#is this anything. screaming in the void here

[shaiyasstuff]

my little demon | rafayel

synopsis : You accidentally summon a demon. He's annoying, endearing, and suddenly leaving. You hate it, hate him. Except, maybe you don't. And maybe that's the worst part. content : demon!rafayel, fluff, poor references to hell, comedy

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Y/N.”

“For fuck’s sake, Rafayel, do you not understand what time out means?” you snapped, slamming your pen down like it had personally wronged you. You turned to him, already bracing for the face.

And there it was.

Big eyes. Slight pout. That tragic, kicked-puppy expression that made him look like a freshly scolded Disney sidekick.

“You look like a goldfish,” you deadpanned.

“Hey!” he gasped, hand flying to his chest like you’d just impaled him. “A cute goldfish though?” He double finger-gunned at you, winking.

You blinked. Twice. “You’re so lucky you’re already from hell.”

Rafayel just beamed like you’d complimented him.

“‘Yel,” you groaned, rubbing your temples, “I have three thousand words due by tomorrow, and my prof already hates me because I made a joke about Plato being a drama queen. If I don’t finish this, he’s going to flay me.”

“I still don’t get why you humans do this to yourselves,” Rafayel muttered, kicking his legs from where he was perched upside-down on your desk chair like an overgrown toddler. “You pay to be stressed out. Should’ve just sold your soul like a normal person.”

You gave him a look.

“Oh wait.” He grinned, sharp teeth peeking out. “Too late.”

You considered throwing your textbook at him. Not that it would do anything. He’d just catch it mid-air with a smug smirk and then use it as a coaster for his bubble tea.

Because, yes, your demon—your demon, what the actual hell—had a crippling addiction to boba. Specifically the strawberry milk tea kind. With rainbow pearls. That he insisted on ordering with your credit card.

How did it come to this?

Well. You were trying to write your thesis.

A comparative analysis of ancient summoning rituals and modern occult trends.

Cool, edgy, mildly creepy.

Your professor was thrilled.

You, on the other hand, were downing energy drinks and googling ‘curses that don’t backfire’ at 3AM.

Then you found The Website.

Black background. Red font.

Very ‘do-not-enter-this-site-if-you-value-your-soul’ vibes.

So like anyone with a brain, you clicked it.

You followed the instructions—chalk circle, candles, some vaguely Latin-sounding chants—and when nothing happened, you shrugged and went to bed, convinced you’d wasted twenty bucks on witchy candles and your last shred of dignity.

Then you woke up to glowing eyes staring down at you from your ceiling like some paranormal ceiling cat.

You screamed. Loudly.

Your RA came running, ready to fight a serial killer, only to find you clutching a pillow and pointing at an empty spot on your ceiling like a madwoman.

He backed out of your room slowly, muttering something about, “freshman psychosis” and, “never rooming with a lit major.”

And now?

Now you had Rafayel.

A demon with a temper shorter than your GPA, a weird fixation with glitter, and a total disregard for personal space, deadlines, or the human concept of privacy.

He refused to leave.

Something about your summoning being ‘binding’ and your ‘aura’ being ‘weirdly cozy.’ Whatever the hell that meant.

You sighed and turned back to your laptop, muttering, “Why couldn’t I have summoned, like, a chill ghost? Or a vampire with a tragic past?”

From behind you, Rafayel hummed, “You say tragic past, but I am the reason a small village disappeared off the map in 1437.”

You didn’t even flinch. “Good for you.”

“And yet, here I am. Reduced to being your emotional support demon.”

“Reduced? No one asked you to rearrange my spice rack alphabetically and by Scoville level.”

“Blasphemy tastes better with cayenne.”

You didn’t look up. You didn’t respond.

You simply typed.

And hoped to hell—or heaven, or the void between—that this paper would write itself before you lost your last brain cell.

You felt the faint, ominous creak of your desk chair’s twin moving behind you—the low growl of overworked wheels scratching across old floorboards.

Which meant that Rafayel was on the move.

And sure enough, a second later, he was right beside you, chin practically glued to your shoulder as he peered at your screen like a nosy toddler who had just discovered the concept of YouTube.

“Oh my god,” he whispered in genuine horror. “What is that supposed to be?”

You blinked. “It’s a nineteenth-century etching of a demon.”

“That,” he pointed dramatically, “looks like if a goblin and a melted candle had an unfortunate child.”

“…Well, it is hell,” you muttered under your breath, barely suppressing the eye twitch as he recoiled at the grotesque, horned figure on your laptop like it personally offended his bloodline.

“It’s just—ugh! You humans get it so wrong.” Rafayel flopped back into his chair with a dramatic huff, lacing his fingers behind his head like this was a casual TED Talk and not your descent into academic burnout.

“Lucifer’s not some scary, flaming rage monster. He’s actually pretty chill. Bit moody. Likes jazz. Wears a lot of silk.”

You blinked slowly, fingers hovering over your keyboard. “Wonderful. Shall I cite you as a primary source, then?”

“I mean, I did know him.”

“Of course you did.”

He grinned, cocky and unbothered, like he hadn’t been singlehandedly driving you to the edge of sanity all month.

You slammed your palms onto your desk with the force of a caffeinated raccoon reaching enlightenment.

“Rafayel.”

“Yes?” he said sweetly, as if he hadn’t just derailed your concentration for the fifth time in under ten minutes.

“I am a senior,” you began, voice dangerously calm, “in the final semester of a four-year degree that I am barely surviving. I have not slept in two days. I have eaten nothing but cereal dust and vending machine pretzels. My thesis is currently being held together by three weak metaphors, one questionable source, and the power of denial.”

You took a breath, gaze narrowing.

“So unless you want me to start writing my next section on how modern demons are somehow worse than capitalism—Shut. The fuck. Up.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then he gave you a slow clap.

“I love it when you get feisty,” he said, grinning.

You turned back to your screen.

He was lucky he was immortal.

—•

You threw your hands in the air like a malfunctioning robot powering down for the last time and muttered a tired, deadpan, “Yay.”

The kind of yay that carried the weight of sleep deprivation, caffeine addiction, and a vague desire to start life over as a forest hermit.

When you turned, Rafayel was mid-hover above your bed—legs crossed in an upside-down floating genie pose like some unholy yoga instructor. His head hung just low enough to make direct, smug eye contact with you.

“I’m done.” you declared, the kind of joy only reserved for finishing a thesis or surviving a group project with your sanity intact.

“Finally,” he drawled, tossing his ninety-ninth boba cup into the bottomless trashcan of the void like a three-point shot. The lid landed with a soft clink that echoed like judgment.

You stared at him. “Is that my hoodie you’re wearing?”

He shrugged—midair, still upside down. “It smells like you. Very… stressed and academically overachieving.”

You flopped face-first onto your bed with a groan. “Why are you like this?”

“I’m your emotional support demon,” he chirped. “I’m doing my job.”

“Do your job quieter.”

“That’s not in the contract.”

“There was no contract—”

“You summoned me with ancient Latin and expired lavender candles. I’d call that consent.”

You groaned into your pillow. He was unbearable. Infuriating. Downright catastrophic.

But also… a little fun.

Stupid adorable demon.

“How do I even get rid of you anyway?” you mumbled into the depths of your pillow, the words muffled but laced with the kind of dramatic despair that came after surviving both a thesis and Rafayel.

Silence.

Unusual silence.

Suspicious, even.

You lifted your head just enough to peek over your arm. “…Rafayel?”

No answer.

You sat up fully now, squinting toward your desk—where the demon in question was oddly still, back turned, his usual commentary absent.

That was never a good sign.

You got up, padding quietly across the room like one of those horror movie girls who absolutely should not go toward the ominous figure, but does anyway because narrative choices.

There he was, standing in front of your laptop, staring at the still-open tab with the medieval etching of hell. The fire, the grotesque figures, the tormented souls—all frozen in digital interpretation.

You stopped a few feet behind him. “…You okay?”

His posture didn’t shift. He didn’t crack a joke or throw a boba cup into the void.

Just stared.

And when he finally did speak, it was quieter than you expected.

“They always get it wrong,” he said. “They make it all fire and fury. Screaming. Violence.”

You frowned, uncertain.

He turned slightly, just enough for you to see the flicker in his expression. Not anger. Not smugness.

Something else.

“They forget it’s mostly just… quiet down there.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t know what to.

So you just stood there, behind the demon you summoned on accident, watching as he looked at a world that feared him—and didn’t understand him at all.

He finally turned to look at you, and there was that flicker of a smile again—gentler this time, almost… nostalgic?

“Hell isn’t that bad, you know?” he said, like he was trying to convince you, or maybe just himself. “I had friends down there.”

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossing. “You? Have friends? Shocking.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Rude. But fair.”

Still, the sarcasm didn’t fully return. His shoulders relaxed a little, and his gaze dropped for a moment like he was remembering something that didn’t belong in this room, in this world.

“Yeah,” he said. “We may not have souls, but we’re not cold-blooded beings who only love torture.”

A pause.

His lips twitched. “Okay. Maybe some of us are. Gormax really enjoyed the whole spine-peeling thing.”

You blinked. “That’s not a real name.”

“Swear on the Void.”

“…You people need hobbies.”

He grinned again, but this time you noticed the faint sadness beneath it. Not enough to take over, but just enough to linger.

You glanced at your laptop, still glowing with the static, flaming misery of a human’s idea of damnation, and then back at him.

“You miss it?”

Rafayel shrugged. “Sometimes. It’s home. In a weird, messed-up, infernal kind of way.”

You nodded slowly.

And maybe—just maybe—you started to understand.

“I mean, I understand. I miss home too. But,” you sighed, dropping back into your chair with a quiet thud. Rafayel hovered beside you again, floating like some dramatic ghost lamp as he waited—surprisingly quiet, for once.

“My parents passed away two years ago,” you said, voice soft, almost careful, like the words had grown sharp with time. “So I’ve been avoiding going home. It just… doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

You didn’t look at him as you spoke. Just clicked through the open tabs, saving your thesis with methodical clicks. Save as draft. Save to cloud. Back up to your USB, just in case the universe decided to smite your hard drive out of spite.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was heavy. Like a blanket pulled over your shoulders that you didn’t ask for but kind of needed.

Rafayel didn’t say anything right away.

He didn’t make a joke.

Didn’t deflect.

He just hovered beside you, gaze steady, presence uncharacteristically… grounded.

And for once, you didn’t feel like talking was wasted.

You shrugged off the creeping melancholy with a light chuckle, brushing it off like lint from an old sweater. No need to get all soft and sentimental—this was supposed to be your break from the feels, not a therapy session featuring one floating demon roommate.

Turning to Rafayel, you expected another sarcastic quip, or maybe a comment about your overuse of the word “therefore” in your thesis. But instead, he was just… staring at you.

Not in his usual annoying way.

Not the 'I’m about to tease you for eating dry cereal out of a mug again' way.

Just quietly watching you.

“Tell me more,” he said.

You blinked. “Huh?”

He leaned in a little, expression unreadable. “Tell me more about yourself.”

You froze.

Not because you didn’t want to—but because no one ever asked that. Not like that. Not seriously.

Not with that kind of openness in their voice, like he actually wanted to know.

The demon you accidentally summoned from a sketchy website at 3AM, who drinks boba like it’s holy nectar and thinks your hoodie smells like existential dread, was asking you—you—to talk about yourself.

You were stunned.

Then you did the only thing that made sense.

“…Okay,” you said quietly. “But only if you go first.”

He tilted his head, lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile—something more honest. “Deal.”

You lay sprawled on your bed, one leg dangling off the side, your pillow tucked under your chin like a sad little emotional support loaf.

Across from you, Rafayel spun slow, lazy circles in the air like some haunted carousel ride. At one point he did a full backflip and declared it, “aesthetically necessary.”

And somehow, between the jokes and the occasional sarcastic remark, the conversation had slipped into something real.

You told him about your past. Your parents. The quiet house you grew up in. How you always wanted a sibling—not just to share toys with, but to not feel alone when the lights turned off and grief crept in.

You told him about the accident, how it felt like the world just stopped, and you were the only one still moving.

And he listened. Actually listened.

In return, he talked about the Void—though you were beginning to think “hell” was more of a branding issue than a literal place.

He described it like a strange bureaucracy: souls sorted, some punished, others recycled, a few left in the waiting room forever because someone misplaced their paperwork.

“Torture chambers are real, yeah,” he said casually, floating upside down with his hair hanging like a purplish waterfall. “But they’re for the actual evil ones. Not the spicy-sin level ones. Just murdery, unforgivable bastards.”

He paused, then smirked. “It’s always funny when a priest walks in. So shocked. Like, sir, you were literally laundering money and judging people for existing.”

You gave a snort-laugh, despite yourself.

Then you sat up, narrowing your eyes. “Okay, but—what is your role in all this? Why are you so free to be here, doing aerial tricks in my room and spending thousands on my credit card like it’s demon Black Friday?”

Rafayel floated to a stop, blinking.

Then he stretched out like a cat mid-yawn. “Technically, I’m a scout.”

“A scout?”

“Yeah. Recruits, human surveillance, some possession clearance checks, the occasional ‘make a deal for your soul’ gig—basic intern stuff.”

You gawked. “You’re telling me you’re a hell intern?”

He smirked. “Unpaid, of course. And overqualified.”

You dropped your head into your hands. “Of course you are.”

He floated a little closer, a glint in his eye. “But I was top of my class in emotional disruption and distraction techniques, thank you very much.”

“Yeah. I figured.”

He smirked, all teeth and knowing glint. “You’ll miss me.”

You blinked.

Then immediately scowled. “Fuck no.”

But the twinge in your chest—the subtle little ache—said otherwise.

Betrayal. By your own heart.

Rude.

Rafayel, of course, noticed. He always did. The bastard was like an emotion-sniffing dog, except instead of alerting people, he just smirked more.

“When I get promoted,” he said, reclining into his imaginary armchair like some otherworldly sitcom character, “I’ll finally be able to go back.”

Back to the Void. To hell.

To wherever demons like him belonged when they weren’t terrorizing emotionally constipated college students and draining their boba budgets.

You went quiet, lips pressed together.

Then, softly—almost like you weren’t sure you wanted to hear the answer—you asked,

“What if I want to see you again?”

He turned his head, cocking a brow. “I thought you wanted me to begone?”

“Well, yeah,” you mumbled, rubbing at your neck like you could hide your embarrassment behind muscle tension. “That was before I thought you were… fun.”

Rafayel blinked. Then blinked again, stunned just long enough for you to feel like maybe—maybe—you’d glitched the demon matrix.

“Fun?” he echoed, the grin creeping back slowly. “You think I’m fun?”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late.”

You groaned and rolled back onto your bed, covering your face with your hands.

From above, you heard the soft flick of a boba straw unwrapping. And then—

“You’re fun too, you know,” he said.

You peeked between your fingers.

He was still floating. Still smug. But maybe—just maybe—a little softer.

[joyswonderland1108]

Did I disappear? Technically yes. Did I leave? Absolutely not.

I just realized i had to make this post before posting about anything else? But here we are.

Hey besties 💌

In case you've been wondering where i've been (or if i've been swallowed by the void of adult responsibilities and endless tasks) the answer is yes. And unfortunately, the void is not as aesthetic as Pinterest promised.

I know i haven't been as present on here for a while, just a few random bursts or reblogs and chaotic Jikook thoughts when i could sneak them in, but i just wanted to say: I never left. i never could. Not the fandom. Not Tumblr. And most definitely not Jikook.

I've been busy with life, the kind that just keeps throwing stuff at you like a drama writer who hates their own characters. So posting regularly felt impossible. I wanted to talk about all the Jikook moments, the parallels, the chaos, the unhinged glances, the emotionally charged silences, but i barely had time to function, let alone organize my delusions into coherent posts.

That being said.. I've been here. Quiet, lurking, maybe stuck in Twitter's repost loop sometimes (we've all been there), but still very much in love with these two otters disguised as chaos incarnate, still very much in love with BTS.

And honestly? Shoutout to the Jikookies who kept showing up, who posted about Jin and Hobi's military discharge, their comebacks, their songs, albums, IG posts, Weverse posts and comments, Jikook, analyzed, screamed, zoomed in, circled, and gave us content even when i couldn't (Shoutout to my good friend @kanmom51). You carried us. You carried me. I owe you a coffee and a breakdown session.

So yes, this is me officially saying: I'm slowly crawling my way back. The chaos might be slower. The delulu might be slightly delayed. But i'm here. Still Jikooking. Still feral. Still screaming into the void with love and sarcasm.

💜🐰🐥

[vroomvroomwee]

You know, I was thinking about putting down my own controversial opinion when writing the initial post but ultimately decided against it because I wanted to hear what you guys have to say. But, if I had? It would have been this one:

I fucking hate Lucifer.

I completely agree with what you said, and I genuinely mean that not in a "This is a safe space so I'm obligated to listen to your opinions" I mean it in a "I fucking want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you so we're both screaming this opinion in the void". I hate Lucifer so much and here's the thing. I don't think I would hate him so much if the fandom actually acknowledges that he's not a good person, but for some inexplicable, aggravating reason everyone treats him like some poor wounded baby who never did anything wrong and loves his wife and daughter so so much 🙄

No.

That man is selfish. He is literally described as a troublemaker even before the apple, so who knows what type of clownery and mayhem he was up to as an angel (his whole theme is LITERALLY a circus, eg. him flying with Charlie, him dressed as a ringmaster, the entire city having hints of a circus, all the sins taking up a role as one of the circus people (eg. Asmodeus a fire breather, Beelzebub an animal tamer, Belphegor a psychic etc.), and how the hotel and his palace are all circus themed too). He was probably someone who thought heaven's plans were shit and everyone should do things his way because it's so much better. And maybe it is, maybe it's not we have no way of knowing so I'll leave this open until we get to season two because I don't think what happened in Eden is as straightforward as what Charlie read from her CHILDREN'S book.

Even before we meet Lucifer the only thing Charlie has to say about him is that he calls but only when he's bored or needs something from her which WE ACTUALLY SEE WHEN THE GUY ASKS HIS DAUGHTER TO GO TO A MEETING INSTEAD OF HIM WITH HER MOTHER'S EX WHO HE KNOWS IS A COMPLETE ASSHOLE. Then we get a glimpse of his life, of how unkept his palace is, of how he stays cooped up in his room and makes ducks which directly ties to the first episode when Charlie mentions how Lilith took control over the kingdom. That leaves us to believe that Lucifer doesn't really do jack shit and drops all the work to his wife. We know he made Lulu Land, but we also know that he made it so expensive that the majority of imps and even some goetia can't enter (in which case what the actual fuck?? He's literally the king, doesn't he have enough money already??) Then he tells Charlie he has no idea where she is these days. She reminds him of the hotel and how he wasn't listening, and then he CONFIRMS it. Dude doesn't give a crap about his daughter's struggles and dreams, and the exasperated way Charlie asks tells us that this isn't a one time thing but more of a continuous behaviour that Lucifer doesn't care to rectify

Then, we see him arrive at the hotel. And what's the first thing he does? He hugs Charlie and then proceeds to completely diss all of her friends. They're nice and welcoming to him, but he brushes them off as if they're dirt. He doesn't have any friends not because he's awkward or weird, but because he's a pompous dick. He mocks the bar Charlie/Alastor put up. Then he picks a fight with Alastor even though Alastor wasn't initially hostile ("just some of the decorations we made. Adds a bit of colour, don't you think?" "And you are? 😤") after that it's only natural that Alastor begins to lose his composure.

In the song the only thing Lucifer has going for him is how rich he is, how influental he is, how powerful he is (all indicators of his pride I know) and of course Alastor takes advantage of that and gives Charlie the validation she craves. The girl is so emotionally neglected that she's reduced to receiving praise from a sadistic abusive serial killer who she knows is manipulating her but in her eyes it's better than whatever Lucifer has to offer. Which... wow.

Lucifer then goes on a rant about how sinners are vile psychopaths and don't deserve help and how Charlie's project is doomed to fail. Great job, Lucifer, dad of the year. And that's fine if he wants to protect her from failure and death at the hands of heaven (aka more than anything - which I still think Charlie forgave him way too quickly)

And that brings us to another topic, and that's Lucifer's deplore for his own people. He hates sinners even though hell is HIS fault, therefore they are HIS responsibility, but he does nothing. No, not only does he do nothing, he actively agreed to anual exterminations where thousands of people die. And I guess it could be argued that he's valid for feeling this way since sinners are downright awful, but then we would COMPLETELY BE MISSING THE POINT. The entire plot of Hazbin is how sinners are capable of redemption, how they can be good and how even good people wind up down there for some poor choices in life. Lucifer finally realizes that after subjecting his people for thousands of years to torture, misery, pain and death. It was about time

(Also, even if he doesn't care about sinners but then claims he still cares for the hellborn then he's a big fat hypocrite. The Lulu Land example is one of the instances, another is the ENTIRE COURT SCENE IN HELLUVA BOSS. In one of the news headlines it's said that blitz is the FIRST imp since the existence of imps to NOT be executed after being convicted and THAT FLIES OVER SO MANY HEADS. We see Lucifer's seat has cobwebs and dust (and a duck) on it, so he's knowingly let millions and millions of imps be unjustly sentenced to death even though he has the power to stop it and/or change the legal system entirely)

I also want to mention how fucking LATE Lucifer was to the fight in the finale. People are arguing that Lucifer was forbidden from interfering with the exterminations because of the contract with Adam (even though that hasn't been confirmed yet in the show) but the guy literally has the ability to teleport in a matter of seconds. He should have been at the hotel THE MOMENT Dazzle was killed, or the moment Adam rammed Charlie into the hotel's sign. No, actually. If he cared enough he should have been there from the fucking start. Not fighting, but watching and waiting for the moment when Adam breaks the deal. He should have been by Charlie's side the moment that portal opened. Which tells us that for an entire month after Charlie came back from the meeting in heaven, Lucifer didn't bother to even CALL ONCE and check if she's okay, or ask what happened, or give a fuck that an ENTIRE ARMY of exorcists is going to come crashing down on the hotel with the intention to kill every single resident there

And I know people headcanon him as autistic, and that most of his behaviour can be explained by that but most of the time I see that headcanon is when people are talking about Lucifer's duck obsession or when they point out how socially isolated he is. And I think many of them forget that autistic people aren't excempt from being bad people!!! You can be autistic and still be a douche and many fans can't differentiate Lucifer's autistic traits from him just being genuinely rude to the people around him

There's also the excuse that he's suffering from depression and trauma from heaven. And of course, depression is a monster to contest with, but in these discussions people forget to mention that Lucifer is still king and even though the pressure is immense, he still has an obligation to his people. He MADE them. They are in hell BECAUSE of him. So, if he's still suffering from something that happened TEN THOUSAND years ago then it's either time to get over it, or got to fucking therapy!! Because his negligence isn't just destructive to him, but it's actively harming his daughter and millions of sinners too. And what's weirder is how he plasters apples all throughout the city. Like... huh? If you're so traumatised by what happened why are you broadcasting your guilt on every piece of clothing, window and fucking floorboard???

AAAND I also want to point out some parallels between Lucifer and Stolas that personally irk me. They both started out as emotionless, downright evil lords of hell. Stolas in the pilot genuinely had no qualms about his and blitz's agreement and seemed happy to promote global warming so that more people die. Lucifer was written as the literal devil, he was cruel and a bad parent to Charlie and he didn't care that he was. Then, Stolas became a wimp, no literally, his main personality traits became being wronged about his arranged marriage and having Stella as his wife (those are both awful things, I'm talking about how vivienne chose to give him that trauma instead of keeping him as a villainous figure), and being a lovestruck bottom in love with an imp aww. Same with Lucifer, she excused him being a bad dad (which he WAS) due to his trauma with heaven and him suffering from depression. She turned him from a ruthless ruler who thought sinners deserved to be tortured and who reveled in it, to a quirky duck man who has it so difficult that he's king to such horrible people 🙄. They are both dads estranged from their daughters and somehow it's the daughter's fault for being mad because they never ever ever ever did anything wrong and they were absent in their daughter's lives because they CARED about them aww how sweet. Also, Stolas beating up Andrealphus is practically frame by frame the same scene as Lucifer beating up Adam. And the way Viv drastically changed both characters for the show adaptations is making me crazy!

I think I would have absolutely LOVED Lucifer if they didn't pull the "aww poor man he's traumatised therefore his behaviour is okay and we should forgive him for everything". If the show actually said "Hey look, here's the literal devil, he has flaws duh." then I would have digested him so much more easily because it's FINE if a character has flaws and is imperfect, good even, and it would have made his journey into becoming a better person so much more interesting. But, it's not fine to sweep them under a rug and pretend they don't exist and he's actually great because he's "short and funny and hot and loves his daughter therefore he's never done anything wrong :)" I wish the fandom treated him as the morally complex character he is, I would have loved him more if it did

(Also, I'm a firm believer that if Lucifer was a woman, the fandom would tear her to shreds. Like they do with Lilith 🤔)

I'm gonna use this post to ask you all for your most controversial Hellaverse opinions.

I know people often do these, but I don't want to hear any "staticmoth is better than radiostatic" mundane, palatable opinions. I want to hear your most contentious, your most divisive, your most polemic, your nastiest, deepest hidden opinions that on any other app would get you beleaguered. I want to hear the opinions that you're afraid of voicing because other fans will flip out. Run wild and don't worry about consequences, the comment section is a safe space, and I will delete any offensive comments or people trying to argue "no, you're wrong" because I want to hear OPINIONS

(A healthy, nonjudgemental discussion is, of course, welcome 🥰)

[room217prayer]

Tamlin’s week - Day 4 (Powers / Hair)

Day four of @tamlinweek, sorry for day 3, maybe later on I will be able to finish and post it!

But here’s my entry for day four and... EH. I had to. I hope you’ll enjoy it too. ♥

Important Info/Tags: Tamsand is the main ship. There is angst and mention of blood and violence. Both prompts are used for this fic, even if the Hair one is subtler.

Dividers provided as always by @olenvasynyt, I love them dearly.

Enjoy! ♥

As You Shine, I Darken

The screams were still echoing in his mind – the same ones he made happen as he melted and teared apart the minds of the two heirs of Spring.

Had been the ones of his mother and sister just as chilling? Have the two brothers felt the same shiver of glee in killing them?

Perhaps, the difference was that his was born in revenge – he was different.

He wouldn’t kill the defenseless. He wouldn’t kill his mother... he wouldn’t kill him.

Except his father thought differently and so he had marched to do just so.

Rhysand wouldn’t kill them – he wouldn’t – and he did try to stop his father from doing so. Against the High Lord of Night, what powers did he have to stop him?

Nothing.

He had nothing, so he begged and observed as he killed the Lady of Spring.

The chills he felt were completely different this time and he... he had watched.

Saw as her eyes turned empty looking into his and everything froze – ice in his heart – at the image of them being his green ones. The fresh newborn leaves, the most beautiful emerald broke in death.

No. Not him. Not his Tamlin.

He wouldn’t... His anger wasn’t blinding him so much to let him watch as the joyous laughter would turn into ash and poison with his howls and cries.

No. No, he won’t let that happen.

He didn’t need to do anything.

Tamlin himself didn’t let it happen.

With one hit of power, his Father – a High Lord – was killed.

Their eyes met in the destruction.

As violet happen on green the powers of their Courts flowed inside their very souls.

Changing them forever – melting them in an unbroken chain while the blood of their families dripped on the pavement, into the earth.

Rhysand felt the shadows of the Night around him but he could only see the Golden Halo of him.

And while Tamlin cried he –wanted to flee, too unstable, his mind a whirling of signals about the danger in front of him – instead crashed into him.

Wings spread open in a second, before curling around the trembling shoulders of the young – new – High Lord of Spring.

Rhysand hugged his Tamlin face with his bloodied hands, kissing him as the last drops of the Cauldron magic marked them. Light and dark in one deep red string.

Their only salvation or their doom.

Rhysand made it happen as blood rested on his tongue.

He drank it, just as his powers and cries.

He made a home for them in the deeps of his starless void.

Tamlin fought back, his teeth crashed against his before sinking in his lips, but Rhysand took hold of his hairs, his nape in a choke. Both of them drunk on their new powers as blood now flood every one of their senses.

Taste, smell and even sight and touch as violet crashed against teary and furious green. His stained hands, fingers, leaving trails of red in his golden hair.

The High Lord of night couldn’t stop from looking at his bloodied lips – the mark of his lineage staining them – thinking about how beautiful he looked marked by him. How it seemed he had lipstick on.

Drunken, the Night powers making him feel lightheaded, his mind tried to connect with Tamlin’s, searching, trying to bind deeper his hold –

The slither of a blade – and Illyrian blade – rested against the skin of Rhysand’s neck, right where his heart was pumping so much blood as the High Lord of Spring pushed him until he was on the floor with Tamlin sitting on his lap.

He let it happen, he didn’t do anything to stop him, all he did was... stare.

He could only do that, his breath stolen by the sight above him, by the young fae who once was so clear in his innocence that he still kept no matter what.

No matter what was done to him.

What was he made to do.

Now he was so bright in his golden aura and so... impure.

Stained by blood, by rage, by a hurt so deep that its roots were made of steel – a bleeding wound that would not heal.

Rhysand looked at his blonde hair – so bright as the Spring powers where irradiating from every strands – where the blood of his brothers encrusted in them. Could he smell it? Was there a sparkle of joy in his sorrow, knowing they would no more hurt him?

It didn’t matter, as the blade drew a drop of his life essence, as all he could think about was how he wanted to wash away the stains he himself left behind.

Only to cover those golden strands with his own, making so that his smell could never leave him. No matter of many time he cleaned himself.

No matter if he cut everything to the roots, having bled it into his mind where he would haunt him to the end and beyond.

In the feverish of his crumbling sanity – in the retro of it he could hear the wings of his brothers nearby – he pushed against the edge of the dagger, sitting up.

His hands an anchor on his hips, as he felt him – as he wanted to feel him more, needing to go deeper, molding himself inside Tamlin’s body and soul.

“Do it” he whispered, as it cut more of his skin as he watched how his pupils dilated in wonder and shock by his action.

As he tried to grapple his fury to sanity, as both their powers were devouring everything he was.

“Do it Tamlin. End this now”

He was letting him decide, as their family rested dead – as their blood was still warm and their bodies cold.

He was giving him his only way out, as he was back into enclosing him in his shadows, in his darkest night – his fingers touching again his hair, dancing powers meeting in the middle.

Tamlin stared, the blade stilled, ready to slit –

His mouth crashed back into his in a cry, the growl of defeat as Rhysand smiled – as insanity took hold of both of them.

As their powers exploded, the windows cracked and glass rained down.

The walls shook and crumbled.

His mind flew to the starlight pool.

The first sign of his conquest in Spring, now made whole.

And here it is my third fic, for the fourth day! ♥

I like it, but at the same time... I wanted to do more. For it to be more, because I love the concept (will forever scream about them gaining their High Lord powers at the same time) but I fear I didn't do a good job with it.

Let me know if you still liked this short fic! ♥ I will for sure come back to this, because gngngngn I need to explore eveything - and have them hatefuck (spoile: I was going to let this happen here, but, again, time and creativity were not on my side)

Happy fourth day of Tamlin's week, everyone! I hope you have been having just as much fun as I'm having! ♥

See you (hopefully again) for another Tamlin’s week day! ♥

[chimerahyperfix]

isat everyone loops au but it’s very much a horror thing and it’s in like a conga line type formation. Based on the concept of saving the game lol. Only one person is looping and the LAST person looping is ‘Loop’ [aka they take their roles, its referred 2 as redacting in mmy notes as it basically removes them from the world entirely.] The timeloop goes through everyone, one at a time, all in a row, over and over. If your redacted you remember, until the next save happens and THEY redact and you aren’t anymore and you forget. Yeah the plot’s still 90% the same. Yeah the world kinda forms around the empty hole whoever is redacted has left. Loop is the only one who remembers everything and interacts with whoever is redacted and like…. is tthe reason the save stars exist? which makes them, technically, a secondary antagonist. Sorgy loop :[

oh to be in a cycle of love and hate and life and death and you! can’t escape! no one can! And you loop, and everyone loops, and it’s ssuffering all the way down!!!!!!!! rahhhh rahhhhhh

bonus redacted sif as an example. Haiiiii

[imavikingo]

Everytime I look at Tumblr and see the tl I remember why I hate endgame with a passion you couldn't understand.

They fucked up Steve and Bucky so bad (yes, Bucky too bc suddenly he doesn't matter/isn't even a secondary character that deserves to be near Steve)

It's so funny to me (not) bc they talked about gay characters being in the movie at panels and interviews and even talked about Stucky at some point (basically queerbaiting) for then... Steve not even acknowledging Bucky. An awkward and impersonal hug doesn't cut it.

And Steve suddenly yearning and talking about Peggy? When he didn't even mourned her that bad and already had let her go ages ago? They knew they fucked up in CATWS with Steve and Buckys relationship, so they tried to distance them and then inserted Peggy bc ofc

(they possibly didn't have the time for a new character and they already had fucked up pairing Nat and Bruce and Wanda and Vision). Steve didn't have anyone else he cared about so they couldn't give him a new girlfriend. So they used Peggy AGAIN.

I'm not mad bc "Stucky not canon grr"

No.

I'm fucking pissed off because they did the worst character assassination and friendship assassination possible. Every movie of Cap America revolved around Steve saving Bucky at some point and him caring about him above all else, and you want me to believe that Steven Grant Rogers didn't care about him when Bucky died in front of his eyes? AGAIN? That Peggy's death was more important and impactful for him? If that was the case then why the fuck did he crash the plane then? If he cared so much about Peggy since forever?

No, that was just lazy writing and a way to reinforce Steve's sexuality "He can't be gay and you can't say that bc he LOVES PEGGY"(even tho he only kissed her once, even tho he crashed the plane and didn’t give her the coordinates, he didn't really care that much after all) they could have paired him with Nat in later movies, but they didn't.

That's why I only raise my eyebrows a lil when people say that x character will be gay canonically in a marvel movie/series. Is more than possible they won't. And if they are they're Deadpool, a secondary character no one cares about (obscure in lore too, so they can cut them off) or is plain queerbaiting again (because yes, even if you don’t see Steve and Bucky’s relationship as romantic, they DID QUEERBAIT IT)

Steve and Buckys relationship wasn't even written in a romantic way (you can ship them or not), but they tried so hard to rectify Steve's heterosexuality in endgame, that they fucked up their character arcs on purpose. And now they will always feel hollow and inconclusive. A bad taste in the mouth, a painful reminder of what it was and a what? 11 year long? characterization.

Idk man, I know I've talked about this more than three times, but omfg Tumblr reminds me why I hate that fucking movie!!! It's not my fault!!!

I know I'm going to end up writing something out of spite bc I can't take it shdkdjjcif

"It's been more than 4 years get over it" NEVER

Also the bit with Johnny Storm in Deadpool and Wolverine was also a dig (a fuck you if you will) to the fans bc Deadpool explicitly calls him Cap. And it implies that Steve as a character (not that old Steve nonsense) won't be back.

It's funny they've remade over and over again some movies (Fantastic 4, Spiderman) changed actors for characters (James/war machine, Bruce) and they include them in the multiverse/plot, but they won't do the same to some movies and some characters when they fuck up their stories, because they know if they do, they will have to acknowledge WHY they did it. Like with James/war machine changing actors.

So yeah, that's one of the reasons I don't care about Marvel anymore.

**I mean remake the movies ((Also they Can't remake Cap America bc that would mean they need to remake every important movie. And they don't have the time, the money nor the need. So that's why they decided to fuck their character arcs))

or include some characters in multiverse (they're going to do that with Tony/RDJ/Dr Doom after all, no?) and they also won't remake Cap bc the movies are amazing.

But the point stands. Steve couldn't be in DaW bc that would imply he's an alternative one or that Old!Steve was an alternative one or wasn't even Steve to begin with. But they couldn't do that ofc, no, bc that would give the fans hope in seeing Steve and Bucky together once again. So they did a dig at the fans bc "haha you thought it was Steve, but it's Johnny!"

Idk if I'm making sense at this point I'm tired af, need to sleep.

The thing is that they fucked up Steve Rogers's arc on purpose (Bucky's too, and others charas too tbh) and now they expect the fans to accept everything they give us with open arms. And imho I won't accept shit.

"Deadpool saved the MCU" how? If the other og characters are DEAD or they fucked them up too? Or are the butt of the joke now? Don't make me laugh. Most people don't gaf bout the new charas bc they only are presented in series not everyone watches (only available in one place) or are presented with characters that are dead now or as a replacement for the og characters. They aren't interesting on their own (not really, at least in mcu) and that's why most of the new stuff isn't liked as much. If they wanted to present more characters the opportunity passed already.

Also now if you want to watch and really understand 1 movie (if you don't read the comics too) you need to watch like 20 other movies and 5 shows. it's fucking exhausting.

[ibrithir-was-here]

.

[aristocrating]

hey girl have you seen that canon kentparse timeline post? I swear I saw it floating around but now I can’t find it

this is the old guide we usually refer to but kvp90 did a recent version here:

[starry1avender]

prepared for whatever the night may bring

[sbggarakungfood]

I'm very into Jay's villain arc, it's just.. the whole Agent Walker/ the Administration set up is what I’m more into because:

The portal in Jay's division could be the key to find Arin's parents

Potential Sora vs Jay fight would be so cool

Zane's nindroid but human identity thing?? How the Administration discriminates Zane somehow

Jay. He didn't care about his job right? But does he care about his underlings? Make him see how badly injured his people are.. and make it personal. Let him invent something

And

What about this 'master of lightning joining *the path of darknessssss*'?? Would this be another "They use me because of my power" "The universe called me here" "I have to do this for (reason)" "The Administration didn't pay me enough so I'm here to get another income"

Maybe it's unfair to judge like that since the tournament episodes haven’t released yet.. I'm sorry, I might miss inventor Jay so much.. By being Agent Walker that means he has to rely on that side of him more. Him vs Sora fight would feel.. something else. It won't be just a fight but also a brain game (possible dirty play?). Jay ripping bunch of mech's cables when I just want to see him using cool gadgets more than just shooting bunch of lightning (It’s not like they're going to explore that power this time). He already did good with a gun..

Jay with any weapon actually

[voltaridylla]

god im desperate to yap

[thesapphicsoldier]

THE ALLEY ROSE BRIDGE??? HELLO???

And I don’t even care

If it makes me sound insane

I ran my fingers through your hair

And I thanked god to touch the flame (1)

‘Cause I swore necks were made for bruisin’

I swore lips were made for lies

And I thought if you’d ever leave me

That I’d be the reason why (2)

And I don’t even care

If it’s just a summer fling

If it’s all experimental

And you go back to safer things (3)

But I swore hands were made for fighting

I swore eyes were made to cry

But you’re the first person that I’ve seen

Who’s proven that might be a lie (2)

1, okay pen game

2, I’m sobbing wtf

3, this is so queer coded to me

I’m actually screaming oh my god this is definitely gonna be a favorite

[qourmet]

Genuinely tho I Am sorry that my First moshang piece is a PWP 4 page comic

[a-dragons-journal]

Thank you for answering my question! Most people who were saying that about dog breeds approached it from the way of "breeds are just what humans call dogs so they don't matter to your experience much so you're just a dog" which kinda just gave off an impression that I can only be a dog without any kind specification. As I said, the wider species isn't something I feel much of an identification as. Other dogs of other kinds are more like paratypes with a dose of "other dog" in a way.

That's........ a wild thing to say, why would anyone think that. How could being this

possibly NOT give you a pretty wildly different experience than being this?

honestly maybe it's just that I'm sick and thus cranky but that sounds like the people who think that all dog breeds are really the same on the inside and don't understand why someone who lives in a studio apartment with no ability to go out on long runs and otherwise give their dog a job to do or at least a ton of exercises owning a border collie is a bad idea.

Even within dog breeds of similar sizes and builds, breeds are typically bred with a job in mind, and their in-built instincts and behaviors are thus going to be pretty wildly different because of that. Suggesting that the internal experience, instincts, etc. of, idk, an Australian shepherd and a labrador must be ~basically the same~ is - bluntly, tell me you don't know anything about dogs without telling me. Breeds are so much more than """what humans call dogs""". If we didn't have hard evidence they're so closely related and were going strictly off morphology there's no world in which a chihuahua and an irish wolfhound would be considered the same species. Yes, there are similarities and commonalities in behavior between dog breeds that are basically universal to Dog. No, that does not mean they're the same thing! You cannot treat a husky like a chihuahua and expect good results! There's commonalities that are basically universal between primates too, does that mean that the human experience is the same as the macaque one? No!

*deep breath* okay I'm normal about this. sorry. as said, I'm sick and my filter is a bit wonky and I'm mad about both people being stupid about your experiences and people not giving their dogs adequate care because they think personality differences between dog breeds is a myth or something. the people saying these things to you are being very stupid and I'm sorry you've had to deal with them.

[dollypopup]

no but like. . .it really is just so fucking depressing. it's *so* fucking depressing walking into the tags and the archives and seeing post and after post and narrative after narrative of the same damn Pen stan power fantasy of Colin on hands and knees for forgiveness. of how stupid he is. of how we want other people to swoop in for Penelope.

I love this character. That feels like a rarity in this fandom, but fuck it, I do. I love him. I love Colin. I love Colin's recklessness and his silliness and his honor and his hero complex. I love that he doesn't say the right thing and that he's all but howling for someone to hear him. I love how he makes friends with all the unconventional people and I love how he doesn't subscribe to the same narrative as all the other couples. I love him for all he is. For his mess ups and his triumphs.

And forget what the show will have happen, but what is *wrong* with us, that we can't muster up ANY empathy for him at all? Don't you remember being 20 and with no idea what you'll do with your life? Don't you remember being young and aimless and unsure? Are you always perfect with what you say? With knowing when other people are interested in you? Have you never hurt someone's feelings without meaning to? Have you never said something about someone behind their back who means so much to you in a moment of poor judgement?

Don't you deserve tenderness and understanding, too? Why are we so punitive with him? I understand angst, I understand drama, but I don't know how we can be here for any period of time and not hate what we've done to him? Hate what we've done to *them*?

Is anyone listening? Is anyone there?

Do you know? Do you even *understand* how shitty it is? To pour so much love into this couple and see nothing but us hating on him? To have him as a favorite and see people calling him stupid, useless, hoping other people make him feel like shit? Nowhere is safe for us. Even his own SHIP isn't safe for us. It's just wanting him to grovel and be humiliated and jealous and sad. Where's her pride in him? Their support for each other? Where's the encouragement? The tenderness? Why have we taken their love story, that was meant to be about being messy, making mistakes, and being loved regardless, through it all, and turned it into a 'You have to suffer to deserve love' narrative, instead? Into having to be on hands and knees begging for care? Why is it everywhere? Why is there nowhere to go that isn't permeated with it? And why are WE the weirdos for loving him? Why are we the ones who need to suck it up and shut up? Why are we the ones getting bullied by other members of our ship? IT'S HIS SHIP.

What have we turned them into?

Colin is one of the best love leads in the entire series. THE best male love lead. No, I will not change my mind. And yes, I wholeheartedly believe it. Because I LOVE this couple. I love this couple so damn much. And every time I walk into these archives, I feel like some weirdo because everyone is salivating over the same Puritanical 'MAKE HIM SUFFER' shit and there's NOWHERE to go. There is never anywhere to go.

Why don't we love him more? Colin is fantastic. And doesn't Penelope deserve a fantastic partner? Doesn't Colin deserve a partner who strives to understand him?

Is the shape of our ultimate love story really one that's drawn facedown in the dirt?

[evilkitten3]

the one thing that's worse than having people hate on your blorbo for incorrect reasons is when their reasoning is absolutely correct. like yeah she IS badly written, lacks development, and has a role in the story that unintentionally gives her moral failings the author didn't intend her to have.

unfortunately,