#just don't tell me I have to participate in yours because nothing will change for me if I do

[skaruresonic]

>>tfw the government they're telling you to vote for lest that government become even worse slaughtered 99% of your people and the people like you, then shunted the 1% of survivors onto actual prisoner-of-war camps and proceeded to beat the language and traditions out of their children

>>entire country is founded on illegal means because of said genocide >>country has broken every single treaty there is, leading you to believe nothing will change for you just because there's a rotation of the prison guard

>>cannot vote because if you do then you're serving this mendacious government your tribal sovereignty on a silver platter

>>"if you don't vote in this system literally built on precluding, erasing, and oppressing you, you're a psyop and personally responsible for fascism in our already genocidal country"

>>tfw they mess up their own government yet chide you for not helping clean it up

>>tfw you can't help but wonder how it is the Haudenosaunee managed to get along for centuries without all this fuckery, yet they're in charge of the place for two minutes and now it's on fire. >>muh democratic principles without Great Law. muh Constitution that doesn't consider slaves or indigenous tribes people. much greatness, many wow >>tfw they copy your homework and still fuck it up

[grison-in-space]

Has Biden actually done anything at all? There's evidence going around and I think it's compelling, the alternate to voting is instead doing actual social work and participating in protests and organizing political action, which is a good idea i think

1) Yes. Inarguably this has been the most effective progressive domestic administration since I have been alive, and I'm in my thirties. What in the fuck are you talking about? It's not perfect, but it's better than we've seen in fifty years: Obama tried, but Democratic Congressional organization was just not yet used to working with a completely obstructionist GOP Congress in the wake of the tea party.

Even in terms of foreign policy, this is also pretty much as good as US involvement gets. Sorry. Our foreign policy has been shaped by monsters for decades, and that's even without dealing with our huge and active branch of Christian doom cultists. There ain't a candidate in the world that could stop the entire accumulated momentum of geopolitics with a snap of the finger, and I'm not really willing to pretend that Biden is particularly notable for not managing to fix Israel/Palestine relations.

2) In your own words, anon, what precisely does organizing political action entail without participating in the political process? Do you think that abstaining from the part of the gig where you, the citizen, get to say which official gets the job somehow makes your opinions matter more to your elected public officials? Have you ever organized to get so much as a municipal one-time library project budget expanded? Are you perhaps only skilled at political argument with people who already agree with you on the Internet?

What is your leverage, and could it reasonably be described as "extortion" or "blackmail" or "political corruption?" Because those are pretty much the only things on the table that can work more effectively to drive an elected official than a disciplined coalition of political allies (who can be purchased with, you guessed it, votes) or a reliable bloc of voter support. Your vote matters less than the ones you bring with you, sure. Do you think that not voting yourself somehow helps people organize to drive more votes? Have you perhaps replaced your complex reasoning skills with a rapidly dying jellyfish?

3) Holy passive vagueness, Batman! "Evidence is going around." What a masterpiece of a sentence! How it suggests everything while providing nothing! What evidence? Who collected it? Who is talking about the evidence "going around?" Who is listening? How many of them are there? What did they think before? The more I think, the more questions I have, and damn if they ain't predisposing me to be even less charitable.

Like, this is so catastrophically poorly supported that I have to confess that I not only believe this is probably an ask in bad faith (i.e. by someone who is expecting to piss me off or otherwise engage with me adversarially, probably spammed to a whole host of blogs at once with no expectation of response) but I actively hope that it is. The alternative is to have to grapple with the reality that some people are so uncomfortable with the responsibility of moral agency that they're willing to release useful levers of legal and social power just so that they never do anything problematic with that power. Much better, of course, to wash one's hands of anything that might have the stink of responsibility clinging to it. Might fall from the membership of the Elect if you actually get yourself all muddy by doing things, I reckon.

I don't even believe that voting is the only lever we have when it comes to our elected officials or that votes are necessary to secure change, and I am certainly not talking about the presidential ticket alone when I talk voting. What I do believe is two things: one, that voting is a potential lever of power on the emergent chaos of the society in which we live. And two, that anyone telling me to leave a lever of power on the ground without a damn good reason is either incompetent, malicious, or both.

[caraphernellie]

── 𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐜𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬.

your blood spills like a glass of fine wine.

pairing: vampire!ellie williams x fem!reader.

summary: Those ice cold hands ghost over your skin, rousing goosebumps in their wake, and your interest piqued from the moment she had proposed her idea to try something new while feeding. But this doesn't feel at all like a mere experiment, no, she's turned you into a feast—and it couldn't just be a coincidence that one of the many dirty fantasies you've had seems to be coming to fruition tonight, could it?

for your information: vampire!ellie, fem!reader. SEXUAL CONTENT. absolutely zero plot - straight up porn. messy, depraved, no decency. utter filth. established relationship. mind reading + dirty thoughts, allusions to reader masturbating. dom!ellie, sub!reader. reader wearing pretty panties. bleeding + blood (a lot of it), bite marks/bruises described - not in appearance/colouration, but the feeling of them. masochistic!reader. dacryphilia. biting. fingering (r!receiving), vampirism makes ellie very strong. there is an instance of face slapping. slight overstim. tribbing. reader gets very lightheaded and tired but still present and in clear mind. a little bit of aftercare. pet names used: good girl, baby, babe.

dear reader, you know i love me some vampires. i don't participate in kinktober because i don't have that kind of motivation + i'm picky with some of the prompts but i randomised some prompts to make something 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 for the start of this month. mostly written by candlelight. i honestly don't like this very much, but i'm sure someone will so i'm posting it anyway. beware, 'cuz she'll make you bleed ౨ৎ

　　WC: 3.9K | ELLIE'S MASTERLIST | BOYCOTT TLOU

Rain falls from the tenebrous sky outdoors, the perfect soundtrack to the book in your hands and the cosy bed you lie in. You haven't felt the need to get up all night, instead opting for a quiet, pleasant moment to catch up on reading. 

Since Ellie's turning last November, you dropped everything to be able to spend more time with your revenant girlfriend—even if it meant losing daylight to adapt to her newfound lifestyle as a nyctophiliac.

But still, you remain comfortable with the thunderous outpour, finding solace in the constancy of the noise and the safety of your bed. Escapism is necessary to your survival, as it's been difficult to navigate the changes, even now, nearly a year later. You'd turned your life nocturnal so suddenly, your family left to wonder why you and Ellie made the switch with no definitive reasoning. 

What exactly could you tell them..? The last thing you needed was their concern. 

God knows what they'd think if you told them who Ellie had become.

It's quiet nowadays, you and Ellie working nights and sleeping in days. Little time to see family or friends, the closeness you once had with them dwindling. You work from six to eleven o'clock most nights, and there's no chance of companionship in the office—you're treated like an outsider.

Life can feel drab with such little socialisation, but your setup is alright. It's comfortable. You can dream life away, easily ignore the loneliness and get lost in mystery novels instead. 

And that's the thing: mystery and doom has never been something that scared you. It is instead something that fills you with curiosity and interest. It was nothing short of intriguing to you when Ellie turned. It was devastating, and yes, it was a fearful time—but the changes she was going through were mystifying before anything else. 

It was fun to document the development of her fangs and play with mirrors. It was hard to get used to the touch that was once so warmly inviting, but now freezing. 

It was mildly disturbing to see her learn the ways of the undead now that her life had taken a turn.

It is, at times, unnerving when she becomes hungry. Purely animalistic is the way that her eyes glow in the dark of night, verdant and snake-like, dressed behind dense lashes. They anchor onto you, more specifically your neck. You had to laugh when a few weeks after her turning, she began senseless rambles about your pretty neck, how your pulse drums against your chest, wrist, or nape in a sweet rhythm.

She might catch a whiff of something coppery when you suffer any minor injury, and she'll be there in under a minute under the guise that she'd like to kiss your wound all better.

It's startling at times, turning around to find she had stalked you through the house without a sound, all in the name of requesting a feed. She follows only to beg for it like a puppy to people-food.

As far as Ellie has ever been concerned, she doesn't need to taste the blood of any other. It would be adultery of the worst kind, a pure betrayal not just to you but to her own interests; your blood is dulcet and delectable, the greatest thing Ellie has had the pleasure to taste in her life. 

Why should she need anyone else? Nothing could make her happier than you. 

Ellie truly has a deep appreciation for you. Everything you have done for her, especially in the past year since her rebirth, has been without hesitation nor the consideration of yourself. Never would she let you go unloved for such a thing. Only a vampire can love you forever, and although her immortality burdens her everyday, she intends to prove that statement true.

There are things she's never told you before, abilities she'd discovered on her own after her turning that she'd decided were better to hide from you, just to preserve your peace of mind. 

It's hardwired in her now—she can become easily overwhelmed just from being able to hear your tender heart beating rooms away. The constant, steady ba-bum, ba-bum. There are urges she gets from the sound of warm, delicious blood pumping around your body. Of course, this is all to be expected, but the extent of it is where the disconcertment lies, unbeknownst to you.

Pangs of hunger hit her like a kick to the stomach, vision zeroed in on the source of feed. Her feet feel inclined to walk her toward you themselves. It's a lucky thing that she tried her best to learn control.

Ellie's biggest kept secret, though, are your own secrets. Who wouldn't toy with the idea of living inside their partner's mind for a day? For a vampire, it's possible, under a specific circumstance. Just like one's resting place, a vampire can only enter under invitation, and each thought bearing her name is exactly that. 

It's advantageous for Ellie. She can hear when you think kindly of her, she knows when you're mad at her—and she can always right her wrongs, make it up to you when she has unintentionally acted like a douche. She somehow always knows just what to say.

"Hey."

"Fuck!"

She flinches at your curse, found crouched beside the bed and resting her chin against the edge of the mattress. She carries herself so silently. Once uncalculated and clumsy, her movements are now faint, unpredictable. Her presence is so startling, though it's partly your fault for losing track of time. She would have finished work in the last half-hour.

"Tch, sorry." Ellie snorts, reaching out to drag a finger down your wrist, up to the crease of your arm. She lets a delicate sigh fall from her lips, head tilting to the side to study you. "I'm home."

"Yeah, yeah, I can see that." Marking your book, you set it down on the nightstand. Her touch sends a rush through your mellow composure, so cold it's sometimes akin to the prick of a needle. You can see it in her eyes, the amusement she finds in your reaction to all her icy touch. "Hi."

Your hand adjusts a wayward strand of hair clear of her face, a gentle petting she hums for. Her grin is laced in mischief, but it's only the calm before the storm. 

Tonight is for Ellie to execute an elaborate scheme she's been preparing for weeks. 

Initially, when she discovered her ability to see into your mind, she had thought it was cute, if anything deeply flattering, that you thought in such lascivious ways about her. As months went on, it became amusing. 

Mundane moments of your shared life were overshadowed by your thoughts, how they could often be so clouded in lust. She's taken note of it all on plenty of occasions.

With her grip soft on your shoulders, Ellie pushes you against the mattress slowly and crawls onto the bed herself. All your brewing questions burn into Ellie's lips as she kisses you, as if she had known she'd need to hush you.

"C'mon." Her words are whispered against your lips, touch so eager she can't resist interrupting herself to place more and more indiscreet kisses now against your jaw. "Lay down."

"Mmh," you hum, watchful eyes peering down at her as she delves deeper into the crook of your neck. "You want a feed? It's early..."

"Oh, I know," Ellie murmurs, "more than that, babe. Just thought about tryin' something a little different, you know, if you're up for it..."

Her nose teases your neck, nuzzling close to take in your scent. Old bruises bitten into the skin pound with a dull sting when given attention, Ellie's hand joining her to rub over the small marks. She quickly takes notice of your heart beating a tad faster and before you can even say yes, she's laying a kiss on your collarbone and a hand over your breast.

"Mhm, so you're… experimenting?"

"I guess, yeah," Ellie purrs, her tone filled with the remnants of a smile. It's hard to keep said cocksure grin off her face at this point, hand trailing down to cup your mound. She eyes the dark, damp patch that grows beneath her hand, the white fabric mauled by desire. Lounging about in panties and a long-sleeve, so characteristic of you in the long nights in which you seek to be comfortable, yet so tantalising to Ellie. "But we can stop it if you don't like it. You tell me what you think."

There is just one particular fantasy you've had, and it stuck with Ellie the minute she heard your thoughts. She'd been having her routine feed many nights ago when you'd let your thoughts wander elsewhere. An idea of a concupiscent manner arose in the midst of a dreadful, painful situation. 

Feeding has always been an unpleasant process. Teeth breaking skin, your lifeblood sucked out of you and leaving you tired for days. 

What if she could make the pain feel good?

It spurred days of planning. After all, it was coming up to be a year since her turning, how else could Ellie celebrate? Is celebration the right call, even? One year of being dead? The morbid idea doesn't exactly spark joy for most. But it's almost like a new birthday, she can't do nothing at all or she'll run stir crazy. Perhaps this—over-analysing your dirty secrets, putting them to good use against you, would be the drop of much needed rain in the current self-proclaimed desert of her life.

"Think you should settle down," Ellie suggests. Her fingers fiddle with the elastic of your panties, pulling the band taut, only to let go and watch it snap against your skin. "You're in for a long night."

Settle down? You wonder just how long this is going to take—what's so special about this experiment? Knowing Ellie, she doesn't take kindly to the idea of waiting for a feed. It's most certainly interesting to see her transform this into something much bigger of a spectacle than the usual. 

Pert goosebumps rise along your body while knife-like fingers cut into your hips and elicit a shiver down your spine. Ellie's lips trail along your neck as she drags your shirt up your torso, revealing your soft breasts to her.

She rests her head in your caressing palm, her own hands sat over your sides. It's almost nonexistent at first, but then you feel it; wet kisses peppered over the swell of your bust, keen fangs grazing over your skin just enough for you to squirm, yet not enough for it to hurt.

The shaky sigh you give incites Ellie to continue, only this time her act is crueller, and she nips at the soft bud at the centre of your tit. Your hand grips her hair then, nipple growing firm at the attention. And Ellie offers nothing but a chuckle to fill her silence, clearly feeling herself responsible to not lose sight of her plan.

"Ah– Ellie." You gasp, her lips latching onto you. With her tongue rolling your nipple in her mouth, Ellie's eyes lock onto yours with a pleased sparkle in them, her thumbs rubbing your sides ever so gently—the starkest contrast to the way she's currently toying with you.

"What?" Ellie asks in the lowest murmur possible, pulling off for a moment before switching to the other side. A careless shrug of her shoulders accompanies her statement of the same tone. "Barely even doing anything to you yet, babe."

Her hands slide down your waist as she loves on your other tit now, fingers tugging below the waist of your panties. Finally, she has given you something to look forward to, and your hips lift all too eagerly to assist her. Ellie pulls back for a fleeting moment to slip the cotton down your legs and expose your wanton core to her. 

"Aw, look at that…" Ellie coos, hands pulling your thighs apart to take a look. You're glistening beneath the lamp-light, a sight not only so beautiful but so tempting to the vampire. Your heart is beating so fast inside your chest, so much so that for Ellie, your heart is louder than the thunderous weather outside. "What's all this about? Is there something you want, baby?"

"You."

"No, what do you want?" Ellie repeats, laughing quietly. The rubbing of her hands on your thighs is only to keep you present, her cold palms jarring enough to keep you from shying away. "Not who."

She knows exactly what you want. If it weren't for the way your thoughts echo in her head, it'd be blindingly obvious from the way your eyes flit to her hands. But being able to know what you want from her is only half the fun. 

It excludes the best part: seeing you shield your gaze out of humiliation, whispering your responses in order to keep everything hush-hush. 

"Your fingers," you mutter, looking at Ellie with your brows knit to the centre of your face. "Seriously, Els, stop tea–"

"You want my fingers?" She questions you now, taking in the puzzled look on your face. Her fingers press against the folds, tips teasingly dipping into your entrance but not quite, only to see it clench and weep. "You want them here? Or maybe here..?" 

Her thumb flicks against your clit almost as though it's a button, each circle her thumb makes around the bud evoking a tiny moan from your lips.

Teasing is where Ellie has always felt she was skilled. She's playful, always a fan of the occasional practical joke here and there, and without a doubt, it shows the most when she's in the bedroom. The reward for it is like no other; you turn into putty, begging her to give it a rest and take things your way for once. And she's certainly committed to giving you what you want tonight, but that won't mean she's going to be any less mean than she feels like being.

"I want–" God, you just can't get a word out, at least not without interrupting yourself with a broken moan every time you try. You swear on your humanity that you aren't that sensitive, but her fingers are so cold. The contrasting temperature of her hand compared to you is startling.

"Hey." She leans closer to you, dark hair falling into her face. She whispers against your neck, and finds it hard to distract herself from it now, knowing what awaits her patient tongue. But she has to remain controlled. "Tell me. Do you want them in here?"

Two slender fingers prod at your entrance again, and you nod. In fact, with little shame in it, you helplessly plead. And so she obliges hastily, slipping the digits in with ease. 

Her calloused fingertips prod at your inner walls, roughly thrusting in and out. Your hand reaches around her wrist, only to be pushed away within seconds. The once silent room is now filled with obscene squelching sounds and moans from your lips, all that accompanied by Ellie's quieter murmurs into your neck.

It should be mentioned that she is not yet biting you, but so meanly sucking your soft skin into her mouth. It can be hard to do so without those large canines pricking you—they get in the way far too often—but Ellie makes an effort just to keep you on edge.

Ellie knows that you're waiting for it, trying to anticipate the bite, and that's not good enough for her. She wants it to come as a total surprise for you. She wants you distracted, embracing the pleasure, only to daze you when you least expect it.

She is usually the spontaneous type, but she's proven herself meticulous when she wants to be.

Plump lips seek the last place she fed from, a small bruise felt in the shape of her teeth right at your pulse point. The thumping of your heart against the very spot leaves Ellie almost tempted to abandon her plan whole, give in to her hunger, but she refrains. Instead she litters harsh kisses over the spot, tongue laving over it desperately.

A loud yelp befalls you as she sucks the very spot, and she chuckles against your skin. "Oh yeah, you like that, baby?"

It should serve as a warning of what's to come later, but you're too far gone to comprehend it. Lost, lost in the speedily building high. Ellie's demeanour changes none, she continues until you can't take it anymore and finally pulls her slicked fingers from your cunt. It seems so final for a second that once you regain your bearings, you question her.

"I thought you were gonna f–"

"Oh, I'm not done, silly girl." Ellie laughs at you softly, pulling her shirt over her head in one fell swoop. She lets you have this mere moment to recuperate, stripping herself fairly quickly. "I'd quit questioning if I were you, and just relax."

She's leaning over you, meeting your lips as gently as she can. She spreads your legs again, wordlessly manoeuvring herself atop your pussy. Bare skin against bare skin, shiny and soaked cores kissing. 

She grunts a short curse, beginning to roll her hips back and forth against you. She's really not sure why she had never thought of this whole feeding-and-fucking thing before you did, but she's wholeheartedly thanking the stars above that she was able to get this idea from you.

"Mmh, Ellie, n- it's so much," you say between breathless moans, unable to muster anything else. That oversensitivity kicks in hard already, with you pawing at Ellie and trying to catch a break.

"Sh-shh, you can take it," Ellie quickly reassures, and she's trying her hardest to keep her composure, but it all goes out the window once you start writhing, pointlessly rambling because you aren't sure if it's too much or if you want more, and now getting handsy. 

At first, she isn't proud of her reaction—bringing her palm down against your cheek, that is, and slapping you hard. "I said, you can fuckin' take it."

Pathetic. The way your voice breaks and lets out a honeyed whine, it's pathetic, but Ellie's conscience feels guilty no longer. She's almost satisfied—and she'd been able to hold back, insisting upon not getting too far ahead of herself here, but she's lost her patience. Her hunger must be sated.

Ellie cages you between her arms, once again finding home in the crook of your neck. This time, she bares her teeth against your throat, finally sinking them in. She's hit with the most addicting flavour on the planet: your blood. A syrupy, warm, and delectably sweet liquid. 

She groans, beginning her feast far too eagerly. She isn't too focused on drinking it yet, still grinding her slippery cunt into yours and nipping all around your neck. Blood spills out of every little bite and trickles down your body. It stings, of course, but the feeling is far away. Underwater.

"You like that?" Ellie asks, voice gritty and yet a little more subdued now. The way that you look, shirt stained wine red and body a quivering mess, is entirely enthralling. Ellie is more than just a little proud of her work here. 

"It hurts."

"That's not what I asked, is it?" Ellie takes your chin in hand, facing you towards her. Shining teardrops streak your cheeks and pill against her hand. Since when were you crying? "Do you like it?"

"Yes." 

 "Good girl." The words are forced out of her throat at this point, struggling, because she's so close. It's filthy, watching you get so worked up over being turned into her very own living blood bag. "Good girl, I'm gonna– gonna fuckin' cum, baby, you feel so good."

She holds you still as she rubs herself over you, clit rolling over yours one last time before she snaps. Ellie moves faster as she rides out the high, glowing eyes rolling back. 

You're growing lightheaded, watching Ellie so intently. Her lips are stained with blood, her cheeks beginning to turn a more lifelike tone—one matching in colour to the elixir trickling from your neck.

And she seems to wait a moment. You think it's over. You sit against the headboard and spot the simplest grin on Ellie's face as she begins to lick up the mess on your collarbone.

"Better than a normal, boring feeding, yeah?" She murmurs, once again slithering her hand to feel the sodden spot between your legs. You attempt to close your legs around her, but she laughs, forcing them open.

It feels all too familiar now, her fingers rubbing your puffy clit in circles and tongue slurping up the blood on your body. She doesn't care to take it from the source, letting you bleed all over yourself so she can lap it up.

It seems so similar to a time you felt lost in your head, the girl of your fantasy off at work. You had been forced to resort to nothing but your imagination, rutting into your own hand—you couldn't help thinking about what would happen if Ellie were there to assist. 

You couldn't stop yourself from wondering what she would do if she let her instinct take over. Your mind overran itself with images of her penetrating gaze, face covered in a smattering of the blood she's so obsessed with, watching her play with her food. It would feel so fulfilling to be at her service in this way. And yet, it seems that it's coming to fruition.

"Oh!" You gasp, restlessly moving against her. "Ellie, Ellie, why're you–"

Never usually do more than a few red droplets spill and stain. Tonight, the ivory sheets are covered in them like a splash of paint.

"I'm just trying to make you feel good." Ellie hums lowly, licking a stripe from collarbone to the bite that's now beginning to clot. "It's working, yeah?"

Voice riddled with tremors, all you can do is reply half as loud as she. "Yeah, fuck, yeah."

"Good." 

Ellie's teeth repierce the nick in your throat, and this time she stays close, gulping down mouthfuls of your blood. You writhe less and less, head gaining that floaty, fluttery, dream-like sort of lightness the more that she leeches off of you. 

Days will be spent recharging, resting, and earning back your strength, but that's the price you're willing to pay. Ellie is a great caretaker.

"Close," you whisper, clear enough for Ellie to hear and pepper sweet kisses up to your jaw.

"You're a dirty-minded girl," Ellie murmurs, finally explaining herself. None of this was her own innovation. It was all you. "But so clever, aren't you? Now I don't have to worry about it hurting you when I feed. Isn't that smart, babe?"

You want to ask how she knew, but simultaneously, you don't really care—this experience is so overwhelming. You can barely lift your eyelids to look at Ellie, can barely speak or do anything but nod anymore. But you feel safe. You know you're in reliable hands, the strong-willed woman sure enough to control her darker urges.

The only words to escape you now are breathless murmurs of her name, and at last your body seems to calm itself after a final release of built-up pleasure makes its rounds through you. 

You are given moments to steady your breathing. A wet washcloth wipes the dried blood off of you, and she's soon encouraging a glass of water and a few sugary snacks into your hands. 

The healing process will be the same as it always is—but perhaps she might have to give you a little more grace this time round.

[walpu]

Happy birthday Aventurine

...in which he finds himself enjoying his birthday for the first time after he lost everything

notes - gn!reader, was written with a stellaron hunter!reader in mind but it's not specified just know you're considered a criminal in this one, pre-canon, unestablished relationship with a flavor of pining, angs, hurt/comfort, no beta

Love my birthday boy

He doesn't celebrate his birthdays. Not since the day he lost everything. How can he celebrate the joy of his birth if on this day all the joy was taken away from him?

Born on the blessed day, he's Mother Goddess's beloved child. But why did she abandon her people then? Why it had to happen on the day they were celebrating her, on the day they were supposed to be saved? How can he see himself as something other than cursed, how can he see the day as something other than tragedy?

Anyhow, even if he would want to celebrate, for the first years after the massacre he didn't even have the opportunity to do so. And if he could, he would rather mourn his people, his family. But no, he can only focus on his survival, trying to fulfill the promise he gave to his sister.

Now, standing in the lonely hotel room, he can only smile bitterly at the sight of beautifully decorated cake Jade has send him. How ironic, wasn't she the one who told him to forget his name and his past? Perhaps she simply doesn't look at this the same way he does. "You can't change what happened but you can celebrate that you're still here", she would probably say. He envies her ability to brush off sentiments, really.

Now, when he is no longer Kakavasha but Aventurine of the Ten Stonehearts, he was deliberately choosing to ignore this day. It has nothing to do with his new self.

He may still hold onto his mother's necklace, his father's shirt, the promise he gave to his big sis. But this day? He doesn't need it. He doesn't need another reminder of the moment he lost everything.

That's what he tells himself, ignoring the pain in his chest, trying to bury himself in the work, running away on a mission he insisted on taking, even if was supposed to be his day off.

Still, he gets the cake. This stupid reminder of the worst day in his life.

It honestly feels like a joke. He doesn't even have anyone to eat this with!

He knows Jade didn't try to mock him, she's pragmatic, not crue. But aeons, it does feel like mockery still.

So he sits with this stupid cake in front of him, not really knowing if he should just throw it away. Somehow it feels... wrong. Wasteful. He knows how stupid that thought is, both him and Jade are rich enough to buy thouthands of those cakes. Yet he can't help but remember how his mom and sister would go out of their ways to give him something nice for his birthdays, something that could be considered a treat, a gift. Now he can have everything he wants but... they won't be there to share it with him.

No one is there to share it with him.

... at least he thinks so. Up until the moment the window opens from the outside (eighteenth floor, mind you) and a very familiar figure jumps in.

He really can't help but smile. Not only out of habit but because your ability to sneak in anywhere you want is truly amusing.

"Oh, what I see? A wanted criminal breaking into the room of one of the IPC's most noticeable employees? Don't you afride of being caught, my dear? Or you've finally decided to end our partnership and get rid of me?"

He can't help but chuckle at your unimpressed gaze. Yes, he has told this joke more than once already. But it's not his fault it always make you roll your eyes in a funny way.

But he really is curious what brought you here. Showing up like that is very risky, for both of you. Something serious must have happened if you decided to visit him out of the blue.

... that's what he thinks until you pull out a small gift box from your pocket, throwing it his way.

"A little birdie told me today it's your birthday. I don't usually participate in the whole gift giving tradition. Nor do I celebrate something myself. But those things reminded me of you and I was nearby anyway" you say with a cheeky smile.

He doesn't even know how to react, honestly. His hands just automatically unwrap the box and... oh. It's a set of earrings. A very pretty set of earrings.

"They reminded me of peacock tails" you say, barely holding back a chuckle.

"How original you are. I'm a birthday boy, you should be nicer, you know!" he acts like it's just a small joke between you two but his voice is weaker than usual and his hands are a bit shaky. He doesn't want to overthink it, he really shouldn't do it, it's just a small gift, a joke.

You thought of him. You know his taste well enough. I came to find him. You're here with him.

He almost panics when you say your goodbyes and turn to leave (through the window again. He'll never know how you do it).

"Hey, hey, no need to hurry. Let me be a good host for my friend" he says with his signature smile (he always feels like you see right through it) while his hand is clenched behind his back (he feels like you see through this too).

Please don't leave.

When you sigh and turn back to face him, he suddenly feels relieved that Jade send him the cake. The thought of sharing it with a wanted criminal who caused nothing but headaches to the IPC is somewhat amusing.

"How about we visit a nearby casino after this, hm? I promise you won't lose with me by your side"

If he can have you by his side, mayve he'll have at least one memory of this day untainted by pain and grief.

[sailortongue]

Wingteam

pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

wc: ~1.5k

summary: the team decides that Spencer is in need of a date and they're going to be the ones to help him. But there's just one problem that the team doesn't know about: Spencer already has a girlfriend

a/n: this is my first time writing for criminal minds so they're probably all out of character but pls bear with me. binged the first four seasons in a month and i'm completely hooked on the show and spencer so hopefully i'll write more and improve characterization. any feedback would be super appreciated!

------

Spencer Reid was a rather private person, preferring to keep his private life just that: private. But it was getting progressively harder to explain why he didn't want to participate in group outings to the local bars. Truth be told, all he wanted was to get home to you and cuddle on the couch. Not that his teammates knew you even existed. It wasn't that he was ashamed of you! No, never. How could he ever be ashamed of the most wonderful thing in his life? No, it was because he knew he'd never hear the end of the teasing, especially from Morgan. And so he had decided that he would keep you all to himself, after discussing with you, of course. You had no issue with him not disclosing your relationship with his coworkers. However, it was this secrecy that led him to this horribly uncomfortable moment.

“You don't get to weasel out this time, pretty boy. You're coming with us even if I have to manhandle you there,” said Morgan. “And you're not leaving that bar without a girl on your arm,” he added, finger pointed at Reid in an accusatory manner.

It took all of Spencer’s willpower to not outwardly grimace. Like hell he was going to leave with any girl that wasn't you. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now,” he declined. It wasn't exactly a lie; he was already in a relationship, afterall.

“Oh, c’mon, Spence, don't you want to settle down one day?” chimed in Emily. “I bet you'd be an amazing husband.” She redirected her attention, “We just have to find the future Mrs. Reid, right Morgan?”

Morgan smirked, “Sounds like a plan.”

“No. There is no plan. Stop scheming. I told you, I’m not looking for a relationship. And even if I was, I don't think I’d need a team of FBI agents to help me get a date,” Spencer tried to discourage his friends, but to no avail. In fact, it just seemed to egg them on.

“Reid, I’ve never seen you go out with anyone. We’re getting you laid tonight and there's nothing you can do about it.”

“Never seen me go out with anyone? Should I be inviting you along to my dates?”

The sarcasm wasn't lost on Morgan, who rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.” He turned to look at Garcia, “Hey, babygirl, you wanna help us land Reid a date?” The grin that Morgan had whilst asking was soon mirrored by the technical analyst in question.

“Do you even have to ask, sugar?”

A quick glance around the bullpen at his gathered teammates told him that no one was going to help him get out of this. Spencer’s expression changed to one of panic, but not for the reason that his friends assumed, i.e. that he had no experience with girls and was just nervous. Much to his chagrin, Hotch made a different deduction, and whilst everyone else was discussing their plan for later that night, he leaned down to Reid, “Why don't you just tell them you have a girlfriend already?”

Spencer, who was nowhere near as skilled as Hotch at hiding his emotions, had shock written all over his face. He opened his mouth to question how Hotch knew that, not even bothering to deny it. But Hotch answered before Spencer could even ask the question. “I’m a profiler. To be honest, I'm surprised the rest of the team hasn’t figured it out. Rossi has a suspicion, though.” And with that, Hotch stood back up to his full height and resumed conversation with the team, asking what time they had decided to meet.

I’m so screwed thought Spencer.

--------

“I’m so screwed,” Spencer announced to you as soon as he walked into your shared apartment, dropping his satchel in the entryway. You looked up from the book you were currently reading, “What happened? Are you okay?” You closed your book and set it on the coffee table, giving your perfect boyfriend your full attention. He sighed and joined you where you were reclined on the couch, lying down and placing his head on your tummy, wrapping his arms around you in the process. You smiled down at him gently and brought your hand up to play with his curls, eliciting a satisfied groan from him. “What's eating you, Spence?”

He tilted his head up before answering, “I have to meet the team at a bar later tonight.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, not seeing what the issue could possibly be. “Ok? Why is that a problem?”

He adjusted himself to be propped up on his elbows on either side of you. “It’s a problem because they've all decided that I'm in need of a girlfriend,” he huffed. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't contain your laughter at Spencer’s obvious distress over the situation. You truly meant no offense, but he was just so gosh darn cute.

“Spencer, sweetheart, why don't you just tell them?”

“Honestly, at this point I just want to see how long it takes them to figure it out without me outright telling them. We're not supposed to profile each other, but it becomes second nature due to the job, so they're bound to pick up on it eventually. Hotch already knows, and he said that Rossi is suspicious. The others haven't caught on yet, but now Morgan wants to be my wingman for the night. How am I supposed to play this off?”

You thought about it for a second before an idea came to mind, a sly grin sliding across the features Spencer loved oh so much. “You're going to do exactly what Morgan wants.”

Spencer blanched, immediately objecting to your words. How could you even suggest that?

“Hold on, I’m not done. I’m not sending the love of my life out to flirt with anyone that isn't me. So what we’re gonna do is….

--------

“Oh, what's this? Did pretty boy find a pretty girl?” teased Derek. His friend practically looked like those wolves from vintage cartoons with hearts for eyes and tongue rolling out of their mouths. His question caught the attention of the rest of the table, all of whom saw Spencer with his eyes trained on a lovely young woman sitting at the bar.

“You should go talk to her!” encouraged Penelope.

“Oh, she's so pretty!” exclaimed JJ. “I agree with Pen, you should definitely go talk to her!”

Hotch watched as the rest of the team, all at least a few drinks in, hyped Spencer up with intoxicated enthusiasm. He had a barely-there smile on his face, watching the events unfold. He watched as Spencer’s face got redder and redder with the attention. As entertaining as this was for the others, it was infinitely more entertaining for Hotch, since he was certain that the woman at the bar was Spencer’s secret girlfriend.

Finally, Spencer gave in to his friends’ demands and approached the bar, seating himself beside the woman. Beside you. Knowing his friends were watching, he had to pretend as if he was meeting you for the first time.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he offered.

You glanced at him coyly before accepting his offer. At some point, the two of you fell into the usual rhythm of conversation you always had, speaking to each other in a way that betrayed how close you really were.

Back at the table, Rossi leaned over to Hotch and gestured for Hotch to lean in as well. “That's the kid’s girlfriend, isn't it?” he whispered. Hotch pulled back with an amused expression and gave the slightest nod, confirming Rossi’s question. Meanwhile, Morgan was placing a bet with Garcia about how long it would take for Reid to leave with you. Morgan was confident that it would be within the next thirty minutes, stating that Reid, who wasn't the most socially adept but was having such a lively conversation, must have really hit it off with you. They watched as Reid spoke to you, all smiles and wild hand gesticulations. And then there was you, the pretty woman who, unbeknownst to the team (minus Hotch and Rossi), was already irrevocably in love with their resident genius long before they took it upon themselves to be a whole wingteam. The radiant smile you wore matched the one Spencer had as you responded to him just as enthusiastically as he had been speaking.

Unfortunately for Garcia, Morgan won their bet. The two of them watched as Reid leaned in to whisper something in your ear. When he pulled away, there was a prominent blush on your face that the minimal amount of alcohol you had couldn't possibly be responsible for. You nodded at him, and he stood from his stool, offering his hand for you to take, which you did as you followed him to the exit.

“My man!” called Morgan from across the bar, raising his beer in Spencer’s direction. Hotch and Rossi chuckled, exchanging glances and shaking their heads. The rest would figure it out eventually. It might be when they receive a wedding invitation, but eventually nonetheless. 

[help-itrappedmyself]

Summoning Game Show Part 4

Masterpost

Look. I don't know how to write a sword fight and if I tried this part wouldn't be coming out for a month. So here's this and if I ever do write the sword fight I'll shove it in as part 4.5 or something.

~~~~~

Turns out that Fright Knight bleeds green. Weird. It had taken a moment, both of the fighters taking the time to get to know their opponent before truly engaging in the fight. But after the fight had well and truly started, it hadn’t lasted long. Damian had quickly taken advantage of his speed and the fact that Fright Knight was clearly not used to being limited by gravity.

“So the puzzle currently stands with four letters showing.” Danny gestured as the screen reappeared.

“For winning against Fright Knight, what letter would you like to guess?” Danny asks Damian, who has returned his borrowed sword and is now standing back on the stage.

“I choose the letter O.” Damian’s quick with his answer.

“An amazing choice, Robin. There is an O!”Danny waves his hand and the screen changes.

“The next game is a race! You can pick how you want to race from: bike race, flying race... Can any of you fly?” Danny’s face scrunches slightly as they all answer no. “Apologies, your options are bike race or swim race!”

“Nobody is swimming in radioactive substances!” Nightwing interjects.

“Bike race it is!” Danny agrees cheerfully. “Who will our biker be?”

Tim and Jason turn to look at each other. “Look, if it’s between the two of us to do the brain puzzle at the end, I think we all want that to be you.” Jason states. “Let me take this one.”

Tim nods and Jason stands up. “I’ll do it.”

“Wonderful! You’ll be racing Johnny.” Danny says. “Skulker will be playing defense.”

They are approached by a blond man wearing driving gloves.

“Wait, defense on a race?” Jason asks.

“Yeah, his goal will be to try and let no one win!” Danny is getting very excited. “He makes his own weapons, so I asked him to make some traps and things for this, he was excited to be able to participate.”

Danny jumps off the podium, but floats gently down until he’s next to Johnny, but now his forn doesn’t have any feet, just a wispy tail. Then waves for Jason to join them. As Jason is walking over someone with flames for hair wearing a lot of metal floated past through a door that said 3. Danny noticed Jason’s eye tracking him.

“That was Skulker. He’s going to set up the racetrack. Now we need to go to the garage so you can pick out your bike!” Danny starts walking over to yet another door. “Johnny will be on his usual bike, but you can pick whichever you want out of these.” Danny opened the door and flung it open for Jason, who stood still in the doorway.

“These are all motorcycles.” Jason muttered. 

“Well, yeah.”

“Is that a problem?” Johnny asks.

“No.” Jason shakes his head. “I had thought bicycles when I heard bike race, but this works out great.”

Jason goes and looks around at all the bikes, they had a large selection.

“Johnny, remember to keep Shadow in line. I know he’ll want to ride with you because it’ll be fun and everything, but he is not to interfere with the race.”

Johnny nods. “You got it. I’ll make he sure he doesn’t do anything.”

“Good! When Jason is done grabbing his bike, get yours too and I’ll meet you outside room 3!”

Johnny starts walking over to help Jason pick out a bike and Danny heads back into the main room. He floats up to the stands to talk to a few people, then floats back down to the podium and lands on it with two feet again.

“We’ll be watching from here.” Danny tells the boys, who had huddled together sometime while he was gone. 

Skulker comes back out of room 3 and heads over to Danny. “Got everything set up.”

“Nothing lethal? You remember that one of them is mostly human, not ghost. He will actually be hurt if you go too far.”

“Mostly?” Tim mouths at Dick. Dick shrugs.

“Got it covered. Non-lethal weaponry, and set up some road hazards.”

Danny nods and Skulker heads back through door number 3, as Johnny and Jason leave the garage, both pushing bikes next to them. 

Danny heads over to lead them to the track and get them set up at the starting line.

The room is large, with what looks like three separate zones and the track looks like it’s made of glass, reflecting as green as almost everything else in the Infinite Realms. The  first zone looks like a mountain, with the track starting on ground level and going up in winding circular trails up and around the mountain before heading back down. Then there’s a quick jump in it, a ramp leading to a gap in the track, which separates the zones. Zone Two  looks like a series of mounds, or small hills like a dirt racing track, some grassy, some muddy, some sandy, all sure to make driving difficult. Another jump leads into Zone Three which looks like a cityscape. There are many different paths you can take through it but you have to go around buildings and what looks like fake traffic.

Johnny and Hood get the bikes set up at the starting line while Danny starts explaining.

“You have to go through all three zones, but the actual paths you take are pretty optional so long as you go through all of them in order. The first zone really only has one path, but the second one has some splits and the third is almost a maze, so you wont get penalized or anything for going down different streets or anything. Main points are you make it up and down the mountain, through the hills, and across the city. If you crash or skid, or Skulker gets you, you are free to keep going so long as you are uninjured.”

Danny then goes back to the podium and gets the screen up and ready to begin.

[unhinged-as-hell]

Hello!

Something about @/demigod-jack-hearth

Something I wanna say about this post (with my reblog on it). I wanna give a side of a story. Mine to be exact.

They were one of the first people I talked to outside of rp. They were a close friend. But that fades.

I DONT WANT THEM TAGGED IN THIS I DONT WANT THEM TO KNOW ABOUT THIS. I HAVE THEM BLOCKED. IF THEY LEARN ABOUT THIS, IT IS BECAUSE SOMEONE SEND THIS TO THEM.

Tw: sa, strong language, I'm a little bitch, please please please read at your own risk

When start this by saying Jack worries me. I've seen so many post, rp or otherwise, where they bring up extremely triggering comments...just randomly. This has happened to me too. I don't get bothered by them I've been lucky enough to not deal with most and be comfortable with what I have dealt with. I think he needs professional help. Or to talk to someone that is an adult. This is difficult for some people. But there are free therapy websites out there. I have seen them. I have participated in them. The people on the other line aren't professionals but they are people willing to listen. And adults.

It started with when I saw an rp they had with camp Sky. I can't give screenshots of that but I do have some of confronting them.

Now all good right? Yeah! I thought so too. Untill an anon confronts em.

Posts here and here

Oh...kay? What's wrong about this?

Yeah...

Actively calling out anon

Now mind me I thought they had buried this au deep deep into the ground. Wasn't until I opened Circe's blog that I realised they didn't. I was pissed. I had every reason to be. We have so few stories of male victims as it is and this 'au' was blatantly disrespectful to victims of all genders. I felt really fucking disrespected that's for sure.

Unfortunately I don't confront them. But I do vent.

Now I feel bad for this. Maybe this was dirty laundry I shouldn't have aired out. But I was just so angry I couldn't think properly. I didn't mention Jack in this post, but friends figured it out. I won't say who these friends are for obvious reasons. Also, this is a bit wrong. They thought Odysseus cheated with only Circe, and Calyspo was SA. I got that wrong, and I admit it. I only remembered that when I scrolled up our dm to take a screenshot of it.

Now I wanted to leave that convo because I wasn't in the mood for arguing, and I've learned to give people what they want, which makes em and yourself stop. My fault again.

Things happen. It leads to the apology. Now, obviously, I can't tell if an apology is genuine through a screen, and I am most certainly a pessimist. So, like, I don't think it is. Also, I'm almost certain that most was written by whoever the friend was who 'helped' em.

Sure, people can change, but not enough times do they actually. Just look on the Internet. And real life. A person like Jack, well, they've talked to me enough to know it is most likely not the case. If they were so angry at a piece of good criticism, then I don't have much hope.

Am I an angry person ? Yes. Do I think I have the right to be? Yes. Am I also a logical person? I believe so. The people I've asked think so, too. I don't dislike something for no reason. But I do dislike things. What I do like is reasons for my dislikes. With me so far?

Good. Moving on.

After the apology and after I finally got my thoughts in order, I sent them a message because they tagged me. A lot.

This is what I sent. It's emotional, but in my opinion, it also makes sense. I was mad they lied to me. I was mad they twisted the story so. Fucking. Much. Odysseus isn't a rapist and Circe isn't an innocent flower. That is not what an AU is. What was their reaction to this? Nothing. To me at least.

A mutual friend told me they sent the last half of my messages and told them that they were angry I. Didn't. Thank. Them. For. The. Apology. Take that for what you will.

Now they made another post replying to the first anon who criticized them. I've read it. And when I tell you it is so fulled with self-pity-

I haven't collected my thoughts properly about this so this is bad and more emotion than the above. but this is the basic things behind it.

1) never directly addressing what he did and constantly tell em to read the apology. Don't wanna repeat yourself. How much time is it gonna take out of your day exactly?

2) not acknowledging the fact the male sa victim. At all. They don't say anything about it. No 'my condolences'. No 'I'm so sorry that happened to you' . Not acknowledging how terrible of a thing that is. At all.

3)says they aren't gonna defend themself... and defend themselves

4) have yet to tell us who these people are. Which is just bad cuz there are people out there who are okay with this. If they were IRL friends just say that.

5) it felt just fucking dull

Maybe this isn't right. Maybe you disagree with these points. But do not tell me you disagree with the rest.

I wanna end this by saying I am victim of SA. Did I tell him this? No. Maybe I should've. I don't feel comfortable sharing it. Because remembring fucking hurts. Remembering means crying and opening the lights and either sitting or laying down on my back because I can still. Fucking. Feel. It. And I was nine.

I don't want your pity on this. I don't want you to say sorry. The people you should be saying sorry to are the people who are not believed when this happens. Feel sorry for the people who cannot report this stuff because they don't trust the people who are supposed to protect them. Feel sorry for the people who think it was their fault and they actually wanted it when they didn't. 63% of rape are not reported in females. Only 12% of child rapes are reported.

I can't find a clear fucking statistics on males.

Do you know how difficult it is for males to have any representation at all? How many male victims do you see online? Even Odysseus being regonized as one is recent. Fucking. Stop. This is more than a made up story. It means the world to some people. So this actually happen. It might mean everything. This was taken away from them from so many retellings. And a stupid fucking au.

If you want to talk about SA, wanna make a character out of it, learn about it first.

So I'm not going to forgive and I am definitely not going to forget.

Post by my friend Eden

I am tagging Jack's taglist

@zariahthewitch @thegroovydaughterofhestia @if-chaos-was-a-boy @the-gods-strange-children @silena-daughterofaphrodite @fabulousdaughterofhecate @weakest-son-of-sun @chaos-pers0nified @neoptolemus-achilles-son @bast-the-best26 @goddess-of-bubblegum @hispanic-child-of-hermes @gaygirldoodles @luck-is-crucial @reyna4ever @vicious-daughter-of-zeus @feral-hermes-child @oopsies-i-did-a-thing @unfortunate-daughter-of-hestia @that-girl-cupid @ariathemortal @love-lightning-forethought @emdabitchass @kaiaalwayswins @champion-of-revenge @zoe-aura-of-d3ath @itsyourboyezra @lunar-eklipso-r @pink-koi-lovejoy @that-daughter-of-athena @sleepy-as-a-song @smileyalater @gellyhelio @daughter-ofthe-moontitan @demeters-daughter-is-done @the-smart-and-the-dumb-one @trinket-snatcher @creature-under-ur-bed @burnt-out-bitxhes @cloak-of-ares @heraaaaaaaa @unproblematic-hestia @i-was-never-sane

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: jeonghan x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, 70's au, little to no angst

warnings: none, maybe a few swear words here and there

summary: Jeonghan might be a cocky bastard but when it comes to you he will turn the world upside down, or so he claims.

words: 2k

a/n: I request each and every one of you to comment on this fic don't be a silent reader it helps me as an author to understand my readers and i would love to communicate with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcomed by me so do talk about this fic or send me an ask.

a/n 2: i heard a podcast and it made me want to write this fic because the love story of the two hosts was sooo damn cutee.

You knew Jeonghan from when you were literally a kid.

His father had moved to your city after a presentation from little Jeonghan on how to make a pocketknife using ice cream sticks that he learnt from his local friends, his mother mortified that her little sweet child would grow up to become a goon forced his father to change cities to go as far away from the place they physically could.

It was during his fathers pursuit for a stable Korean community in Canada’s ever-growing cities did he come across the name of your grandfather’s in the phonebook that sounded very much similar to his. Your grandfather being the trusting and kind man he was invited his father for a dinner in his house the following day and this event kickstarted a relationship between the two families wherein, his father bought a house six minutes away from yours in the small part of your city inhabited by mostly Asians.

You both had met when he was seven and you were only three, he still remembers babysitting you when you were in middle school as your parents trusted no one more than him. So, when he broke the beautiful glass table in your living room, he had skillfully blamed you resulting in a three-hour long lecture from your parents about taking care of ones possessions.

You hated Jeonghan then, you really did, so you refused to talk to him for the next almost five years.

Until you both found yourselves in a duet dance opposite to each other because it was the neighborhood talent show and it was mandatory for the kids to participate. Typical Asian parents.

To no ones surprise your dance number got a tad bit too much hype from the watchers and it kickstarted another full year of you both not talking to each other at all because of the teasing glances and suggestive remarks from adults and children alike.

The time you both talked to each other again was when it was you senior year prom at high school and your father being the overprotective man he was, did not allow you to go because according to him ‘prom is how American kids end up getting pregnant.’

He was wrong of course; kids get pregnant due to having sex but you being the soft-spoken kid you were did not have the gal to inform him that. You would rather spend the night being sad and watching Simpsons and crying about how unfair it is for your parents to not let you go and experience the night considered to rank number one in peak American high school experience.

This was the first time you saw Jeonghan as your lord and savior, which you obviously will never tell him because it will do nothing but fuel his over-the-top ego. But that day he had stepped in and talked to you father.

“It’s an experience and everyone should be able to experience it, I think you are wrong sir to take away this from your daughter,” he had oh so righteously said.

“Son, I would let her only if you take her, as I don’t trust anyone but you with my daughter.”

“So, I shall then.”

Now did this conversation shock you? Yes, it did especially your father’s response to Jeonghan, but you were not going to stir up any feminist conversation with your father right now, not when you just got the pass to go to prom.

That night was something you barely remember; it has been twenty years since then and you barely care about the overly hyped kids and the future alcoholics that you encountered that night. Now that you are wise and older, you understand your parents concern. Suzy from you class had become a mother at the prime age of eighteen, nine months later. You are thankful that your father made the wise choice for you that day.

That night from what you remember was just plain boring, you had come back at 11 to a quite house, had talked to the boy for the entirety of the night, watched the sunrise with him and at the end had hugged him thanking him for taking you to prom.

After that incident, you both had again gone onto your own ways and had not talked to each other for another year till the next family function, where you both were the only kids of the same age present as all your other friends were out of the country for college.

That weekend had sparked a friendship between you both, as you always stuck to each other’s side seeking comfort from one another as talking to anyone else somehow always circled back to your marriage and their extreme concern for your depleting eggs.

The friendship you both wove lasted a long while, throughout your college. Till one day you come back from a trip to Daegu, and he was there standing at the airport ready to rush you away from your family to the nearest Starbucks because he had some news for you.

Once in the café he informed you that he had landed the job he had been trying for right after finishing college. You were elated for him, so happy that you almost forgot to tell him about the potential marriage partner your parents had whipped up during your two-week-long stay there.

Jeonghan being the man he was asked you up front to marry him, confessing his hidden feeling for you and how the weight of them might have just decreased his height. Dramatic bitch.

You being brough back to reality told him no and stated the reason to be man you could have potentially married. He obviously told you to say no to this unknown ‘son of a bitch’ and accept his proposal.

So being the bigger person, because Jeonghan obviously refused to, you reminded him that you had never dated anyone let alone him and you will not marry a man you have not dated.

This conversation then ignited your relationship the first step of which was turning down the said ‘son of a bitch’ while telling your father you wanted to focus on your career more, which you really did. Fast forward six months and while keeping up the long-distance relation with frequent phone calls late at night because your parents might pick up the landline and eavesdrop if its during the day, while at the same time trying to search for a job near Boston went on.

On one late Sunday afternoon as you were sitting on the kitchen island sipping on coffee you got an email from on of the companies, you had given an interview to, informing you had gotten an onsite job that would require you to move to Cambridge, and you were over the moon.

So, the preparations began for your send off and again Jeonghan stepped in like the messiah he is. He is absolutely not one, you refuse to accept. The man went ahead and told your conservative father he will give up his life to take care of you, till this date you claim it will be the opposite if a situation like that befalls you both. After packing your bags, you were on your merry way to live with the man.

It took you both some time to adjust to the new settings he would be over at your place during the weekends and sometimes you would be at his. This continued for another year or so before one night as you both were laying on the bed together when Jeonghan suddenly piped up.

“I think you should see other people.”

Not understanding what he meant you turned towards the guy and asked, “what do you mean?”

“I know we will end up marrying each other, so I want you to experience dating other men too, so you don’t get to ever claim I was the only guy in your life,” he explained to you.

You had yet to get a taste of exactly how much of a cocky motherfucker you are dating, said innocently.

“But Jeonghan you are the only guy I ever dated.”

That was the end of that conversation that night before you both went to sleep, but his urging never stopped. It went on for a few days till one day your exhausted and a tad bit insecure self, lashed out at him claiming he wanted to cheat on you, and he wanted a break. So, you gave one to him.

That entire year you had a flower bouquet delivered early morning to your house with an apology letter, although the apologies lasted only for a month before you forgave the terrified man, who apologized profusely after you accepted to talk to him. Even though you did feel a bit bad after seeing him, the guy looked like he was living during the great depression.

After that all was smooth sailing and he never ever tried to upset you at all, but his playful nature persisted anyways, not like you minded that.

Five years later during your sister’s wedding in Singapore was when his proposal was finally accepted. You had just arrived at the airport and yet again the man had swooped in and taken you away from your family under the guise of some kind of sound check that was needed to be done in the wedding venue.

Your clueless self agreed to go with him and without a second thought he took you to the cables to take you to an island that was nowhere close to the wedding venue. As you were getting increasingly confused, you kept asking him where exactly you both were going. He kept deflecting the topic, so you ultimately gave up and, as another family came up on the cable car, you started talking about your flight that you took with your family. The poor man did not hear one word, he was sweating bullocks and was essentially confused why another family was in the cable car that he had fully booked for you both.

As the family got down at the end, he stopped you from doing so too claiming it is not the stop, even though it was the last one. It was then the nervous wreck of a man got down on one knee in front of asking for your hand in marriage once again, and you being so in love with him accepted to spend the rest of your life with the man.

The rest of it was history, you both had to tell your parents none of whom were shocked at all, rather relieved that you both had at last agreed to get married and be together forever.

Now ten years later and with your two children, you are perfectly content with your life. Waking up with Jeonghan beside you everyday sounds like a dream and you are happy it came true for you.

As you tossed around the bed you saw Jeonghan eyeing you in his half-awake state.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“Us,” you answer snuggling closer to him.

“What about us, huh?”

“The way you forced me to date some other guy because you wanted me to have more experience in dating,” you laughed at the memory.

“Don’t tell me about that it still haunts me till this day” he retorts with a shudder.

“Why did you do it anyways?” you ask.

“I knew I was going to marry you so I wanted you to have some more experience with dating others so whenever you have an argument I could say ‘hey remember that looser you dated!’”, he answers with laugh.

With a laugh you slapped his shoulder exclaiming, “I sometimes forget how cocky you can get!”

"How else do you think I got the permission to propose you in someone else's marriage!" he states sassily.

With that Jeonghan snuggles closer to you some more, its Sundays anyways the kids are with their grandparents and you both have all the time in the world to just bask in each other’s presence and not do anything at all.

[dyns33]

Family trust

The Shelbys and the Solomons are back again with some new adventures about stupidity and love.

First there was a call from Tommy. Simple, short, straight to the point, her brother only telling her that her husband had been seen in the Russian quarter.

Several things were important to understanding this call. The Russians were dangerous, the last time the Shelbys had dealt with them it hadn't gone very well, and Alfie Solomons was partly to blame for it, because even though he hated the Russians, he thought of himself and his business first.

Her brother just wanted to know if Y/N knew anything about that. After all, maybe it was nothing. A necessary detour, without there having been a secret meeting. But he wanted to check.

She didn't know, but she promised to find out.

If she had asked Alfie directly, there was a chance he would tell the truth, or be unable to keep from groaning while trying to lie like a child. He would do this when she asked him if he had eaten the last loaf of bread, accusing Cyril.

To be sure of having an answer, Y/N asked Ollie if her husband had met the Russians.

"… Why are you asking me that, Mrs. Solomons ?"

“So that’s a yes.”

"I didn't say that, Madam ! I mean… You'd have to ask him, I wasn't there. He doesn't always say what he does."

“But you know he had to see them.”

"… I know he asked for a meeting. He came back in one piece, without a drop of blood and looking satisfied. I don't think it was important."

With his big eyes, Ollie silently begged her not to push it, because his boss was really in a good mood lately, and everyone wanted to keep it that way.

Y/N didn't go to see Alfie, and she hesitated to tell her brothers. Maybe it wasn't anything important after all.

Then Polly called her, to warn her that there had been an altercation between the Russians and the Peaky Blinders. Some men had been killed or arrested by the coppers. John and Arthur were injured.

“Tommy told me your husband saw these sons of bitches recently.”

"… Yes, but there is not necessarily a link."

"I don't believe in coincidences. Your brother is coming to Camden, I wanted to warn you. He needs to speak with Solomons to make sure he hasn't betrayed us again."

It wasn't really a surprise to see her brother walk into her house a little over an hour later. What was surprising was what he said.

“Get your stuff.”

"Tommy, what's going on ? Pol told me you wanted to talk to Alfie about the Russians, what did he say ?"

"Nothing. He wouldn't tell me anything except that I could go fuck myself. I know he's involved. Now you grab your things and come with me. You're not safe here. I should never have let you go."

Part of her wanted to protest, refusing to believe that her husband could have done such a thing, and asserting her right to stay with him if she wanted.

The problem was that her husband was perfectly capable of such a thing, having done it several times in the past. He had framed Arthur, he had participated in the Italian assassination attempt on Tom, he had let Charlie be kidnapped.

For all these things, Alfie had apologized, each time, several times, but that never stopped him from doing it again.

Everyone had thought their marriage was proof of change. Of trust. If he truly loved their sister, he would never go after the Shelby again, because that would definitely hurt Y/N.

And in the months that had passed since their union, that seemed to have been the case, until today.

If he had still given them to the Italians, Y/N would have almost been able to understand. Even to the Americans. But the Russians ?

Alfie spoke Russian because his mother was Russian, his mother who he loved as much as he hated those pretentious vodka drinkers who hated Jews and chased her through the snow with dogs.

He didn't do business with them, or only to make sure they wouldn't try to encroach on his territory.

If Alfie Solomons gave you to the Russians, that meant something, something terrible.

Y/N still remembered those many marriage proposals. Of all those nights when he looked at her with passion, whispering that he was the happiest man in the world since she became his wife. His love seemed strong and sincere, more important than anything else.

But maybe he lied. Or perhaps he had finally grown tired of her. He was able to realize that people had been right at the beginning of their story, that she was not good enough for him, that she shamed him, this little gypsy bastard.

So he no longer had any reason to be good with the Peaky Blinders. She left no words as she followed Thomas, taking nothing with her and quickly patting Cyril on the head who tried to follow her to the door.

Her departure seemed to come as a shock, because Alfie called. It was Arthur who answered, shouting throughout the house that he had no interest in trying to contact his sister, who should never have married him, and that he would be dead the second he would try to contact her again or if he was seeing in Birmingham.

After hanging up, his rage didn't go away immediately, and Arthur yelled at Y/N, asking her how she could have agreed to marry that stinking rat. But he calmed down when he saw his little sister's sad eyes, muttering apologies as he took her in his arms.

The anger completely passed, worry took place in the family, because Y/N remained sad. At first, they didn't understand why, because they had clearly told her that they didn't blame her, that it wasn't her fault, and that they still loved her.

Then, as she left her sobbing on her shoulder, Ada understood that her sister was sad because she missed her husband.

She loved her family and so she would choose them, but this betrayal had pierced her heart. She had loved Alfie, she had never imagined he would do such a thing. It was like a bereavement and she had difficulty accepting it.

They tried everything to cheer her up. Jokes, going to the sea, horse rides, nothing helped. Y/N was mourning the loss of her dear Alfie.

So it was with an air of shame that Tommy came and sat down next to her, taking her hand, remaining silent for a long moment.

"… Alfie didn't sell us out to the Russians."

"… What ?" Y/N asked as she came out of her trance, turning to her brother.

"I got some new information. I don't know what he was doing with them, but it had nothing to do with what happened. I… You were right, I'm sorry."

“But you went to see him.”

"As I said, he refused to tell me what he was dealing with, that it was none of my business. He looked suspicious, so I thought… I was wrong. There didn't seem to be any another explanation."

"… You were wrong. You are sorry. I abandoned my husband, who must hate me now, who will never want me again because I humiliated him, and you are sorry ?"

"Little sis…"

"Leave me !"

It seemed impossible to return to London. It had been weeks since she had any news, since she had not called, not trying to find out if he was innocent and leaving him without the slightest hesitation. How could he forgive such an act ? Y/N wasn’t sure she could.

She therefore remained locked in her room, her health deteriorating even more, causing her whole family to panic. They wouldn't be able to get over it if she died of grief, but she didn't want to talk to them anymore, not even her sister or her aunt.

Hiding under her blanket, she didn't move when someone came in, probably begging her to eat or telling her they were all sorry for the hundredth time. It seemed pointless to react, they quickly understood that they were not welcome when they saw that she did not respond.

“Treacle ?”

Her body moved before her mind fully understood what was happening. In an instant, she was sitting up, discovering Alfie kneeling by her bed. He looked terribly tired.

"Alfie. What… What are you doing here ?"

"Thomas called me. He told me you weren't feeling well. It's obviously even worse than the time I came for that nasty flu. Tea probably won't be enough, uh ? What’s wrong with you, love ?”

"What's wrong ?! I left you ! You must… You must hate me now." she cried, unable to stop the tears from falling.

With his large hands, Alfie wiped them all with patience and tenderness, drawing her to him to rest in his arms.

"Don't cry, love. I don't hate you. I'm not angry. At first I panicked when I found the house empty. Then Arthur said you didn't want to see me anymore, and I believed that you left me because I was a poor husband."

“You are the best husband in the world.”

"Yeah. You must have a fever or obvious lack of sleep. Tommy explained to me about the Russians. He asked me what I was doing with them, but he didn't mention the little problems that he had, otherwise I would have understood better what I was being accused of."

"I knew you wouldn't betray us. I knew that, but they said… They were sure…"

“Shh.” her husband said kindly, caressing her back. "I know. We have a complicated past, I understand why they would have believed that. I should have talked to your brother, I was afraid he would ruin the surprise."

"The surprise ?"

As usual, Alfie blamed Ollie and his men for the whole affair. And their wives. Because they had all noted the date of their boss's wedding, and they had told him that it would be good if he did something special for their anniversary.

Alfie hadn't thought of that. He didn't think it was that important, since he treated his wife like a queen absolutely every day.

But he had seen the couple's arguments about it, and besides not wanting to sleep in the living room, he wanted to make Y/N happy. He had first thought about buying a house in Margate. Paradise on Earth. They would still have their accommodation in London, but they could go there to have peace of mind.

When he talked to Ollie about it, the young man replied that it might be a little too much, or not enough. It was Alfie's dream to have this house, not Mrs Solomons', who would probably prefer to stay close to her family.

So he asked advice from these employees who were so good with women, and after hearing about flowers, perfumes, and food, someone mentioned diamonds.

He had given Y/N a lot of gifts, but never diamonds. Real diamonds, magnificent, pure, worthy of her. And the best diamonds were the Russians.

It actually meant something if Alfie Solomons agreed to talk to Russians for you.

Keeping her close, he took a necklace out of his pocket, placing it on the bed. A pure marvel indeed, far too beautiful for her. Y/N had never had jewelry like this.

“That’s what Ollie said.” Alfie sighed, resting his head on hers. "You little bastard. No gift was right for him. Well, I think he wanted to make sure you'd be happy, and since you're a goddess to my bakers, no gift was right. I can't totally blame them, I guess."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah, love. You didn't do anything. It's the Russians and your brothers' fault. A few weeks isn't that long. I told everyone you were visiting your family, and that I was very happy to have the house all to myself."

"And you were ? Happy ?" she asked shyly, still immersed in her sad state.

"Hmm. Maybe all of Camden will tell you that I wandered around like a lost dog, barking at everyone, and maybe even cried in my office once over whiskey. But people are liars."

"I missed you too."

"I wanted to come several times. I didn't care about your brother's threats, but I wasn't sure you wanted me to come, so I hung out on the station platforms, and I gave lots of contradictory orders to poor Ishmael, and finally I went home like a coward."

“I would like to go home now.”

“In London or Margate ?”

“… You bought the house in Margate ?”

"Of course, treacle. I've been thinking about it for a long time, before I even met you, and since I've known you, I can't stop imagining you there. It will truly be heaven on earth as soon as you're in this house. If you want to come with me."

Seeing her coming down the stairs, Tommy couldn't hold back a smile, relieved to see that his sister was better. He made a sympathetic comment about the necklace, but it was obvious that he too thought it was too much.

Still a little angry that he took his wife away, Alfie quickly greeted them to go wait in the car, giving Y/N time to say goodbye properly. She might have been furious too, but they had already paid for their mistake, now knowing what would happen if they separated the couple without a good reason.

In addition to these extravagant wedding anniversary gifts, Y/N learned that the Russian gang had been almost completely arrested by the police, thanks to an anonymous informant. But Alfie, with his lying face, said he didn't see why she was thanking him.

[iceinwhb]

Dark headcanon

﹅ contains; what in hell is bad, sensitive content, nsfw, explicit content, foul language, explicit lenguage, female Mc.

﹅ warnings; Dark headcannon, insane descrptions, unhealthy relationships, the softest is at the top.

He no longer had any idea how long it had been since he had last properly killed an angel. Perhaps too long to remember how to avoid instant death on the first hit.

Another army of wounded angels came out of their territory, weary from the constant fighting that hadn't changed for years.

Solomon's descendant no longer participated in the war, nor did he allow her to use any special skill. She only stayed in hell so as not to break the guidelines that bound her to him.

And it worked well for a while, until she became suspicious of the strange movements, and eventually, she realized what was going on.

He tried to hide it, but it wasn't long before she realized his intentions.

He still wanted to believe that if she spent more time in hell, maybe just a little longer, would learn to love it and stay. But the betrayal in her eyes, the feeling of him having cheated on her was still there.

She never said anything, and the more time passed, less she liked Gehenna. He couldn't follow her either, or even claim her because he himself condemned her, every day, to delay what might be inevitable.

But this time, at least that day, she had not avoided him. Her eyes did not leave him as he moved deeper into the room where he had taken refuge, so as not to feel that he was losing her.

“Let me go.” Her determination formed quickly, as he approached. “I want you to take me back to Earth. Reverse the deal right now.”

His brow furrowed, not only at the order, but at the strange feeling that plagued his chest.

“Hell…”

“It's your fault, not mine that the deal hasn't yet…!”

“If you can't deliver it, then you shouldn't have made a deal.” He tried to convince himself that this was the right thing to do, even if was wrong. “Or you're going to lie, and tell me you don't enjoy this place…”

“What the hell is there on earth that you can't have here!” He finally reached out, and touched her, not allowing her to move further away. “I saved you from dying back there, you can still die if you come back! You know exactly what you promised.”

“What I promised ended when you did what you wanted, you don't care about anything else!”

“Then go and ask any demon you find if he wants to help you. Go again, scour hell looking for just one…!”

The resounding smack on his cheek stung, especially since it was full of rage.

“Shut up!” he stepped back a few inches, trying to process the kind of feeling that was rapidly evolving, and looked at her again.

The silence was long, more tense than it had ever been, but no words could fix the mistake.

“Whatever you do, you're not coming back” He closed his mouth tightly and gritted his teeth, not knowing exactly what to hide, but already fury was beginning to rise in his brain, as the tingling in his hands began to rise. “At least I thought it would be different.”

“Don't you dare…”

“He and his lineage is always the same…” He held her again, unaware of how much the pressure of his touch had increased, as he threw her onto the bed. His body trembled as the high-pitched whine entered his ears. “But there will be no one who can take you.”

“Son of…” He held both cheeks with one hand, clenching her jaw tightly, the energy of fury continuing.

“Try it. Leave this fucking room and you'll see.”

“I'm sorry, but I can't stay.”

It was the first thing she did, politely, as she turned down the marriage proposal. She wasn't able to remember how many times considered Mammon's feelings after that.

In truth, she did nothing more than take care not to be rude, as her purpose in hell came to an end. She was more relieved to finally be able to come out to earth again, and feel like had a normal life, that even the excitement was more visible than could have imagined.

Didn't care that hell was safer, not quiet either, or that it could give her anything in return, after all, she was aware that once got out. She wouldn't remember anything.

Didn't want to be like Solomon, looking for a place in the heart of the demons because knew that wasn't her place. The reflection, as walked down the hallway of Satan's palace, ended.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the figure, too large not to quickly identify. The clear eyes, with a hue as beautiful as gold shone in a different way than she knew, especially as the silence continued.

“What are you doing here?” she hugged herself, as walked in the direction of the greed demon, without a fear in the least. Eyes felt intense as it followed her, and immediately, the decompensation of familiarity when not greeted by a habitual smile appealed to her senses.

“You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?” she laughed, as excitement rose in her head again.

“Yes, that's why I couldn't sleep and thought it was a better option… To have some peace, but if you're here…” She looked around, especially to the sides and frowned slightly, forgetting what was about to say. “Just…”

“Can we walk together?” She nodded absently.

“That's what I was going to do anyway.”

“Aren't you too happy?” Mammon seemed to notice the strangeness she felt at every turn, but the question only made the atmosphere more uncomfortable. Discomfort pounded in her brain, making her aware of the bad feeling that slowly clung to her flesh.

“I don't…”

“You know you're going to forget hell, and all the demons in it when you get back.”

“I thought they were all aware that I wasn't going to… I didn't do anything to make them think more of me, either.” She looked up, leaning closer to Mammon, but was unable to look him. “I never coveted a place in anyone's heart, and I never wanted to hurt yours either.”

“I always told you I'd give you anything you asked for.” Long fingers covered her wrist, gripping her hand tightly. “And I'm willing to give you anything as long as you stay.”

Her only response, at least quickly, was easy to get out of her mouth, with a clear denial that there was nothing better than hell.

That was the worst mistake she could made.

Tried to remove his hand a few seconds later, but failed to move his hand at all.

The last thing she remembered hearing was Mammon's deep voice, with a completely different tone to the assurance he exuded.

“I can't… forget you.”

It was dragging, full of feelings she couldn't understand. But she didn't need to because his thoughtfulness was extinguished when she suddenly lost consciousness and woke up in that place.

A year ago.

And every day she could clearly remember every movement, every gesture. The difference from what Mammon was, to the demon of greed who only looked at her from the other side of the room.

Like at that moment, where the clear, golden eyes were brutally digging into her skin, burning her nerves and digging a deeper and deeper emptiness, to the point that she could even feel cold.

She tried to understand it every time Mammon spent hours watching her, where she had gone wrong, or if from the beginning her fate had already been written by the demon who rose from his desk, with the slowness of a predator about to hunt, until he touched the barrier that separated them.

The hand was not on her skin, but she could feel the need it gave off, the desire to touch her again, and play as if her body was that of a doll for the enjoyment of whatever needs Mammon might have.

A soft smile rose to his lips, and his cheek hit the material of gold and diamond cage. He dared to savor the minutes as fingers slowly opened the door.

“Don't you think it's time for a bath? I'll buy prettier dresses today than last time, and change your place, sweet master.”

Her lips trembled, in sadness, but she made no visible grimace, for no matter how hard she tried, was unable to move the crystalline diamond because of how heavy it was, and also to escape because the hands were too strong to hold her, like a leash that would take her for all eternity if possible.

And at that point, when he carefully held her waist, she was already resigned to being an object that she hoped, would be discarded as soon as possible.

Beelzebub's eyes were lost in the flickering spotlight, with a dull light, and the humid atmosphere only increased the rapidity of his breathing, as his nose sank into the wet panties. The smell of semen and female cum was so thick it made him dizzy.

It was an addictive drug that he could not stop consuming more and more, more and more hours of his day until he completely stopped moving, the bittersweet smell, the salty taste of sweat, and the moans made him lose the thread of coherence that he didn't know when he had lost, or for how long.

Only rolled his eyes, drenched in lust as he looked at the body of the descendant of a man he had forgotten. Tears steadily filled her eyes, as the moans were muffled by the cock that was penetrating the back of her throat with desperation, while pussy and ass were filled by others.

The scene made him move his attention to the semen-filled bosoms, the same that also marked the panties and cheeks, full of deep bites and saliva his. He didn't need to get lost from sight because another copy, took it upon herself to lick the red, sore, and quivering peaks.

His copy's fingers moved to her pelvis, and deftly advanced on her clitoris, before his eyes connected with it, and with a mischievous grin, the Beelzebub overstimulating her parts, opened her lower lips. The copy of his cock was crushing harder on the small body, to the point of making her squirm and almost scream.

He moaned, raw, as his hand pumped the erection harder than he should have applied. He felt suffocated, and at the same time, ecstatic in madness and pleasure.

Came down from the cloud of pleasure as the precious semen was held between his fingers, and his eyes came back into view, where his copy had already cum in his mouth, burying it to the full.

They all came out at the same time, leaving a long line of white semen, with no space to stain when he finally stood up. He held her neck carefully, and swallowed her tongue, the taste so exquisite that he just clicked his teeth together again.

She screamed, but he kept stifling the sound as the blood touched the roof of his mouth. And when she pulled away, his nose followed the line of his neck, perversely enjoying the smell.

She was the king of gluttony's whore. He could smell it in every pore of her skin, so deeply that it stained even her soul.

“You smell soo good…” Too good to want to eat her in one bite, too good to want all hell to notice how much she'd taken and how very much his she felt.

He bit into the skin again, making her scream again, but even the sound impoverished his ability to reason, and heightened the mammoth pleasure. The piece of skin he had torn from the soft skin made him shiver. The softness in each bite, the sensation that scraped warmly across his throat.

It was a taste he had never tasted before. Beyond anything he could have tasted. He sighed, almost cumming again as the whisper burned in his ears, his name, in the bulging mouth that did nothing but tantalizes him, every bite until there was nothing left.

“Please, Beel.” He brought his eyes to the sound, and his mind paused for a moment. The lips were bruised, red, hot, bleeding.

The tears wouldn't stop flowing, and her body barely had the strength to move. She was so adorable that made him laugh, as he held her wrists tighter and his gaze bored into the dark, tired, on the verge of fainting eyes.

“Should I eat you now?” Her eyebrows furrowed, blood continued to drip, staining the white red, and her consciousness slowly faded. He smiled, as he ran his lips over her wrist. “Unless you finally choose to stay. By my side.”

She didn't speak. The silence became so grotesquely awkward, for seconds before another bitter laugh hit his throat.

His chest wouldn't stop pounding, and the shape of his body was becoming less easy to hold as remembered why they were in that place.

They had gone through Abyssos. Passing time as usual, until her excitement slowly faded and she began to want to go back somewhere else, desperate to get away and leave him abandoned.

He returned to his reason, got control of his body and breathed hard.

“Then eat and fill yourself with my cock until you agree. And if you deny it again…” He held her chin, to make her look him in the eyes, but her eyelids fell slower, even disoriented. “I will eat you.”

“Come to Paradise Lost, one last time” She never denied him the opportunity.

He only acted out of condescension, because his conscience was pounding with despair at the thought of losing another loved one, and being forgotten as if he were nothing.

That was the decline of the last drop of patience he could have. He wanted to respect her decision, but the dark thought that she, in particular, did not want to stay was stronger.

And then, once he managed to have her one day, to give her up, but he did not succeed. They walked together, talked, laughed, even the tender moments became a burden and finally, before sunset they ended up in the greenhouse. He offered her a last cup of tea and they continued together as if nothing would happen afterward, as if it was just another day, where he could see her later.

And when she stood up, slightly dismayed, she finally looked him straight in the eye. For a moment, there was clear hesitation, but instead, she reached over and hugged him.

There was a small farewell, the size of a sigh. She touched his face, held his cheeks, and said words he could not have forgotten, “I am grateful to have known you, and I would only like to stay. But this is goodbye, and I hope it won't be the last.”

“You can't go.”

The minutes went on in silence and continued for twenty after his first words were not a simple acceptance.

“I have to go, Luci.”

“I'm not letting you go.” Surprise came over her, slowly, obfuscating his chest, but it was no greater than the sense of loss that kept dripping out, unsteadily, and almost choking him, as he clung to the hands that were still on him.

“Lucifer.” She swallowed saliva, then looked at the door, thinking of a possibility he had already completely abandoned. He tried to stop her, but she only took a step back, avoiding him, wrenching the resignation from holding her even without knowing what would happen.

“You're going to die if you walk through that door.”

The silence continued, before she sat back in the chair, almost laughing, incredulous at what was happening.

“You're not going to keep me here forever. You know that.”

But even if she was sure of it, she wasn't aware of what it meant forever. But that didn't matter after a while, nor did the certainty of an eternity.

He was barely able to leave the room because each time, he found something different, with the same ending, before Gamigin fixed it again and again.

At first, he could understand the urgency to remain vigilant, and eventually, stopped weighing too deeply, because he was by her side, after all she would always live, no matter how many times tried to kill herself, like in that moment, where she was scratching hard at his throat, looking to cut it for having tried to disobey his words again.

He stopped her fingers, lowering them, and momentarily removed the restraint. She finally drew in a sharp intake of breath, coming back to herself. She moved her hands quickly, trying to pull away before salty tears filled her cheeks and came with a loud sob.

Lucifer moved his hands to her cheeks, as she finally seemed to give in and lick gently at the wetness, savoring the salty taste, then sucked hard, longing for the sensation, taking his full attention.

“Stop it, just let me go…” He brought her tongue to his mouth, and tangled his tongue with the other, which was trying to hide, and the tears continued to enter his palate, relentlessly.

The human body was too weak to resist, even when she tried and finally manipulated it to his liking, even touched hard, to the point of leaving nail marks on the soft, warm skin.

But it was not enough.

He grabbed her neck and pulled her towards the wall, the sound was dry, he repositioned the barrier, and his teeth dug into the flesh, mercilessly, as he removed the clothing, ignoring even the struggling that went on constantly, not giving up even when he tore the blood-filled shirt.

Before his eyes, there were only marks of the countless bites that sank into the skin, each time he made her own. There was no longer any place without scars. Even the fingers, hands, and thighs that struggled to flee from his grasp were marked as his.

Though at that moment she was not yet ready to stay, she would slowly realize that the only one she needed by her side was him, for he would not let her see and touch others.

“The only thing you have now is me.” Blunt teeth bit into his shoulder, as nails dug into the wound in his bleeding wings. “The only place you belong is these four walls.”

The little grunt of discord entered his ears, but it was useless when she continued to cry, without stopping, to the point of shaking off his need. The hand he still had available rose to the nape of her neck, and again, he licked away the tears, for he was unable to let her go.

“Only me, descendant of Adam.”

⛧✃✃✃⛧✁✁✁⛧✃✃✃⛧✁✁✁⛧

I dance to you so that it is not obvious that Leviathan is missing here, but don't worry. I'll write it later.

On the other hand… I don't know about you, but they are still very soft cuties (I also don't want to stress that I censure it too much, because yes, you can imagine how they ended with their own mc).

Aaaaaaaaaand… I think when I'm really fucked, sleep deprived and hundreds of wanting to sleep, I don't check well the coherence of the sentences, which is who, and for you guys it must have been a fucking shitty thing to read it, LMAO. I promise to check that for you guys, and even “render” my headcannons. For your health, and mine.

But right now, if I got something wrong, many apologies, (I love very, very, very much the beautiful people who did help me in the last poll. I need you guys too much, I will never leave you. <3).

Although… (I am a poll addict)

[ash-says]

Tips on how to dodge personal questions in a Professional Setting:

I know. I know. I said I will be on a break and I still stand by that but it was difficult to throw away the sudden surge of motivation so here I am.

I received a request to make a post on this long back so here is your girl serving it. Honestly I am not much of an expert at it either but I have some ways that work sometimes so here goes nothing.

1) Do not give in to the pressure.

Literally that's the starting point. Whenever someone asks us a personal question we feel obligated at some level to answer because of xyz reasons. That's why we first need to escape the pressure of answering.

2) Straightforwardly and Politely state I am not comfortable answering that.

The bulletproof method. No explanation needed.

3) If you are in a situation where the person is being really nosy and can't take a no for an answer. Try saying to them,"I don't understand how it's relevant to our topic of discussion."

4) If you are not in a position to decline at all which happens when the person asking the question is of higher authority and has influence in this situation give vague answers that lead nowhere.

Example: So are you dating anyone?

It's tough to say in particular you know the dating scene nowadays it's difficult to put a name on anything.

Or what do you do on your weekends?

Nothing just the usuals. I am an office worker after all.

This creates a sense of familiarity with the crowd but at the same time does not reveal anything in precision.

5) Turn the topic on them. One of the smartest things you can do is make them the central focus. People love to talk about themselves so it works most of the time until you come across someone truly smart.

Example: hey how's the new office? Are you liking it here?

Ans: Well I am still getting used to the environment here. What about you? How long have you been working here?

6) Another thing you can do is dance around the topic but not on the topic. You remember how you used to write a 1 mark question for 5 marks exactly like that. Tell the prequel and sequel of the question but never answer the exact question.

7) This one is kinda rude I won't suggest doing it around randomly but if you have been in the corporate space for sometime you would know that there are some people who like to ask things only to belittle you or spread gossip or to be mean. The jealous ones that don't have a life of their own.

In case they ask something or say something rude or cross a boundary just start singing a song or change the topic completely. Don't acknowledge anything they say and continue with your random talks or humming. Trust me it's the easiest way to get rid of them.

Still some are persistent and will try to get an answer. Simply say it's not worth discussing. It's boring.

8) Apart from that there are subtle things you can do which can create a persona that conveys you are not open towards personal questions. You can do it by simply detaching yourself whenever someone starts talking about their personal lives. Don't be a participant or a listener. It gives a que you are not looking to bond personally and many other similar things.

9) If you are truly in a toxic work culture where your colleagues seem to constantly bug and bully you to share personal stuff (happened with me in my previous workplace) Firmly state,"I come here to work not to make personal relations."

10) Ignore.

I hope it helps even a little there's not much we can do without offending the other person but we can be gentle and polite in our tone and gesture that's the only way.

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

[microtyalm13]

How would your ocs react to a partner whos very vocal and loud in bed, like every moment they can't go without spouting some type of praise. . . ask, totally not based on a chat im having - 🐠🎩

mmmhehehhe... < З I LIKE THIS QUESTION DEAR FISH ANON. okaaaayyy lessgooo.... also feel free to send me more questions like this one, it was fun to write for everyone <3 deity, naga, monster under the bed, kikimora, fallen god, mothman x reader. derzena x fem!reader, the rest is gender-neutral. there could be mistakes and im npt s orrty

gavriil. — the louder you are the better, honestly. gavriil here is a provider, he cares about your pleasure more than his own, so there's nothing more rewarding than to hear your voice break so deliciously. sex with him is a praising galore... loves receiving it too! he's very talkative and mostly breathes heavily or hums in amusement/delight. if you don't want to make noise on principle, that's a whole different story. will take it as a challenge. will fuck the noises out of you. breaking your indifferent facade until you're nothing but a drooling, whining mess always makes him so smug and proud.

xiaolong. — prefers it if you're at least somewhat vocal because he want to hear how good he makes you feel, so you being so unashamed is perfect for him. loves cutting off your never-ending stream of sweet words and whimpers by kissing you. will remind you to keep it down sometimes though, because "you don't want the whole inn to hear your pretty moans now, do you? they're reserved for my ears only, isn't that right, dear? mmhm, that's it". can't get enough of how lovely your voice sounds when you call out his name. will probably tease you about that later...

taisya\tasechka. — when he's balls deep inside of you, he would absolutely not care. he won't even hear you probably, driven blindly by his instincts and desires. that's why when you want him to stop or give you a second for whatever reason, you need to show it with your body language. give him a pat, a punch (he won't mind), a squeeze. he pays much more attention to how your body moves and shudders underneath him, how your breathing patterns change. values your physical participation more than anything else. this guy is also pretty loud himself, though his noises are not very... pleasant on the ears and sometimes his voice morphs in funny ways, giving that uncanny edge to his low whines and growls.

derzena. — she will be... a bit surprised. she didn't have many lovers, and most of them were pretty quiet and/or shy in her presence (no wonder, bc she has a very... intimidating stare). at first she will think she did something wrong, or, heavens forbid, hurt you. derzena is a very careful woman, mainly because she's very aware of her sizes and strength. but once you reassure her and tell her that you're just very vocal in bed, she'll except it and will move on. she'll learn to love it very quickly, silently relishing in your gasps and loud pleas. she might lose herself for a good while between your legs, eating you out for hours and pushing her thick, smooth tongue deeper into your pussy to see if she can make you even louder.

veniamin. — oh he is so mean. likes it when you're loud just because he gets to shut you up. a hand clasped tightly over your mouth or pushing your face into the pillow, he doesn't care as long as you're keeping up the volume and writhing under him. when he's feeling gracious enough he'll let you ride him and babble all you want. until then, he'll keep calling you a desperate little thing, mocking the noises you make <З despite that, he also loves it when you talk back or insult him in return. it's the "missionary, so we can keep arguing" for him. smug fucker wants nothing more than to rile you up and then make you whine in disappointment by ruining your orgasm... for the fourth time in a row.

livy. — he hasn't had much experience with humans before, so he thinks it's perfectly normal for you to express yourself the way that you do. livy thinks it's very pretty actually, and won't stop you, because no one will hear you in the middle of the forest, where his cave resides. except for him, of course <з lets out happy chirps and clicks in return, or hisses sweetly when your little hole squeezes him so tightly. will ask how you feel very frequently, seeking your approval. might get too excited and get a bit rough, fucking you into the ground, trying to stuff you full of his cock despite you being so much smaller in comparison to him.

[mirrorcatcreditcard]

Luka analysis/ramble below

Contains Round 7/Final spoilers

Ya know, Luka must be such an incredibly hollowed out man with enough trauma to incapacitate a different human. Like seriously, he's the perfect representation for anyone stuck under the obsessive spiral of perfectionism and repression.

He's in his early thirties, and his only attainable achievements are being covetable human flesh and doing so well at music that any potential friends or colleagues he could have will die in front of him if he takes the time to do the only thing he's allowed to focus on—sing. The girl he loves and could never talk with like a "normal kid" (but it didn't matter then because she accepted him as he was) has traumatic flashbacks just seeing him. The knowledge that her existence is so highly illegal that any achievements he has made will mean nothing if he is seen loving her... That's heavy. And that's partially on the assumption he's seen the news as it's hard to miss. (It's hard to tell with his expressions.) The moment he sees Hyuna in Round 7, the facade and mimicry is gone. All that's left is the hollow and lonely man.

How many times has he seen people he may have liked, disliked, been curious about, hated, shared memories with- how many have died or been beaten before his eyes? How many times has he supressed the screams inside of him because he's not allowed to. He's a puppet off of the stage, strictly controlled and having his fate already decided for him as long as he can probably remember.

"His eyes are lifeless." "He's so cruel." "He's just manipulative." Tell me you can't get a clue without telling me you can't get a clue. There are so many things wrong with this man, and you're going to obsess over the fact that a victim still stuck in abuse has done "inhumane" things on a planet and in a universe surrounded by creatures that teach that inhumanity is the most normal response to have to human emotions. Do you even know how the brain works when stuck in a situation where you're constantly just surviving? I'll tell you because I have firsthand knowledge. You do anything to stay alive. Anything. If brainwashed, you will hurt people you love if you think it will save them/keep them safe. And when it's all said and done, you then further crawl into the shell of yourself with hope that the emotional/mental bombs don't put enough shrapnel into your fragile, hiding self to ensure you really don't wake up this time. Because then hurting the other person would have been for nothing. Because then you'll have failed the one goal you have—survival. Trauma changes how a human brain is shaped and formed. (It's a scientific fact; go look it up if you think I'm pulling your leg.) I wonder if that, on top of the insinuated neurodivergence, is enough to make the already born outcast and alien-proclaimed prince (meaning: he's above the other humans AND nobody can touch him on his throne that only get higher each new death near him) be considered "surviving" instead of the "thriving" people seem to think of him as doing. I wonder how much he'll have to go through before he's "traumatized enough" or "injured enough" for the fandom to have a crumb of empathy (or even sympathy) for him.

Even if you have dulled feelings or no specific attachments to others—being the indirect cause of so many deaths, watching blood splatter the stage in a competition so fierce that the surviving participant(s?) develop medical problems overtime, knowing this is your very bread and water and shelter but the ones watching and clicking buttons to ensure your survival see this as an event for pure entertainment and no true depth, having to live with no attachments because either you'll never see the person again or you'll never see the person again—this fucks up a person. Isolation is the reason people take the fast way out of this world. Isolation is the reason why people go mad. Isolation makes you beg the very air surrounding your existence to end you. Yet simultaneously, you want to live so bad, and you just can't understand why humans are like this because all of you should want to be dead by now, even if the voices around you speak of how you're the greatest and most privileged.

The first time around must have been terrifying. How did Luka feel winning something like that, achieving all the praise and great treatment as his body and mouth metaphorically dripped with still-warm blood? Did he feel like he fought and died a million times over? Was he cursing or tiredly resigned because winning means he has to do it all over again if your master wishes and his master is greedy? Was he thinking of Hyuna-A? Was the win so hollow and full of traumatic moments that he tucked it down once more because even for someone detached and bullied by his peers the entire ordeal had been too much? Was he rationalizing it? Did he feel like a sick bastard for his hunger for control on stage? I wonder how much he disassociates off-screen. I wonder if he ever stopped his habit of putting his mouth on things for sensory stimulation or if he just hides it behind closed doors to be publically presentable. I wonder if he's ever acted out, gotten punished severely, and never acted out again. When did Hyun-A escape? How much did he know about it? The only love he's been taught is the faux love between owner and owned. He's obsessed with control because he has no control over his life and the stage is the only place he gets it. Is it really so shocking that he declared Hyun-A as "his" in the past and wishes she'd let herself be owned by him? This entire thing is so fucked up, and I still don't know enough about this man to be satisfied.

Luka has been stuck in this loop of being a product that exists for public consumption for at least ten years, so please excuse him if he's tired and working on instincts to live and desire for control turned to lifeless (yet pretending to be full of it) and brokenly presenting art of which he knows/thinks the muse of will never see.

[genderisareligion]

Radfems over 30, if you could go back 10 years and give you in your 20s some feminist advice, what would it be?

I was about 20 when I started taking radical feminism seriously and I notice/I saw a poll once that a lot of you are in your early to mid 20s. There's a lot I know now that I wish I had somehow been able to speed absorb.

Don't bother befriending men who aren't at least bisexual. No, not even your best friend's Nigel. They don't see you that differently because you're out now. Take red flag responses like "that's hot" and "if I were your dad I'd be relieved" seriously. You know how many of them are unashamed porn addicts, it's okay to be in a very small percentage of Americans who thinks that shit overall is a plague, not to be openly celebrated.

Don't take it upon yourself to fix or argue with racist white women. Past me got into it with @apostleofsapphos once and it didn't matter how many sources I used or how well I crafted my arguments, she was a brick wall content to call me a "dumb black American" because I said white privilege and colorism are things outside the US. Think about the times you've had your mind changed about something political or sociological. Didn't it usually take exposure to a real life event, person, or book? Not some random on the internet, though that can work sometimes.

That being said, don't stew in anger about racism to the point that you cut yourself off from white people entirely. White men, whatever, ignore them more often, but there are opportunities for sisterhood with white women who are actually trying. Keep up this belief, it'll make you good friends and connections in the future. Black feminism shouldn't have to change itself for white feminists but it should still have the goal of how we can work together rather than just pointing out the ways in which a lot of white women put us down.

That being said, be proud to be Black more. I didn't really start writing about analyzing and following news on the ongoing post slavery genocide until my mid twenties and like I wish in college I'd joined the BSU despite having problems with the one at my religious high school because of homophobia, in retrospect. Find the Black people who don't care that you love women and hold them close and don't take them for granted.

Tell less people you're gender critical. It's no one's business that I came to the conclusion I did, that there's no such thing as gender and I'm better off not participating, whether that gender be cis or trans. There's nothing there when I search deep inside or whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing to have one. Most people just go along with it once they find out what gender is. Oh well. Just call yourself a word they recognize from the nonbinary category and don't say shit else lol

Radfems add yours if you want

[caslyra]

Can we please agree that liking a character doesn't mean you have to explain away their every bad call? And that disliking a character doesn't mean you have to overlook their good qualities to have them fit your narrative? No one is just this or that. It's always a range.

The lack of nuance in parts of this fandom annoys me so much. And let's please drop the double standards - finding excuses for every 'bad' thing character A does while demonizing character B.

Dumbledore is no super villain. Yes, he put defeating Voldemort over Harry's (emotional) needs. He isn't some supportive father figure, but he's not responsible for the war nor everyone's decision to join in. 'He raised an army of children' - um no? Because if so, he, the greatest wizard of the age, did a shitty job. In both wizarding wars it was just one group of friends joining the Order, not a huge number of former students. So either super-smart Dumbledore seriously sucked at recruiting, or maybe he didn't try all that hard?

James wasn't some prime example of social justice warrior from the very beginning. Yes, he had - to some extent - a set moral code, he hated the Dark Arts, and he certainly never used dark curses on others. But he found it entertaining to hex students at random. He was a classic bully; he did it because he could and because he found it funny. He enjoyed it. But that doesn't mean he had no good traits - he cared for his friends, befriended Remus (practically an outcast), and later he changed. I can't get over the people who find excuses for Snape's bullying of his students, of literal children when he's an adult, but seem to think James was the worst person to ever exist.

Sirius has a ton of good qualities; I could write an essay about it. But guess what, that doesn't make the prank thing okay (no matter if Remus cared about it). The same goes for the Snape bullying and his condescending (cruel) behavior towards Peter. And his treatment of Kreacher, who was oppressed, not the oppressor. And why do we applaud him for 'forgiving' Remus in PoA for not trying to get him out of Azkaban? What's there to applaud? He was in Azkaban because he thought Remus was the spy, did we forget that? How do we expect Remus to suss out that Sirius thought himself clever enough to outsmart not only Voldemort but also Dumbledore? Sirius isn't on some moral high ground here. He wasn't in Azkaban because of Remus but because of his own arrogance and lapse of judgement.

Remus isn't some impersonated moral code. He isn't 'the sensible one' by default. He makes a ton of shitty, truly awful decisions (roaming Hogsmeade while a werewolf, not telling Dumbledore about the secret passages or Sirius's animagus form in PoA even after Sirius, the alleged mass murderer with an agenda of killing Harry, broke into Harry's dorm, abandoning Tonks...). But he isn't some master manipulator with a hidden agenda either. He was driven by his self-loathing first and foremost. And when did it become worse to be a bystander than to participate in the actual bullying? (I'm not saying it's okay, but how can we find excuses for James and Sirius, but Remus is super evil for doing... nothing? When it's stated that Snape was following him and trying to uncover his secret to get him expelled? Shocking he didn't feel all that sympathetic.) Of course he is passive-aggressive, of course he was selfish/cowardish, I don't know, but he isn't evil? He's usually kind (ffs, he even felt pity for Greyback), and his issues are in the end all rooted in his endless self-loathing. That doesn't excuse it. It doesn't. But it doesn't mean he's acting like he does because he's an inherently bad person. This idea of inherently 'bad' or 'good' people is naive and harmful anyhow. Besides - I feel some standards imposed on him are impossible to meet, when the same people are quick to explain away James's/Sirius's/Snape's flaws. Remus is suffering from massive childhood trauma that he's forced to relive every month, he's stigmatized for it by society his whole life, but he himself is supposed to just 'let it go'? Without therapy or anything? Right...

And even Lily isn't a saint. She's fighting back a smile when James is bullying her (supposedly) best friend?

Snape is no tragic hero whose every wrong is justified because he turned around and sacrificed himself. Of course, he was brave. Of course, he had a shitty childhood. That doesn't give him a free pass. He was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts when he arrived at Hogwarts already, he invented curses like Sectumsempra while at Hogwarts, he sold the 'love of his life' to Voldemort. And even after he 'changed' and overcame his fascist views, he bullied children he was supposed to take care of - as a grown man. Not only Harry, but also Neville, Hermione, Ron, who knows how many others. So, yeah, cool, he protected their lives 'when it counted' - 'when it counted'??? You don't belittle your students, you don't insult them, you don't threaten to poison their pets no matter what happened to you when you were a kid. You're an adult, take responsibility. Easy as that. What happened to you may be an explanation, but not an excuse. And do we really think he didn't strike back at James and Sirius? That it was just James and Sirius and him taking it lying down without doing anything himself? I don't.

It's entirely natural to relate more to one character than another and to feel more sympathetic towards them. But let's move away from this 'all or nothing' way of thinking.

To me, they're all beautiful because they're flawed. It makes them real. I don't want them to be stripped of their flaws, not even my favorite characters.

Don't take Sirius's darkness away, don't turn Remus into the ever gentle voice of reason or the super selfish master manipulator (same goes for Dumbledore) and ffs don't excuse Snape's fascist views and bullying of children.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Yes, let's talk about "your" pronouns for a moment, because I have some thoughts on the matter...

What's that? Oh, silly me. By "let's talk about," what you actually mean is "unquestioningly comply with my demands."

Be that as it may, "we" - which is to say, "I" - am going to talk about it regardless.

Let's analyze this for a moment.

She gives the game away right up front: blue heart is for boys, pink heart is for girls. This ideology is based on stereotypes. If you still doubt this, I don't know what else to show you to convince you.

Secondly, her "gender" isn't a profound knowledge of personal identity, because it changes faster than the weather. I'm not even sure it's her personality, because anyone whose personality changes that rapidly and that wildly has some kind of severe disorder. What she's calling "gender" seems to be nothing but her mood.

Thirdly, and I keep having to repeat this, if your "gender" requires others to participate, then it's not a "deeply personal sense of self." Just like your faith cannot be "a personal relationship with Jesus" if everybody else has to pray or refrain from pointing out the flaws in the bible. "Gender is a social construct" means that your "gender" only "exists" to the extent people play along. People are sick of being bullied into pretending for narcissists.

More importantly, you don't get to make others participate and then deny them any say or input. You can't give people an obligation with no authority, because if you think you can, then others can give you an obligation with no authority.

And you don't get to make others responsible for your mental wellbeing, to carry the burden you cannot or will not, and then get angry when they don't meet your standards or decline the obligation at all. You are responsible for you. Trying to make other people responsible for your emotions or mental state is psychotic. Xians insist that humans - and particularly children - are responsible for keeping their god happy, evidently because he cannot do it himself. You're just as much of an immature psychopath. We are not responsible for keeping you from bursting like a fragile soap bubble.

You can have a personal, unquestionable conviction, or you can have a matter of public interest and discussion. As soon as you insist others participate, you forfeit the right to cordon your beliefs off from scrutiny. If you want your beliefs to go unmolested, then keep them to yourself.

If it's nobody else's business, don't make it other people's business. You can't claim your "gender" is nobody else's business, nobody else gets a say, and then insist it is their business to comply with these demands and prop the whole delusion up.

Private concern or public interest. Choose one.

Fourthly, anyone who comes up with rules like this is a sociopath who is trying to control, manipulate and trap others. Since third-person pronouns are used primarily when someone is not present, when referring to an individual when talking to others, this is a form of authoritarian thought-control. You do not get to dictate how others must see you or think of you. They get to decide for themselves what they think of you, regardless of whether or not you like it, and it's none of your business. And if your sense of self is so flimsy that you must coerce them to conform their view of you to your own view of yourself, then you have bigger problems than "your" pronouns.

When she walks into room, people stiffen because they have to talk like idiots around her - and that's part of the appeal. She wants to be "misgendered," because who is she if she's not a marginalized victim and the center of attention? That's the trick: either you comply, and she wins, or you refuse, and she gets to pretend to be a victim and she wins. Nobody's obliged to pay attention to these insane, imaginary rules, much less play along. When she's already gamed it to win no matter what, the only way for you to win is to retain your integrity and self-respect and tell the truth.

And finally, you do not have pronouns. The pronouns belong to the language, in this case, English. The English language has pronouns for you. You don't have your own pronouns any more than you have your own conjugations or your own adjectives. Other languages, such as German, French, Spanish, Italian, Russian, Chinese and Japanese, have their own structures, and they're not for you to "fix" with your stupid activism.

And yes, languages change. They evolve through common usage and common acceptance, not through narcissists performing blunt-force creationism enforced with emotional manipulation and vilification.

She's an average, unremarkable girl who's found a socially acceptable way to control other people and pretend to be interesting.

My adjectives are amazing/brilliant/impressive.

Misadjectiving is hate. #BeKind

P.S. I miss the days when pink, green or blue dyed hair was a sign of rebellion and uniqueness, rather than a predictable trope and red flag that warns the world about all your views and opinions before you ever open your mouth. #MakeDyedHairCoolAgain