#but there are specific aspects i will never be normal again about

[old-man-hell]

finished Foundation S2.

[sysig]

Coding woes (Patreon)

[ghostgirl101]

writing for william afton?? Yeah sure I'll get craaaazy ヘ⁠(⁠￣⁠ω⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠) you can write headcanons of anything, really, I just want to hold this man and be extremely and overly affectionate with him (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠) (and and jealousy trope is so aaaaaa you can write something with that, right??? :33)

William Afton/Steve Raglan Being Obsessed With You Would Include...

A/N: Yeap, let's start with obsessive relationship stuff, and then I'll work on a request for jealous headcanons. Hope this is in character, I tried to make it as accurate as I could with what I could work with from the movie. Requests for the FNAF movie are still open if you want me to work on a scenario; just make sure its no smut and platonic or childhood sweethearts for any of the animatronics/missing children 🙃

🐰• Well, good luck getting out of whatever craziness you've somehow gotten yourself into. That's the first thing I'm gonna say ._.

🐰• You probably meet William as "Steve," the careers counsellor who asks a little too many personal questions for it to be strictly business-related, but then, he's got to know who you are to find a job that fits in with your life and personality. He seems normal enough, though there is a slight intensity in the way his eyes linger on you for a beat too long, and his questions become more specific and a bit non-contextual.

🐰• By the end of the interview, he offers you the place of a nightguard at Freddy's, giving you his card with a casual half-smile and going out of his way to show you the ropes. Then you start the job, as oddly unsettling and dark the environment seems, and you think that it's the last time you'll hear from him.

🐰• It's not 😏

🐰• Steve knows a lot about you from your files that he went through before, and from what you told him, and he's got a good memory. He copied all the information down, storing it safely at home, going through pictures and any sources he can find about you in some unplaced interest. William's very calm and calculated, and there's no way he'd be found out unless he let it happen or wanted you to find out for yourself.

🐰• So until he's ready to reveal his dark side completely, which will slip out in little actions and hints when you spend time with him, he's simply Steve Raglan, the relatively normal careers counsellor who keeps checking in on you to see how you're getting on with the job, often going out for a coffee to give you "advice" in his breaks. Anything to pry out more information from you, for him to understand what exactly it is about you that intrigues him.

🐰• Is it because you're unusually pretty? Clever? Quirky? To William, you're just a bit different, maybe a bit childish, or mature and deep, dark-humoured? Whatever it is, it caught his attention, which is a good thing, if you want it... and if it's not, well, you're stuck with it anyway.

🐰• You'll notice quite early on that he's a bit odd himself, maybe a bit invasive, possessive, especially for someone you haven't known for that long. If someone looks over at you for a second too long while you're having coffee with Steve, having a conversation that's veered off of references and employee skills to some personal aspect or interest in your life that he's cracked open. You'll see a shot of something dark pass through his blueish gaze before it passes almost as soon as it comes, and you'll know nothing more about it except never seeing that person again. Just another missing person to add to a list.

🐰• Same with if you happen to be seeing anyone; he's got his own ways to scare people off, and if that doesn't work, he'll be forced to do something a little messier. Again, you won't know a thing about it, and there'll be no proof, no body, no big questions. Suddenly your partner has run off on a job out of the country or broken up with you via text... and Steve will be around to "see how you're doing" and to pick up the pieces when you end up spilling more about what's been going on in your life and exposing more vulnerability. It gives William a rush, in a way, to be needed and ran to and relied on when something goes bad, especially if it's you looking up at him with big pleading eyes. He can only smile and squeeze your hand, not letting go for a long moment as you get yet another drink and finally end up getting somewhere closer to a proper relationship.

🐰• Friends start getting a little distant, past lovers end up disappearing and little conveniences in life become more frequent. Wonder why that is?

🐰• Afton has a great memory, and if you tell him you like something in particular, your favourite show or book, he finds the exact thing by chance in the shop and had to get it for you, just to see your eyes light up and smile thankfully. Or he recorded a new episode of your series for you to watch if you come over on one of the nights you're not working, or he's just finished reading that book, come round to his so you can talk about it some more? He always finds a way to get what he wants, and when it's a person, victim or not, the rule still applies.

🐰• You may not be a victim of violence or murder, but he's got an obsession, an unhealthy desire to watch everything you do, everyone you talk to and in your life. He doesn't name a specific reason for it, doesn't think he needs to, doesn't see the point in it. If you ever catch on to that kind of behaviour, he'll just give you a warm smirk and shrug. "Well, because it's you," is his casual response, though you could swear there's something more behind his eyes. "And I care about you, you know?"

🐰• This is still William Afton though, and for all he can be surprisingly romantic and thoughtful when he thinks to be to see your reaction, he's a sadistic murderer and kidnapper at the end of the day... and it does start to show through. He can be manipulative as we see in the movie, and a bit arrogant, though I don't think he'd outrightly manipulate you. It's more your surroundings and the people you're with. Maybe he'll dig up some dirt on one of your close friends and put it somewhere where you'll find it and cut off the friendship yourself, exactly how he wanted it. And on the occasions when he gets his hands dirty with those types of people, he will get his hands dirty, and enjoys every minute of it. He taunts and mocks them until their dying breath, hating the thought of someone else holding your attention for longer than he can, which only causes more blood to be washed out of clothes and off his skin before you notice.

🐰• I have the idea of William watching you sleep deep in for some reason, since he's affectionate in his own ways, not majorly into PDA or clingy, since he prefers you being the one to run to him. But in the moments when you're not aware that he's around, like when you're sleeping. He'll trace calloused but featherlight fingers across your face, down from your forehead to your cheek and your neck. There's a beat of tensity where you might think he's tempted to do something extreme, something violent, but it passes time and time again. I think the only time William would be tempted to be harsher and forceful is if and when you ever found out about what it is exactly he does, and try betraying him. He wouldn't kill you, nothing like that, but he'd have to lock you away someplace safer...

🐰• But Afton will cross that bridge when he comes to it. For now, it's just an attentive and dependent relationship that William will keep going for as long as he can, accepting any gesture of affection or admiration or any positive attention in general with open arms and a pleased smirk on his face. Life will be pretty easy for you, everything seeming to go your way, and his, he'll make sure of it. And when you finally uncover the truth behind Steve and meet the real William Afton, he'll expect things to stay exactly the same: bloodied hands, spring locks snapping, glowing grey animatronic eyes or not.

[jazzyoranges]

Can you write a friends with benefits situation Wednesday or Tara has with gp reader? Wednesday or Tara enforces a no strings attach policy but of course reader has to catch feelings and admits their feelings. It freaks Tara/wednesday and causes her to push them away and ghost them effectively hurting the reader who after a while tries to rebound with another girl causing major jealousy from Tara/Wednesday. You can choose the ending I just wanna see some jealous smut and angst mix in there 😩

She’s my Collar

Wednesday Addams x fem!werewolf!reader

Words: 4.6k (whoopsies)

Warnings: gp!reader, definitely ooc Wednesday, heat cycles, unprotected sex, knotting, explicit smut, everyone is 18+, Wednesday calls you a mutt and a puppy, breeding kink, is it really pet play if you’re actually a pet?, italian/spanish pet names and phrases, possessive Wednesday, fluff, angst i think

A/n: so sorry it took so long for me to write this anon who requested 😓 could be read as a prequel to this fic, but not specifically written as one. also i kinda strayed away from the original request, sorry about that too 😭🫶

MINORS DNI!

Wednesday didn’t want to admit it, but she was feeling a certain emotion that was completely undesirable. You’ve been out sick for an entire week. Wednesday hadn’t seen you in the last 8 days, 17 hours, and 42 minutes. But who was counting? Definitely not the Addams girl

Others would say Wednesday looked the same as any other week, but Enid’s roommate senses were tingling. Constantly fiddling with her rings, the very prominent scowl on her face that was meaner than usual, and the common frustrated grunts when Wednesday would make a mistake with her writing. Something was up, and not even god herself couldn’t stop Enid from figuring it out

While Wednesday was smart in every aspect except social, Enid’s people smarts came in useful every now and again. It really didn’t take long for her to piece two and two together. Angry roommate while someone she frequently hung out with was out sick? It was child’s play, really. All she needed to do was have Wednesday come to the same conclusion as her

Easier said that done, really. Wednesday was a knucklehead not so smart when it came to emotions. Any emotion other than creating despair, Wednesday struggled with. Luckily Enid was dedicated and also a knucklehead

Currently Wednesday was seated at her desk, simply staring at a blank piece of paper without moving. On any normal day her fingers would be speeding across the typewriter with ideas constantly coming to her. Now she was met with absolute digital silence from her mind, which proved to be discouraging and inconvenient to say the least

“Alright, Wednesday. What’s going on?”

“I have not a clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been different this entire week. Spill the beans”

“As I’ve just said, I don’t have the information you want.”

“It’s because you haven’t seen her all week, right? You miss her, don’t you?”

“Why would I miss that mutt of a werewolf? I do not miss Y/n.”

“I never said her name, yet you know exactly who I’m talking about. Funny how that works, Wednesday” Enid teases. Her roomie has been caught red handed

“If you want your tongue, I’d recommend you stop talking.”

“Cmon, Wednesday, I’m being serious. It’s not weird to miss a friend. How about you check up on her?”

“First, I do not miss her. Second, she is definitely fine. I do not need to check up on her.”

“She’s been out sick for an entire week. She texted me just today the sickness isn’t showing any signs of stopping”

“Why has she not called the nurse, then?”

“She told me they ran out of the medicine she needs. The sickness is werewolf specific. I’ve gotten it before and it hurt like a bitch without medicine”

“What kind of school clinic runs out of medicine?” Wednesday says under her breath while getting up. Presumably to check on you, Enid assumes

“It’s really high in demand right now. It only infects werewolves, so you won’t catch it”

“I suppose I’ll ask Y/n on the specifics of her current condition. Perhaps it could be a part in my writings.”

“I’m sure it will be, Wednesday. Tell me how it goes!” Enid waves goodbye to Wednesday as she exits, and the Addams misses her roommates wolfish grin

Luckily your dorm isn’t too far away from Ophelia hall but it’s still a considerable walk to and from. The walk there gives Wednesday enough time to really question why she was doing this. She did not care for you, that was most definitely certain. At least that’s what Wednesday kept telling herself when she neared your room

The Addams girl hesitated before she knocked on your door. She could hear you whimpering and whining in pain, your tail quickly thumping against your bed. The shorter girl bit the bullet and held her fist against the door, quickly knocking on it

“Open up, Y/n or I’ll be forced to axe down your door.”

“Go away, Wednesday” Your voice was muffled

“Either I pick your lock or you open this door. Make your decision.”

Wednesday hears your feel shuffle to the door, and you open it just enough for your eye to peek out. Wednesday immediately notices your flushed skin and dark eye bags. You’re only wearing a tank top and boxers, trying to hide your lower body behind the door

“What do you want?” You spit out a bit more aggressively than you mean to

“I’ve come to check up on your illness”

“I’m uh- I’m okay. You can go now, Wednesday”

“You obviously aren’t, you haven’t gone to your classes all week.”

“Listen, I’m not actually sick. If I tell you what’s actually happening, promise you won’t freak out?”

“I promise.”

You suck in a breath to calm your nerves. “I’m in heat. The school clinic ran out of suppressants, so I haven’t been able to come to classes”

Wednesday looked you up and down, and in a split second she felt something she hadn’t before. Something about how your wolfish features came out. Ears were pressed against your head, tail hung low and swaying softly, and Wednesday noticed your fangs poke out when you spoke

“Let me help you.”

“W-What?” You momentarily stoped holding the door, and Wednesday let herself inside. Wednesday was immediately hit with a musk that was so… you. Werewolves weren’t her major, but she could tell you’ve marked your entire room with your own scent. Something about it made Wednesday’s mind think of all the unspeakable things she wanted to do to you

“Uh, sorry for the mess. And sorry for the smell, I know it’s bad…” You shift on your feet, and it’s only then Wednesday notices the tent in your boxers. Quickly mumbling out apology after apology, you move your tail so it covers your growing erection

“Stop apologizing, it’s getting quite annoying. I said I’d help you, did I not?”

“Help me like..?”

“Yes. Help you as in having sexual intercourse”

Your cheeks flush red and you have to actively stop your tail from wagging in excitement. Wednesday takes a step closer, but you take a step back

“A-Are you sure? You’re human, and I’m a werewolf. Your body isn’t designed to handle our heats”

Wednesday takes another step closer to you, grabbing your neck to make you look straight in her eyes. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes your throat

“I decide what I can handle.” The shorter girl firmly gropes at your clothed erection, and you moan at the contact

“Wednesday, I-”

“A dumb puppy is what you are. Why didn’t you tell me you were in heat?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t think you’d care” When Wednesday starts to massage your clothed cock more roughly, she earns another moan out of your throat

“Please, please make it better, Wednesday. It hurts so fucking much” You whimper, and Wednesday wonders if you’d look good in a collar with her name on it. She’d have to save that idea for a different day.

“Puppy.”

“Wednesday?”

“Take everything off. I want to see all of you.”

Wordlessly, you start to strip, which doesn’t take long since you’re barely wearing any clothes. Your mindless obedience made Wednesday happy. You start with your tank top and the Addams chooses to observe every part of you. Wednesday notices you’re considerably more furry than usual, your happy trail showing just above your boxer briefs

“Are you sure?” You ask nervously when you reach your boxers, and Wednesday is getting considerably more impatient

“Do I have to do everything for you?” Wednesday mutters while she takes off your boxers instead. The shorter girl sucks in a breath when your hardened cock slaps against your stomach

Wednesday didn’t expect you to be so… lewdly big. Looking at the size of your erection only reminded her your body was meant to breed. You were designed to reproduce, and the thought turned Wednesday on more than she liked

The shorter girl pushes you onto your bed, and she takes a second to look at the state you’re in

“Please, Wednesday…” You whine

“Be patient, Y/n. You’ll get there eventually”

“It hurts so much, please I can’t wait” Begging harder, Wednesday doesn’t likehow her first instinct is to give you what you want

“You’re lucky I tolerate you. If you were any other person, I’d think this was dehumanizing.” She pushes you further back, licking a stripe up your tip and across a vein. You have to stop yourself from cumming embarrassingly quick

Wednesday keeps giving your shaft long kitten-licks and you’re in heaven when she finally decides to suck your tip with a new type of hunger.

And due to previous attempts at suppressing your heat by yourself, your cock was absolutely raw at how much you masturbated. It only made Wednesday’s tongue feel even better

She hollows out her cheeks, making your tip hit the back of her throat. This earns a groan from the back of your throat. You didn’t know if touching was allowed due to her track record of broken arms and hands, so you decide to play it safe by just holding onto your bedsheets for dear life

“F-Fuck, I’m about to-“ Before you can finish your sentence, Wednesday pulls away from your cock. The look on your face is something Wednesday would like to cherish. Your penis was twitching like crazy. It was drooling with pre-cum and the shorter girls saliva. She couldn’t help but admire how you shook under her

“Why’d you stop?” Whining seemed to be a strong suit of yours

“In me.” Wednesday wipes a bit of her saliva off her chin, and you swear it’s the most attractive thing ever “Now.”

“Huh?”

“You know what I mean. Really, do I always have to spell it out for you?”

“You have to cut me some slack here, Wens…”

“I suppose I could provide an understanding for your view. You’re nothing but a dumb pup, are you not? Your kind is known to follow orders.”

“I think you’re confusing me with a domesticated dog, Wednesday”

“If I were to demand you pluck stars from the night, you would, would you not?”

“I mean I would, but for different reasons…”

“My point still stands.” Wednesday mumbles, sinking down on your erection. You don’t remember when she got naked, but you’re also not exactly complaining

The Addams holds onto your shoulders for support, and you hesitate before putting your hands on her hips. Luckily you made the right choice, your warm hands directly polar to Wednesday’s.

It takes a little effort for Wednesday to completely take in your cock, but the stretch is worth it when she sees your labored breathing like she’s the best pussy you’ve ever had. Which, Wednesday wouldn’t admit she was proud of. She could feel every vein on your cock and every twitch made her spiral into thoughts of you

The sight is funny, you think. The Wednesday Addams is impaled on your cock. The Wednesday Addams that saved Nevermore. The Wednesday Addams that was notorious for being gorgeously scary. That Wednesday Addams was riding your dick like her life depended on it.

Skin slapping together was music to your ears, and the feeling in your lower stomach you recognized well was rapidly building up. Wednesday came with a hitch in her breath, and you reluctantly pulled out before releasing your own cum with a groan. Both of you are left breathing hard.

“There will be a silver bullet in your skull if you so much as think about telling anyone about this.” Wednesday mutters in between breaths.

“Duly noted.”

—

You’ve been in this arrangement with Wednesday for about 4 months, now

The first month consisted of a casual fuck here and there. After a particularly hard week, teachers being annoying, or a hard test. It wasn’t difficult to keep your situation away from your friends. For all they knew, you two were still the platonic match-made-in-hell duo that were strictly friends

The second month was a little harder to keep your situation away from your friends. Wednesday would randomly pull you into any empty closet or classroom she could for a quick orgasm to get her through the day

The third month was rough. You two went on dates as you liked to call it, but Wednesday would call them study sessions or hangouts. Trips to Jericho on the weekend, Wednesday helping you with botany, it was practically impossible to separate both of you. Unfortunately your friends became suspicious

So during the fourth month, a new vampire transferred to Nevermore. You were assigned to give her a tour of the school and her classes. When Wednesday saw you two hang out when you’d usually see the Addams, she suspected the tour went better than anticipated. What Wednesday expected to be a minor inconvenience for one day, caused her many unwanted thoughts. It made a vein pop out of her neck. (not literally, but that’s what it felt like)

Wednesday noticed how you two started spending more time together after and during school. Of course there was definitely a reasonable explanation, you were her only friend. Unfortunately a very minuscule part of her brain is telling her you like the new vampire more than the Addams. The thought didn’t sit right with her

You were supposed to be Wednesday’s. You were supposed to only have eyes for the Addams and not some vampire that doesn’t even make you half as happy as her. You would always be Wednesday’s. When you finally realized the vampire wasn’t enough to satiate your needs, Wednesday would be there. She would be there to catch your fall, and the thought made her uncomfortable.

Wednesday Addams, a feared individual that wore her heart tucked under enough layers of blunt sarcasm and a deathly scary look, yet once glance from you sent her spiraling into something between fear and love. She hated it. She hated you. Wednesday hated you for bringing this side out of her she swore to be kept away from the surface of her character.

The Addams couldn’t afford this. You were her weakness. You definitely knew this as well. Unwanted doubt flooded her mind. Thoughts that ended up with you exploiting her only weakness made her heart ache, and not in a way she enjoyed.

You would end up breaking off your relationship with the Addams, leaving her to be made a fool as you were the only one that could do it. The worst part is Wednesday couldn’t even be angry with you. She knew you deserved someone of your own kind. Another werewolf that would understand and satiate your needs. Wednesday would end the arrangement the next time she saw you.

—

“(L/n).”

“Wednesday?” You open up your door with a smile on your face. A sight for sore eyes is what you were.

“We cannot continue our arrangement.”

“What? What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Wednesday wished she could take back her words, but she was doing this to keep herself safe. To make you happy.

“Our late night meetings can no longer continue. I’ve grown uncomfortable with your presence.”

“Wednesday, I-“

“A nuisance is what you are. You’re needy, and you can’t do anything by yourself. You really are just a dumb mutt. You are incapable of doing anything except cling to me like a lost child.” Wednesday spits out, and something akin to regret dawns on her face

Stray tears leave your eyes and you wipe them up as quickly as they fall, but Wednesday notices. She can tell you’re trying to be strong, your quivering lip giving you away

“I’m- I’m sorry you feel that way, Addams.” You say before turning your back on Wednesday, closing the door. Broken sobs escape your throat, and Wednesday brings her hand up to your doorknob. She thinks a little longer before a single tear falls from her eye. She turns to leave instead.

—

Three weeks, nearing four since you’ve last talked to Wednesday. You’ve been out for a week and a half and Wednesday knows exactly why. Since the Addams has been helping with your heats for the past few months, you haven’t needed to request for more suppressants. Neither you nor Wednesday knew why your heats were commonly hell-ish and lasted for weeks without the suppressants you desperately needed

Really, she could picture you right now. You would’ve found the boxers that created the least amount of friction, and you’d be whimpering and whining while your tail rapidly thumped against the bed mattress. Finding the nearest thing to bite, which usually happened to be your bed frame, you’d sink your teeth into the cold wood and find a splinter on your tongue the next time you brushed your teeth. Rinse and repeat until you eventually fell asleep or Wednesday saved you from your own body

It was pathetic how much you constantly needed Wednesday…and consequently, how much Wednesday needed you.

Disgusting is the only word Wednesday can choose when thinking of how much space in her mind you took up. She was seated in the Quad while eating an apple and contemplating her life. Which, was not in an ideal situation.

“I know you want to talk to her, Wednesday” Enid takes a seat near the shorter girl

“I do not.”

“I know for a fact you didn’t mean what you said. Unfortunately, you’re too stubborn to realize it”

“She has that new girl, does she not?”

“For the last time, Wednesday, they aren’t dating”

“They may as well be. The two are practically attached at the hip”

“So were you two, but then you decided to fuck it all up and haven’t talked to her since” Enid groans. This is was going to be harder than she thought

“Wednesday, you know how much I love you, right?”

“Annoyingly so.”

“Not-so-respectfully, you fucked up really bad. I know you didn’t mean it, but would you rather see her kiss another girl, or would you rather be the girl she kisses?”

The question makes Wednesday hesitate, and relief washes over Enid. Did she want to be with you? She mentally scoffs at the thought. The Wednesday Addams uncharacteristically soft for a girl. Outrageous. Disgusting. Absolutely unheard-

“Well, it seems you have your answer. Talk to her right now, ‘kay?” Enid knew her roomie would do the right thing even if it was gut wrenchingly difficult

The shorter girl only responds with a grumble, but it’s enough of an answer for Enid to skip away and continue being the social butterfly she was. Wednesday was going to… apologize to you. Just thinking of the word made her recoil, but it was you she was going to. As much as Wednesday didn’t like apologizing, she didn’t want to admit the thought of being away from you any longer was the worse option

She was almost in the same exact situation almost five months ago. Only this time you were sad, and it was Wednesday’s job to make you feel better (in more ways than one)

It didn’t take long getting to your dorm. She knew all of the correct routes and shortcuts to take. Wednesday was met with a tightly locked door and a knob that had collected dust after the past week and a half. She brought a hand to the door, knocking loudly

The Addams was only met with silence. That is, silence, with the exception of stray whines and whimpers

“It’s Wednesday.” Silence again.

“I know you’re in there. Ignore me and I’ll find other means to see you.” More silence

“You’ve made your decision.” The shorter girl sighs, taking a lock pick from her uniform pocket. Why she had a lock pick? For important situations like these, of course

When Wednesday finally managed to unlock your door, she noticed how you looked considerably worse than the first time the Addams decided to help you with your heat

What Wednesday didn’t expect was you fully naked sprawled on your bed. Bite marks littered your bed frame and a chew toy Wednesday bought to mock you, but it ended up being somewhat helpful. A low quality fan spun, only making your scent waft around the room even more. An air freshener was mentally added to her list of things to buy

“Go away, Wednesday.” You growled. You never growled. “If you’re here to mock me and call me a nuisance, I’d recommend you leave”

“I came to help.”

“You’ve full of bullshit, aren’t you?”

“I’m not lying, Y/n.”

“Go away, Wednesday, I’m not going to say it again.” The Addams only took this as an invitation to step closer to your bed where you were laying face down and a light blanket to cover your ass

When you only heard footsteps near, something inside you snapped. You were a werewolf. Not a puppy that said please with a tail between your legs. No, you would make Wednesday leave. Also you were sexually frustrated while in heat, so that was definitely fuel to your sour mood

Before she could register what had happened, you pinned the smaller girl to the floor. Your pupils contracted into small circles while there was a permanent snarl on your face

“I said, go away.” Your erection accidentally brushes against Wednesday’s thigh, and she was suddenly aware of how much self control you had for not already relentlessly stuffing the shorter girl full of your cum

“Knot me, cucciola.”

When the words leave Wednesday’s mouth, something in you changes. You’re overcome with sinful thoughts, and your cock starts to drool with precum at the image of Wednesday being full of you. It’s sinful, truly

“Is that why you came here? Just to be bred?”

“No, but it seems my words are working. You’re incredibly hard.” The shorter girl grabs your erection, jerking you off roughly

“Puppy.”

“Don’t… don’t call me that.” You say in between moans. Wednesday starts to sit up, and your back meets the side of your bed frame

“Cucciola wants to breed?”

“F-Fuck you.”

“We’re getting there, mi sol” The pet name accidentally slips, but you’re far too blissed out to notice

“She can’t make you feel as good as me, can she?”

“W-What? Who are you talking about?”

“You know who. The vampire that can’t get her hands off you.”

“Wednesday, we’re no-“ The shorter girl only started to stroke you faster. Her hand barely fit around your cock, but it still felt like heaven

“I don’t- I don’t like her that way” You say in between moans. Your orgasm was nearing and Wednesday knew this. She slowed down her pace, and you whined at the sudden loss of stimulation

“Knot me.”

“Huh?”

“Show me you don’t like her the way you like me.” You only notice your proximity after she speaks. Your noses are only inches apart. Wednesday’s eyes flick down to your lips, and you quickly close the distance

Wednesday was an addiction. Nicotine, acid, weed, none of it compared to how you felt while kissing Wednesday. You’d get drunk off her taste and crave it until she was in your arms once again. It was hell without her

When the shorter girl accidentally grinds on you, a surge of lust runs through your body. You quickly pick her up with your lips still attached to hers and take off her skirt. You couldn’t go another second without being in Wednesday

Sinking her onto your hardened erection, you let out a gasp of pleasure when her velvety walls stretch at your intrusion. You’re holding up her body by her thighs, and Wednesday just wishes you’d go faster.

“Cucciolo, ti amo.” The Addams moans when she looks down to see she’s only taken half of your length in her pussy. The sight is rather lewd, Wednesday thinks. Your cock is absolutely dripping with pre-cum when you push yourself further in her

“Mierda. Más, cachorro. Tan bueno para mi.” Wednesday slips into her native tongue. You haven’t seen her like this any other time she’s… helped you out

Bringing your lips to hers again, you decide to be in control when you push your tongue into her mouth. Eyes half lidded, bangs sticking to her forehead, and hair a bit disheveled, you think she’s never been prettier.

You let Wednesday rest a bit before sinking your cock deeper into her cunt, and the Addams ends up scratching you hard enough small amounts blood start to drip down your back. The sensation takes you by surprise. Accidentally bucking your hips up further into Wednesday, the girl lets out a groan as she fully takes your length in her pussy.

Placing her on the bed, you notice a tiny bulge in her stomach. You decide to be bold. Pressing your thumb against the intrusion, you hear a sound you’ve never heard before

Wednesday whimpers at your touch.

You do it again.

Her cunt squeezes around your cock, making it harder for you to keep thrusting. But you’re a wolf in heat and Wednesday is incredibly horny, so you continue your movements.

“Sh-She’ll never- she’ll never be as good as you, Wens…” An unexpected growl comes from deep within your throat

“No one can take my cock as good as you…” You’re thrusting considerably faster when Wednesday looks back down at where you two meet. The scenario folding out is a sight for sore eyes, the Addams thinks. You, feeding into your primal urges like it’s an unstoppable beast; and Wednesday willingly taking it in however she can.

“Cara mia.”

“Mine… mine all mine. No one else but mine…” You whimper a little pathetically, but the girl below you is only focused on your thrusts. Her cold hands find their way to your back again, leaving a trail of blood behind

“Yours, puppy. All yours.” Wednesday feeds into your possessive behavior. She knows she shouldn’t, but with you thoughts of reason leave her head and are replaced with thoughts of you

“Were you serious about the knotting, Wens?”

“Deathly.”

“Are you- mph~ sure? It’s kinda big…” The girl under you looks down again, and your ever growing knot seems to just be getting bigger and bigger. Even horny out of your mind, you still wanted to make sure your mate was alright.

…you decide to ignore that thought.

Your eyes were trained on how your erection stretched out Wednesday. Her pussy would be yours, and yours alone. Nobody would make her feel as good as you did. You’d make sure she wouldn’t need anyone else’s cock but yours.

A breathy moan erupts from your throat when you start to actively try to push your knot into Wednesday

“Relax for me Wens, it’ll never go in unless you want it too” You feel her tensed under your touch, but your words are enough for her to relax

Every thrust you get closer, until you eventually start to reach your peak. You can tell Wednesday is too. Her hair is messy and both of your bodies are littered with marks of possession.

“I-I’m so close Wens…” Are the last words you say before succeeding in pushing your knot into the Addams girl. You cum inside of Wednesday’s pussy, and the swell of your knot inside her is enough for Wednesday to cum impaled on your cock. The feeling of being full is an experience Wednesday wished she did with you far sooner.

You wiggle your hips to seemingly get more comfortable inside of Wednesday, but the movement only makes her moan. She was sensitive as hell.

“…was that enough proof I like you more than I like her?”

“More than enough, (Y/n).”

[dismightyman]

There was always a hesitance for Soap when it came to the more deeply personal aspects of Ghost. Even with how brazen he was when they started their partnership he wasn't stupid. As hot as it made him under the collar, that mask ghost wore was a bright neon sign that screamed Fuck Off. 

More often than not he towed the line. Hell you could say he danced on it occasionally when the situation allowed, but when Ghost was well and truly shutting him out he knew when to let it go. It’s a source of great internal pride for him to be able to read Ghost well enough to push his buttons while avoiding pushing him to his breaking point. 

As they got closer, there was a larger pool of tolerance for his specific flavor of boldness. The answers to semi-personal questions getting longer, less clipped. The dumb hypotheticals he’d toss out to fill the silence as they smoked were given more thought, instead of outright dismissals he used to get.

Then they fell in bed together for the first time and it was like a flood gate was opened. 

The touches between them got more sure, more intentional. The tidbits that made up Ghost more readily found, and if he didn’t know any better, almost placed at his feet. Just begging to be picked up and stowed away in the little box in his chest that was solely for Ghost. To be seen, judged and found worthy of not just Ghost, but Simon himself was worth more to him than any medal or accolade could ever be. 

It wasn’t just the getting to know Simon that truly made this something Soap cherished, but the fact that Simon seemed to enjoy getting to know him in return. The intentional work to learn what made him tick, what made Soap Johnny and vice versa. It solidified in his mind that this wasn’t just a fling, a rough romp in the barracks sheets every now and again. This in all its fucked up gory messy glory, was love. 

Over the years he’s picked up on a few things that Simon does in his spare time. Not just for maintaining himself and his gear or staying sane, but for actual fun and pleasure. The biggest thing though was the models. 

He told Soap once after a nightmare and a fucking freezing night smoking through an entire pack, that his favorite thing he ever got for Christmas one year was a little model train his mom had gotten him after his father had left the house. 

“It was shite.” He said fondly. His eyes were settled somewhere on the horizon, far away and glassy. 

“The wood was so brittle it snapped more often than it didn’t… and the paint, fucking don’t get me started on the paint…” the small barely there smile he wore as he described the way the cheap paint streaked on the toy made it into Soaps journal that very next day. 

The next time he saw this side of Simon was the first time he’d stayed at his little flat in Manchester. They’d gotten leave together after an OP went slightly south leaving him with a concussion and Simon with a broken wrist. With a very pointed look from Price and a cheeky “Don’t have too much fun mate” from Gaz they were on a train headed north. 

As they made their way up the stairs to his front door, Simon stopped. 

“Before we go in there’s something I should probably mention…” Normally the eye black covered everything except his eyes. Since they were traveling as civilians Simon only had a black medical mask and a cap to cover himself. He apparently learned the hard way how nosey some people would be when he tried to walk the street in a skull balaclava. The blush that sat faintly high on his cheeks was a beautiful surprise and then some.

“Got a wee wife and bairn hidden away ere’ I don’ know about?” Soap said with a bit of a chuckle and a raised eyebrow.

Johnny knew from the crinkles next to his eyes that he was smiling, Simon let out an overly dramatic sigh before speaking again.

“Piss off Mactavish, if anything you’re the wee wife…” he grumbled out, shifting slightly from one foot to the other before he continued. 

“It’s just… I’ve never really… let anyone in here before and there’s…” he trails off looking anywhere but at Soap. 

He grabs Simon’s good hand to get his eyes back on him.

“Unless ye got dead people hanging up to dry on yer ceiling, I doubt whatever yer dancing around is bad enough to turn me off of you” he starts with humor before taking a more serious tone.

“I’ve seen you open a man from navel to chin and grin while you do it… I’m more than gone on you Simon and nothin’ short of Hell freezin’ over is gonna change that” he says lowering his tone to a level that's just for them.  “Honestly, probably not even that would do it” he finishes with a wink. 

“Jesus Johnny…” Simon sighed in a surprised exhale, his blush deepening to a delightfully deep pink.

Without another word he turns, unlocks his flat and steps inside. 

For the most part, in Jonny’s opinion anyway, it’s a fairly normal space for a single active duty man like Simon. There’s a kitchen to the left and a living room to the right with a hallway leading to what he can only assume is the bedroom. The furniture he can see looks old and mismatched, like he grabbed it all from a second hand shop. It's charming in its own way, nothing matches but it somehow all works. As he slips off his shoes by the door he’s mildly confused by the reaction out front, until he sees the wall on the other side of the living room, hidden by the little wall in the entryway. 

As Simon stands sheepishly next to the display he gets a good look at frankly the largest collection of model trains he’s ever seen. From carpet to ceiling there are shelves loaded with tiny dioramas. However as he steps closer and gets a better look he realizes all of the trains are in some stage of destruction. Some torn in pieces, others on fire with tiny people inside panicking, there’s one, he realizes, that’s an almost spot on recreation of a blown out train they had tracked down and eventually killed an HVT in about a year ago. 

After a long moment of soap simply absorbing everything, he turns to ghost standing stock still next to the wall. His eyes assessing, taking in every minor move or facial expression, waiting for some kind of negative reaction he’s sure.

Soap doesn’t let that stand for a minute longer.

“If I told you tha’ this is one of the hottest things I think I’ve ever seen would you believe me?” He’s probably laying it on a little thick but honestly it’s the truth. The level of detail, the time soap knows is required for something like this. The steady hand needed to get the tiniest lines painted straight. It’s a show of skill that he finds very very attractive.

“You’d have made a hell of a demo specialist if you hadn’t been so good with a blade, Jesus Simon how long this take you?” He breathes out, awe heavy in his voice. He steps closer to the wall taking in the finer details. On one shelf closer to eye level, there’s a train car mid crash held up by the thinnest of wire. It’s almost invisible if he hadn’t been looking so hard for it. The people inside are in varying states of being tossed around, upon closer inspection he can see little bloody hand prints on one of the windows. 

“For all of it?” Simon asks stepping closer now that he’s determined soap isn’t taking the piss

“I don’t really keep time when I work on them… I’ve been making these since… well since I started wearing the mask” he’s slowly unwinding the tension out of his shoulders as he talks. 

“Before I just did the regular trains you know, but after… everything it just didn't… feel right anymore, didn't give me the same release, didn't feel like me.” he paused every now and again seeming to look for the right words. 

“Therapist suggested I change what I build to make it different like how I felt different.” he says with audible mirth 

“Not sure this is what she meant but… it worked… so I just kept at it and…” he trails off with a gesture at the wall. 

Soap takes a minute to let that sink in, remembering the bits and pieces Ghost has let slip. He's reminded of the conversation about his mother and it kinda clicks into place. This is Simon's way of connecting the two. The inherent violence of Ghost melding with the memory of who Simon used to be. After a moment Soap moves to wrap his arms around Simon. Gently taking his face in his hands to place a sweet little peck on his lips before pulling back.

“Thank you Simon, fer sharin’ this with me” he says so quietly it's damn near a whisper.

The real genuine smile Ghost grants him is one of the most beautiful things Soaps ever seen. The rest of that leave is spent with Ghost walking through every train disaster he’s ever modeled and them fucking in every room of the house so much so the neighbor comes over to complain about the noise. Twice. 

After they get back Soap starts to pay more attention when he gets to hang out in Simon's room on base. He never clocked it before but after Ghost shows him his little model supply drawer, he notices that ghost is constantly collecting those little aluminum mint tins. The box Simon pulls out of the back of his closet is filled with the things. All of them contain little versions of natural disasters or in several notable exceptions, a terrorist attack or two. He explains to Soap that it's easier to keep them when they are moved from base to base when his whole collection fits in a 4x4 box. He finds out Price is Ghost’s main supplier of the tins, and the ensuing laps he runs in punishment are totally worth calling Price out for the old man he is. (Gaz had to join him in his laps after hearing this and laughing so hard he had to hold the wall for support)

Later on, when Simon brought him to that little cottage in the hills with several bottles of their respective poison, no one for miles, and a bomb made of legos and live class A explosives. An idea that had been percolating was solidified into action. It took a few favors from his sister and a frankly large hit to a few of his paychecks but he would be ready the next time they’d get to share leave.

 Keeping his plan secret from Simon was harder than he thought it would be. Everytime he was lazing about in Simon's bed scribbling in his journal watching him so focused on his projects, he was so tempted to spill and tell him everything. But his opportunity came around sooner than he thought it would. 

Price had announced after a successful round of back to back missions that the 141 had earned some R&R. Apparently there were enough happy parties in the upper brass that they felt the need to reward the taskforce for the good behavior. When the debrief was ending and everyone was piling out Soap leaned over to Ghost to offer his place up this time around. Ghost didn't need much persuading as two days later they were once again on the train north. 

Soap only started to feel anxious as they were making their way up the foot path to the front door. In a comically similar way Soap stopped Simon before he put his keys in the lock. 

“I have a little surprise for ye” he says with a nervous little grin. 

“Do you have people hanging from your ceiling? Or is there a… how did you say it last time… A wee little family I don't know about Johnny?”  Simon is smiling as he pokes fun at him from the last time they did this. 

“You’d love that wouldn’ you, crazy bastard” Soap chuckles. “ No, nothing so devious, just a little something i've wanted to show ye for a while now”

Without waiting for Simon to respond he unlocks his door and pushes in, flicking on the lights. He makes his way into the front room knowing Simon is right on his six. When they are both fully in the room he steps to the side to let Simon see his surprise for the first time.

 Placed right in front of the large window facing the street is a solid wooden work table. He’d looked for quite a while to find something that would match Ghost's height if he felt like standing and would be solid enough to last for years without wear and tear. Getting his sister to watch the house while it was delivered and get the thing put together was gonna cost him some serious sibling karma but it was well worth it. 

Along the back of the table was a small shelf containing every single color of model paint he could get his hands on. He made sure to grab the brand he remembered Simon talking about loving to use but always passing on as he thought it was too expensive. He also made sure to get the brushes he noticed were used the most when he actually was around to watch Simon work. 

Ghost was locked in place staring in disbelief at the station, Soap isn't sure he blinks for a solid minute and a half. 

“Is this for me?” Ghost asks sounds ten years younger as he turns to look soap in the eye.

“Yeah Darlin’ course tha’s for you! If I drag you home with me I wan’ you to be able to do what makes you happy… I want this to feel like home for you too” it's said in a slight rush, like Soap is worried Simon might somehow misunderstand what this means to him. 

Simon takes slow steps towards the table as he looks it over, running his hands on the smooth tops and feeling the sturdiness of it as he pushes on it slightly. He damn near picks up every bottle of paint to look at the colors before feeling the bristles on the brushes. 

“Johnny” Simon says, it sounds a little croaky and Soap thinks hes fucked up majorly before Simon speaks again.

“I love you” he turns to face Soap, he’s not crying, there’s no tears, but he’s a little misty eyed.

 “I love you so fucking much” he sets down the brush he was fiddling with as he takes quick steps to where johnny has been standing. The kiss he plants on Soap is deep and full of just about everything else Ghost didn’t say. When he finally lets him come up for air Soap chuckles.

“You like it?” Soap asks as he lightly scratches his fingers through the short hair at Simon nape. 

“It's fuckin’ perfect Johnny” he says as he goes back in for another deep kiss. It's not until the next afternoon he actually gets to use any of it. 

(this is for @leathfaic who inspired this mess, I wrote it all then read through it but that's about the max editing its gonna get so if you see a mistake fix it in your head and keep rolling. this is my first non OC fic writing so enjoy fellas, if i ever write again it'll be a miracle)

[rallamajoop]

So why are there so many gay vampires?

From the time of Carmilla all the way up to the works of Anne Rice (a universe that seems to get only less subtle as the years go on), gay vampires have been a thing basically as long as anyone was writing about vampires. Lesbian vampires have been a genre all their own for decades. Bram Stoker, author of the most famous vampire novel ever written, was gay himself. So why vampires specifically?

I’ve seen people attempt to answer this one before, and there are all sorts of contributing factors I could point to here, from the genres’ beginnings with Lord Byron (infamous bisexual disaster fuckboy), to modern discourse about why queer folks so often find themselves identifying with the monsters and outcasts of fiction. Few other monsters besides vampires can so easily pass for ‘normal’, or are nearly so well known for their snappy dress sense and ‘unnatural cravings’ for human flesh. And that’s without even getting into all those skeezy outdated stereotypes casting queer people as predators, or the idea that even one ‘gay experience’ could somehow ‘convert’ you into being one yourself.

But to my mind, there’s just one really important thing that makes vampires so gay, and it’s the same thing that makes them sexy in the first place: plausible deniability.

You see, a vampire’s bite is simultaneously a) ridiculously sexual, and b) not even a little bit sexual at all.

You don’t have to look far for vampire canons where there’s nothing sexy about being bitten by a vampire. Bloody, violent, painful, sure ‒or just clinically miserable, human bodies torn open or hung up to drain like a human blood bag. What’s sexy about getting bitten by a mosquito, or a fecking leech? The diet of the actual vampire bat requires it to process so much water that it apparently spends mealtimes busily pissing out the difference, and the anti-coagulants in its saliva leave the wound bleeding messily long after it’s gone. The basic act of feeding is no more inherently sexual for a vampire than it is for a zombie.

Vampires are even a surprisingly acceptable monster to market to children. There’s a vampire muppet, a cartoon about a vampire duck, and a whole series of books about a vampire rabbit. You can put a vampire on the side of a cereal box without undue outrage. Vampires do not have to be R-rated for sex or violence.

So of course vampires will go after victims of the same sex. Do you stop to inquire whether the cow you’re eating was male or female? It’s all just predator and prey!

Until it’s everything but.

Do not let the ‘vampires aren’t supposed to be sexy!’-purists fool you. The tradition of sexy vampires goes all the way back to the oldest folklore, where the first victim of a newly-risen vampire was often their still-living spouse. Vampires were even occasionally known to get women pregnant (a convenient excuse for any widow who might turn up pregnant slightly too many months after their husband's death). The ‘original’ Nosferatu sounds more like an incubus than the naked mole-rat creature they made that movie about. The demon lover aspect of the vampire has been there all along.

And it’s not hard to imagine why. If someone is biting and sucking on your neck, then either they’re a vampire, or they’re well on the way to second base (other folklore has its vampires feed directly from their victim’s heart, which is scarcely less suggestive). The implications of an exchange of bodily fluids were never subtle, even in Stoker’s day (I'm looking at you, Lucy-with-the-three-husbands), and the vampire as a sexual predator was a popular literary device well before Stoker's time. Beautiful vampire women would seduce men to their demise, and the males of the species might visit the bedroom of some innocent maiden time and again. The Victorian obsession with mesmerism, meanwhile, provided the perfect explanation for how victims might be hypnotised into eager compliance, and perhaps not even remember being fed upon at all. Vampires have been the ultimate guilt-free sexual fantasy since way back in the day, compatible with all your awkward Victorian mores! (Not quite ready to admit they're sexual fantasies? No problem: he's just here to, y'know, suck on your neck a bit. No subtext here!)

The whole act of biting is so suggestive that in the early years of vampire cinema, it wasn’t shown at all, not even between opposite-sex participants. The camera of 1922’s Nosferatu maintains a demure distance during the climactic scene where the heroine is finally bitten and slowly drained of blood, and Universal’s Dracula conveniently fades to black or cuts away whenever it’s about to take place. But even if the biting has to take place off screen, who’s to say a vampire isn’t going to pick victims of both sexes?

The stately tradition of the lesbian vampire has cinematic examples going all the way back to 1936, with Universal’s Dracula’s Daughter. Though the titular vampire has a nominal male love interest – a psychologist who naively advises her to confront her temptations without fear – the result of his advice is a famous sequence where she picks up a young woman under the premise of wanting an artist's model, and convinces her to remove her top. No actual biting or nudity is shown (it was only 1936), but her fate is left in little doubt.

By the era of 70’s sexploitation, all such subtlety had been abandoned. If we’re all good with naked boobs, who’s going to be offended by a little biting?

In fact, when it comes to men rather than women, a vampire bite was, for many years, far too sexy to be shown, or even alluded to. Nosferatu clearly feeds on that film’s Jonathan-expy, but our only evidence is the bitemarks on his neck in the morning, and the final sacrifice to defeat the evil monster must naturally be female. Universal’s Dracula had to ignore explicit studio mandate that only the brides should be allowed to feed on their own Jonathan-equivalent, as to even imply that Dracula himself had fed upon a man was obviously far too homoerotic to contemplate (never mind that it’s Dracula who must be established as the threat in this opening sequence, or that it’s Dracula his victim will spend the rest of the film obsessed with).

But in that unspeakable land of male-on-male homoeroticism, you might be surprised how much homo we can squeeze in even without resorting to fangs-in-necks. The Lost Boys is surely one of the most homoerotic vampire films ever made, but there, the one big blood-drinking scene is rendered in a bloody massacre of slasher-movie violence. And though Anne Rice certainly describes the scene where Lestat drains Louis of blood in lurid detail (and even has them spend their first sunrise together sharing a coffin), Louis is already thoroughly seduced before he ever reaches this point.

You see, the lore of the pop-cultural vampire conveniently comes with a second and equally-compelling target for plausible deniability: the act of making a new vampire.

Obviously, to work, this has to be deliberate. A world where anyone bitten by a vampire becomes one hasn’t much to offer us, and the relationship between maker and fledgling can just as easily be framed as parental, as recruitment into a cult, or purely transactional. But whichever way you twist it, the implications of choosing another to share in your own eternal youth and immortality… like, I don’t have to spell this one out for you, do I? Did I mention how that thing where a vampire’s traditional first victim tended to be their own mortal widow goes all the way back?

But if we’re not ready to be completely obvious with our mainstream audience, some alternative explanation can always be provided for cover. Lestat doesn’t really want Louis, he just wants Louis’ money! (He also really wants Louis.) The Lost Boys just want Michael to join their gang! (Their very, very pretty gang, who swan around in mesh shirts, tank tops and assless chaps.)

The two sides of the vampire-deniability coin aren’t mutually exclusive, either. Carmilla drinks her new paramour’s blood, but also gazes into her eyes while promising her you will be mine. Drinking blood is a key part of making a new vampire in so many vampire stories, after all.

Carmilla isn’t even the only gay vampire story of the Victorian era. I recently posted about two other fascinating examples, both featuring male/male pairings: one being pretty much just a gender-flipped version of Carmilla, and the other a tragic love story filled with significant "vampire = gay lover" metaphors (why oh why must the townsfolk keep us apart, when we’ll only ever be happy once we’re united once more?) This stuff goes surprisingly far back.

In fact, you can find queer subtext in vampire fiction that predates even Byron and Polidori. 1819's The Vampyre was the first published vampire story, yes, but the first known work of vampire-fiction in the English language is a poem published by John Stagg in 1810, also called The Vampyre (look, the genre didn’t exist yet, you didn’t have to be creative with your titles).

In brief, Stagg’s poem recounts a conversation between a wife (Gertrude) and her dying husband (Herman), whose dear friend Sigismund, lately deceased and deeply mourned, has returned as a vampire. Night after night, he crawls into Herman’s room to drain his blood. Herman’s fate is already sealed, but unless Gertrude takes action, it will surely be she that Herman will take as his own first victim when he rises from the grave.

There may be nothing intentional about the queer subtext of this tale. A vampire’s victims often include friends he knew in life, as Stagg himself cites in his introduction. But if Herman’s first victim will be his wife, what are we to read about the fact Sigismund’s first victim is Herman? Especially given how long he’s kept secret from poor Gertrude that his dear ‘friend’ has been climbing into his bedroom each night, lying beside him in bed and sucking and draining "the fountain of my heart!" while Herman moans and tosses (in pain, obviously!), always leaving him "exhausted, spent." Ultimately, Gertrude is saved only when both Herman and Sigismund are staked through the heart, and we close on the image of them slumbering together in the tomb.

It is, however you turn it, pretty gay.

I reiterate: this is the very first known work of vampire fiction written in the English language. The second was the one that was kind-of-written-by, kind-of-stolen-from, and unambiguously based on bisexual-disaster-fuckboy Lord Byron. And the two most influential works of vampire fiction of the next hundred years would be Carmilla, the very lesbian vampire story written by a… presumably straight man? And Dracula, the not-completely-convincingly-hetero story written by #1 Walt Whitman fanboy Bram Stoker. Vampires have always been very equal-opportunity kind of monsters.

There are, of course, plenty of influential heterosexual vampire tales to fill out the roster too. Varney the Vampire, a penny dreadful from the 1840s, was so successful it ran for over 200 chapters. The 1960s had their own wildly successful Varney-equivalent in the soap opera Dark Shadows. Love it or hate it, we really can't ignore Twilight either. My own introduction to the genre was Christopher Pike’s The Last Vampire series, which came out alongside the original Vampire Diaries novels. So there's plenty of material around to keep the straights entertained – and honestly, that’s only as it should be, because the very thing that makes vampires so queer-friendly is that the sex of their victims doesn’t matter. And it’s so easy to make vampires sexy (let alone a full vampire-proposal!) that even the Victorians could do it.

Now, if your reaction to all this theorising is to tell me "but the LGBTQ’s shouldn’t have to hide behind plausible deniability!" I can only counter, "well sure, but why should the straights have all the fun?" Because playing with all the ambiguity of "is this monster really just after my blood or is this going somewhere?" can be all sorts of fun, regardless of the genders involved. And as long as they’re up for exchanging bodily fluids with persons-and-or-victims of either gender equally, why not have some fun with it?

So, okay, maybe the real title of this post should have been "why are there so many pansexual vampires?" But the answer doesn’t change. Vampires have been the bisexual disaster fuckmonsters for as long as anyone’s been writing about vampires, and have been a metaphor allowing people publish barely-coded gay attraction since 1872. And much like the queer community, they’ve only become more complex, more sympathetic, and all the more popular as romantic paramours as the years have gone by.

[marzipanandminutiae]

would you have any reading suggestions to learn more about the earrings are evil era??? I've never heard of that aspect of fashion history and I am curious

Oh man, it was wild

you saw the first stirrings of it in the 1890s, when you started to get (mostly white and middle-to-upper-class) proto-feminists arguing that ear piercing was barbaric- keep an eye on the racist undertones there; they will come up again-and forcing women to suffer for fashion. I cannot emphasize enough that, until that point, ear piercing had been pretty much normal for this race/class/gender group. For centuries. You see criticism of the practice here and there, but nothing that really stuck.

The objections slowly increased until roughly the mid-1920s, when everything reached a tipping point and pierced ears became largely taboo for most white Americans and Brits of northern/western European descent. If that sounds HIGHLY specific, it is- communities from southern and sometimes eastern Europe retained cultural practices of ear piercing, to the point where it was often used as a point against them by mainstream society. It was also associated with Latino people, Black people, and the Romani, which. Yeah. I don't need to tell you how that went down.

It also developed associations with sexual immorality and/or backwards thinking. One newspaper letter I read came from a teen girl in the 1940s, wondering why she shouldn't pierce her ears if her very respectable grandmother had piercings. The response was something like "well, they did all sorts of things in the Bad Old Days that we shouldn't do now." True in many ways, or course, but...piercing your ears? That's the hill culture decided to die on as far as antiquated behavior that we should leave behind? Apparently yes.

Earrings themselves never went out of style, which led to the birth of clip-ons and screwbacks. Ironic that the "don't surfer for fashion" crowd was so eager to embrace screwing tiny vices onto your ears, but there we are. My own mother (born 1953) remembers her mother (born 1926) always taking off her screwback earrings immediately after getting home from a party, literally in the foyer of their house the second the door shut. There had been adaptations for unpierced ears before- Little Women, published in 1868, describes Meg March hanging earrings from a flesh-colored silk ribbon tied around the base of her ear -but they'd never caught on like this before.

However, the pendulum was soon to swing back. After just 40 years of Piercing Panic, in the 1960s, girls began piercing their ears again in droves. As piercing moved from the slumber party or summer camp back to the professional jewelers whose families had been early professional piercers in the 19th century- and to befuddled doctors who had no idea what they were doing yet still received piercing requests -cultural commentators had no idea what to make of it. Some decried the new trend while most took an air of bemused neutrality. My personal favorite article expressed surprise that "Space Age misses" were adopting these "Victorian traditions."

(In 1965, my grandmother took Mom to the anesthesiologist down the street who was offering to pierce his young daughter's friends gratis, and got it done. My grandfather had strongly disapproved of the idea, but in the end it took him a week to notice the new earrings.)

As to sources...honestly, I've just gone to Google Books, specified a time frame, and typed in "ear piercing," "pierced ears," "pierce ears," etc. Tons of primary sources at your fingertips, though I'm not always great about documenting or saving what I find. There's not much written about it formally, I've found- no books or scholarly studies. It may just be too close in history to attract much academic attention, though I find it fascinating.

This little blip where something that's been normal for most of western history suddenly became taboo for a hot second.

Also my ear piercings just turned 20 five days ago, commemorating the date that I was taken with much ceremony to Piercing Pagoda (and that horrible gun; it's a wonder I didn't get keloids) to get me out from underfoot while the Thanksgiving feast was being made. Grandma got hers pierced on the same day, at age 78. Happy Birthday, Marzi's ear piercings!

[zukosdualdao]

so, this post was originally born from a post i saw a couple of months ago that was deriding people for criticizing katara’s main role in lok being a healer when that was never all she wanted to do but liking the scene where she heals zuko in sozin's comet. at the time i thought about responding directly and decided against it, but i have since scanned through transcripts of every instance (i could find; it's possible i could be missing something) of katara healing someone in the show and how they respond. (you know, like a normal and well-adjusted individual. lmao.)

anyway, aside from katara explicitly stating that she doesn’t only want to be a healer, another aspect of why people don’t like that this is how her story goes in lok is because of the way healing is treated in the atla narrative.

Katara: Aang, you're burned! Let me help you. [Katara heals the burn on Aang's arm.] Aang: Wow, that's good water. Sokka: When did you learn that? Katara: I guess I always knew. Sokka: [Sarcastically.] Oh ... Well then thanks for all the first aid over the years. Like when I fell into the greaseberry bramble. [Angrily.] Or that time I had two fishhooks in my thumb!

this comes, of course, after aang accidentally burns katara and she learns she can heal through her waterbending by healing her own hands. then (after comforting aang despite being the one who got hurt, not that i'm bitter), she heals aang after he gets burned in his fight with zhao. and like... there's not so much as a cursory thanks in this scene.

to be clear, because i can already hear some responses in my head and i am making a preemptive strike: i'm not saying that when other characters don't thank katara for her healing, they're like, the worst people ever for not doing so or there aren't other ways at different times where they show their appreciation. what i am saying is that it feels like this sets up a long pattern of katara's healing specifically being taken for granted, and it makes me especially uncomfortable when i see her healing as a sort of metaphorical parallel to the emotional labor often expected of her in the show, especially because this and being The Avatar's Girlfriend/Wife is more or less what she's relegated to in post-canon.

also, i have to note sokka's line here. i don't want to come down on him too hard for this, because it's obviously being written humorously (and does genuinely make me laugh, for what it's worth, if just for the inherent ridiculous nature of two fishhooks), but his sarcastically saying thanks for all the help over the years when katara says she always knew (which is supposed to be her saying it just somehow instinctively came to her) does feel like another mark in this pattern. but i also really read this as sokka trying to lighten the mood after a Difficult (TM) day, so i cut both him and the writers some slack for it.

Meanwhile, back at the Outer Wall, Katara attempts to heal a member of the Terra Team. General Sung: What's wrong with him? He doesn't look injured. Katara: His chi is blocked. [Stops healing.] Who did this to you?

i find it interesting that katara has sort of naturally fallen into a token team healer role, to the degree that we don't even see them ask for her help or her agree to it; it's just automatically assumed that she will. and i mean, on the one hand, it's fairly standard to have an Assumed Healer in a fantasy action setting like this, where people will get hurt in combat and therefore the narrative needs someone whose job is to help them. the problem for me is that the show kicked up such a fuss about how women shouldn't just be allowed to be healers, and yet it's still the role no one but katara ever fills. aang is also a waterbender! why couldn't she have taught him healing, too? i genuinely think it would have added a lot to the story, but katara is The Girl (TM), so healing is what she (and only she) does, what's expected of her, and again, with very rare thanks for it.

Katara stares open-mouthed at Jet, her hands hovering near her mouth in shock. Snapping out of it, she withdraws water from her water skin, with which she covers her hands, and it begins to glow as she kneels down next to him. Cut to a shot from over her shoulder, with Jet glancing at her while she rubs her hands over his chest in an attempt to heal him. After rubbing his chest three times, the glow fades, the water stains Jet's clothing, and Katara looks back over her shoulder toward the rest of the group. Katara: This isn't good. Smellerbee: You guys go and find Appa. We'll take care of Jet. Katara: We're not going to leave you. Longshot: There's no time. Just go. We'll take care of him. He's our leader. They stare at Longshot in surprise. Jet: Don't worry, Katara. I'll be fine. [Smiles a little.]

Cut to a closer shot of Katara placing Aang's body on Appa. Katara opens the vial around her neck and uses water healing on Aang's wounded back. The rest of Team Avatar, Kuei, and Bosco all look sadly and in anticipation. The glowing from the spirit water stops, and Katara starts crying, assuming that it was not enough to save Aang. Aang's tattoos glow for a second and Aang groans. Katara, overcome with joy that Aang is alive, looks at him, who smiles a little, and she holds him closer.

writing about these together because i have less to say about them. i'm definitely not going to fault jet for not thanking katara when she tries to heal him as he literally lay dying, or aang for not having the mind to do so after she brings him back. but i am still going to fault the narrative for putting her in a position where healing is just inherently expected from her and yet very rarely allowing her to feel the emotional toll of that or to feel constricted by it. and when she does struggle against the weight of it (not necessarily of being a healer, but of being expected to be kind and good and uncomplicated with no room for other aspects of her identity, which are very tangled up in why she is The Healer) in episodes like the runaway or in the southern raiders, she just... does not receive a lot of support from the people she should be most able to rely on.

Katara: Maybe we should go upstairs. [Helping Aang up.] You need a healing session. Back in Aang's room on the ship. Katara bends some water onto the scar left by Azula's lightning attack. Katara: Tell me where the pain feels most intense. Aang: Mmm, a little higher. Uhhh! Aang briefly flashes back to the battle at Old Ba Sing Se where he rose into the Avatar State, then back to reality. Aang: Wow, you're definitely in the right area there.

not much to say here, it's just another instance where it would have been so easy to slip one thank you in, and the writers just... do not. the reason i think it bothers me so much with aang specifically is because katara is supposed to be both aang's physical healer and his emotional crutch in a way that she's not written as being for, say, toph or sokka. he's sometimes shown appreciation for her emotional support, but he still comes to rely on and expect it in ways that do not always feel healthy, and knowing that, it bothers me that he shows even less appreciation for her healing, because it's just what katara is there for.

A figure resembling the Painted Lady glides over the water on a carpet of fog and enters the village. She steps into a hut where several people are sleeping on the floor, and bends over each of them in turn, healing them with a blue glow. Her last patient is the mother of the little boy seen earlier, her son sleeping at her side. He wakes as the Painted Lady turns to go and silently follows her out the door. Little boy: Thank you, Painted Lady.

this is a genuinely sweet scene in which katara does receive appreciation and genuine thanks for her healing, but i think it's also worth noting that katara is not being recognized as herself here. still, i am genuinely very glad that it's included in the episode because (again, unless i am missing something) it is the first time katara gets thanked for her healing.

The scene cuts to show Appa landing on the edge of the battlefield. Sokka and Katara help Hakoda onto the ground, and Katara starts trying to heal him. Katara: How does that feel, Dad? Hakoda: Ah, a little, better. I need, to get back to the troops. [Attempts to stand but is too weak to.] Ahh! Katara: You're hurt, badly. You can't fight anymore. Hakoda: Everyone's counting on me to lead this mission Katara, I won't let them down. [Attempts to stand again but can't.] Ahh! Sokka: Can't you heal him any faster?

they're in a high intensity situation, and sokka is Stressed because hakoda is supposed to lead the mission, so i, like, Get It, but "can't you heal him any faster?" does strike me as another moment in which katara's healing is being taken for granted. i think it's something that would bother me a lot less if this was an isolated incident in the writing, but *gestures vaguely at whole post*.

Sokka: [Brightening.] Dad! [Rising and approaching the two.] You're on your feet again. Hakoda: [Sitting down; somewhat weakly.] Thanks to your sister.

that being said, in the next hakoda and katara scene, there is this very sweet moment, where hakoda might not be thanking katara directly but is showing a lot of appreciation and admiration for her skill in healing (and though she's not in the dialogue i included, she's around to hear it, which makes me happy.)

Katara: It's gonna take a while for your feet to get better. [Stops healing.] I wish I could have worked on them sooner. Toph: Yeah, me too.

once again, i'm not gonna fault toph for wishing katara could have healed her feet sooner, because she's been in pain all night, but the writers could have very easily (as they could have in any of these scenes!) chosen to include a perfunctory 'thanks' here, and they just didn't. i know this is getting repetitive, but i swear it's because it's largely more me being mad at the writers than the characters, lmao.

there are also a couple of scenes in which katara doesn't heal anyone, but her healing gets brought up by aang.

Aang: He doesn't look sick. You okay, buddy? [Appa groans and Aang pulls out Appa's purple tongue.] His tongue is purple! That can't be good. Katara, can you heal him?

to be fair, aang asks here, and it's not like aang gets defensive or angry when katara says appa needs medicine (and also to be fair, appa's not even actually sick, lmao, katara's being slightly trickstery), but it's another instance where katara is automatically positioned as the person who is and should be responsible for healing.

Aang: [Chuckles.] Well, not over over. I mean there's always Katara and a little Spirit Water action, [Turns to Katara.] am I right? Katara: Actually, I used it all up after Azula shot you. Aang: [Disappointed.] Oh.

i actually don't mind this so much as a writing moment, as i think it's a lot more intentional wrt aang not always conceptualizing the reality of the violence he’s facing. still, it’s another instance of katara’s ability to heal and care for him being taken for granted, and i find it especially notable it’s in of the last significant moments they share together (the other being an argument as katara urges him not to run away from the reality of their situation with ozai) before they spend the rest of the finale separate until they’re kissing without a word at the end.

and then there is the zutara healing scene, where katara heals zuko after he interferes and takes azula’s lightning to the chest when she’s aiming for katara.

Cut to Katara as she rolls Zuko on to his back and begins healing him. Zuko opens his eyes, feeling the pain lessen, and smiles weakly at Katara, who smiles back as she sheds a tear.

Zuko: Thank you, Katara.

Katara: I think I'm the one who should be thanking you.

it seems fair to me to say that one of the reasons the motifs of healing in the zutara are dynamic are so appreciated by their fans is because of how it contrasts to a lot of moments where the work katara does with her healing is under-appreciated. for one thing, it happens as part of a mutual exchange—katara heals zuko after he gets hurt saving her. (this also somewhat calls back to their scenes together in the crystal caves in the tcod, where she offers to heal his scar after they are trapped together and zuko extends her empathy.) it’s based in reciprocity. it’s also, as shown here, one of the few moments of explicit, heartfelt appreciation and thanks given for katara’s healing.

[canadianno]

TCOLC AU Bishop refs!

They're done holy FUCK. The art here is kind of old, so some of the proportions are a little wrong, but I don't really mind all that much. 15 hours and 89 layers later, all 5 bishops are done. On one canvas because... I didn't wanna make new ones I'm ngl.

Each bishop has an everyday outfit and a crusade outfit! If you're drawing them at any point (now or in the future) and you have questions about the designs, don't be scared to send an ask my way, I'm always happy to clarify stuff.

(Note: I would greatly appreciate it if people didn't make suggestive jokes surrounding any of the designs, I'm not comfortable with them! Love yall <3)

Ramblings below! Edited note: tumblr likes to completely break my posts when I add a cut sometimes, which happened here, so I'm not gonna put one in hopes that it doesn't kill my formatting again. Hopefully it automatically "read more"s this post. If it doesn't I'm very sorry 🙏

🌿 Leshy: It's to be noted that my Leshy is transmasc, literally just because I think he deserves it, it's cool as fuck. I really wanted to give him the classic top-surgery scars because, I'll be honest, they're fun to draw, but I had to find a reasonable explanation for it because he's not a mammal. Anyway that's how I ended up with an entire evolutionary explanation for why he would have those. I will never be given the chance to explain it in the fic ever, so it shall just be random information I have forever. I love him he's silly.

🍄 Heket: While I am a big supporter of tomboy Heket, I also think she deserves to be cool and wear pretty frills whenever the fuck she wants. She's awesome and her shirt is supposed to look like a mushroom. It's also worth noting that the crosses on the bishops heads are specific, with Heket having two crosses with double prongs. She has them like this in-game and there's probably a cooler explanation for it but. I have my own silly headcanons bc I do what I want! Also, since I can't decide for the fucking life of me if she's a toad or a frog, I've decided she's just. Both. Both of them. Her mom was a frog her dad was a toad. Is this possible irl? No but COTL is a fantasy world I do whatever the fuck I want.

🌑 Narinder: Main thing I note for Narinder is that he has distinct facial markings, you just have to look closely. Another note is that his clothes have a repeating cloud motif because of the fog in the gateway- which, trust, it was his own idea. Lamb doesn't know why he chose it but they're not gonna argue. Narinders' main robes are made of wool, but his crusade outfit is made of cotton so it's easier to repair if damaged. His crusade outfit has the Big Pants because he's mostly gotta fight with his feet now, since most of the time his hands don't function reliably enough to hold a weapon.

🪸 Kallamar: Kallamar is funny to me because he's the only one here who's plantigrade, meaning he's got human-esque legs. Another notable design aspect is that he has a tail, when squids do Not Normally Have Those. That's because my Kallamar isn't fully a squid, and you can kinda sorta blame my mutual for that. Not really it's me who gave him the tail. Anyway, no matter how you draw him or what outfit he's in those 3 dark red jewels on the golden chain thing gotta be on him somewhere- they're sentimental to him. He usually wears them as a crown, but in the crusade outfit they're around his neck to be safer. Also, on the crusade outfit, he has stolen a set of Shamuras gloves. Brat little brother <3

🔮 Shamura: Their main outfit really closely resembles their bishop robes and that is intentional! They made the robes themselves, and it would've been close to an exact match had the Lamb banned them from using golden colored cloth. This is only partially because Lamb doesn't like them, but also because they don't want the bishops trying to start a mutiny, and walking around in bishop robes is a pretty easy way to collect weaker followers like flies. Shamuras' crusade outfit is also pretty unique compared to the others, and one of two reasons is that it's meant to resemble their old crusade outfits when they were younger. The second reason is that they look really cool. The outfit is designed for mobility, mostly, and before you say anything, the hip windows are because Shamura usually holds close range weaponry in the second set of arms and hates the way they snag on fabric when its there.

[annabelle--cane]

tma s1 thing I just caught- in martin and sasha's statements, they both have a moment where they're describing the creature they encountered and stop themselves from using a gendered pronoun and go to "it" instead.

I could see those… thin, silver worms crawling in and out, and their black tips twitching as they squirmed through that… pitted… meat. I mean, it wasn’t human. It can’t have been. Sh-She… It took a step towards me and as it did so the worms began to writhe out of every hole and cavity, falling to the floor in a cascading… wave and starting to crawl towards me with… with alarming speed.

+

I didn’t want to call him Michael; it didn’t seem to fit somehow, and the way he said it made me think that it definitely was not his name. Still, it wasn’t like I had any other name for him. No, not for him. For it.

but martin doesn't refer to jane by pronouns for a while after that passage, and the first time he does is when he's having his "oh god was she just a sick woman I left to die" moment, and after that he reverts to using she and her pronouns for the rest of his statement. conversely, sasha uses it and its for michael the whole way through her statement after that, except for, debatably, this one line near the end. both the snarp and rq official transcripts have is down as "its," but I distinctly hear "his."

I looked up to see Michael, reaching into my shoulder. Its fingers were long and distorted as they reached through my skin, cutting it like paper. I screamed. After a few seconds, it withdrew its hand. Held there was a single silver worm, wriggling pathetically in his grip. I hadn’t even felt the thing burrowing into my arm.

to me these differences are interesting from a few angles, both from the martin/sasha and jane/michael sides of things (also just for clarity I'm going to use she/her for jane and he/him for michael going forward in this post).

michael consistently self-describes as non human, or slightly human but only begrudgingly and against his will, and to sasha's knowledge michael was never human at all, whereas jane is more simply a normal person who got creaturefied, so "it" and other traditionally non human language may just be a better fit for michael's reality than for jane's, but I also think the specific places where sasha and martin switch back to traditionally human pronouns are telling. in michael's case, it is the moment where sasha sees that he's directly saved her life, even though he did so by using a distinctly inhuman aspect of himself: his distorted hands. in jane's case, it's when martin contemplates whether she was in need of help and he abandoned her, and after contemplating that he doesn't try using "it" for her again. sasha re-humanizes michael when he is being vitally helpful, and martin re-humanizes jane when he thinks about her as vulnerable.

I also think martin trying to see jane as non human and not managing to keep it up even a little bit speaks to his reoccurring issue of being inconsistent in whom he dehumanizes and at what times. he wants to see jane as a monster when she's in his line of sight and scary and gross, but once he's away from her and conceptualizes of her as being theoretically vulnerable, he can only see her as a person.

[absolutehomosexuals]

The Infamous "Durge Is a Man" Essay

I - INTRODUCTION

There's one simple question that led us to developing this theory: "would Bhaal want a female heir?"

Bhaal created Durge to be his ideal successor: the hand who would've reaped death in the world, conquering it in His name.

Every detail we get about Durge's lore is tied to this objective, the entire purpose of Bhaal's creation.

The cult is obviously shown to us as patriarchal, which is hinted at from the sole fact they worship a male deity: the argument may come off as silly at first, since one could argue Gods do not understand nor care for the concepts of gender.

It would be a valid counterpoint, if it wasn't for the fact Bhaal used to be a human, having navigated the world as a fully grown man before he eventually became a God.

If we believe he created Durge in his ideal image, it seems much more intuitive for his offspring to be male.

II - THE MATTER OF SUCCESSION

We must note that Bhaal's plans heavily rely (as we can read in Durge's "diary" tab) on reproduction ; e.g "siring lots of Bhaalspawn".

This alone isn't coded as one sex or the other but, if we think of it in terms of convenience, a female heir wouldn't be your first choice for the task: women can only gestate one child per year and conceive in very specific windows of time within their cycle, while men can potentially impregnate countless women in the same time span and not suffer any physical disadvantages during gestation.

We should also consider women tend to develop a bond with their newborn and the latter needs to rely on them for survival during the first few months of their life, while a man:

1. has no such obligations from a social point view (especially in a medieval context, where bastard children were the norm)

2. isn't strictly needed by the child for survival, biologically speaking.

I doubt Bhaal was expecting his heir to keep track of her cycle, gestate for nine months with all the drawbacks that come with it, give birth risking death and spend the following months caring for a newborn – all of this, on repeat for years if not centuries.

"But he's a God, he could potentially speed up the process!"

Technically true, but why would he go through such trouble, if he could craft his ideal child as a male and avoid complications?

The game itself seems to agree with this theory, since you get the "Bhaal's stallion" line regardless of your Durge's gender, in one of the bad endings.

We could also consider the idea that reproduction = power, "spreeding the seed", to be a typically patriarchal concept.

Bhaal himself isn't fond of the idea of raising children, as he let Durge be raised by an adoptive family – a "regular" one no less, meaning he didn't even concern himself with choosing one.

III - IN-UNIVERSE MYSOGINY

There are many aspects of the religion that seem to glorify manhood, and for its leader to be a woman (by Bhaal's choice, no less) seems inconsistent.

Let's think of the infamous blessing granted to Bhaal's favourites, the Ecstasy of Murder, which basically consists in a pseudo prostatic orgasm.

Then we consider the presence of predominantly-male sexual crimes, both coming from Durge and other important figures within the cult.

We cannot deny necrophilia, for functional reasons, is extremely uncommon amongst women: necrophilic acts are typically carried out by penetrating a dead body, as it's almost the only pleasurable act you can perform on a corpse ; Durge being a known necrophiliac pre-lobotomy could be one of the many hints the character is meant to be read as male.

Not to mention the horrendous way in which Bhaalist female characters are treated in-universe, between Sarevok sexually abusing his daughter (and this concept being treated as completely normal by the narrative, as far as we know of) and Orin being constantly belittled.

We never hear of any male cultists undergoing the same treatment, meaning abusing women is the norm amongst Bhaal's faithful – yet again, a telltale sign of a patriarchal religion.

"But Orin isn't mistreated because of her sex, she's mistreated because she's not the true heir!"

Orin is, indeed, not Bhaal's biological daughter: she's related to Him by blood, but as Durge himself says, her blood is "diluted".

However, while he acknowledges she's not his biological sister, he still addresses her as such in multiple sources, meaning the cult leader himself doesn't care about her actual origins.

She's constantly portrayed as someone who gets talked down to, cast aside and her beliefs are harshly criticized both by Durge and others influential members such as Sarevok.

For Larian to choose a woman to fill this role could have been accidental, but we must admit the symbolism is quite clear.

Orin interprets murder as a form of art, while her Bhaalist peers frequently accuse of her misunderstanding her own faith, considering her too immature to lead the flock.

She's the only Bhaalist female character we're shown as remarkable, and she's coincidentally used as an example of someone the cult does not respect ; she's even biologically related to Bhaal and yet, she had to seize power by force.

IV - ROMANTIC SUBTEXTS

Another interesting matter are the characters commonly paired with Durge in fanworks: Durgetash and Durgestarion are the most popular romantic pairings according to ao3, and we cannot blame the fandom for catching up on the subtext.

Durge's "admiration" (as he calls it himself) towards Gortash is viewed as controversial and arises suspicion in-universe, to the point he feels the need to apologize to his Father and repent for an implicit sin.

While it would be scandalous to fraternize with Gortash even in a platonic matter – he's practically the leader of the rival cult –, the emphasis put on justifying their interactions has been interpreted by fans as romantic subtext.

The letter in which Durge addresses the issue is titled "Letter for Forgiveness", despite Gortash only being mentioned at the beginning, while the rest of the letter focuses on different topics entirely.

Right after expressing guilt for the way he views Gortash, Durge proceeds to repeat Bhaal's plan and promises to follow it, stressing that he would have made his Father proud regardless.

The letter overall comes off as an attempt to justify being attracted to Gortash and reassuring Bhaal that it wouldn't come in the way of their plans, as it would pose an enormous threat otherwise.

Durge being attracted to Gortash – if we choose to interpret him as a man – would come with a handful of important challenges: first of all, sympathizing with the 'enemy', implying Durge could abandon the idea of betraying him or even allow Gortash to do the same to him.

Second of all, being capable of such vulnerability that would come in the way of being a sentient weapon: a killing machine isn't supposed to feel pity, let alone experience something as foolish as forbidden love.

And thirdly, for Bhaal's heir to prefer the company of men is simply a disgrace, as it would come in the way of reproduction and possibly undermine his public image.

While all of this may have not been meant as a homosexual allegory, the fact you can find the Letter for Forgiveness on Durge's corpse if you play as Tav, still comes off as "bringing a secret to the grave".

Not to mention the note at the end of the letter, written by another cultist, reading: "Ha! Orin was right about her sibling." which is clearly a jab at what we mentioned above.

When you go to confront Orin in Act III (as Durge) about the fact she has been following you around town, she replies: "The little lordling has been whispering in your ears? He always knew how to tumble and twist your mind matter, leaving you knotted in his chords."

The matter of Durge's attraction to Gortash is seen as something silly and shameful at the same time: it's an open secret cult members dare to joke about, because they find it ridiculous.

If a hypothetical female heir of Bhaal had the slightest possibility of reproducing with the Chosen of Bane, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't find it as humorous – they find it hilarious because it's taboo, a powerful demigod developing a "school crush" on a male ally.

We should also talk about some of the in-game implications about Gortash, such as being someone who possibly "slept his way to the top": managing to charm and daze a much more powerful man on purpose sounds surprisingly in-character.

What we find even more interesting are the implications that come with Durgestarion, a pairing the writers are openly fond of.

We know both characters were characterized by the same writer, the latter going out of his way to include personalized romance interactions between the two: unlike other characters, romancing Astarion as Durge gives the player access to tons of new dialogue lines and greetings, sometimes making for a completely new experience compared to romancing him with a regular Tav.

Some hints may point to Durge being the "canonical" romance for Astarion, as many fans have speculated ; while one may disagree with that sentiment, we must admit it's not far fetched.

If we consider all of Astarion's canonical past relationships (meaning, the few ones he actually deems important and genuine) were with men, and the emphasis put on Durge's "admiration" towards Gortash + the incessant pressure Bhaal puts on him to reproduce, the thought of these characters romancing each other in an alternative timeline actually sounds liberating.

Some Durge-specific lines Astarion says during his romance arc seem to be aimed at a male character, rather than sounding gender neutral: the first example that comes to mind is "Are you alright now, or is today a 'I will wed you with a delicate veil of blood blooming over your white curls' kind of day?"

Astarion sarcastically references Durge "wedding him", thus putting the player in a stereotipical "groom" role from the start, with the veil resembling the one brides typically wear during the cerimony.

If we consider all other aspects mentioned in this theory, the line reads as somewhat... male-coded.

If we want to be truly insane about this theory – and of course, we do – , we could even add a "gay allegory" element to the equation.

A vampire and the spawn of an evil deity, excluded members of society who'd usually feel a compulsion to hide, are implied to fall in love by the narrative.

V - ACTING CHOICES

Finally, we come to the voice actor: while a specific actor was chosen to play the character and is regarded as the iconic Durge VA, Larian didn't concern themselves with choosing a female voice actor to include the possibility of a female Durge, which is why we can only hear his intro in Neil Roberts' voice.

VI - CONCLUSION

With all of this taken into account, a female Durge seems to be an after-thought, if not directly a fantasy or a headcanon that the game gives you the possibility to play out.

The original narrative, as we can see, best accomodates a male character.

[pixeltwix]

-Fiddleford Missing His Family-

To me, one of the most heartbreaking details of Gravity Falls is just..everything McGucket related, but specifically him before he starts even getting his family back after Weirdmageddon

Because he spent the entire series and probably the last thirty years trying to recreate his family

It speaks volumes to me that despite a shunning son and a divorce on his pallet, and zero memory or how any of this even happened, that he’s desperately trying to recreate a life he doesn’t even remember but knows he at least had at one point and wants again

Obviously we know he did have a wife and son, hell he’s introduced as a father first and foremost in the story and I think most people forget that, but through and through he is inherently a family man

I myself struggle to understand this mindset, and most do as well, but some people genuinely want to have a family. Like that’s genuinely their dream and their goal in life alongside their occupational dreams, and Fiddleford completely comes off as that kinda guy. I think he just struggled to balance himself thinking he couldn’t do fifty fifty and instead put one hundred percent into things separately and fell short in both categories here and there

Regardless, we know Tate, and even though season one never planned on making McGucket anything other than a comedic side character we know that changed with season two in the shows new direction

All that really does is complicate things for why Tate is here. Obviously we can fill in the blanks with the lore later given last minute, maybe he wanted to see if his father was actually up in Gravity Falls, maybe he wanted to see if he could get through to him and it ‘wasn’t as bad’ as what he had heard or assumed, but that’s not relevant in this post at the moment

What I’m focusing on instead is the fact that just because Fiddleford can’t bridge the gap and connect with his actual son, because he has zero clue what it is he’s done, it doesn’t stop him from being in the community and playing roles that a ‘normal father’ would be doing for his kids

Ie reading town history to local kids (even if he just wound up eating the books after) it’s usually still an important thing parents tend to want to do with their kids (the teaching aspect)

Being there as a chaperone on a first date (I know it’s not the first for Gideon & Mabel, but the point is still there) as most ‘normal’ parents want to be active in their kids lives and make sure they’re being safe, & making good choices in the world

Being at the Sev’Ral Times concert (later seen crowd surfing, which honestly still cracks me up) but nevertheless he shows up out of the blue to be vocally supportive of the girls excitement for the concert and their plans

Yknow, as a parent ought to be when taking their kid to their favorite bands concert

Annnd then of course, far less subtle to anything else mentioned before regarding an image to general parenthood, we have raccoon wife

Again, there’s nothing subtle about this, it’s raccoon wife and it is bizarre that no one in town questions this. “Crazy local coot thinks he’s married to a raccoon? Yeah, makes sense.” (Though tbf there’s a local man married to a woodpecker, so ig it’s whatever for everyone)

Again x2 I’m not sure what to add on here because it feels pretty blatant what bro is shooting for mental wise here, it just makes me wonder wHAt about a raccoon reminds him of Emma May?

Maybe it’s just the pale round face, dark eyes, and brown hair that makes it click in his head

Regardless I still think it’s sweet that even when he’s gotten some recollection of himself back he’s still concerned for the raccoons in the apocalypse

Anywho, call me an emotional loser if you want, but the concept of this old man wanting his family back for some thirty odd years and not knowing how to get them back so he substitutes it with other things is horribly depressing

I can at least rest easy knowing his relationship with Tate has improved after Weirdmageddon :)

[horangare]

some love

pairing : chan x reader

content : angst, smut (mdni), fluff/comfort

in which : you’re worried that your boyfriend isn’t really in love with you. he is determined to prove you wrong.

warnings : you feel unloveable but chan loves you sm, oral (f receiving), fingering, declarations of love, mentions of yeonjun (txt), you’re mentioned to be kind of inexperienced

wc : 2.1K words

It’s so late. Too late. You’re not even sure why you’re even bothering to stay up waiting for him.

But it’s not his fault, that’s what some desperate part of you is saying. He’s busy. He’s trying.

You wished you weren’t so selfish. You wished that you could believe yourself when you said and thought those things. You wished that your mind wasn’t your own worst enemy.

With a heavy heart, you retreated to the bedroom—your bedroom. It had been two and a half months now and Chan didn’t even sleep in the same bed with you. Was that normal for new couples? Or was it just more proof of this one sided infatuation you were labeling as your relationship with him?

Every day the distance between you only seemed to grow, and every night you would hold yourself in your own arms and pretend you didn’t care.

Chan was your first real boyfriend ever since your short time in high school with Choi Yeonjun. He was nice and there was no doubt he liked you back, you just couldn’t comprehend the fact that someone like him would want to be with someone like you. There was no way Yeonjun could ever really love you, just like there was no way Chan could.

The front door opened, quietly, Chan had a habit of trying to keep quiet when he came home late to avoid waking you. Most of the time, you were still wide awake, having grown tired of waiting for him. Not that he checked to ever actually see if you were actually asleep in there. Maybe it was better that he didn’t, you’d rather he not see you like that.

You wonder what possessed him to check tonight.

“Oh, you’re still awake?”

He spoke gently, quietly, and you could see the surprise etched into his features. How could he be surprised when he never bothered to see for himself?

You nodded, though your eyes were looking in a different direction. “Yeah. I’ve been up for a little while.”

“Were you waiting for me again?”

Chan saw through you like glass. Sometimes it felt like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and it didn’t feel fair. You wanted to know how he felt with just a look, or a word, or a touch. It wasn’t fair.

“No, I was—”

“You don’t have to lie.” He shrugged, walking closer to the bed so he could be closer to you. “I told you that you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wasn’t.” Your tone was nothing short of defensive, and there was no doubt that he picked up on it. Which of your quirks or tells didn’t he pick up on?

He’s so stubborn. To think it’s that same stubbornness that brought you together in the first place is almost enough to make you laugh.

“So what were you doing, then?”

“Nothing, just…” Just what? Doubting every aspect of your relationship? Questioning yourself about whether he actually loved you or not? Digging yourself deeper into your own hole of self-pity?

“I was just thinking.”

Chan nodded slowly, allowing your words to sink in. There was an uncomfortable silence that enveloped the room for several minutes as neither of you spoke to each other. It’s not like it was anything you weren’t used to.

“Thinking about what?”

You’re not sure why that specific question struck a nerve, but it did. “Can we do this interrogation some other time, Chan? I’m tired. I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“So when will we talk about it?” He mumbled. “I hardly ever see you. We don’t even sleep in the same room. If we don’t talk now, when will we?”

“I don’t know, Chan!” You finally turned your head in his direction. “Does it matter? Nothing is going to change if we talk. We’ll still sleep in different beds not seeing each other and pretending like this relationship is real. What is talking going to do?”

He hears the pain in your voice before he sees it on your face. How it cracks and shakes just a little, all your suffering starting to bubble to the surface. He wishes you would’ve told him something sooner, because now it seems you’re only so many words away from your breaking point.

You move away when he comes closer, and the distance between you seems wider than ever. For once you wish he would back down, let go of his stubbornness, and not be so forgiving.

“Communication is important for relationships, [Y/n].” He’s even closer now, so close that you can’t move away even if you tried. “I just want to understand you better.”

Chan waits for you to speak. He could wait forever if that’s what it takes. However long it would take to get you to tell him something, anything, he would wait.

“I just want you to…to love me, Chan.” The second half of your sentence was whispered, too shameful to be spoken in a voice any louder than that. Chan’s face was laced with confusion.

“You think that I don’t love you, [Y/n]?”

It felt like a trick question. No matter what answer you gave, the answer would do nothing to make you feel any better about the situation. Regret was working its way into your mind, and you cursed yourself for even saying anything in the first place.

“Do you not?” You turned away again. “Love me, I mean?” You doubted he needed the extra clarification, but the last thing you wanted now was an answer that wasn’t direct.

“I have no reason to feel otherwise.” He brought his hands to your face, cupping them and slowly turning your head until you were facing him again.

Yes he does, you thought. There were plenty of reasons for him to not feel any affection for you. Maybe he just wanted to spare your feelings. You weren’t sure why. You chose not to answer him.

His next words were sudden, desperate. “I can prove it. If…that’s what you want.”

You try to look away again, but now you can’t. He won’t let you. You don’t know why you felt so nervous at his proposal. You did want him to prove it, you wanted it more than you’ve wanted anything. Perhaps it was the unknown possibilities hidden beneath such a simple string of words.

He was desperate. So were you.

“Okay,” you decided to say. “prove it.”

Chan has only kissed you once before—on the cheek, and only for a moment. This kiss felt similar to that. Sweet, gentle, like he was testing the waters. The last thing he wanted to do now was scare you off, not when he had finally made so much progress. You clench your hands into fists at your sides, not quite sure what to do or where to put them. “Are you okay?” He mumbled against your lips.

“I—I don’t know.” You pulled away from him and immediately missed the feeling of his lips against yours. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Chan hummed in understanding, gently caressing your face in an attempt to soothe you. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”

He was being honest. You wanted to believe that he was telling you the truth, and you wanted to believe him. He was going to take care of you, and he was going to prove that he loved you.

“You can relax, it’s just me,” he whispered against your skin. You mumbled a weak apology and tried to get yourself to loosen up while your boyfriend kissed a path down your body; from your lips to your jaw to your neck, getting lower and lower…

You felt warm, and it only made you tense up again. “Chan…”

“I know, it’s okay.”

His thumbs traced circles on your inner thighs, and you felt a little bit dizzy. The act was so soothing, so intimate.

So loving.

You feel too embarrassed to keep watching him when he pushes apart your thighs. He’s so close—closer than he’s ever been to you in a long time. You can’t believe it’s taken this long just to have him be with you like this.

“Is it okay if I take these off?” He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. Other than a shirt that is a size too big for you, the cloth material sticking to the area between your legs is the only other piece of clothing you have on. You figure it was a smart decision.

“Yeah.”

He treats you so carefully, sliding the fabric down your legs and puts it aside. You’ve always expected that he’d be the type to ravage you, to fuck you senseless and leave you crying and begging him for more.

It’s not like that at all. Not even close. Instead; your sweet boyfriend is lying between your legs and looking at you with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. This version of him seems more fitting. You like it.

He shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re so perfect.”

You were going to argue against it. There was no such thing as the perfect person, and even if there was it wouldn’t be you. Chan thought otherwise. To him, you were perfection personified, and he wanted you to realize it for yourself. Whatever you were going to say came out as a whine instead of proper words.

Your inner thighs are soon littered with hickeys, there’s hardly any skin left untouched by his lips. The anticipation is eating you alive—having him only inches away from where you need him the most and yet he’s choosing to keep you in suspense like this. When you start to squirm, Chan shakes his head and pinches your thigh. It’s not hard enough to hurt too badly, it’s just enough to warn you to keep still, and you do.

Thankfully he doesn’t wait any longer. Whatever space was left between him and your dripping core is now gone when he starts to lick long, warm stripes up your slit.

“Oh, Chan, fuck…” Your breath is shaky, and so are your hands—which you’ve finally managed to tear away from your sides and give them a new home in Chan’s hair. He hummed, and the vibration traveled right through you in the most pleasurable way possible.

He ate you out as if he were dying and you were his cure. It’s almost like he’s the one who needed this and not the other way around. His thirst for you is unquenchable, and if you’d let him, he’d spend an eternity buried between your thighs. His nose bumps against your clit over and over again, and the stimulation is heightened when he circles one of his fingers at your hole before guiding it inside you.

You try to speak again but all that comes out is a loud whine of Chan’s name. He pumps his finger in and out of you before adding another and repeating the motions.

“I love you,” He murmurs against your skin. “Always will, okay? I. Love. You.” With every word he curls his fingers to reach that spot deep inside of you that he knows will have you falling apart in no time.

“I—shit—I love you too, Chan. M-More than anything.” Now your whole body is shaking and you can practically taste how close you are. Chan never lets up, not even for a moment. He seems to give up on being gentle and opts for something more effective so he can get you to cum—sucking on your clit and speeding up the pace of his fingers. When it finally happens, it’s with a cry of his name and a light, blissful feeling that makes you smile dazedly.

Chan’s mouth and chin are shiny with your juices, you can see his face shine in the dim light from the lamp on your beside table. He’s about to kiss you, so eager to taste you again, that he almost forgets to whip his mouth. When he raises his head, he gasps.

“You’re crying,” he says softly. You shake your head at him, the faint traces of a smile still on your lips. You are crying, but they’re not sad tears. Not this time.

You hold his face in your hands, and it’s still a little sticky. “I’m happy.”

“You are?”

“Yeah…I am.” You nodded, and he did too. “Thank you, Chan. I love you.”

Chan kissed you again. A kiss like before. A loving kiss.

“I love you too.”

[nylloth]

My opinion about Arcane s2 (mostly Viktor)

I'm trying to be neutral on this, but I'm upset with what they did to Viktor.

I was wrong about their relationship with Sky (but I had hope), you can see he never really cared for her and the animators put their all into conveying that. Plus, let's say Sky represents Viktor's humanity and Viktor himself gives up on her. And it's a lot easier for him to give her up than it is for Jayce, who he's trying to show this new “world” to.

They have a lot of gay moments with Jayce, I don't know why the writers call it “family”. It's really hard to see family in that. It seems like at some point they decided to change the plot, because at the end Jayce and Viktor just disappear and no one just doesn't care what Jayce has with Mel.

The thing I didn't like the most was how they changed Ryze, that now Ryze is Viktor, the all-powerful mage. We know from the documentary that it was Ryze at one point. That would make more sense than Viktor traveling through time and constantly dooming himself to a series of miseries. But then again, they added the “all for Jayce” aspect to it.

You can see it's supposed to be a different character, right?

I really didn't like how they treated Sky because obviously she wasn't an evil manipulative core. Viktor killed her twice for his own purposes. Once by accident, the second time on purpose. Look, you add a girl who is IN LOVE with a man, make her die twice for him, and show WHY he doesn't care. It's a dirty act. Amanda said she was “proud to write Sky”, I don't know what there is to be proud of. As a woman, it was painful for me to watch. You didn't have to do that. Did you mean to say the character is gay? You don't have to humiliate women to do that.

I always hoped Viktor wouldn't have any romantic innuendos because feelings, for Herald, are a weakness. But the fact that they're indulging JayVik fans makes it look NOTHING like that. Like, I'm not a fan of this ship, but even I don't consider what they showed as brotherly feelings. Especially from Viktor's side. He is literally too concerned with Jayce's opinion.

I also think that the writers largely emphasized the clips and fights, but didn't add to the story itself. I mean Silco's deep thoughts in the first season on political topics and the theme of family in general was shown much better.

Herald is essentially non-existent. It's a character for the last two episodes who is immediately killed off because of a few words from Jayce. Viktor returns and they vaporize somewhere. I take it this is starting a recurring time loop.

They kind of tried to put in Viktor's “here he's come to the realization on his own that humanity is bad”, but they did it SO FAST and literally because of one event that it looked bad. Yeah, it's not about hexcore. VIKTOR SUPPOSEDLY CAME TO THIS ON HIS OWN. Why? Because Jayce shot him, and then Jayce helped him realize otherwise. No, really, what was that?

I also didn't like the redesign. I was hoping the mask would look different, but it looks HORRIBLE.

It's supposed to give the impression that Viktor “shut down and withdrew into himself”, they also tried to make him a “deity”, but since it only lasted 20 minutes before he went back to his normal state, it didn't make any sense… Anyway… I sympathize with everyone who loved Viktor specifically, outside jayvik ship (happy for you guys). I know they are excited, but this is not Viktor's story. You see, Viktor doesn't have his own personal story now, he's too connected to Jayce. You could say he did everything and nothing at the same time. Because he keeps running this time loop, but he's running it because of Jayce's influence.

Waiting for his updated lore to read….. idk I'll read it and forget it like a bad dream.

[scoobydoodean]

if the spn queer poll showed me anything, it's that sam girls don't even like the show version of sam 😭 i can't even fault them for that tbh

(before i get misunderstood!) i don't hate show sam personally, i love him, warts and all. the sam girls just take a lot of creative liberties with the fanon version and i get the appeal of that

Fanon Sam is just so not my jam that I will never get it I don't think. I just don't see it as an improvement. But funnily enough, I was just thinking a little while ago that the reason queer Sam meta falls so flat for me is that every time I see it, it's based around what I regard as aspects of Sam that are misunderstood. Specifically, the idea that Sam was rejected by his family ever since he was a child because he was a freak. In the typical queer Sam narrative, Sam's "otherness" and his family's rejection makes him queer-coded. If you take it a step further, then within this framework, Sam is "forced" for the entire series to assimilate into hunting instead of being allowed to be "himself". So the predominant queer Sam meta overlaps with the interpretation of Sam as this autonomy-less baby who is forced to be a hunter his whole life, and that just isn't Sam's story.

In reality, Sam suffered from childhood neglect, and that neglect gave him some hangups, but he rejected his family from a fairly young age because they were freaks. On a very surface level, we can say he rejected them because John wanted him to be someone Sam wasn't, but when we dig just a tiny bit deeper... the whole first season slowly unravels all of John and Sam's similarities, and the reason Sam rejected his family is that they weren't normal and being normal was what Sam initially wanted most desperately at that time. Over the first few seasons, Sam slowly comes to the realization that he loves his family, that he doesn't want to be normal, and that hunting with his freak family is where he's at his happiest. I have a whole tag for this called #sam the hunter, but I'd like to focus on this bit of dialogue in 4.17 "It's A Terrible Life" when Sam is actually forced to assimilate into a normal life, because I think it fits into what I regard as a more compelling queer Sam meta where hunting actually represents Sam embracing queerneess, and normal life is Sam trying to/being forced to assimilate into a cishet mold:

SAM: No. I—I just can't shake this feeling like I—like I don't belong here. You know? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle. DEAN: I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way. SAM: No. Well, look, it's more than that. Like, I don't like my job. I don't like this town. I don't like my clothes. I don't like my own last name. I don't know how else to explain it, except that...it feels like I should be doing something else. There's just something in my blood. Like I was destined for something different. What about you? You ever feel that way?

Sam describing being forced to be normal by Zachariah and losing his life as a freak hunter like... dysphoria??? Anyone??? He doesn't know who he really is, but he knows something isn't right—he doesn't like the image that greets him in the mirror. He feels stuffed into a ill-fitting normal life—forced to perform something that is not him, and he's desperate to get out to the point he asks Dean Smith—a relative stranger—to run away with him and go be ghost hunters.

5.12 can serve as another example, where Sam is again shoved into someone else's ill-fitting normal life and their actual body, and acts like an angry wet cat about it the entire time, culminating in this exchange:

SAM Yeah, I know. I'm telling you, kid – I wish I had your life. GARY You do? Thanks. SAM Get out of here. GARY and NORA head for the house. DEAN That was a nice thing to say. SAM I totally lied. That kid's life sucked ass. All that apple-pie, family crap? It's stressful. Trust me – we didn't miss a damn thing.

I think that when we embrace the idea that Sam is ultimately a hunter at the core and that hunting is where he feels most himself and most accepted, and allow hunting in of itself (at least in Sam's case) to serve as a metaphor for self-acceptance, and allow his family he initially rejected to be a family of freaks (i.e. queer), and allow college and the push for normality to represent him as a queer man desperately trying to assimilate into "normal" society only to realize happiness comes with embracing who he really is... we stumble across a much more compelling queer Sam meta.

[leaves-fall-down]

I’m just very confused on why you guys think Jk Rowling is denying the holocaust. She isn’t denying the holocaust itself.

She said that Trans people weren’t the first ones to be persecuted, and that’s true. The Nazis primarily were against the Jews. She didn’t say that the trans people weren’t targeted at all as far as I know. Im very confused.

Alright. Since you wrote this from what I'm assuming is good faith, I will reply as politely as I can. Sorry if anything comes off as rude, I just have a somewhat blunt way of speaking and talking.

Despite being a best selling author of books with a political message, all of which smack you over the head with it, JKR isn't particularly good at making arguments for her beliefs. So, any confusion is alright, and forgiven, because she herself is a confusing debater.

So, *I* did not say she's denying the entire holocaust. I don't know what other folks are saying, but *I* never said she's denying the entire Holocaust-she was denying the very specific act, an atrocity really, of nazis burning books about trans people. However, denying any atrocity of the Holocaust is still, y'know, bad. To me, denying one aspect of it is just as gross and harmful as denying the whole thing. But that's me and my view.

Second, nowhere in the original tweet is the person in the screenshot that she's replying to saying that trans people were the first victims of the nazis. (see below). They aren't saying that at all, what they're saying is that trans books/research were burned by the nazis (Which. Uh. They were!). In her original post, JKR denied book burnings done by Nazis, specifically books about trans people. Which is verifiable and correct. The nazis did in fact do that. So yes, she's denying an aspect of the holocaust. That is objectively what she's doing.

Then, later (see below), likely because she was mad at this other girl for pointing out that her tweet is spreading false information (and again, is specifically denying an atrocity of the holocaust), Rowling herself is the one who switches it up from "Uh, nu uh never happened!" to "Well no no I'm just saying they didn't burn all of the books in Germany and that they weren't the first victims!"

The poster, Alejandra here, calls her out again (see below). Because she never said that! The person there in the original screenshot that she's posting also doesn't say that anywhere in their original tweet!

Then, instead of just apologizing, she decided to move the goalposts and accuse Alejandra of lying, specifically of lying about a point that JKR was the one to switch to, and then used an entirely different tweet to accuse this girl of lying about something she and the screenshotted person never even said. She's doing this because she's embarrassed that someone called her out for denying an atrocity of the holocaust, that's whats going on here.

Again: the person she was originally responding to didn't say that trans people were the first victims or that every last book on them in Germany was destroyed, and this Alejandra person certainly didn't say that either, so now JKR is quite literally accusing this girl (who she wasn't even originally arguing with!) of lying over a third separate person's tweet, and over a point that JKR herself was the one to switch over to in the first place. Because she's embarrassed and mad that she was called out as a denier of part of the holocaust over her first tweet.

And please don't give me the argument of "oh well technically Alejandra asked where anyone said that, though 🥺". JKR moved the goalposts and accused this girl of lying because she got embarrassed, and then pulled out a third separate person's tweet out, because she's simply embarrassed for being called out as a holocaust atrocity denier. She was so embarrassed and flustered over being a holocaust atrocity denier that she quite literally moved the goalposts of her argument instead of just apologizing for denying part of the holocaust. Like a normal person hopefully would.

If Rowling originally just wanted to argue that trans people weren't the first victims, then she should have posted a response to that second screenshot she had in the first place, instead of the one she originally posted. But we all have eyes here, and can see that what she originally did was deny an atrocity of the holocaust entirely through her original tweet. Everything after came through sheer embarrassment at being called out, and "no I'm just saying trans people weren't the first victims!" is deflection on her end, because she is embarrassed that she was called out and corrected.

TL;DR: JK Rowling is a holocaust atrocity denying bigot. That's it. That's what she's revealed herself as, and when corrected, she simply moved the goalposts instead of apologizing. That's a solid and morally sound reason for anyone to no longer consume her work if transphobia by itself wasn't enough.