how that would be traumatizing). Antis also have a history of doxxing people and causing this ficticious content to cause real-life harm to come to people. This is especially concerning since one of the most common things Antis like to parrot is some variation of "kill yourself".

A lot of Antis actually ARE proshippers, they just don't realize it because they get so caught up with the Anti's hate philosophy that they believe that willingly not engaging with content that they don't like (rather than harassing and condemning people who do) is what proshippers stand against. This is why some proshippers use the terms "anti-harrasment" and "pro-censorship" rather than proshippers and antishippers because it helps to clarify what the pro-shipper philosophy ACTUALLY is.

*phew* that was a long post, wasn't it? Let's both go touch grass together 🤝