#he just needs a lot of body autonomy

[omg-snakes]

Peppercorn Bing Bong is a weird horse

[wormy-worm]

ok u know what maybe if the world isn't ready for sunrazer post that means that the world IS ready for Amoveous siblings post. This is Milo and Enho and theyre my DARLINGS and i love them SO MUCH. i have. SOOOOOOOO many thoughts abt them but after the previous post massacre i do not really feel like typing all of that xoxo love <3

[anotherpapercut]

one of the kids at work never listens or does what he's told and we have like the same problems with him every day so the other staff all kind of hate him at this point so they'll yell at him for doing extremely minor shit and today he said "how come you're the only staff member who cares about me" and it made me really fucking sad but it's not like I can tell the grown adults I work with what to do so I just have no idea how to help the situation

[rindomness]

rin i am so deeply unwell about cecil palmer.

his mother didn't talk to him except to prophesise his death or remind him he doesn't exist.

his dad made him climb into a tree and get eaten by the smiling god??

he doesn't remember his childhood.

he used to go back to his abandoned childhood home and sleep on the sofa. it's probably demolished now.

he can't go to the grocery store anymore because he's afraid of auctions. and for good reason !!

he was raised by his sister and she always resented him for it.

he describes his family history as a ghost story. his childhood was a ghost story. his life is a ghost story.

he keeps having to watch other versions of himself die.

he didn't choose to be the voice of night vale, it was chosen for him whether he liked it or not. he probably can't quit or resign, he'll probably be the voice until he dies.

leonard burton died in his arms. his interns keep dying or leaving or growing older than him and moving on with their lives while he stays where he is.

his main coping mechanism is Denial and drinking to forget

he dies in a tree every year???? interesting lifestyle choice

terrible things keep happening and he can't do anything about it except narrate !!

also a mirror is gonna kill him. how is he supposed to deal with that. can he not go to walmart?? cause they sell mirrors at walmart !! does he have to call the store before coming in like "hiiii can u pls cover your mirrors or put them away". does carlos do most of the shopping just in case? then what did he do before carlos? does he have mirrors on his car? do his friends cover their mirrors when they know he's coming over? do all reflective surfaces make him nervous? what is it like knowing that such an everyday item can kill you? does he wake up every morning and wonder if today is the day?

SORRY FOR THIS you just reminded me of 171 and that episode makes me feral

DUDE ME TOO WE CAN BE UNWELL ABOUT THIS WEIRD GUY TOGETHER

the tree thing makes me unhinged like WHAT is going ON with that. if it is the smiling god that brings up even more questions. mostly questions about the smiling god honestly!

his entire family is a wreck i really do hope that part of him and Abby talking again was them, like. talking about that a little bit because could you IMAGINE being in that position. like. what do you even do about that

him in 171 being like did your mother tell you she was an oracle before she left like WAUGH. we know that his position as the Voice was prophesied his mom was an oracle was she the one who told him? if so was that the only interaction they had that wasn't her telling him he was going to die/didn't exist or fucking hiding from him? considering his Entire familial situation it's a wonder he's as functional as he is.

the mirrors i want to scream about the mirrors ok . ok. like. YEAH does it apply to every reflective surface or just mirrors? going grocery shopping at all has to be a nightmare yeah no kidding. you know those mirrors sometimes in the drink aisle? how the fuck do you deal with that? do you just shut your eyes? do you just avoid it entirely? I know carlos doesnt do all their shopping bc cecil keeps reading off requests for him to pick stuff up from the store in texts so like How did he deal with that. do night vale stores just not have mirrors?

driving must be a nightmare too you're right i didn't even think about that before holy shit. Can he drive? How? You need to use your mirrors while you're driving. does he walk everywhere? does he have like a bike? a scooter even? i think he can drive bc of first date but like that must be So stressful. I'm just. so. so mentally ill about the mirrors. he was so fucking stressed out by eunomia's visor it made me stressed out how do you lead a functioning life that way

in conclusion thank you and i wanna chew electrical wires about this man

[whatswrongwithblue]

At a costume party Alastor is dressed as a pirate, and you're dressed as a bar wench... You find yourself drunk and fumbling desperately in a dark closet, him holding the door shut so no one walks in, while pinning your to the wall, while you work yourself up and down his cock.

💜😘😈

You know me, I had to make it just a teensy bit darker and rougher than the prompt required, but I think you're gonna like it.

Summary/TW: possessive Alastor, oral (both receiving), vaginal fingering, cock riding, creampie, alcohol consumption, biting/blood play.

Trick or Tease

You had been with Alastor for a while now and while it wasn’t exactly rare that you two were intimate, you had never seen him openly stare at you like he was doing that night.

Sex with Alastor was always an event that required lots of buildup prior and sometimes it had little to do with you.

If the two of you had spent hours of quality alone time together – dancing or talking – he might make love to you in a slow, tender fashion. The kind of long, sultry love-making that made your toes curl, your heart sing, and left no room for doubt of the depth and intensity of Alastor’s affection for you.

Other times he would return to the hotel in a quiet, seething rage and you would slink off to your room, knowing he would come and find you, and take what he needed from you. Those were the times he fucked you. It was always a brutal act and he took you in such aggressive, carnal ways that there was always a touch of fear in your heart for him then. With his cock slamming into you, drawing out each of your orgasms almost against your will, he reminded you of the sheer power imbalance in your relationship. And when he came, he always bit you, filling himself with your blood as he likewise filled you with him cum; marking you and devouring you so that you knew you were his. Reminding you that you should feel lucky to be in such a position; because if you weren’t, you’d likely be dead.

But outside of your most private moments, he rarely touched you. A chased kiss to the back of your hand before he left on the errand was the only real show of affection he would perform in front of others.

So when you had come down the stairs in your costume and he continued to stare you down from across the room, you weren’t sure what to make of it. In fact, you assumed wrongly as first that he was angry at you for your choice of costume.

Your bar maid outfit was far from slutty as far as Hell’s opinion on the matter went, but it certainly had more cleavage than your day to day outfits showed. Those tits of yours were pushed up high and looking round and inviting, sure, but otherwise the outfit was fairly modest. With a long, heavy skirt, and an apron designed to look well used and authentic, you were hardly the most scantily clad member of the hotel. Even Charlie, in her bunny costume, was showing off the entire expanse of her legs and even her lower ass cheeks and Vaggie certainly looked like she had no complaints about her girlfriend’s attire.

Again, you caught Alastor’s attention and with an irritated flush, you tried pulling up the ruffles of your shirt just a little more.

You shouldn’t care what he thought. It was your body and you still had autonomy in this relationship, or so you had been led to believe. And for fuck’s sake, the vamps and flappers of his day showed off more skin a hundred years ago.

After adjusting your clothes, you looked back up at him in time to see his eyes narrow even more as he watched you over the rim of his whiskey glass.

You huffed and grabbed your drink from the bar and down half of it in one swallow.

Fuck this.

You should be enjoying yourself. This was a party, for Satan’s sake, and it was suppose to be a rare fun night in Hell. And Alastor was looking way too yummy in his pirate costume to be acting like such a bastard when all you wanted to do was enjoy the eye candy that was your lover for the evening.

Instead, you avoided him, not wanting him to sour your mood any further. So you drank and danced, usually with Charlie, but often with Cheri or Angel, and whenever it was with the latter, you ended up with another drink in your hand.

As the night went on, you almost forgot about Alastor and his stupid, angry face. But then you realized you had gotten far more intoxicated than you intended to and you stumbled your way from the dance floor, your drunken, lonely heart searching for him as your irritation with him was washed away by the booze. All you could remember were those tight pants and the eye patch that had been traded in place of his usual monocle. You wanted to run your hands through the ruffles of his shirt before ripping them off of him.

But then you couldn’t find Alastor. As much as you searched through the crowd swarming the hotel lobby, you couldn’t find those familiar red ears and little antlers. Even through your drunken haze, trepidation began to bloom in your stomach, twisting your organs into knots of anxiety.

You remembered his anger then and in a rush of regret, realized avoiding him had been the wrong course of action.

Feeling flushed with alcohol and guilt, you swept your eyes over the dance floor one last time, no longer able to absorb the happiness and light atmosphere in the room. All you could see were the mistakes you had made that night. So you left without saying goodbye to anyone, wandering down the empty hallway that would lead you to your room and hopefully some form of reconciliation.

You blinked in confusion as the hallway suddenly went dim, the lights flickering to low before going out completely. In your drunken stupor, you weren’t sure what was happening, until a pair of arms grabbed your roughly from behind.

And then you were dissolving, falling, flying, spinning . . .

You came to in a tiny dark room, illuminated by a singular, pathetic lightbulb dangling above your head, as Alastor loomed over you, pressing you against the wall.

Your head spun for a moment longer as you got your bearings. Transporting you by shadow had been a mean trick as you often got a little motion sick from it even when sober. But your breath caught in your throat, stalling your nausea, as you looking up with shaking pupils to see Alastor’s blazing red eyes boring into you.

Before you could speak, he had a clawed hand on your jaw and pushed you harder into the wall behind you.

“Did you really think teasing me all night was a good idea?”

“I’m sorry- ” you squeaked out as he lunged at you but then his mouth was at your neck. As he sucked and kissed your flesh down to your shoulder, a mix of confusion and arousal began to course through your muddled mind. “Teasing you?” you stammered. “You think I was teasing you?”

“Wearing this?” he said, leaning lower and forcing the hem of your blouse lower to expose more of the swell of your cleavage before he took a mouthful of your curves, the sharp edges of his teeth digging in enough to feel the sting. “Not speaking to me,” he said when he let go of your breast with a pop. “Dancing with others. Always keeping me in your line of sight.”

“You – you liked the costume? I thought . . . I thought you were angry?”

“Angry?” Alastor yanked the loose collar of your blouse off your shoulders and you obediently pulled your arms free of the sleeves, exposing the strapless bra beneath. “Why would I be angry at you showing off a bit of your beauty?”

He reached behind you, unhooking the back of your bra and made you watch as he burned it in his grasp before turning his attention to your breasts.

“Your only mistake dear, was not making it clear that beautiful body belonged to me,” he said as he cupped your mounds; massaging and pinching your nipples between his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back to the wall behind you, arching your chest into his hands. “It is, it’s all yours.”

That heavy skirt was being lifted now as Alastor brought it higher and higher, exposing inch after inch of your thighs until he had the fabric bunched up at your hips. He bent down on his knees and you leaned your hips forward as he pressed his face into you, leaving teasing, tender kisses along the top band of your lacy underwear.

“Hold this,” he directed and you took the folded fabric of your skirt in both your hands as Alastor hooked a careful claw under your thong and pulled it down your legs. “I think a little teasing is in store for you, don’t you agree?”

You only nodded as you stepped out of your underwear and he guided one leg up onto his shoulder and felt him continue his path of kisses along the inside of your thigh and all around the outer edges of your lower lips.

Whimpering at the close contact of his lips and the heat of his breath ghosting across your moist opening, you clutched onto your skirts and ached for more.

His tongue darted out, dragging a long but feather light lick along your slit, making your hips rock as you tried to ground into him.

“So wet for me already,” he hummed and praised you with one hard suck on your clit before returning to his tongue to its torturous administrations. Slow, light, cruel strokes along your cunt that had you nearly crying out for more.

“I was thinking about you.”

“Think about me?” he asked as he slipped a single finger inside you, just past your entrance. “While dancing with others?”

His long, slender digits stroked your insides in a come hither motion, making your legs tremble in pleasure.

It wasn’t enough to let you come, just enough to keep you on the edge, begging for more, and he knew it. Alastor was going to make you work for it, make you apologize and beg for more before he let you finish.

“I came looking for you. I wanted you. I was just scared.”

“Scared?” He brought his lips back to you, swirling his tongue around your clit, giving you a small reward for your admittance of fear he clearly liked hearing about. You whined and rocked your hips into his mouth, only catching your breath enough to reply when he pulled away; only touching you with that solitary finger still inside you and stroking you along to a release it refused to give.

“You looked so angry.”

“Hmmm, your mistake,” he said and looked up at you with a mischievous smile. “Though I suppose anger and desire are cousins at times.”

“Let me make it up to you.”

He finger left you and he stood, once again towering over you.

“And how would you like to do that, darling?”

You stood on tip toe and kissed him, pulling his head down to you with one hand while the other cupped the bulge that you could now see, even in the dim light of the closet.

“How I usually apologize to you, of course,” you teased, feeling a little bolder and more relaxed now.

Those ruby eyes of his flashed brighter for a second and you got on your knees as he unzipped his trousers and pulled them down with his underwear, letting his cock bob free and guided you by the back of your head onto his considerable length.

Letting your skirts drop around you, but keeping your breasts exposed for him to enjoy, you settled in before him and parted your lips for him.

You moaned as he filled up your mouth, taking him down inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat and you pulled away, leaving a tantalizing string of saliva between your lips and his throbbing tip.

Then you licked along his sides and the venous, pulsing bottom of his length, coating every bit of him until he was wet enough for you hand to pump at his base and you could focus on sucking what you could fit into your mouth easily. Keeping your own demonic teeth at bay, you worked his cock just how you knew he liked it; alternating between taking him fast and deep, and swirling, pleasant flicks of your tongue along his tip.

You performed to the very best of your abilities, meeting his gaze the entire time with the widest, most sorrowful doe eyes you could muster, until you heard the two little words you had been waiting for him to utter.

“Good girl,” he sighed as he cupped your jaw, thrusting his cock into your mouth with an appreciative slow tenderness, allowing you to do most of the work he trusted you to do so well.

You hummed in agreement and pulled your mouth away from him, though you still slowly worked your fist along his length. “I’m your good girl. Can I have my reward now?”

“And what should that reward be?” he asked, twirling a lock of your hair around his fingers, an innocent look on his face despite the fact that you were still stroking his cock.

You kissed his tip and then several times along his length before you looked back up at him.

“Something this big and gorgeous deserves to be ridden.”

And that was how you found yourself on the floor of the supply closet, with Alastor seated beneath you, both of you still half dressed, as you rode him just like you promised, hard enough that the door behind him kept threatening to swing open until he finally wrapped a shadow tendril around the doorknob to keep it in place.

This wasn’t the sweet and gentle lovemaking you two usually shared. And it wasn’t the forceful, urgent way he took you when his inner demons needed an outlet. This was something in between; lips lingered on skin in heated but delicate caresses, full of reverence and worship for each other. Your bodies joined and met in a harsh rhythm, creating a slapping cacophony of sinful noises that filled the room and likely could be heard if anyone else made the journey down that dark and lonely hallway.

The alcohol coursed through your veins, pushed along by your undead hearts that beat together in a rapid rhythm. Each push and pull of your blood sending more intoxicating substance to your head, and your nervous system, dulling and sharpening your senses all at once. You felt every wet slide of your depths as they clenched and ached around Alastor’s cock, heard every static filled groan and whispered filthy words of praise that spilled from his lips, and yet it took an immense amount of effort for you to finally come.

You were drenched in sweat and out of breath, your breasts heaving with your struggle for air and the desperate rocking of your body into Alastor’s.

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw and you could tell he was close and fighting off his own end until you met yours.

The memory of dozens of other nights, with his essence filling you up and coating you with silken warmth sang through your thoughts, spurring you on and finally bringing you to the cliff’s edge of your pleasure.

“Come for me,” you whispered and his eyes shot open at your plea. You pressed your knees into the floor as hard as you could, impaling yourself until you took him as deeply as you possibly could. “Please, Al’.”

Begging. You were properly begging, nearly in tears at how close you suddenly were, feeling yourself already lose control of the muscles in your core as they began to tighten and spasm. “Give it to me. Please.”

He pulled you down to him and bit into the fullest pulse point of your throat, and you screamed a vibrato of ecstasy as you came together. Alastor let your blood spill down your throat and breasts, watching the trickles paint your skin a vibrant red as he twitched inside you, giving you that full and claimed feeling you had been after. As his cock softened and your movements slowed to a halt, you left him nestled in you warmth as he finally began to lick along the crimson trails until you were lapped clean. The bite mark remained, inflamed and clotting, and you arched your throat for him and he kissed along its edges. You practically purred as you laced your fingers through his hair, nestling him to you as you stroked his ears and antlers in the aftermath of your bliss.

“Oh my sweet darling, that was wonderful. Just what I needed.” He sighed and hugged you to him, reduced back to the secret devoted lover you usually had in your bed.

“Will you dance with me now?” you asked, letting your voice slip into something sugary sweet.

With a snap of his fingers, you were both standing and fully dressed. You could even fill the band of your bra digging into your ribs again and the mess between your legs was gone.

Well . . . almost gone. As you stood there, you felt the slightest of trickles leak out of you and dampen your underwear. That, and there was the lingering pang of overworked inner muscles and a rather conspicuous toothy wound on your neck.

You knew all these things were purposeful. They would be a reminder throughout the rest of the night, as Alastor showed you off to the crowd of Sinners, spinning and dipping you across the dance floor, that you were completely, unabashedly, and wholly his. And that you should never, ever, try to avoid him again.

[river-of-wine]

I know I’ve mentioned this plenty of times before but I’m still kind of annoyed by how the fanbase just kind of completely declawed the four lords and placed the entirety of the responsibility for their wrongdoings on Mother Miranda.

The Baker family are great, I love them, they’re an incredible unit of antagonists who are intended to be very sympathetic, at least for the most part. Jack and Marguerite in particular have lost all control over their minds and their bodies, turning into extremely violent murderers and cannibals who threaten and attack their own family, kill anyone unfortunate enough to come across them and, especially in Marguerite’s case, lose complete autonomy over their own bodies. Marguerite turns into a walking bug hive who’s only purpose is to feed her family and birth her new children. Jack is an unstoppable murderous force of patriarchal violence who has so much fun chasing down and harming his victims, which in the Daughters DLC includes even his own daughter. The exception to this is obviously Lucas, who has been cured of his infection and his acting of his own free will. All of this is caused by Eveline, everything Jack and Marguerite do controlled by her, and yet Eveline is just as sympathetic as the rest of them. She’s a ten year old girl. Even Jack, who has watched his family and their victims suffer because of her infection, doesn’t seem to hold any of it against her. She just wants a family of her own, after all. It’s a complex and tragic situation.

The four lords, while I suppose being similar in structure, are not the Baker family. Not in dynamic, not in character, not in the kind of tragedy that they embody. I could talk for a while about just how completely different they are, but I don’t know if I really need to.

The Baker family are so tragic because they were just innocent bystanders trying to help a woman and a little girl they found in a shipwreck out in a storm. That’s the only reason they ended up in the situation that they were in. While the lords have similar origins, being victims of Mother Miranda’s experiments to bring her daughter Eva back, an important distinction between them is that in the case of the lords, all four of them are still acting of their own free will. Yes, Mother Miranda has undeniable power over them. She leads the cult they are part of, she has control over the village, she is their superior. However, I really dislike when every negative action by the lords is pushed onto her, as if the lords are not all grown adults who are for the most part acting independently of her.

With Alcina, she is the head of her own extremely brutal crimes. I think a lot of people have forgotten quite how horrifying the situations of the maidens are, possibly due to the prevalence shipping between Alcina and the maidens, and though we have minimal information what we do know is very frightening. Alcina uses her work force like livestock, draining them for their blood in a cellar full of horrific torture devices, and leaves their corpses to shamble around, armed and ready to attack any unwanted guests that have slipped out of the daughter’s clutches so that Alcina still doesn’t have to do her own dirty work, given how highly above everyone but Mother Miranda she appears to view herself as. While yes, Alcina does need human blood to survive, her methods are brutal, and none of this has been enforced upon her by Mother Miranda. Similarly to Jack on occasion, she takes a great deal of pleasure in hurting and attacking Ethan as he runs from her. Additionally, everything she does to Ethan is against Mother Miranda’s request. While yes, it is retaliation after he killed Bela, the part I often see people leave out is that Alcina is equally as upset that he entered her property and was attempting to steal from her, and she isn’t just after him to kill him.

Alcina has also been an active participant in aiding Mother Miranda with at least one experiment, considering that I’d how she got her daughters. While I’m sure her strong admiration for Mother Miranda and Mother Miranda’s power over her has absolutely had an affect in this, that’s not something I’ll deny, Alcina is still a grown woman and in her written entries about this shows no qualms about her participation in this. Her general attitude towards others, using young women as a good source and turning men into scarecrows, also leads me to believe that she does not exactly care who gets hurt or taken advantage of when it comes to her and Mother Miranda’s personal endeavours.

Donna and Moreau are the two more sympathetic people within the four lords, but they are not innocent. To start with Moreau, he’s desperate for Mother Miranda’s approval, as well as the other lords. He’s insecure and lonely, and he’s doing what he has been instructed by Mother Miranda when it comes to protecting the flask. However, he does also take quite a bit of joy in trapping Ethan in the reservoir and swimming after him with the intention to eat and kill him. Moreau though, given his conditions and circumstances, is the one I think is the least to blame for what he does.

Donna is hard to discuss because we know so little about her. Her parents are dead, as well as whoever Claudia was to her, she communicates through Angie and she can cause those who enter her house to hallucinate. According to Mother Miranda, Donna is severely mentally ill and that is what has made her an unfit vessel. I think a lot of people took this to mean that Donna is unaware of what she is doing, that the hallucinations she is showing Ethan are frightening, but after having been a fan of this game for years I just can’t agree with that anymore. Donna intentionally lures Ethan into her house with visions of his supposedly dead wife. Donna is going after fears she likely knows Ethan has, making him relive Mia’s death, take apart a mannequin of her, listen to her voice panic over something being horribly wrong with Rose, all building towards the horrifying baby that chases him through the house. There is no way Donna doesn’t understand how what she is showing Ethan is distressing, especially when you consider that, given how she can make herself appear and disappear at will within Ethan’s vision and that Angie is sitting in the hallways stationary and unspeaking, Donna was likely close by Ethan at all times and could see and hear his frightened reactions to what she was intentionally showing him.

Donna’s death is upsetting, but Ethan was not just chasing her down and killing her. Donna was attacking him, or at least she was controlling her dolls to do so. It’s still a hallucination, but Ethan doesn’t know that. When faced with a threat that is keeping you trapped and trying to end your life, you will likely try to get away or try to fight back, as Donna is doing to Ethan after he starts to attack her and Ethan is doing to Donna when he thinks his life is still in danger. I would also like to remind everybody that Donna communicates through Angie. What Angie is saying, that’s Donna. Angie doesn’t talk or move once she’s dead, it is Donna who controls her.

Lastly, Heisenberg. I think Heisenberg is the one of the four most entrenched in headcanons. Headcanons are fine, I am never in this post trying to suggest they aren’t, but my issue comes in when people use them to try and change the canon of the game. For example, it’s fine to believe that Heisenberg was experimented on by Mother Miranda as a child, but that isn’t canon. It’s fine to believe that Heisenberg mourned the deaths of his siblings, but that isn’t canon. The opposite is, with Heisenberg not viewing the cult as an actual family and being very openly mean to all three other lords, even Donna and Moreau who seemingly haven’t done anything to slight him. While his goal of killing another Miranda is a very understandable and sympathetic one given what she has done to him, using a six month old baby as a weapon and trying to bring her father into the mix only to try to get him killed when he denies him is not. I cannot overstate quite how little Heisenberg actually cared for Ethan and Rose’s safety when it came to his goal, and given that we are playing as Ethan, Rose is the priority.

Heisenberg has built an army of corpses he has presumably stolen and desecrated. This is kind of fucked up actually, and done completely independently of Mother Miranda. He also puts Ethan through a very dangerous lycan gauntlet before he even reaches the factory, which makes it even stranger to me that people seem to interpret Heisenberg’s deal as something that would have benefitted both him and Ethan and as if he ever had Ethan’s safety in mind.

All four of the lords have tragic aspects to them and there are definitely reasons to sympathise with all four. They’re victims of Mother Miranda, who knows they will all be killed. She wants them to be, giving her less to deal with by the time she has Eva back. They never meant anything to her. Not Alcina or Moreau, who were desperate for her attention. Not Donna, suffering from her unspecified but apparently severe mental illness. Not Heisenberg, who was seemingly her favourite creation. However, all of them are grown adults who do their own bad things independently of her.

And it’s fine to still like them. It’s fine for them to be your favourite character. It’s fine to have happy or nice headcanons about them or want to kiss them or be their friend or to want them to have survived. It’s fine to like characters who do shitty things. It’s to be expected in a game series like Resident Evil. It’s a horror game series. People are going to do bad things.

I just find it so boring when people take away all their bite. What makes a character like Lady Dimitrescu so fun it’s that she’s completely over the top. She’s campy and ridiculous, her castle layout makes no sense, she’s got three kids made of swarms of flies dressed like a set of goth triplets, she’s a lesbian who’s castle is full of naked statues of women, she turns into a big dragon and laughs maniacally while flying around and trying to eat you. She’s evil and it’s fun. It’s the same with Heisenberg. He’s a campy show off with a fun voice and a massive hammer he never actually uses. He can control metal. He looks like a cowboy. He pronounced Miranda in a funny way. He talks to you over an intercom while trying to get you killed. They’re fun and evil and they fight over who gets to kill Ethan like they’re two little kids. It’s absurd.

What makes a character like Donna so scary is that she’s silently working in the shadows, unassuming at a first glance and unseen for most of the time in her house. She is the least threatening of the four upon first glance, and yet she has undeniably the most frightening part of the game. Pretending as if Donna is completely unaware of what she is doing and babying her like she is an incapable child waters her down completely and takes away from the effectiveness of her character.

Villain characters are great! They’re very often the highlight of the story they are in, and they aren’t real! The four lords especially are often so completely exaggerated in what they do as well. It’s fine to like villains! It doesn’t make you bad! Characters can be bad people and you can still like them!

It’s just frustrating seeing a group of very fun and exciting villains, all designed with different aspects of horror, all over the top and campy and stupid and fun, all doing their own set of fucked up things, watered down to a set of poor innocent victims who have never done any wrong ever. If you want Jack and Marguerite, take Jack and Marguerite. Lady Dimitrescu loves killing and eating women and Karl Heisenberg turns corpses into soldiers. They’re bad people and they do comically exaggerated bad things. If you can’t stomach liking a character like that, horror is probably not the genre for you. Unless it’s Resident Evil 7, I suppose, but apparently tall women aren’t hot when it’s Marguerite Baker crawling on the walls.

[thistlecatfics]

Talking about Incest in Public

(both the painful traumatic kind and the hot fictional kind)

As it turns out, lots of the people who read and write taboo fiction have survived some deeply fucked up shit. After talking about incest with other survivors on the Moon, Sun & Stars discord and answering questions, I decided to share more about my experiences and the things that helped me survive and the things that helped me heal, because there are a lot of us, and a lot of us feel very alone, and maybe there are other people who aren’t incest survivors but who might want to know more to better support the survivors in their life.  

–

Incest is not just a sexual act between two family members -- it's a larger system of absence of boundaries within a family, and it's almost always part of multiple incestuous dynamics, even if only one might be the obvious or explicit dynamic. 

If you’re an incest survivor, you’re almost certainly not the only one in your family. 

-

“The true characteristics and dimensions of incestuous abuse have been masked by the taboo and silence that have surrounded its occurrence. Recent research demonstrates that incest occurs regularly in our society, perpetrated by individuals who, for the most part, would otherwise be regarded as fairly normal. The taboo on incestuous relations is a deterrent to some would-be perpetrators but not to others. The taboo contradicts the reality of incest prevalence, a fact which led Armstrong (1978) to comment that th taboo has been on the open discussion of incest and not on its perpetration.”

-Christine Courtois, “Healing the Incest Wound: Adult Survivors in Therapy” 

–

To use my family as an example - 

My (similarly aged) brother did sexual things to me as a kid, and I had a range of reactions to it including pleasure and enjoyment. And confusion. And fear. I do not think he is bad or even what he did was bad. I think we were both two kids who existed in a family with incestuous dynamics, and we were both shaped by those dynamics and trying our best to survive. 

From a young age, I existed as a physical comfort object to my mom (when she was sad she'd get into my bed to hold me until she felt better while I dissociated), and I took on the idea that my role in the family was for my body to be used to make other people feel good. The sexual behavior by my brother felt like an extension of how my mom held me. 

My mother was the victim of incest from her uncle, and her parents sided with her uncle over her when she spoke out about it (even after he was facing legal consequences for his behavior with kids outside of the family) (even after he fled the country). She didn't know how to emotionally regulate herself, and I don't think she had (or has) the capacity to understand a child's need for physical autonomy and boundaries because her own were never respected. 

There were other incestuous behaviors and dynamics within my family which I'm continuously discovering and unpacking. I think my mom’s uncle abused my grandmother too but I’ll never know for sure. It’s deeply uncomfortable to look back on a happy family story or a childhood nickname and see something sinister underneath and wonder if you’re being paranoid or if it’s actually that bad.  

–

Things that have helped: 

Long term relational therapy (5+ years). EMDR. Adopting a cat. Adopting more cats. Antidepressants. Reading about incest (realistic, terrifying, academic). Reading about incest (fictional, hot, amateur). Being a competitive athlete. Getting a graduate degree. Going on long walks late at night. Telling my family I had Covid so I could skip a family vacation. 

These books specifically: Healing the Incest Wound by Christine Courtois, The Myth of Normal, Dissociation Made Simple, Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, The Narcissistic Family Unit, Clementine Morrigan’s writing x1000. 

The protector parts: Eating disorder. Self harm. Drinking. Perfectionism. Depression. Suicidal ideation. I’m grateful to these imperfect protectors I’ve leaned on over the years. 

Things that have not helped: 

You will be shocked to hear that people on the internet yelling about how people who find fictional incest hot are disgusting and bad and dangerous did NOT in fact help me unlearn the belief that experiencing incest made me disgusting and bad and dangerous. Luckily, I’m built of spite. But it certainly did not help. 

(If I think about my vulnerable pre-teen/teen self reading those things, I become deeply angry. How dare you hurt her in the name of protection.)

- I don’t cater to all these vipers Dressed in empath’s clothing God save the most judgmental creeps Who say they want what’s best for me Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I’ll never see

-Taylor Swift, But Daddy I Love Him

-

After I discovered fanfiction in middle school, and then after I realized that there was a world beyond OFC/Draco Malfoy fic, I read a lot of Blackcest. I devoured any I could find, hopping through rec lists on LiveJournal. 

Reading Blackcest fics, first Bellatrix/Sirius then Sirius/Regulus mostly, allowed me to see my experiences reflected. Those fics gave me a way to contextualize my family and my role in it. I hate the expectation that kids who experience bad things should go to a safe trusted adult rather than find art that romanticizes their experience. The whole point is that there isn’t a safe trusted adult. The whole point is that I needed the art. I got to hold the romanticized narrative until I got far enough away that I could put it away in a box until I had enough therapy that I could safely open the box and build a new, more honest story. 

Obviously plenty of people love incest smut and fic and art. It’s taboo! It’s angsty! It’s a classic! Probably most of those people don’t have direct personal experience with incest in their families. I’m glad they read and write fics too. 

But for me – have you ever experienced something you believe so strongly you will never be able to say aloud? That any time you see your secret referenced it’s in shock and disgust and revulsion? You can pretend – you’re very good at pretending – but you know it’s real, and you know it’s your secret you’ll hold onto for the rest of your life while the world reminds you how disgusting you are? 

Then you find that people are writing about what you experienced in a thousand variations that all contain some nugget of your truth.

I cannot express in words how important it was that I found those stories at that time. 

I never commented on a single fic. I never made a single account on any of the sites I read fanfiction on. I clicked the “yes I’m 18” box without hesitation every time. I wish I could go back in time and have my adult self articulate the enormity of my gratitude for each and every author who helped save me whose work exists on sites I can only revisit with the Wayback Machine. 

I understand why people might feel horrified at the idea of a 11-12 year old reading smutty incest Harry Potter fanfic. People aren’t wrong for feeling that way. 

That said, I truly don’t care what people who aren’t incest survivors think.

I’m so proud of that child for finding a way to survive. She might have hated herself, might have fantasized about death, but she survived and kept the truth of her experience wrapped up in a fictional world where it could be safe to explore and kept it there until years and years of therapy made it possible to engage with it in reality. 

- I’m a real tough kid I can handle my shit They said, babe, you got to fake it till you make it And I did

-Taylor Swift, I Can Do It With a Broken Heart -

No one is writing about incest the way Clementine Morrigan is right now. I’m so grateful for her. I’m not sure this little tumblr post would exist without her essay series. 

"Incest functions as a spell of unreality. A structure of nothingness. A completely normal and unremarkable family life in which something unnameable is ominously and terrifyingly wrong. You know in the summer when you can see the heat making the air go squiggly? Imagine those squiggles as an indication that in the seeming nothingness, there is something there. Incest is like that. Subtle, pervasive, unthinkable, unnameable. But present, felt.

As a teenager I came up with this metaphor: Imagine you are in a house full of bugs. There are bugs crawling all over all the walls and all the furniture and in your food and even on the fork you are lifting to your mouth. And you feel disgusted, you feel like something is really wrong. But your whole family is acting completely normal, laughing and eating and talking as bugs crawl over their faces and into their mouths. When you tell them you think there are bugs in your food your family says it’s just pepper and not to worry about it.

There is no way to talk about incest without feeling that you are lying. This is because incest lives in the realm of unreality and everything in the realm of unreality cannot be thought or said or named. When you speak of things that happen in the realm of unreality it will always feel like a lie and be treated like a lie. You are breaking the fundamental rule. You are not allowed to talk about what goes on in the realm of unreality because it isn’t real."

Read more and pay for her writing if you can on her substack.

-

Without a doubt, the not-explicitly-sexual incest from my mom fucked me up more than the explicitly sexual incest from my brother, but I only feel confident claiming the incest survivor label because sexual stuff was done to me by a family member, and I still feel like I’m lying sometimes because it wasn't bad enough to count. 

I’m a literal mental health clinician who can map out various incestuous dynamics within my family and who has clear memories of a family member doing sexual stuff to my child body, and I still feel like I’m lying. 

I believe you if you feel like a liar because I bet you do. I believe you if the incest never included anything directly physical. I believe you if you enjoyed it. I believe you if you don’t remember but feel like it’s true. 

I love us. 

If we’re monsters, I love our courageous monstrosity.

If we’re liars, I love the way we make up stories to survive when reality is impossible. 

If we’re an uncomfortable truth, good. 

-

It still impacts me. I’m not over it. 

It’s very difficult for me to imagine love that does not include violation. To be loved and to be allowed to maintain a self. 

But I’m open to learning otherwise, and that openness is new. 

-

I was so, so good at living in unreality. I could make myself perfect, such a flawless object until I couldn’t think of anything except killing myself, but even then I still maintained the image of perfection my family expected. 

It’s cool I never actually killed myself. 

I find it hard to be around my family now. There are advantages of living in unreality. I drink a lot more when I’m around my family than I ever did before, but I don’t think about killing myself nearly as much. Reality is worth it. Being able to exist as a person is worth it. 

- I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.

-Sylvia Plath

- I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid. (I insist.)

It didn’t kill me then. It’s not going to kill me now. (I remind myself.) 

My life is worth living, and there are fights worth fighting, and it is undeniably true the world is full of horror, but it is good to write and create and be alive, and it is good to try. I’m a little afraid to post this, but the fear and shame isn’t mine to hold, and I never should have been the one holding it. 

Consider this a thank you note sent out to the universe in the hopes the sentiment echoes towards those authors who saved me then and to all the writers who are saving people now. Your art matters. No matter how weird or niche or dismissed or hated it is. It matters. 

Thank you.

[fuji09]

Something I just realized, Deaton was the Hale emissary, he was around when Derek was younger, he had to have known about what happened with Paige. He had to have known why Derek's eyes glowed blue.

Something that irked me when watching and rewatching the show, Deaton had made a promise to Talia that if anything happened to her that he would help and look after Derek. But when Derek returns, and yes I know Derek had tied him up and punched him thinking he was the alpha, Deaton honestly didn't really help him.

When Derek was an alpha, Deaton constantly talked down to Derek and kept telling him how shitty of an alpha he was, instead of actually, ya know, helping the poor kid who had no idea how to be an alpha and was doing the best he could.

Then Deaton comes up with this plan and gets Scott to carry out how to kill Gerard, you can't tell me that wasn't the end goal, there is no way having mountain ash in your body and then getting the bite isn't supposed to kill you, and then he has Scott force Derek to bite Gerard. Deaton knows in the Hale family the bite is a gift. Deaton has to know the trauma Derek went through at only 15 years old with Paige, and yet Deaton still didn't even try to get Derek in on the plan! Which when it comes to the evil Argents, Derek would have done it willingly to defeat them. There was no need to take Derek's bodily autonomy away.

I know a lot of us hate that Scott forced Derek to bite Gerard, but after more rewatching and thinking, I realized that Deaton came up with this plan. Deaton chose to keep Derek in the dark about it. Deaton had Scott force Derek to bite Gerard. This is honestly more on Deaton, the adult, than it is Scott. Deaton was like a father figure to Scott and he trusted him completely and would do whatever was asked of him.

That's pretty fucked up for someone who promised the now dead alpha and mother of Derek, he would help and look after Derek. Deaton did Derek real dirty.

[traumasurvivors]

I see a lot of conversations surrounding consent and wanted to talk about it a bit.

When most people think about consent, they think about sexual contexts.  In reality, consent is important in non-sexual situations, too.  You need consent before you borrow or touch someone else's stuff, get in their personal space, or show up at their home.

When it comes to consent, it should be a freely-given yes. This means it is not threatened, guilted, manipulated or coerced in anyway. And silence is not consent. This means that things like "maybe", "I'm not sure" or even flirting are not consent. Consent must be a freely-given yes, and not what you assume is a "yes."

Another thing to consider is whether the person is capable of consent. If someone is high or drunk, they cannot consent. Children can never consent to sexual acts. And consent must always be informed, as in the person knows what they are consenting to.

Consent should also be for the specific thing you're about to do. Someone consenting to kissing does not mean they consent to touching or so on. Someone being in a relationship does not mean they automatically consent to anything else. Consent should also be for this specific time. As in, if someone has consented before, then that doesn't mean they consent this time. A person's comfort level may vary, or they just might not be up to something and that's okay.

With that said, sometimes people have different standards of consent in their relationship. And that's okay. For example, a couple may decide that in their relationship, someone doesn't need a "yes" every single time but is free to proceed unless someone says no. They've mutually agreed that it's okay to assume the answer is "yes". For them, they've decided their consent is 'no means no' instead of 'yes means yes'. Another example in a platonic relationship is that some friends might decide that in their friendship, hugging without asking is totally okay.

One example is that I have people in my life that are allowed to hug me without asking unless I ask them not to. My partner went to hug me when I was upset the other day, and that's okay because he has been told he can do so unless I say "no" and in this case, I did say "no" because I was upset. And he respected it, and we moved on. I let him know when I was up to being hugged again.

However, when agreeing to different standards of consent in a relationship, the same rules apply. It should be a freely-given yes to the new standards, and the person should be capable of consenting. They should also be fully informed of what they are agreeing to.

One last thing I want to touch on is that consent can be withdrawn at any time. Even if you're right in the middle of something.

Consent can be incredibly complicated, and if you are ever not sure, ask. There is nothing wrong with checking in and making sure someone is okay with the situation.

It's especially important to be careful in how you navigate consent with children.  Modelling healthy consent in non-sexual contexts with children helps them understand that their bodies are their own and they have the right to feel safe and comfortable, too.  It protects them from predators as children, and sets them up to navigate consent in healthier ways as adults later in life.

Consent for hugs is frequently ignored with children.  Many children are forced to give or accept unwanted hugs from family members and told they're being rude or unfriendly if they don't cooperate.  This teaches them that their bodily autonomy doesn't matter, and makes them vulnerable to sexual predators.  By allowing children to set their own boundaries around what kinds of non-sexual physical touch they are comfortable with, when they want to receive that touch, and from whom, it helps them learn to recognize and enforce their own boundaries.  Those skills are incredibly valuable later in adulthood when they begin to navigate sexual consent both with their own bodies and with the bodies of their sexual partners.

[vidavalor]

Yes, Crowley's expression here is hilarious and always worth a post in its own right 😊 but I thought I'd share something about what he's doing with his hand for anyone who is unfamiliar with that particular gesture, as it has a name and a purpose that goes along with a few other scenes in the series. It's also a good strategy in real life for anyone experiencing anxiety and might want another tool in their toolbox for it.

TWs: anxiety; trauma; PTSD; brief, indirect mention of SA.

For a lot of people who get something on their hands and are exploring the texture of it, the inclination would be to rub together the thumb and the index finger. Crowley's unique use of his fingers isn't just a sorcery thing, though, as what he is doing in this scene-- touching his thumb to his middle finger-- has a name amongst us humans.

It's called shuni mudra.

If you meditate or practice yoga, you have likely heard of mudras, which are different ways of positioning the hands to use the fingers to create a seal that directs prana-- aka energy flow-- in different ways throughout the body. Shuni mudra is done to generate a sense of calm and patience-- especially patience with the self. It is a hand gesture done as a way to help regulate the heart, circulatory & nervous systems and is most commonly used to counter anxiety. Like with any mudra, you don't have to do it in the midst of a yoga or a meditation session but can make the gesture just whenever you feel the need, as Crowley did in the scene above. If you give it a try, you'll probably find that it is surprisingly relaxing for such a simple gesture.

Crowley's outsized startle response to getting hit with the paint is very funny but it is also pretty typical of someone with PTSD-- especially someone who has it as a result of bodily autonomy violations, as is the case with Crowley. People who have experienced non-consensual loss of control over themselves tend to have a jumpy response to sudden, unexpected stimuli in their environment.

Even though Crowley flailing dramatically is hilarious to watch because he's so over-the-top with it, beneath the humor in the scene is also that being unexpectedly hit with something out of nowhere is a very common thing that can trigger anxiety in people with PTSD. Good Omens is very good at finding some humor in dealing with darkness and a comparable scene in tone to this is Gabriel bouncing off the walls when the angels show up at the bookshop in S2. What is very amusing "books are keen!", fly-chasing zaniness is really, underneath, unconscious anxiety manifesting, as part of Gabriel's mind knows that the angels are a threat to him and is reacting with panic at them in his bookshop safe space.

Ironically, reacting with panic to an angel perceived as a threat being in the bookshop safe space is also Crowley's S2 plot, as if he and Gabriel didn't already have more in common than Crowley is ready to admit...

But, back to the hand gesture thing...

There is evidence that things like shuni mudra are effective simply because they help to create a pause that interrupts anxious and self-critical thoughts, which then allows space for calming the mind and body. Used in the way that Crowley is using it here, it's very similar to the Five Things/5-4-3-2-1 strategy for staving off or stopping an anxiety attack, in that both pull people back into the present moment by creating a sense of concentration on something besides the feeling of panic.

That Crowley does this pretty intuitively in the paintball scene as a response to having something anxiety-inducing happen to him indicates he likely does it pretty frequently. Crowley automatically going to shuni mudra while he takes a breath and figures out what, exactly, has happened, is indicative of someone with an awareness of their anxiety and PTSD and who has and uses strategies to help manage them, which goes along with things we've seen in other scenes as well.

Crowley and Aziraphale are inhaling places and food with a clear devotion to trying to live mindfully. You don't need to have experienced trauma to do that but mindful living is prescriptive for virtually every sort of mental health struggle that exists so Crowley and Aziraphale seeing it as therapeutic, as well as enjoyable, seems likely.

In the bookshop, they have a lotus flower rug. The lotus flower has long been a symbol of trauma recovery. You might have heard of the saying "no mud, no lotus", referring to how beauty and health can be made in the wake of horrible experiences. The lotus flower originates in the mud at the bottom of a body of water and travels through it to bloom above the surface, which is at the root of it being symbolic across different cultures for things like enlightenment, purity, strength, and recovery. Its resilience and ability to literally wade through struggle to come through into the light and bloom makes it a metaphor for getting through different forms of trauma.

That Crowley and Aziraphale have this rug in their World of Carpets that is the bookshop, when combined with these other scenes, show how they're dedicated to working through their stuff together and trying to be the best trauma-informed partners they can to one another.

It's also on the lotus rug that Crowley and Aziraphale put Gabriel to perform the miracle to protect him and, when they do, their magic is done with both of them using another hand gesture-- gyan mudra, the seal of knowledge-- to complete the miracle.

I think if you take all of this together, you could make the case for either or both of Crowley and Aziraphale using yoga and/or meditation to help manage the effects of trauma. For those who think that Crowley has chronic pain, there's also that both of these things have been helpful for managing that in many people, so that might be another reason for Crowley, in particular, to practice them.

The lotus rug in the shop might not just be symbolic but also a meditation/yoga spot. Do we think The Serpent always starts with Snake Pose, just because? 🤭

[lycandrophile]

god, stuff like this is such a punch to the gut. i usually don’t feel that emotionally affected by comments like this other than being angry at them, but it’s so different when it’s someone i genuinely really respect, who seems to be very conscious of these things, who’s making a point of being a vocal ally, and they still just don’t see how people really treat us.

so much of the current legislation against trans healthcare (i would argue the vast majority of it, if not literally all of it) is founded upon denial of our bodily autonomy and fearmongering about our transitions. people call us predators and abusers for having and feeding our children. a huge number of people pretty recently jumped on a singular incidence of violence as “proof” that testosterone turns us all into evil monsters. people talk about how we’re stealing our bodies from them and say that if they could just grope us or have sex with us, we’d see that we’re really women. we ask for something as simple as the use of language that includes us so that we can better access the healthcare we need, and even that is asking too much.

but sure, people don’t really have a problem with us being men, so everyone can just stop bothering with affirming that we are who we say we are because clearly people are already on board with that idea, right?

and of course, it’s upsetting on a personal (one might say parasocial) level because it just sucks to see someone you respect openly state that they don’t think the things happening to your community are really happening. that was the initial reaction i had — i know this is one person, a fallible person, who i have no true relationship with, but it still feels like a betrayal of some sort to read that.

the thing that really gets me, though, is that there are a lot of people who trust him (whether rightly or not) to be a good source of info, and a lot of those people are going to see this and just take it at face value. they’re not going to look into it, they’re just going to accept that people really don’t have a problem with us and they’re going to feel empowered to look the other way when we’re under attack. i’m sure he wouldn’t want people to take the things he says at face value without fact-checking them, but the fact remains that most people will do just that and will proceed to not give a shit about us because they don’t think they have to.

it’s one thing to see this coming from some random person. it’s another entirely when it’s someone you already liked and respected, and who has a large audience who are likely to trust the things they say.

and it just…would’ve been so easy to not say it, to just say “they’re men!” and let that message stand without immediately undermining its importance.

[artlefty]

As a disabled person a lot of the 'Viktor's disability made him who he is, it's an inescapable part of himself, you're a bad person if you strip him of them' makes me feel kind of unwell.

Now don't get me wrong, I am not immune to internalised ableism - something Viktor suffers from in the show- something a lot of less abled people suffer.

BUT- let's look at a couple of things together so I can explain what I'm saying here:

Viktor's Heraldic form features his leg and back brace fused to him. In this aspect they're possibly the only thing that ties Viktor to what the Herald becomes- his last recognisable physical feature (other than the mask).

Viktor's astral form lacks all and any physical disability that we can see. We can assume Viktor chose one of these forms. He did not choose the other. One of these forms was foisted upon him. Jayce stripped his bodily autonomy in the act of bringing him back. It was a selfish choice and one that is aptly explored further on.

"You always wanted to cure what you saw as weaknesses- your leg, your disease. But you were never broken, Viktor. There is beauty in imperfections, they made you who you are."

We are defined by our experiences, by our hardening and toughening up under circumstance. Viktor's experiences shaped him. His disabilities shaped him, as they shape me- as they shape all disabled people.

But please don't confuse that with 'Your disabilities define you.'

I need to impress here that his point is, "All of the bad culminates in who you are, and who you are is beautiful."

As long as this is explored with respect, as long as writers and artists don't sleep on the fact that his disability will always be an inextricable part of his history and his psyche I personally have absolutely no issue with people exploring a more able-bodied version of Viktor. Nor do I see it as ableism. Rather a continuation of his story.

There are right and wrong ways to go about doing this. Remember: If in doubt just...consult a disabled person. There is more nuance to this than 'erasure bad'.

[endlessburningdarkness]

the most sympathy shen yuan had for abused slave child shen jiu was "speechless" lmao he literally never thinks about him again. doesn't spare a second to consider how he's using a former slave's body without his permission. this is the guy who canonically feels guilty for all sorts of things he can't control, like lbh having to go into the abyss.

so why does he feel guilty for one thing he can't control and not about another? bc he doesn't care about shen jiu or have sympathy for him.

the one thing he never angsts about is the goddamn slave who's life, name, and identity he inadvertently stole. shen yuan angsts about lbh falling into the abyss not because he has sympathy for everyone, but specifically bc he likes and cares about lbh. he is biased towards lbh. he doesn't consider how shen jiu, again a former slave, would feel about having his body be used against his will by shen yuan, bc he doesn't give a goddamn fuck about shen jiu. no, he's not compartmentalizing, bc we would see him try to keep those thoughts away, he just doesn't have them.

shen yuan had sympathy in your head, not in the text.

you have sympathy for shen jiu, but projecting it onto shen yuan doesn't mean shen yuan magically has it. he canonically does not demonstrates sympathy, he demonstrates surprise, shock, and on single moment of "huh, i guess he had a bad childhood," and then he moves the fuck on bc he couldn't care less.

if he cared even the tiniest amount, he would be a lot more goddamn careful with the body he's inadvertently occupying. not blow it up or let it be ripped open by demon cock over and over. shen jiu doesn't consent to any of that either btw, and that is still his body. not shen yuan's. just bc shen yuan is in it doesn't mean he has the right to do whatever he wants.

this such basic body autonomy that i can't believe it needs to be fucking said. no one has a right to another person's body, not even if they got in there by accident. goddamn pro life type argument to say shen yuan should do whatever he likes with a body that is not his own and will never be his own just bc he got trapped in there.

i get you want shen yuan to be this super duper nice perfect mary sue self-insert you can project onto but he just isn't that. his primary motivation is to save himself for fucks sake. he is selfish. his favourite character lbh is canonically a rapist. a fact he has no issue with even when it's said to his face. he's a flawed character. let him be fucking flawed! it's fine for him to enjoy life in the body of someone who did not consent and fine for him not to think twice about it.

let him be flawed.

and it's always this flaw of his, this lack of sympathy for the villain that people get hung up over. all his other flaws are fucking hilarious. but this one has people crying tears of blood. it makes perfect sense for shen yuan not to have sympathy. it makes sense for him to believe all the wrong rumours about shen jiu. bc shen jiu was the villain, and shen yuan wants to believe he was just pure evil, and lbh was pure good. there's certainly a stunning irony in the fact that you display he same failure of reading comprehension for shen yuan is the very one he displays himself lol. shen yuan was wrong about the villain, and thats fine for his character.

when shen yuan has sympathy for someone, he treats them like lbh. lbh crippled countless cultivators, he still nearly fucked over the whole world, he turned the OPM into a stick. shen yuan has no issue with lbhs darkness and violence, but his stans sure seem to shy away from it, and from shen yuan's glaring lack of interest in behaving in a moral manner. neither shen yuan or lbh are good people, and thats fine. that's what makes them interesting in fact, and yet they get sanded down into basic ass stereotypical "good guys who can do no wrong" by people who claim to love them.

[calware]

Can I ask you for what it is about Hal you like so much you based your username on him? I think he's a good character tho he was never a favorite of mine so I am curious

1. i am a big fan of robots (/robot adjacent things such as AI) on like... an aesthetic + thematic level :)

i like the look of machinery and one day i hope to be artistically strong enough to make really cool and complex robot illustrations + designs [shoutout to everyone who gives him glowing circuitry btw... ooooh glowey :) can never go wrong with that]

plus, exploring the idea of a person that isn't human.. ough. yes

minorities who don't conform to society (easily or at all) such as people who are neurodivergent, queer, etc. projecting onto nonhuman concepts/characters/species is sooo real

this post

i also love how humans will bond with literally anything, be it a roomba or a pair of silly triangle sunglasses. oooooo you want to think about the inherently kind and compassionate nature of humanity oooo

2. i find him to be so funny. i can't get enough of his personality, the way he talks, etc. for example i made a post forever ago with quotes of his that i find funny. he isn't on screen for a long time but i really think he makes the most out of it lol. he's literally there just to annoy everyone... and i love him for that. he's very snarky while also being deadpan while also being completely full of himself, and not in a way that's annoying for the audience to read, at least to me.

he is also sometimes funny specifically in a silly way, like how he keeps making over 9000 jokes even though the meme's been dead for over 400 years. i just find his dialogue incredibly entertaining to read

3. he is red and red is my favorite color :)

4. he is so accidentally transgender [every friend group got the transgender allegory]. to quote me from 2021:

you know sometimes i think about how hal feels like he was made to “replace” dirk and how it’s his literal job to pretend to be dirk and how he has to learn to accept that he isn’t dirk he’s his own person with his own identity and as he interacts with dirk’s friends he feels like they’re disappointed and that they’d rather speak to the “original dirk” instead of him and also he names himself and also he feels literally trapped in dirk’s shades which is basically his body and he wants to be prototyped so that he can have a body that’s his own and also literally the physical manifestation of who he is but when he asks for it he’s put in danger out of fear and paranoia and when he does end up getting prototyped he’s ecstatic you know i just think about these things a lot

5. because he's a side character and he was given... that ending.... there is a lot of room for fans to do further exploration and interpretation on his character which i think is fun. i like rotating him around in my mind, thinking about what could've been

6. i think it's great that we as a society all collectively decided that we needed to do something to make up for stanley kubrick saying that hal 9000 was a "straight" robot

7. i also think it's great that we as a society all collectively decided we needed to make as many characters referencing hal 9000 as possible. i love this guy let's get more of this guy i will never have enough of this guy

8. i like how he's genuinely mean sometimes. flawed and interesting characters are what make homestuck so interesting to me, and hal is no exception to this

9. the Important part of this post:

THERES FEELINGS.

it's about the hollow feeling of your friends going from thinking of you as family to thinking of you as a stranger in an instant. it's about still trying to be a good person despite being told by everyone you've ever known that you are incapable of emotion and compassion and morals and never quite finding proof that you do feel those things and maybe you even believe it too but you still never stop trying. it's about the horror of being stripped of your autonomy and humanity and body and senses and free will at the age of 13 and when your creator starts to kill you there's nothing you can do but beg. it's about a boy so truly, painfully, and UNFATHOMABLY alone he cuts away chunks of himself and molds them into companions that he can surround himself with to make it seem as if he's a little less alone but in doing so suffocates himself in his own identity. it's about "what if you cloned yourself and it killed you and you were dead and you were alive and the clone is you and it's not and your existence is perpetuated and you've ceased to exist. what if you killed your clone before it could kill you. would that be fucked up or what" it's about the thematic significance of twin motifs. it's about not being able to cry or laugh or dance or sing or scream or fingerpaint or breathe or sigh or chew or stare or run or

10. um. evil robot guy <3 yay ^_^!!

[kenjakusbrainstem]

Too Much (Kenjaku x Reader x Mahito)

Contains: Double penetration in one hole, manhandling, cunnilingus, m/f/m threesome.

Hello! Day 16 of Kinktober: Double penetration in one hole! This was fun as I just love writing Kenjaku and Mahito together. No real thoughts on this one other than how nice it was to write them having a consensual threeway for once! Crossposted to Ao3 under the same name and shared to twt at kenjakusbrain! Comment or rb if you like <3

Over the decades of devotedly following Kenjaku, you’d met a lot of eccentric people. From strange sorcerers, to power hungry humans, you really felt like there was no way anything could surprise you anymore. However, with Kenjaku’s curiosity and love for chaos, he always managed to keep you on your toes. 

His latest group was no exception, though they did treat you a little differently. While Kenjaku was playing the role of Suguru Geto, you found yourself in a role not too far from your true identity: a devout follower, someone that would do any and everything they were told. While you had more autonomy than that, it did amuse you to be so open about your dedication. To the group of curses he was working with, you were sure they thought of you as some mindless curse user, regardless of how much work you did for their cause. 

The only one that seemed interested in you was Mahito, ironically the one parading as a human. You felt that he understood you in some way, the same way Kenjaku did. While you never explained too much about your technique or identity to the curse, his curiosity showed you that he saw through your mindless devotee mask. Though you did choose to humor him on the occasion you saw each other, Mahito’s near ignorance was integral to Kenjaku’s plan.

You never minded helping either of them though, so when Kenjaku approached you with an odd proposition, you were inclined to agree. His interest in breeding and creating ideal offspring to be vessels had waned over the years, but you knew how much fun he had when experimenting. You’d aided him when he inhabited the body of Noritoshi Kamo, so you were intimately aware of what he was capable of. You weren’t sure how much of this proposal was about procreation, or if he was genuinely interested in exposing Mahito to new human experiences.

Kenjaku had asked you to aid him in teaching Mahito about sex. You knew he’d fucked the curse before, so it wasn’t too far fetched for him to include you. Something about being able to get the full experience, he’d said. Apparently it was harder for him to properly guide Mahito when he was buried inside the curse, which made sense to you. The vessel he currently inhabited was more sensitive than others he’d used. 

That was how you ended up in your current situation, fully nude on Kenjaku’s bed with Mahito in between your thighs. The curse’s tongue was something you’d never experienced in all your years. It had split in two and was lazily pumping inside of you while circling your clit at the same time. You convulsed in pleasure, not expecting to feel so much from a curse that needed to be taught. 

The only thing grounding you was the body pressed up against you. Kenjaku lay at your side, head resting on your chest as his hand was in Mahito’s hair, making sure the curse kept up the pace and didn’t stop until you were ready. The way Mahito’s tongue wrapped around your clit, flicking at the sensitive bud made your thighs quiver. 

“Make sure she’s ready to take you, Mahito. I showed you just how important stretching is, now give her the same courtesy I gave you,” Kenjaku ordered, his voice gentle as he pressed Mahito’s face against your pussy. You knew Kenjaku wasn’t speaking to you but you still felt the need to do as he said, there was just something about his tone that made you want to please him. 

Shifting your hips, you ground your pussy into Mahito’s face, his tongue pressing deeper inside of you with each thrust. As if he too wanted to do what Kenjaku said, you felt the tongue inside you become thicker, pressing against your walls instead of teasing them. Before you knew it, Mahito’s tongue was almost too big to fit inside of you.

Each thrust of his tongue made you feel impossibly full, it was more than you’d ever had inside of you at once before. You could feel how wet you were, a mix of your juices and Mahito’s saliva coating your thighs. It was hard to tell because of how wet you were, but you hadn’t even hit your peak yet. The curse was making you feel so good, but it just hadn’t been enough to push you over the edge.

Mahito’s tongue increased in pace, fucking inside of you just a little faster. The speed change made you clench around his tongue, he was so close to getting you off you could almost taste it. 

Suddenly, the fullness was gone along with the hot tongue wrapped around your clit. You whined, clenching your aching pussy around nothing. Opening your eyes you noticed Kenjaku wasn’t at your side anymore either, he had pulled Mahito up and was kissing him feverishly. You were accustomed to Kenjaku’s more eager, violent kisses, but it was more than arousing to watch him suck your juices off of Mahito’s tongue.

Mahito’s eyes rolled back as Kenjaku held him by the hair still, forcing his head back in a deep kiss. You enjoyed the view, being able to watch Kenjaku take control of someone like this, watching his body and tongue move when you knew how they felt made you want him even more.

“Switch places with her Mahito, I think I know just what you both need,” Kenjaku said, his suggestive voice adding even more fuel to the lustful fire inside of you. You watched as he let go of Mahito, reaching out to you. 

You grasped at his hand with both of yours, allowing him to help you pull yourself up. Forgetting Mahito’s presence for a moment, you pressed your face into Kenjaku’s broad chest, loving the feeling of your bare skin pressed together. He places a soft kiss to the top of your head before he turned you around, your back pressing against his torso.

Looking down at the patchwork curse’s nude body, you had to admit he was the most attractive looking curse you’d ever seen. His features were similar to Kenjaku’s but body was much more lithe than sturdily built. His cock was hard and leaking against his pelvis, not too big to intimidate you. Though knowing he could manipulate his body at will did make you a little nervous.

Kenjaku’s hands went to your hips, urging you forward. You followed his lead, putting your knees on either side of the curse’s hips. When you were in position on top of Mahito, you felt Kenjaku’s hand on your back, pushing you down onto the curse. Leaning forward you felt Kenjaku’s hand slip in between your bodies, grabbing Mahito’s cock and rubbing the tip up against your entrance. 

You moaned, unable to keep your sounds in any longer as you felt Kenjaku press the head of Mahito’s cock inside of you. Kenjaku’s hands moved out from between you and grabbed your hips, pushing you down and forcing the curse’s cock inside of you. You watched Mahito’s face contort in pleasure as he throbbed inside of you. According to Kenjaku, he’d not let Mahito fuck him yet, only sucked him off, so this was likely the first time he’d been buried inside someone else.

A little more manhandling from Kenjaku and you were full of Mahito’s cock, he pulled you up, your back flush with his chest once more. Kenjaku’s hands didn’t leave your hips, he wanted full control over both of you and it seemed you were both eager to give it to him.

As Kenjaku started to bounce you on Mahito’s cock, you let yourself get lost in the way he felt inside of you. Mahito was average size, so you wondered why Kenjaku had been so insistent on stretching, but you were barely able to even think about that with the way he moved your body. Being on top was always fun to you, but now it felt so good, Mahito’s cock bumping into your spot with ease as Kenjaku controlled the pace. 

Mahito’s hands reached out, sliding up your body and grabbing onto your breasts as they bounced in front of them. He squeezed the flesh harshly, making your pussy squeeze around him. It was like he wanted to touch you, but didn’t know what to do exactly, the curse’s inexperience showing.

Kenjaku slowly bent your body forward, your sensitive breasts rubbing up against Mahito’s chest with every bounce of your hips. You were now face to face with the curse, both of you moaning messes. With your open mouths so close, you couldn’t help but kiss Mahito. The kisses were sloppy and both of you moaned into each other's mouths, pleasure too much to keep inside.

Trailing kisses down your spine, Kenjaku sat himself upright, leaving you to focus on kissing Mahito for a moment while he got into position. The whole point to this, the guise of teaching Mahito how to properly fuck someone, was so that he could enjoy you both together. You likely would have agreed even without that, but it was fun for him to have another layer of motivation.

One of his hands left your hip, the other continuing to guide you up and down Mahito’s cock. You wondered what he was doing, but it didn’t take long for you to figure out. Kenjaku’s movements paused, the hand that was bouncing you was now holding you both still with Mahito still buried inside of you.

Before you had a chance to ask what he was doing, you felt the head of his cock prodding up against your entrance alongside Mahito’s. Your eyes snapped open, lips still pressed up against Mahito’s so you were unable to speak. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kenjaku, you were just worried Mahito hadn’t stretched you enough. 

“Both of you hold still. It’s my turn to join the fun now,” Kenjaku said, voice an almost whisper as he tried to press the head of his cock into your already full pussy. If Mahito was average, Kenjaku’s cock was large, his vessel was more well endowed than nearly all of the ones you’d been intimate with in the past.

It wasn’t long before his insistent rubbing against your wet entrance allowed the head of his cock to slip inside. The stretch was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, it burned but didn’t exactly hurt. The feeling was indescribable, you could feel your pussy clenching around them but tried to relax your muscles. You knew it would be harder for Kenjaku to fuck you like this if your pussy was trying to push him out.

Kenjaku’s hands both returned to your hips, thumbs massaging circles into your flesh as he slowly pressed further into you. Your kiss with Mahito had turned into you trying to focus on breathing while he kissed around your lips, tongue cleaning up evidence of the sloppy kiss you’d shared. His little moans told you that he was also enjoying the way Kenjaku’s cock felt beside his.

Once Kenjaku was fully inside of you, you felt like you were on the verge of passing out, the stretch and feeling of his cock so much further inside of you than Mahito’s made your legs tremble. 

“You’re so tight like this, it shouldn’t take long now just hold on,” Kenjaku said, voice barely composed as he slowly started thrusting in and out of you. Being so full, you felt so much more. Each thrust, no matter how slow you could feel every vein, every twitch of Kenjaku’s cock inside of you.

Even Mahito’s cock felt like too much, Kenjaku’s cock forcing it to stay pressed up against your spot. With every one of Kenjaku’s thrusts it rubbed up against it and filled you with even more pleasure. 

After a few thrusts, Kenjaku picked up the pace and began to fuck into you in earnest. You hadn’t known it was possible to feel this full, or that it could feel this good to have your pussy stuffed with two different cocks. The sounds leaving your mouth were pitiful, each thrust left you whining, only able to stop moaning when Mahito’s tongue entered your mouth. The curse kept trying to kiss you, as if he was unsure what to do with himself. 

You could see that he was enjoying this too, his moans blending in with your own to make a lewd chorus of praise for the way Kenjaku used you both. The only other sound you could register was the slick squelching noise of Kenjaku fucking into you. It was almost embarrassing to know that such a sound was coming from you, but you were far too lost in pleasure to care about that.

Kenjaku’s fingers moved to spread you open more, making it so he could look down and watch his cock disappear into your messy pussy. You felt so tight even though you had never been more open for him. The sight made him pump his cock into you faster, harder than he had been. The gentle edge to his thrusts gone as he fucked into you, chasing his own pleasure.

It was too much for you, from the stretch of the cocks inside you, to Kenjaku’s rough thrusting, even Mahito’s insistent sloppy kisses were pushing you over the edge. You felt yourself release, pussy spasming around the cocks inside of you. The intensity of your orgasm was so much more than you had expected, you weren’t sure if you had blacked out for a moment or if your eyes had rolled back into your head too far. Everything around you felt dizzying.

At the feeling of your pussy spasming, Mahito also was forced over the edge. His cock throbbing as he spilled inside of you. The pleasure being too much for him, he bit down on your lip, adding the taste of blood to your kiss. 

Through both of your orgasms Kenjaku just kept thrusting, it was hard for him to not get off immediately when your pussy was trying to milk him dry with each twitch of its walls. He was close though, leaning down he rested his forehead on your back, body bending at a strange angle to give him more leverage. Fucking into you as hard as he could, not caring about keeping rhythm or how violent his thrusts were.

It was easier for him to move inside of you with Mahito’s cock now soft, each thrust felt different than the last and that was what finally pushed Kenjaku to join you both in bliss. Pressing in as deep as he could, Kenjaku emptied himself, hot release filling you up. You could even feel it leaking out around his cock. 

The three of you stayed like that for a moment, Kenjaku being the first to move when Mahito started whining about being sensitive. After he pulled himself out of you, he lifted you up off of the curse’s cock. You’d hoped he was going to let you rest but when your back hit the mattress you felt him lift your trembling legs into the air. 

Kenjaku kissed at your thighs, not caring that Mahito was watching the strange display of affection. Gently, he spread your folds open to look at the effect he’d had on your pussy. It was puffy and leaking, you wanted to close your legs at the thought of him looking into your gaping entrance. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your clit, pulling a high pitched whine from your throat.

“You did so good, once you rest a little more we can show Mahito even more fun he could have,” Kenjaku said, grinning up at you like he had more in mind. His words were teasing and threatening at the same time. You were, as always, excited and aroused at what he meant.

[unproductive-peanut]

Blitzø’s Buttons

Blitzø’s Buttons:  

I have discussed this before, but I am obsessed with the implications of the emergency buttons under Blitzø’s desk:  

More coffee  

Not really an emergency, but it's giving the millennial “Don’t talk to me until I have had my coffee” vibes. He is the right age...  

Soiled my pants  

How many times has this occurred for it to be its own whole button? Maybe he bought the thing with 7 spots and just needed to fill them? Soiled pants are for sure a button worthy emergency but hopefully not a common one 

Horny Client  

Again, how often does this happen? Does this button mean come rescue me or don't bother me I’m busy? Knowing Blitzø’s promiscuity, it could be either 

Deranged Client  

Yea, I am sure this one happens a lot  

Client Giving Birth  

This one has crazy implications. Can sinners give birth? I was always under the assumption that sinners had the least amount of autonomy; can't leave the pride ring, don't age, and assumedly can't procreate but maybe this proves that wrong? Or (and more likely in my opinion) IMP used to kill in hell before they got the book. If they did service demons before expanding to Earth, a client giving birth is a lot more possible   

Ghost  

What is a ghost to a soul in hell??? A ghost is traditionally the soul/spirit of a dead person without physical form. The sinner souls that come from Earth are given a new physical form. Can they lose that and become a loose, body-less soul? Aka a ghost? If so, how does that happen?

Or is it a hellborn’s soul? Do hellborns even have souls? I don’t think we have seen an examples in either Helluva Boss or Hazbin Hotel where a hellborn sold their soul or has died. (unsure if Charlie counts because her lineage is half cast-down human/ half angel) Supposedly, sinners respawn when killed (unless it's with angelic weapons) but what happens to hellborns when they die?  

How often does a ghost come to haunt Blitzø? Honestly, he has pissed off enough people, I wouldn't be surprised if this was a common emergency.  

A future episode is supposedly called Ghostfuckers so maybe we will find out more 

Stolas  

Maybe this was before Stolas found out about the book? Even if not, based on how Stolas behaved in the pilot episode, this button seems appropriate. Even in the first episode, Stolas seems to call and just spill his horny guts. Emergency button deserved, horny jail