#like we are entitled to give you the content you want

[softness-and-shattering]

I kind of get how it can be a trauma response, to lash out at anything that feels safe or comfortable because its unusual which makes it scary.

You're allowed to be safe though. You dont have to antagonise everyone who might be your ally to drive us away before we can hurt you. Most of us, many of us - i dont have statistics on this - dont want to hurt you and do our best to avoid it.

Womanhood is not defined by suffering. Transness is not defined by suffering. Its an aspect, sure, just as suffering is an aspect of being human. But its not the point. Its not necessary, its not the foundation stone. You dont have to cling to it. Let it go.

Idk if anyone who needs to hear this has got this far but just in case. Acting like a walking trauma reaction is hurting everyone. Its possible to heal. Dont you want to heal? Arent you exhausted? Take a tiny little chance that it might be safer than you thought and put your shit down. Or open some space and think about what it is you like about being trans, about being a woman, of holding any identity that you find painful. What draws you to it? What do you want it to look like?

Ill go first. I love my voice. When it started properly breaking my first feeling was relief. I get to sound warm and rumbly and comforting now. Is that what I like about being trans or about being a guy? Idk, both maybe. I like that I get to define things for myself outside of imposed expectations. Ok your turn. Name one thing. Start building a sense of self around joy and contentment or at the very least, not pain. Start building yourself into someone who wants to live and can enjoy living. Its always possible.

And yeah maybe Im shouting compassion into the void but I hope someone somewhere is listening, that I might influence them a tiny bit make their life a little better. If someone is plain nasty to me I wont engage.

And yes people who are so caught up in their fear and pain and making up lies where theyre the victim - on the one hand, its a defence mechanism, I get it. On the other hand, its hurtful, and its extremely rude and also ludicrous. Like who is this crowd of cis women running to transmasc's defence everywhere? Cis women are weird and entitled with us. They know they have cis privilege over us. They act like the fact we started as the same sex gives them rights to be invasive "because we're all just girls". Cis women are less privileged than cis men but theyre second on that food chain, theyre cis. And sometimes they enjoy holding power over someone else for a change.

Which is to say, if youre lashing out at everyone because youre scared, you need to get yourself under control. Youre hurting people who dont deserve it. You need help, in the most genuine of meanings. You need to be able to function healthily as part of society, and yes theres a lot of transphobes out there, but most people dont carr one way or the other. Your overwhelming fear is not of equal size to the danger, which does exist, but is not all-encompassing of everything forever.

For everyones sake including your own: life can be better. Please work towards it being better. Get your shit together and let yourself be helped.

you’ll see a trans boy be like “i dont personally have the power to oppress you” and then later the same day 3 of their little trans boy friends will start calling you out for making the first trans boy cry so hard he almost died (by disagreeing with him) and then all the cis women in the space will instantly side with the fragile little boys against the scary big [t-slur] who uses intimidating words like “transmisogyny” and thats how the whisper network against you starts, leading to far reaching professional and social consequences that never leave you

This didn’t happen.

Not this way, at least. All marginalized people are at all times at risk of being canceled unfairly. Their marginalization tends to play a major part in that, obviously. Trans women get hit with it a lot and that fucking sucks, and some transmascs are in TERF-y circles and can theoretically use that against transfems should they feel the need to.

This that I’m quoting, however, is a fantasy. It’s a page from a dream journal. People are giddily imagining things like this happening because they live in a world where trans women are feared and have their reputations ruined by lies, and they want to exploit that for their own benefit. The best way of doing this is putting themselves above other trans people, because cis people don’t give enough of a fuck to care or get involved with these bullshit arguments, but if you whine about other marganalized people they will actually be affected by it and forced into the conversation you created out of thin air. It’s not so much a victimization complex as it is a death cult fascination with the misery of transfemininity identical to the TERF obsession with fymyl suffering, defining ‘trans woman’ as 'the thing that feels pain always and forever.’

It’s disgusting and I can’t imagine identifying with such a sniveling and pathetic vision of what being a trans woman is like. It’s so undignified it makes my skin crawl. It’s embarrassing. There’s nothing in this crying little effigy covered in pins and needles I can relate to. I can’t tell if these people need more self-esteem or less. I’m so fucking tired of this wounded gazelle shit.

But for the TRF, transfemininity is all about the abuse. Just look at the beyond absurd assertion, made over and over again, that trans women are maliciously called the t-slur by other trans people. That’s just. No? No. But in claiming that the t-slur can only ever refer to trans women, and that transfeminine suffering takes priority above all else because everyone forever at all times hates trans women more than anyone else, it again becomes necessary to construct this false vision of intercommunity dynamics where “scary big t-slur” is a stereotype that exists within the community in the first place, and which trans men are constantly using against trans women.

It’s just so blatantly selfish for one to act like a transfeminist when all one does every single day is bitch about other trans people. We’re all about to get fucked harder than ever and there are people who profess to sincerely believe they’re fighting the revolution by making up lies about their siblings. I’m easily triggered by transphobia outside of the community and yet even I manage to engage with actual transphobes and make them considerably less transphobic, yet people who don’t even know enough about what TERFs believe to understand they hate men too will fritter the day away on how they could theoretically be canceled if they did something bad ,and wouldn’t that be the worst thing ever? Oh, what if I broke up with someone and our mutual friends believed I was the jerk, because that’s a situation that exclusively happens to poor helpwess twans women and the mere suggestion I could possibly be a jerk in the first place is unthinkable? Hate to keep saying this, but trans women are being actually murdered and this obsessive fixation on “social murder” within the trans community exists purely to spice things up with a feeling of danger because the spaces we’ve managed to carve out for ourselves are otherwise a little too safe and it feels more authentic to the Laura Palmer Ultimate Victim narrative. Massively popular transfems with over ten thousand followers will happily sic them on people for the most upsettingly asinine reasons and then cry-type about how they’re the underdogs in every possible social situation.

But most obnoxious of all is the implication here that, because this can only happen to trans women, gossip and slander does not happen to other trans people, or other marginalized people in general.

That’s fucked, considering how much this discourse has attacked specific targets. It’s most maddening to see that “the coiner of the word transandrophobia has dykebreaking+detransitioning-of-transfems kink” has evolved to “most people who believe in transandrophobia have those kinks” because I constantly see TERFs making huge compilations of transfem blogs engaging in cis dykebreaking kink from the dom perspective. Just transfem dom blog after transfem dom blog enthusiastically into cis dykebreaking, which TERFs use to paint us in a way that fits their narrative.

Literally the only example they can ever give of a transandrophobia-connected person* being a dom for dykebreaking with transfem subs is someone who was being paid by a transfem. Detrans kink is overwhelmingly non-transfems, but almost exclusively as subs to either transfems or cis men, and those transfems aren’t getting paid for it, they actually are just in it for the love of the game. There’s nothing wrong with that, but people want to act like there is when it’s anyone else, and that’s not only weird but also setting up a bear trap to step in later.

Which gets to the point that, hey, wow, I’ve noticed a lot of cis women in particular who self-identify as TME are super into anti-shipping. You cannot possibly imagine you’re safe for trans women if your big issue with trans men articulating their oppression is “they masturbate evilly.” Popular transfem blogs will talk at length about how you shouldn’t judge transfems for their kinks but cis women are so eager to kinkshame transmascs that they not only make shit up out of thin air, but specifically copy and paste kinks almost entirely made up of transfems onto transmascs. Someday very soon a TERF is going to show them it’s much more convenient to be a general transphobe and not make special exceptions for the ones that use the same pronouns as you. They’re going to show your anti-ship cis lesbian friend one of those transfem dykebreaking blog compilations and she’ll take Trans Rights Are Human Rights out of her bio within the hour.

Like, even if you didn’t care about being monstrously inhumane to others, all of this is so against transfem self-interests in the long run, but people who consider themselves the most transfeminist transfeminists there are, of a radical nature, one might say, care more about notes than helping anyone, least of all the transfems they’re feeding into a grinder of paranoia and isolation. Especially the isolation.

It’s a little hard to take it seriously when I get accused of calling all trans women groomers for thinking it’s bad when people talk about “curing” other trans women’s “comphet,” how “TMEs” are obligated to bottom for them to compensate for transmisogyny, and writing long treatises on why it’s one’s moral responsibility to throw forcefem kink at random men because they may like it. Like, am I saying trans women are groomers, or am I saying some people use being members of a marginalized community to be kinna gross? People somehow find it in them to be angry at gay men who cross boundaries in spite of the messaging that they’re all sex abusers for the past two hundred years. Especially since 90% of the concern is for other trans women.Like, sorry, but I care enough about trans women that I’m going to say something if I think you’re putting them in a bad situation, and someone being a trans woman doesn’t make them immune to that. But oh, it does if you assume that this is all just common sense transfeminism, and I am in fact making this accusation of most trans women instead of an extremely niche group.

Never mind that in the screencap people use to accuse me of calling trans women “rapists” I was saying something a self-identified TME said was coercive, and whose identity as a Not a Trans Woman I explicitly noted.** Never mind that I’m the not the one telling people to name their blogs after the original transbian separatist group that famously fell apart after resulting in heavy sexual abuse. Never mind that I have said over and over again that TRFs act no more entitled to people’s bodies than lesbian TERFs who treat people they perceive as women the same way.

But I’m supposed to believe that those cis anti-shippers who post things like “every time someone says kinks are fine they’re just protecting predators in the LGBT community” is a great ally and I’m a traitor because they hate men and I don’t?

Sorry, no, not a traitor. A “pickme begging to be beaten to death with hammers.” Who’s probably not even actually a trans woman. Great transfeminism, yall. You’re really fighting transmisogyny.

It’s especially galling now that TRFs have taken to calling transandrophobia “reactionary,” the most bullshit possible way to call a group that includes a huge number of PoC, who they constantly accuse of tokenization, a pack of Nazis. What is transandrophobia reacting to? Bigotry? Golly gee, I guess so! Or maybe it’s “reacting” to transmisogyny as part of the completely absurd idea that trasnmascs steal everything from transfems. Like, yeah, sure girliepop, and we stole misogyny from cis women, right? Sorry you failed to not sound exactly like a TERF yet again but maybe try again tomorrow and you’ll finally earn not being called a radfem.

But isn’t it sooooo mean of me to compare a small amount of trans women to radfems? Like their oppressors? Well, first of all, they regularly refer to Jewish people as Nazis, discourse aside that they do that is simply a true fact which shows they indeed think it’s possible to justify comparisons like that, although in their case it’s just because it feels like getting off a sick burn and rhetorical W to go “ah, but what if this Jewish person…was a Nazi? Checkmate, Zionists.”

Secondly, for as much as TRFs want to claim TERFs only hate them, that’s simply not true and I have conclusively proven this with basic use of Tumblr’s search function and the tag “radblr.” Twice. If you believe they love transmascs and only want what’s best for them, congratulations dipshit, you fell for their propaganda so hard I’m surprised they haven’t managed to convince you you’re not a woman. Or is it only an obvious lie when it’s about you?

Most annoyingly, just on a personal level, is the way TRFs get pissed off at non-transfem feminine AMAB people for daring to exist. The idea that femboy is a slur for trans women would be laughable if it weren’t grotesque in it’s ignorance. The things I’ve read people say about how transmisogynistic it is for an anime character to be a crossdressing man instead of a trans woman are just infuriatingly racist. Not everything is about you and it’s not actually a big deal if people talk about others once in blue moon.

The constant posts about how non-transfems are evil for not making more transfem headcanons, or for headcanoning the TRF’s favorite canonically male character wrong, are particularly childish. I can’t even go into MY favorite blorbo’s tag without seeing people call transmasc headcanons of him inferior literary analysis completely without irony, and every single time they shit like this, they do it while making up the most convoluted and nonsensical explanations for why the character can only be transfem instead, as though the hostility is defensiveness born out of their particular blorbo requiring a lot of creativity to headcanon that way, necessitating going to war to prove they can’t really be a man to assert it as The One Truth. Then they’ll complain until the fucking heat death of the universe about how everyone loves transmasc headcanons because of transmisogyny.

It’s the same unbearable on-sight hostility as when a TERF sees a child on the subway and goes home to type up a novel of a post on how he had the eyes of a future wife-beater, and it’s so irritating to see it spread from one corner to another. Literally, TRFs say that trans men will always turn on trans women and eventually detransition to wield their wymbnly power against us, and I’m expected to not see that as having severe hang-ups about people born into what they want to transition into and have denied to them by society’s transphobia?

What about the fact that they constantly mock AFAB trans people in ways specifically targeting that trait, calling non-binary people “theyfabs,” joking it’s easy to misgender trans men when they have large breasts, and reduce transmasc stereotypes to feminine “soft bois?” Like, yeah, okay, you’re not projecting any gaping insecurities you may have about assigned sex and gender roles when you say transmasc music is ukuleles and transfem music is heavy metal, next tell me about how transmascs all enjoy tea parties and transfems all go to football games.

But it’s not even mostly trans women who keep this shit alive in the first place. A higher percentage of total trans women on this site are into this framework, but the total number of non-transfem trans people and cis women so outweighs them in the first place that it cancels that out. Like, if x is higher than y, and x% of trans women on Tumblr agree but only y% of “TME” people do, that’s still a movement mostly consisting of “TME” people. The full separatist angle would very quickly reveal how little air it has to burn if trans women truly only had themselves to watch out for each other. Unfortunately, self-identified TMEs are much more likely to get TERFier rather than simply less TRF-y when the spell breaks and they realize how fucked up this shit is, while the people who’ve been batted at continue to exercise the patience of a saint and continue to fight for trans women anyway.

And that! Is what hurts! The most! The fact that people do not care about transmascs and in particular the ones who believe in transandrophobia are constantly tripping over themselves to defend and help trans women as much as they possibly can. I wish people saw that. I wish that mattered. It’s like watching a black hole suck up an endless font of goodwill and love. And then going “lol reactionary transandrobros hate trans women.”

That’s it, though, the great irony of it all is that if it were true, it’d never have become popular in the first place. It’s kept aloft by self-identified TMEs who are well-meaning if not especially good at critical thinking, except for the the contingent that are convinced trans men are all misogynistic because they personally are, or even outright seem to get gender euphoria from the idea they have male privilege. But for whatever reason, if “TME” folks didn’t care? The people making up elaborate tales of their potential (social) murder would have to find some other way to get attention.

I suggest throwing on a big red nose and joining a circus.

*and I specify “transandrophobia-connected” but you’d have a hard time rustling up transmasc doms in general from those scenes

**also, despite it being something I saw with my own eyes, I notably did not even feel it hit the level of needing to directly name someone as being who I was basing my assessment of sexual coercive behavior on as being sexually coercive, because I think it's much more a prevalent attitude of pressure in sexual contexts than individual behavior

[twilight-deviant]

Telling content creators it's wrong to explore artistic freedom and be independently funded by fans, and they should instead continue taking advertisement revenue from google* is

NOT

the anti-capitalism stance actually.

*(Yes, google owns youtube.)

[juniperjelly]

i think people who argue about minecraft saying shit like "the devs are lazy and bad!" or "these updates are free and you should be grateful!" need to understand that these are both equally stupid takes devoid of nuance or critical thought

[monstersflashlight]

Hi :) Uhmm ... I like how you write, these past few days it become my obsession and joy. ( I am so sorry, I am so bad at giving compliments!)

Uhmmm .... If I may be so bold I would like to share an idea? I just thought about absolutely cocky and arogant male, womanizer Cerberos. The reader has love/hate relationship towards him. Well and after one wild party, he would corner reader and showed them his true form. And holding onto his word to rock reader´s world (quite literally)

Hi! I'm so glad you enjoy my content, it means the world. Sorry for the long wait, adult life sucks so bad. Also, I added the anon question, hope you don’t mind. The idea that Cerberus is the one you hit on when tipsy sounds so cute to let it pass. I took the liberty to make cerberus a type of monster, so they’re just one of them and not THE cerberus, you know. I imagine they’re like a werewolf but with three heads, and like not human form, just a wolfy-guy with three heads. Each head talks separately, but in this there’s no difference between them to not make it hard to follow, but I think it’s quite good. Hope you enjoy! <3

Three heads are better than one

Cerberus (they/them) x fem!reader || fingering, public sex, dirty talk

When a cerberus started to work on your law firm, you two hit it the wrong way from the start. You were a top tier lawyer and they couldn’t understand that a human could be better than them. Three heads think better than one, how could a puny human like you be better than them? But you were, and it infuriated them. But it also fueled your banter with so much sexual tension you could taste it. But you didn’t do anything about it because everyone at the office knew they were a womanizer, they had a new girl every few days and never dated anyone. They were just there for the sex. Or that’s what everyone at the office said. But dang you wanted to hit it off with them so bad, you needed to know what their three mouths tasted like, how would it be to have three brains focused on your pleasure… That sounded delicious in the best possible way.

So when you catch them and their friends in a bar, after a few drinks, you think it’s time. You approach them and their friends at the end of the bar, ready to do something about your pent up sexual tension. You two have been dancing around each other for what feels like ages, and your tipsy brain thinks the best moment to do something about it is right now, right there. When you get closer, you can hear their friends making fun of them and elbowing them as they all giggle, pointing at you. You add a little bit of movement to your hips and hope it doesn’t look too ridiculous.

“Hi darling, how’s your night going?” You touch their pecs as all three of their heads focus on you. You blush, but keep caressing their torso over their shirt, you squeeze a bit and they slap your hand softly.

“Human, get lost.” You can’t understand how their voice can sound so harsh and so sexy at the same time, you can feel your panties melting. Maybe the alcohol has a part to blame, drinking always made you horny, and today is not different.

You pout, bating your lashes in your best puppy look. “Why are you always so mean?” Their three heads blink slowly at you, almost took out balance by your question.

“What? We’re not mean, you are just too soft,” they answer. You scoff, if they want to play that game you can give as better as receive. Uh, receiving… That’s exactly what you want. In a sexy way, against a wall if possible. They look like they can lift you up and fuck you.

“I’m not soft. I’m human. And you are mean.” You think you heard him say something about how they’re already aware that you are human, but you aren’t sure, the bar is really loud and the world is spinning around you.

“You need to go away before we do something all of us would regret.” Their central head is the one doing the talking, but the other two nod along.

“I don’t want to.” You know you sound bratty and entitled, but you are horny and everyone says they’re a womanizer, why are they not womanizing you? “You don’t like humans, is that it?”

“Trust me, they like humans. They like them reeeeeal good.” One of their friends says behind them. All of them laugh, but your coworkers are looking at you like they are going to dig a hole through your body just with their eyes.

“Come with me.” They sound fed up, like they are going to scold you and it’s going to feel awful. But your tipsy brain doesn’t process it fully, so you follow them without questioning. They lead you to the back of the bar, the hallway that leads to the bathroom. The music is softer there, you can listen to your own brain better.

They push you against the wall, they body pressing against your front. You shiver, anticipation filling your guts and their low growl making you whimper. “We can smell how wet you are, we can almost taste your desire. You are too tempting for your own good, honey.” You think the pet name was condescending every time they used it before, but at that moment, it sounds like a caress.

Their hands found the edge of your skirt as they grab your leg and position it against their hip. You are open and exposed, your skirt riding up and your soaked panties in the open. You whine again. You never felt as dirty and naughty as you do now, it’s maddening. They cress the outside of your thigh as they rock their hips against you, letting you feel their cock through your panties. You moan loudly.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please.” You know you’d be embarrassed beyond belief about it the next morning, but right now you don’t care. You can only think about how good their finger feels inside of you, and how much you wish that was their cock. When they move your panties to the side and push one finger inside your needy pussy, you cry out.

“Not here, little human.” They press against your G-spot, making your knees buckle under you. They grab your waist and holds you pressed against the wall as you pant. “If tomorrow you feel like this again, then we can talk.” They said, their fingers slowly thrusting into you.

“What?” You ask, trying to focus on their words and not the wonders they’re doing on your pussy. Their thumb rolls over your clit and you have to bite on your tongue to stop yourself from screaming. It feels so good. You start to move your hips at the rhythm of their thrusts.

“We’ve been waiting forever to get your attention, We’re not wasting it on a quick fuck on a bar.” Their voice sounds serious and you feel confused as fuck. What are they talking about? They hate you, they always pick stupid fights with you over the silliest things.

“What?” You ask, trying to grab their hand but holding onto their shoulders, moving your hips faster. The rational part of you is not present, only your whore-ish part.

“We’ve been waiting to ask you out but we thought you wouldn’t want us.” They mutter that under their breath, you barely catch it.

“What?” You ask, once more. Are they saying they like you? They wanted to ask you out? But… But the gossip. They said they didn’t date, you never saw them with anybody, just random hookups. “What?” You ask again.

“You… We… We have a bit of a human kink with you, okay? You are so soft and so pretty. We can’t stop thinking about you. And then you get up in front of the judge and good lord do you look good. You look magnificent.” Their voice sounds amazed, like they are telling the truth and they truly like you. What the fuck?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your question is lost when their thumb starts rubbing against your clit. You think they answer something, but your brain is fuzzy with pleasure. “Stop touching my clit I can’t focus.” You whisper, trying to look at them and see if they aren’t lying. There’s no way they want you, is it?

“What if we don’t want you to focus? What if we want you coming around our fingers until you are crying out how much you love it? How much you like being stretched in public by us?” You moan so loud they have to cover your mouth with their unoccupied hand. “Shhh, be quiet. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” Your pussy involuntarily clenches around their fingers. “Oh, naughty girl, you do want to get caught. Does that excite you? Do you want everyone to see how improper you really are? You are such a good lawyer but then you part your legs for us in the back of the bar… Such a dirty, dirty woman.” You shiver, your juices flowing around their fingers. You’ve never been as turned on as you are right there, their fingers feel divine and you are so fucking close.

“Please…” Your plea sounds pathetic and you blush, but they just smirk at you, two of their heads attacking your neck at the same time. Feeling the two sets of mouths against your neck combined with the feel of their fingers moving inside of you is getting you so wet their hand is making filthy sounds.

“You are so wet for us, so soft. I bet you taste amazing. We are going to spend so much time licking you. Do you know what they say about cerberus?” You shake your head. “We give the best head because we have three of them. Do you want to feel three tongues against your pussy, honey? Do you want to be worshiped by three heads?” The image they are painting in your head is so good you want to open your legs and ask them to do it right there. But you are so close already, their fingers feel so fantastic inside of you.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, rolling your hips. They accompany your movement, getting you almost to the edge.

“Are you going to come for us? Are you going to be a good woman and come around our fingers? We can’t wait to feel you around our dicks, bet you are going to feel better than any pussy we ever had. Our first human. Our only human. What are you gonna do, honey? Do you want to suck us off?” You nod eagerly, so close. “Of course you want to, you want to be a good little human for us.” You get the feeling them calling you human is doing more for them than for you. Their human kink is playing in your favor. “Come for us, human.” They whisper against your ear as the other two heads suck on your neck.

The combination of fingers and mouths makes your body shake uncontrollably against theirs, your orgasm so good you almost fall down. You can feel your juices dripping down and soaking your panties and their fingers. They take their fingers away and you watch in amazement as they raise their hand to lick it, all three of their heads getting some. You moan as aftershocks rock your body.

They put your panties back in place and slowly lower your leg. Your legs are shaky and you grab onto their arm. Three heads smile down at you, one of them looking specially smug. They pass an arm over your shoulders and help you walk out of the hallway. “Let us take you home.” They whisper, their hold on you so hard it feels wonderful. It feels so good you could fall asleep right there. They gave you the orgasm of your life and on top of it, they are sweet about it. You judged them so bad you feel like shit. You can always make it up to them at some point. You add it to your mental list of things to do in the morning, even though you know you won’t remember.

“There’s no need.” You try to argue, without any force behind your words. You really want to spend more time with them.

“We want to.” Their voice is final, you know that tone. That’s the tone they use in court, and you know you can’t win against it.

They drive you home as you fidget with your rings, nervous after what happened, after what they said. You want to run, to break the silence, but you are speechless. You don’t know what to say and the alcohol you had is kicking you really hard. You feel sleepy and tired, more than ready to go to bed.

They follow you to your house, opening your door and leading you to your bedroom where they help you get undressed. You think they are going to do something more, but they barely touch your naked body as they cover you with a blanket.

You feel three soft forehead kisses before they say: “We aren’t playing games with you, honey. We want to play with your pussy, yes, but not with your heart. We hope you give us a chance.” You nod, and try to answer, but your eyes are so heavy that you can’t keep them open, your brain shutting down.

When you wake up the next morning with a text saying: “We can’t wait to have you sucking our cock. And then we can go to dinner, we booked the fancy restaurant you like.” You giggle on your pillow and kick your legs. Yeah… That sounds like the start of a very fun game.

[shadebloopnik]

Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.

Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.

Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.

He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-

So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.

It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.

He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.

Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.

But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.

So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.

Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."

Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.

What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????

"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.

But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.

"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."

Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.

Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.

"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"

Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.

Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??

(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)

Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.

"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."

He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.

So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.

Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.

But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.

Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.

Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.

They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.

As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.

[annerbhp]

If you would but indulge this fandom elder for a few moments, I'd like to point out a few things that I think can make all of our fannish experiences on this hellsite (affectionate) so much more joyful.

Try not to treat yourself or others as "content-providers."

This happens when you allow yourself to be influenced by real or imagined expectations and demands of others. "But I know people want..." "But people would expect me to..." "But they might not like it if I..." "It's been too long since I've written/posted anything..." "What if people get upset if I..." These are the joy killers. The only questions you should ask yourself when posting stuff to tumblr (or not) is "does this bring me joy right now?" and "would this cause harm?" That's it. You can also tag liberally so people can block stuff if they want. That's also a nice thoughtful thing to do. But try not to let the nebulous concept of "people"--your followers, your readers, the internet at large, or whatever--become a bogeyman in your own head. Most of us already have enough internal critics trying to trip us up at any given moment. Try not to invent more.

Treating others as "content-providers" happens if you send asks or comments to someone on this site demanding more content of a specific type, or insinuating that you are entitled to something from that person. You are communicating to that person that they only have value as a content-provider, and only when providing whatever it is you want. This is dehumanizing and ignores the thousands of reasons that person might choose to be here. Tumblr is not a subscription service. No one is paying for anything here. Most people here are just doing stuff that makes them joyful and we are lucky enough that sometimes they share it with us too!

2. Fandom is not a marriage.

The concept of "being in a fandom" is actually incredibly nebulous, as it should be! There is nothing you need to do or declare to be "in a fandom." There is no minimum threshold of love, or time, or interaction, or "production." It's just a feeling. A place. A space that brings joy. (And sometimes, heartbreak, but that's another topic all together.)

Fandom is also not a marriage. You can't cheat on a fandom. You do not have to have formal divorce proceedings and let go of one fandom before messing around with another one. There's no such thing as fandom infidelity. Neither is fandom a job. You don't have to give two weeks' notice. You don't have to post public intent on the town hall. You're not banned once you step out, never to return. You can "take a break" without any moral implications or risk of becoming the focus of a pop culture debate about whether or not you were justified to mess around with another fandom during that time. You can leave a fandom and never go back, all without having to consciously decide to do so. You can fall out of love with a fandom and then fall back in love with it later. It's not a marriage/job! There are no rules!

3. Take ownership and curate your own experience.

If there is a thing, or a blog, or a person who once brought you joy, but on balance no longer does, or makes you more disappointed or annoyed or upset than not, you do not have to keep interacting with them/it. Following someone on tumblr is also not a marriage. You can follow/unfollow as you like, no harm, no foul. It's just curating your personal joy, and I hope we will always wish each other the best with that. If you are scared of "missing out on something," then you will either need to block tags enough to make it enjoyable, or decide unfollowing is worth the risk if it makes you too unhappy to keep following!

The ultimate thing is, it's up to you to curate your fannish experience. It is not up to the person you are following to change to fit your expectations or hopes. (See point #1.) You can feel ways about this, of course! But those are your feelings, which are yours to handle. Do not put them on the other person. Do not send them asks demanding things or lashing out. It won't make you feel better and it definitely won't get you what you are looking for, unless your actual aim is to kill the joy of another person so you are not upset alone. In that case I'm not sure what to tell you other than you might want to spend some time meditating on that one and think about if that's really the kind of person you want to be. Or if this kind of space is actually good for you.

That's it for now. Thank you for indulging me. Don't be a dick on the internet, friends. Take no shit and do no harm. Take care of yourselves! 💕

[grimesthinker]

Hey, I LOVE your writings 😍

I was wondering if we could get another stepdad, Rick?

the reader's mom married Rick ( I'm picturing it in Alexandria)

Rick and The reader have had little moments like him brushing past her so he could touch her

and one day she gets a boyfriend and Rick does everything to make them break up and it doesn't work so one day he has enough and he just fucks her!

STEPDAD!RICK x FEM!READER ౨ৎ ♡₊˚⊹

you like him, you really do. well, you tell yourself you do. because you should. he's perfect, right? he's safe and he's cute and he's actually your age. problem is, the guy can't fuck for shit. your sweet boyfriend, who can't please a woman to save his life. you tried, a couple times, but he fumbles with your bra strap and struggles to find the right pace to rub your clit. thing is, you don't even care as much as you should. every time you're around him, your mind floods with thoughts and daydreams of your step father, rick, who fell in love with your mother months ago. it's fucking antagonizing, walking past him every day, feeling his calloused hands on your waist for a split second just so he could move past you.

unbeknownst to you, rick can't stand your little boyfriend. he watches him with a deep scowl as he stands on your porch, waiting for you to come outside in your skimpy skirt and tank top. that boy is so entitled, rick thinks. walking around with his head held high because he has the hottest piece of ass in alexandria. it's not right, goddamnit. you belong to him, not that asshole. he purposely touches you any chance he gets, imagining what it'd be like if he moved his hands just a little lower, just enough to play with that sweet cunt.

one hot july day, your mother thinks it'll be a great idea to host a barbecue. you oblige, of course. the community was doing well and you were grateful for it. you invite your boyfriend, only subconsciously wishing it might make your taut stepfather jealous. brat. you coat your lips in sparkly strawberry lip gloss and put on a sweet dress that leaves little to the imagination. people begin to arrive and your mother welcomes them with a smile. you make sure to be the first one to greet your boyfriend, and you also make sure that rick is watching when you kiss him with way more heat than usual.

the barbecue is going good, everyone's happy. everyone's content. except you and rick, of course. you sip your lemonade and he sips his beer, eyeing you from across the backyard. no one else cares to notice the excruciating tension between you two. eventually, you excuse yourself from some insignificant conversation and head into the house, up to the bathroom. you shut the door behind you, not bothering to lock it. you're washing your hands when rick barges in, glaring at you with darkened blue eyes. "what the hell was that?"

you turn the water off. "rick-"

"-bet you didn't know he was down there, braggin' to his buddies about how good he fucks you. about how fuckin' tight you are?" he shuts the door behind him, locks it. god, he's close now.

feeling brave, you cross your arms and taunt him some more. "yeah? what's it matter to you? jealous or somethin?" yeah. you're feeling brave, alright. deep down, you're pissed that your dumb 'boyfriend' is lying to his friends about how good he gives it to you. but with the way rick is looking at you right now, like he wants to rip that tiny dress off and bend you over the sink, you didn't even care.

in a swift motion, you're pinned to the marble counter, rick's fingers digging into your waist. he chuckles lowly, making you immediately drop the big and bad act. your heart pounds, cunt aching for something, anything. he pries your legs apart, gripping your thighs.

"he gives it to you good, huh? then why are you acting like a bitch in heat?"

you shudder at his words, making a soft whimpering sound, fighting the urge to roll your hips and beg him for anything he'll give to you. he peels your panties down your thighs, swiping a thumb over your clit. "ah- look at that." he coos.

minutes later, his cock is buried deep in your pussy, making you feel better than you ever could have imagined. he's anything but gentle, as if he's reading your mind. "fuckin' slut." he grunts. "feels so good, huh, baby? yeah, i know. take it, honey."

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 9

Weeks pass, and their evening phone calls continue. The timing varies, but its a rare day that Kara doesn't hear from Lena. Each call feels like a gift, as Kara remains conscious of the constraints on Lena's time, and the energy expended on days she does her shows.

But on those rare evenings where her phone stays quiet, Kara can't help the concern that tickles at the back of her mind. She manages to refrain from issuing a check in, certain that it would be considered a nag, or at the very least an entitlement to Lena's time.

The morning following one such evening, the first text she receives comes in after she settles behind her desk, ready to tackle a mountain of paperwork. When she opens the chat window, she's confused to see an image of a glass-paned wall of an office building.

It's not until she spots the building number that she realizes that it's *her* building.

She all but sprints to the lobby, bursting through the front doors to come to a sudden stop to see a black suv and a casually dressed Lena Luthor leaning against it.

When Lena beams, warmth pools in Kara's chest. She surges back into motion, breathlessly throwing her arms around Lena to squeeze long and hard.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Lena says into her shoulder, seemingly content to remain in Kara's embrace as long as possible.

Kara laughs. "The best surprise. I've missed you."

When she pulls back, Lena all but bounces on her toes. "You down to play hookie with me?"

"Dodging another meeting?"

"Actually.... I miiiiight have cleared my schedule." From her puckish grin, Lena doesn't appear to feel all that guilty about it.

Kara's heart skips a beat. She can't remember the last time anyone has ever set aside time dedicated to her. It's been years since her last real committed relationship, and even then the time she spent with her partner had been perfunctory, a matter of course. It hadn't made her feel... special.

"Let me grab my purse."

---

They go to the movies. It's Lena's idea, but Kara is the one to choose the goofy comedy that has Lena in stitches before the end of the first act. And if the sound of Lena's giggling heats Kara's cheeks, who could blame her?

They continue to snack on their bucket of popcorn even as they leave the theater. Lena wears the same denim jacket over a zip up hoodie that she'd worn their first day in the park, and with her sunglass firmly in place, she almost looks like a normal person. No one seems to give them a second glance, for which Kara is deeply grateful for.

Selfishly, she wants to keep Lena for herself, for as long as possible.

"When's the last time you went on vacation?" Lena asks, apropro of nothing.

Kara blinks at the unexpected question. She takes time off every year, but she doubts her little staycations to relax and recharge are what Lena would consider a proper break.

"Define vacation," Kara hedges.

Lena laughs. "Time away, somewhere else. Maybe... with someone?"

Sensing the direction the conversation is headed, a thrill of adventure sparks in Kara's belly, even as she begins to talk her way out of it.

"Lena, I don't know..."

"I know, I know, but listen! I've got five days before my next show in Paris, and it's the longest stretch I'll have free for months, and... I want to spend those five days with you."

Kara stares at her. Lena rushes to fill the silence.

"We could go to Capri. Or the alps, if you want somewhere cooler? Or--"

"Yes," Kara interjects. Lena's rambling halts in surprise. Kara grins. "I don't care where we go."

Lena's answering smile puts the sun to shame.

---

Capri is gorgeous. Kara expects to them to be taken to another lavish hotel, but instead their driver heads to residential area, and when they stop, Kara finds herself at the gate of a sprawling villa.

"Wow."

Lena nudges her playfully. "Wait til you see the real view.

Kara follows Lena's lead. Carry-ons in hand, they make their way into the main area of the villa. When Lena places her bag on one of the long couches in the middle of the room, Kara does the same, then allows Lena to lead her by the hand to the verandah at the back.

The whitewashed terrace serves as the perfect frame for the vista that sprawls beyond the walled perimeter of the villa, all the way down to flat stretch of ocean reaching towards the horizon.

"Wow..." Kara breathes.

"I know, right?" Lena turns, sidling a little closer to press a chaste kiss to the corner of Kara's jaw. When her head rested on Kara's shoulder, Kara let her cheek rest atop it. "I'm glad you're here."

Kara sighs, surprisingly content. "Me too."

---

Though the villa's kitchen is fully stocked and equipped, Lena insists on going out for dinner. "I'm not about to stay in on a night like tonight," she says, and Kara offers little protest.

They choose the restaurant on sight alone, and the food is sumptuous and, once the sun goes down, decorated with a blanket of stars overhead. Lena looks stunning in a white shift dress, perfect for the weather and venue, and Kara's gaze roves in a certainly non-platonic way. She only feels a little bad about it when Lena catches her staring.

The other woman's gaze deepens as she reads Kara's appreciation in her expression, and a knowing smile curls her lips. When Lena's bare foot brushes Kara's shin beneath the table, Kara can't bring herself to pull away. She wants Lena, and she's rapidly running out of reasons to talk herself out of it.

Along the walk back to the villa, Kara points out as many constellations as she can recognize, only for Lena to laugh.

"There is no way I could possibly tell which stars you're pointing at," she says.

Rather than be deterred, Kara pulls them to stop. She positions herself behind Lena, her front pressing close against Lena's back. So close that she can feel the hitch of Lena's breath when Kara reaches one arm over her right shoulder, pointing at the brilliant anchor of the big dipper.

"There. You've got the bright one, which is Polaris. The north star. Follow it that way, and you can see the rest of Ursa Major."

Kara turns her chin to gaze down at Lena. The younger woman's skin glows in the moonlight, her hair nearly merging into the shadows. She looks ethereal against the moonlight off the sea, but in Kara's arms she's all to tangible.

"See it?"

"Yeah," Lena croaks. She tries again. "Yeah, I do." She shifts, reaching back to let one hand rest against Kara's hip. The touch is intimate though non-sexual-- a simple gesture to keep Kara exactly where she is. "Show me more?"

Kara does. She's able to point out most of the greeks-- Orion and Cassiopeia and Andromeda, among others. It's at least another hour before they get back to the villa, and the long walk leaves them melting into the couch the moment they sit.

Unable to keep from dozing off, even with the lights blazing, Kara wakes hours later to find Lena asleep on her shoulder. It doesn't even occur to her to move.

When next she wakes, however, Lena is nowhere to be found. Sunlight streams through the tall arched windows, illuminating the spacious room with a pale light that doesn't help this trip feel any less like a dream.

Stretching the kinks out of her back as she rises, Kara meanders to the kitchen, only to find it similarly empty. From there she explores the adjoining hallways, until the sound of hushed, harsh murmurs draws her towards one of the bedrooms.

Peeking through the open door, Kara spies Lena pacing, phone pressed tightly to her ear in agitation. Kara can't discern her words, but her tone is clear enough-- something is wrong.

Lena looks up when Kara gives the door a light push, and Kara is taken aback by the tears glittering in her eyes. Lena turns away slightly, muttering a swift "I have to go," before ending the call.

"I'm sorry," Lena grinds out, turning back towards Kara. "This-- this was a terrible idea, and I-- I shouldn't have pushed it--"

"Whoa, hey..." Kara interrupts gently. "What's wrong?"

Lena sniffs, before unlocking her phone to give to Kara. There, in all their telephoto glory, are a slew of photos-- of them. Here in Capri. One of them captures the moment Lena had kissed Kara's jaw the day before on the terrace, and others track their trek through the village and their dinner at the restaurant. The last one shows the two of them at the outlook, Lena pressed to Kara's front, with Kara's arm stretching towards the stars.

"I know--" Lena's voice cracks. "I know you didn't want this. That you didn't-- want to be seen with me."

Kara frowns. Papparazzi hasn't even been a thought in her mind, beyond one of their outings being interrupted by people hounding Lena. Her concern-- her *only* hesitation to committing towards something deeper-- has been the dread of losing Lena before having more than a taste of her.

"I swear, I didn't know they knew where we'd be," Lena continues. By now, quiet tears have spilled down her cheeks. "I didn't *know*--"

"Hey," Kara says sofly, cupping Lena's damp cheeks with both hands. "It's okay."

Lena shakes her head. "It's not," she croaks. "You didn't want this..."

"I want you."

The confession comes easier than Kara expects. It stills Lena to a mere tremble, her eyes taking on a hopeful glimmer through the tears.

"Anything else, I'll handle it."

Lena swallows, throat clicking. "*We'll* handle it?" she corrects, tentatively.

Offering a smile, Kara leans in and presses a soft kiss to Lena's lips.

"We," Kara confirms.

Lena exhales, tension bleeding from her in a visible whoosh. She steps Kara's arms when they open, nestling herself into the embrace as her hands grip tightly against Kara's shoulderblades.

"We'll do it together."

[ravenstargames]

Forced mouse movement is not okay. Ever. Uninstalled and unfollowed. Never do that again.

I want to assume this ask was sent to express discomfort over a feature of the game with somewhat of a good intention. However, it doesn't feel that way.

We weren't going to reply to this initially, but after checking this is not an accessibility issue, we want to use this as a way of reminding people that small developers are not faceless corporations with endless patience and no will to respond to rudeness.

I'd like for you all to keep in mind the way you word things. There's a line between "feedback", "expressing discomfort / disagreement" and whatever this is.

No, you don't get to tell a small creator, artist, developer, how to use their tools. You can express your opinion. You can make suggestions. Small developers want to take care of their audience, because their audience is what allows them to keep working on their games. I'd like to believe every indie developer appreciates and values their audience, and wants to listen to their wants and needs.

However, you don't get to have a say in every little aspect happening in the media you consume. You are absolutely free to have your opinions, express them, have a conversation, and move on. This is not what's happening here.

There was absolutely no need to come to our ask box to say using a narrative element, a tool provided by the engine we use, is "never okay" and to "never do that again". You don't get to decide that. We don't know what response or reaction you were expecting. There is obviously no desire for improvement or dialogue here.

Our demo is free, the content warnings are clear, and the "dark fantasy" and "horror" tags are there. If there's a need to add more content warnings, everyone following us knows they are welcome to inform us about it. I think we've made sure everyone feels comfortable reaching out to us with their opinions since we started publicly working on LiL. Our ask box and our DMs are always open for everyone.

But there will be spooky elements. Agency will be taken away from you. You will feel happy, loved, frustrated, angry, and sad. That's the game we want to make. You can try out the demo, find out you are not comfortable with whatever elements are in it, and decide not to engage any further with it. You will always be free to stop supporting us and our game any time and for whatever reason.

The use of this tool, the forced mouse movement, is justified and adds to the storytelling. We didn't use it deliberately just for the funsies. It shows that there's a higher power trying to control you, and it prepares you for the fact that sometimes this power will be greater than you.

Again, you are absolutely free to uninstall and unfollow, but I advise you not to go to another dev with this much entitlement telling them what to do or how to tell their story this way. You don't like it. It is not made for you. You are not the target audience, and that's completely fine. Curate your space and give some love to the small developers of your favorite games.

[autistichalsin]

It has come to my attention that some are disappointed with the content I share here. Namely, some are angry that I "push certain views of Halsin" by only reblogging headcanons that agree with my own.

To be clear, I am a Tumblr blog, not a lending library. I am under no obligation to give equal attention to every perspective. I will reblog a headcanon for one of two reasons: 1. I agree with it, 2. I didn't agree with it, but I enjoyed how the author presented it and wanted to share it.

To expect me to reblog posts that do not interest me for either of the above reasons just to give "equal attention" to all interpretations of Halsin is staggeringly entitled. If you want a blog that focuses on every Halsin post equally, make a "the Halsin tag" blog that automatically reblogs every post shared in his tag, or if you can't program, reblog them yourself. I have seen them done for other characters and ships before, and they are always enjoyed by all. I know I would certainly follow and reblog from such a project. But THIS page is not that project. I do NOT love all views of Halsin equally, I don't love all Halsin ships equally, I don't like all Halsin fics equally. I am here to reblog what makes ME happy, and to share the thoughts that make ME happy.

Which brings me to my next point: some are also angry that I write metas only from my own point of view. These metas are a labor of love for me. I enjoy analyzing media, which is why I'm also planning a side project of analyzing some of my favorite TV shows. I am not here to analyze all interpretations of my favorite media, though. I am here to analyze the ones that interest me.

If you would like me to analyze and reach the conclusions you do (such as Halsin being a happy middle aged guy who has no problems of his own, or Halsin being 100% healed from his sexual assault, or Halsin having had no friction at all with his Grove until the day he left with Aradin), I suggest you DM me so we can discuss a commissioner's fee, or perhaps me setting up a Patreon for you to support my work. If you aren't going to be compensating me (which is understandable, these are hard times) then I would ask that you let me enjoy my hobby in peace, and understand that no one is obligated to make content for free that caters specifically to you. Or you could just save us all the trouble and block me so you don't have to see my metas anymore.

But demanding I cater my metas to every viewpoint, that I reblog equally from all points of view, all ships, etc relating to Halsin, is absolutely insane and entitled behavior, and with all the respect these individuals have shown me when making these complaints, I am going to decline at this time. Thanks.

[nekropsii]

Hello, pardon and I don’t want to be a bother but I would like to ask for your take on something. And if you’re not down to answer this question, that’s completely fine, you seem to make large opinion posts on a noteworthy basis so I understand if you don’t have the energy or motivation to give an opinion right now.

But I wanted to ask for your take on the ethics of enjoying Homestuck in the modern day. Many people such as myself and seemingly you as well enjoy Homestuck but are painfully aware of all the gross stuff in it. And as I see the comic pop up in more and more dni lists, with people claiming that enjoyers of Homestuck are supporting these things inherently, no matter the fact that most of us stand against Hussie and attempt to reclaim Homestuck as something to express joy and our identities in, it makes me wonder more and more the ethics of enjoying Homestuck. Since you seem to have thoughts on the matter, I was wondering if you’d like to share your take.

I once again want to stress though, absolutely no pressure to answer. I am not entitled to your time or hearing your opinion. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. I was just asking in case you wanted to speak about it.

Hi, Anon! This is a very interesting question, and you were right to assume I have thoughts on it. They might not be as long and complicated as some of my other essays, but they still exist, and I would quite like to share them. Thank you for the opportunity.

My opinion on The Ethics of Enjoying Homestuck is that I believe it's perfectly fine to do so. I also think it's perfectly fine to dislike, or hate, or not want to associate with it or any fans of it. This is a personal boundary set by and for the individual, and it's not my business to question, nor my place to cross it. However, I don't really agree with the way some people go about communicating or enforcing this boundary. I've seen some people put Homestuck and Harry Potter on the same level before. I've seen some say that enjoyment of either piece of fiction is, at least in part, comparable. I heavily disagree with this- and the fact that this is a point that comes up shows to me that there's quite a few people who don't actually fully understand why so many people are saying to stop supporting Harry Potter.

The conflation of the two things reads to me as if some believe that Harry Potter has been "cancelled for having a problematic creator"- and that's not wholly true. Yes, J.K. Rowling is, by definition, problematic, and she is the creator of the Harry Potter franchise, but people have drawn such a hard line against supporting the series not just because J.K. Rowling is Transphobic, but because she has honest to god legislative power. She is, as it stands, currently the backbone of the TERF movement, and is spending a lot of time and money to ensure that Transphobes dominate the government. Monetary support of Harry Potter pools into her funds, which adds to her ability to further Trans Genocide. Communal/Fandom support of Harry Potter increases her visibility as a public figure, which adds to her ability to further Trans Genocide. J.K. Rowling has made very clear statements saying that she takes any support of the Harry Potter franchise- any at all, including Queer/LGBT+ Friendly fan content- as support of her beliefs. Support of Harry Potter is a method of legitimizing and validating Transphobia, and is being used as a way to further Trans Genocide.

If J.K. Rowling was just an average Transphobe, the outcry would not be nearly as severe, and the line wouldn't be nearly as clear cut. It would just be disappointing, bring to mind the phrase "same shit as always", and many would make the personal choice to distance themselves from it. But that's not the reality we live in. We live in the reality where J.K. Rowling has sway on the government, and is getting real people hurt and killed.

Andrew Hussie, creator of Homestuck, however, is just some random asshole with no political power outside of his own vote. Yes, Homestuck is filled with plenty of unsavory elements- random out-of-place interjections of Hussie's own past bigotry included- but at the end of the day, Homestuck has no influence over government action. Hussie has no tangible political influence, and does not want to have tangible political influence. We don't even have evidence that Hussie still holds the same beliefs as he did during and prior to the creation of Homestuck. This is just some random indie comic, made by some random guy in 2009. J.K. Rowling is dangerously close to billionaire status, and using that power for evil.

It's fine to like something that's not very morally clean- or something made by a not very morally clean artist, during a not very morally clean point in time in a not very morally clean place in this world. It's okay. The fixation some have on this is OCD-inducing. The best that can be asked is that one recognizes the bigotry, and doesn't perpetuate them. That's all. You can read, watch, play, and enjoy just about anything, as long as you don't make the more unsavory elements out to be a good thing. Don't start acting like Racism is awesome, or Antisemitism is cool, or Transphobia is based, et cetera, and you'll be totally fine.

The ability to find value in something impure or unsavory is a valuable one. Some may not want to associate with that, or find the particular flaw in the work in question to be too uncomfortable to stomach, and that's fine, too. Not everyone can just sit through Era-Appropriate Casual Homophobia or Racism and come out feeling fine enough to keep going. I'd argue- hope, even- that most feel at least a bit bothered by such things. It's all about personal tolerance levels. No one's committing a moral crime by either enjoying it or not wanting to even look at it.

[yumeka-sxf]

I try to stay away from negative topics, but after hearing talk on social media yesterday and seeing this post from @such-a-downer, I just had to give my two cents about the complaints regarding yesterday's chapter being "another short mission" and that Endo is somehow being "lazy" or whatever.

I honestly don't understand this mentality of criticizing manga-ka, or any artists really, because they aren't delivering by whatever standards you personally think are appropriate. To me, it just seems like entitlement because Endo has no obligation to cater to any specific fan's wants. This is his story to tell the way he wants, and his characters to develop at the pace he deems fit. This isn't a business contract where we're paying him to deliver content we want every two weeks without fail. If I'm consuming the fruits of someone's creative labor for free, I certainly feel no right to complain if sometimes their content isn't what I wanted or expected. I'm fine with that because 1) I know it's what they (the creator) wanted/needed at the time, and 2) even if a particular chapter wasn't my cup of tea, I know other fellow fans out there somewhere are enjoying the heck out of it, and that's cool!

We also have to remember that SxF is basically a one-man show. If Endo is busy or sick or whatever, it's not like he can have someone fill in for him to write and draw the series. That's what a hiatus is for, that's what making a short chapter instead of a longer one is for...that's how artists should be treated so they don't get burned out and stressed. Plus, art shouldn't be rushed. Any artist knows that there are times when you have trouble coming up with ideas and maybe need a little extra time to develop a more complex section of the story. To immediately jump to conclusions that he's lazy or doesn't know what he's doing is ridiculous. Maybe he didn't feel good for a few days, maybe he's been busy with other SxF events, maybe he just needed more time to get a particular future arc developed, or maybe he just has basic IRL obligations to take care of like we all do...you don't know what's going on in his life, so don't make assumptions.

Another thing to keep in mind is that it's literally impossible to please every fan. One of the comments I read for example, someone was ready to drop the series because we haven't seen much of Yor in "a while." All I could think of was "didn't she just have a pretty big role only four chapters ago when they went to the ski resort?" Plus she was the star of chapter 91, which was less than ten chapters ago. So according to this person's standards, four chapters without seeing a particular character is "too long"? What if it was only three chapters, would that be acceptable? It's not right to push our own personal standards of a series' pacing as the "correct" way: some people want to see more of character X while someone else wants to see more of subplot Y, so should both complain that the manga-ka isn't doing right whenever they focus on something else? I'm not saying you shouldn't make criticisms of a manga-ka's work, but the criticisms should come from within the narrative itself, not superficial things like chapters focusing on subplots/characters you don't want to see or not having enough "plot-advancing" content when it's not a plot-focused series.

People who have read SxF up to this point should know the general flow of the chapters: mostly slice-of-life episodic, with more plot-heavy, intense arcs once in a while, like the cruise arc and bus arc. It's an ensemble series that spends most of its chapters focused on at least one of the Forgers, but occasionally other characters here and there. That's how the series has been for years and will likely continue to be. So if you keep complaining because you only like the dramatic story arcs and not the "nothing happens" episodic chapters, then maybe the series just isn't for you. It's totally fine if that's the case, but don't act like Endo is doing something wrong because he's not providing the particular thing you want in his story.

To summarize, Endo has no obligation to cater to particular fans' standards, just as we have no obligation to keep reading his work if we don't like it. But being a fan to me means respecting the creator's pace and vision even if it's not always what I personally want. I can find something to enjoy in every chapter because I'm a fan of SxF, not a fan of one particular aspect of it. But I also will not complain every time my tastes aren't being catered to and will simply occupy myself with other things while I wait. What's the big hurry, after all? I'm in no rush for SxF to wrap up its plot and I'm glad Endo isn't rushing either.

And that's all I'm gonna say about this topic, lol. On a happier note, I'm going to finally see Code White on Thursday! 😁 More to come later~

[aliteralsemicolon]

hello with kinktober starting i have a question and as a writer i'm hoping you can answer it. why do so many writers write kinky smut and not as much "vanilla" stuff. some of us don't have all these aren't into kink culture and just want normal and regular sex. it's so ooc for Spencer especially. i can't imagine him as anything other than vanilla or a SOFT dom. the softest version. it's such a turn off when your trying to find a good fic to read and then it's just all these nasty descriptions, even in the tags. i also find it hard to believe that writers don't know about this. because there are definitely other readers and writers who've talked about this. their quite well-known blogs in the fandom too. so why don't writers cater to that audience too? this is all no offense btw. idm if people have all their kinks, to each their own, but why is there so much and why is it so in your face?

Read this very carefully because this is the only time I'm going address you and then I'm going to go back to blocking you and anons like you. I don't know if you're one person or some weird little group. I don't know which fucking hole you've sprouted from, but I urge you to crawl back into it. It's extremely entitled of you to waltz into my inbox, spew whatever fuckassery you want and think you can get away with a small "no offence 😊" at the end.

The empath in me is sensing that you're just looking for a fight, but incase you're really here with innocent intentions I'm going to make you aware of this. Also news flash: writing is a hobby!! None of us get paid to do this. Hobbies are self indulgent. My writing is not catered to please the general public. I write it for myself and other's who are into the same thing as me. Not you. This is my blog. You may want vanilla, but I am a nasty whore. I don't know what to tell you.

If you really hate the content you're seeing so much, stop engaging with it. If you're frustrated with the lack of content catering to your preference, GET TO WORK!!!!! Become a writer yourself. This is also to that one weirdo who keeps crying ableism if Spencer isn't exactly as you perceive him. You are blocked by me but for the love of whatever the fuck you believe in: stop harassing writers. We don't give a shit about what you think is the correct way to portray Spencer and all you're doing is wasting everyone's time.

This is not an invite for you to come back into my inbox with more useless input. This is not an invite for you to go harass other writers. Anything after this and you will continue to be blocked and ignored. 

ETA: "crying ableism" = crying wolf. don't even start that with me.

[yanderelionwrites]

Trick or Treat (Male!Yandere x Reader)

A Halloween one-shot for spooky season 🎃 I didn't want it to be too long so it's a little rushed, but here it is. Enjoy!

Content Warning: yandere, breaking and entering, assault/grabbing, manipulation

Word Count: 1.9k

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come to the party with us? I have a spare costume you could borrow that I know you would look great in!” Your roommate asked, adjusting the faux dog ears that were sitting atop her head as she walked into the kitchen.

You pulled a candy bowl out of the cupboard, dumping the sweet treats you had bought earlier today and filling it up to the brim. You smiled politely at her, but shook your head.

“Nah, I’m good. You know parties aren’t really my thing. Besides, somebody’s gotta watch over the house to make sure it doesn’t get TP’d or egged or whatever.”

“Still, though, I feel bad leaving you here by yourself. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“You sound like such a mom, Mallory,” Your other roommate, Tristan, snarked, coming down the stairs clad in a black cat costume. “(Name)’s been home alone plenty of times before. They’re not a kid.”

“I know, but it’s Halloween! The holiday just makes being alone feel more scary…”

“I’ll be fine, Mal,” You sighed, though you were still grateful for her concern. 

“We should probably get going now,” Tristan said, checking his phone. “Come on, Mal, let’s go,” Tristan grabbed ahold of her wrist, dragging her out the front door. “Don’t have too much fun without us, alright?” He winked at you.

“Bye, (Name)! We’ll probably be back around midnight! Call us if you need anything!”

After waving them goodbye, you took a small table and placed the candy bowl on top, leaving it out front with a “take two” sign. You had only bought one bag so if it ran out, it ran out. Locking the door behind you, you made your way upstairs to your bedroom, excitement coursing through your body. You loved your roommates, but there was just something about having the whole house to yourself that made you giddy. A true introvert at heart.

Plopping down on your bed, you turned on your TV, scrolling through streaming sites to decide what to watch. In honor of the holiday, you naturally chose a horror movie, something you’ve never seen before but heard good things about. Cuddling up with your favorite plush, you get comfortable as the film starts, ready to experience the same dread and terror alongside the main characters.

That feeling never came however, because you quickly fell asleep not even 30 minutes into the movie. An hour had gone by by the time you woke up, with the credits rolling and the obnoxious sound of the doorbell going off. You stuffed your face into the blanket you were wrapped up in, hoping and waiting for the visitor to go away. The candy bowl was probably empty and some greedy brat was outside demanding for more.

You were forced to jump out of bed and stomp down the stairs when the ringing only continued, followed by loud knocking. Damn entitled kids. You thought bitterly, undoing the locks and yanking the front door back without even checking who was outside first.

“Look, I don’t got any more candy, so just-” You barked, but stopped mid-sentence when you were met with a tall figure dressed head to toe in black clothes. He had a hood covering his eyes, with a mask obscuring his nose and mouth. He stood eerily still, staying completely silent, only the sound of his heavy breathing being heard. It felt like an eternity before he said, “...Trick or Treat.”

Your eyes widen, backing up a bit and closing the door enough to shield yourself from him. You definitely were not expecting a grown-ass man to be outside your door asking for treats. Chuckling awkwardly, you stutter, “U-Uhm, sorry…we unfortunately ran out of candy…”

“Darn…that’s too bad,” The man’s voice was husky, but muffled by his mask. “I was really looking forward to having something sweet tonight,” He flipped his hood off before pulling his mask down, giving you a hungry look. “You’re wrong, though. The sweetest piece of candy is standing right in front of me. I could just devour you in one bite.“

Slamming the door shut, you quickly locked it again, disgust and slight fear taking over you. The audacity he had to just start flirting with you was downright deplorable, the creepiness of it all causing your hair to stand on end. Maybe this could be a prank? A stupid Halloween scare that would rack up millions of views online, with poor you being one of the unfortunate victims. 

Yeah, that’s probably what it was. You wouldn’t expect any less from this neighborhood, after all. Your heart was still pounding as you tried to convince yourself that it was just a joke, however, and you headed into the kitchen to grab something to drink. A glass of water was needed to calm your nerves.

After gulping down the cool liquid, you searched for a snack to chow down on. Hopefully if you eat something while watching your movie, you won’t fall asleep this time. Deciding on microwave popcorn, you popped a bag in and waited for it to be ready. 

Only a few seconds went by when you heard tapping on a window. It was coming from the sliding glass door that led out into the backyard. At first, you wanted to believe you were just hearing things, but the next taps were louder and incessant. The last thing you wanted to do was investigate, having had enough fright for one night, so you stayed where you were.

Good thing you did, because immediately after the tapping stopped, came a loud crash. You screamed, watching in horror as you witnessed a brick fly through the glass door, shattering it to pieces. Reflexively, you quickly grabbed a knife from the knife block, just in time to see the man from before casually stalking into your home. He turned to you, an eerie grin on his face as he approached. You pointed your weapon towards him, making sure he kept his distance.

“Stay the hell away! The fuck’s your problem, why are you breaking into my house?!” You shouted, putting on your nastiest glare.

He cocked his head to the side, as if he couldn’t understand why you were angry. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here for my candy,” He said matter-of-factly. Smirking, he curled his pointer finger at you. “So put that silly thing down and c’mere.”

“You’re insane! Get the fuck out of my house!”

“So rude,” The man huffed, pouting like a child as if this was all a game to him. “Well, if you’re not going to give me my treat, I’ll just have to give you a trick. That’s how this works, hm?”

Before you could even process his words, he lunged forward, twisting the knife out of your hands with ease. He was stronger than he looked, and within a matter of seconds, he had you pinned against the counter. You winced as your stomach dug into the marble surface, and you desperately tried to move your hands from out underneath his iron grip. They wouldn’t budge.

“Don’t struggle too hard, darling. It’ll make this easier for the both of us,” The man breathed into your ear. Chuckling, he added, “You’re cute when you’re scared, you know. God, I can’t wait to taste you.”

Your fear only worsened at that, struggling even harder even though it was useless. “W-Why are you doing this? Who even are you?” Your voice wobbled as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“Who I am doesn’t matter right now. And maybe you’ll find out why this is happening to you if you do some digging later. A little detective work, if you will.”

What the hell does that mean? You couldn’t dwell on it for very long, though, because the man was pressing into you even closer now. You squealed when he dragged his tongue along the shell of your ear, anger getting ready to burst when he only laughed at your reaction.

“Get off me, creep!” You snarled, and you actually managed to jerk your arm back and elbow him in the stomach. Hissing, his grip loosened, allowing you to push him off. He stumbled back, and while he was vulnerable, you promptly kicked him in the groin. The intruder yelped in pain as he fell to the floor. You took this chance to run, practically throwing yourself at the front door and fumbling with the locks so you could get the hell out of there.

“Yeah, you better run…while you still can…” The man groaned, but his threats hardly fazed you considering he was just a pathetic heap on the ground now.

Flinging open the door, you sprinted out of the house, planning to find safety with one of your neighbors. You couldn’t get far, however, as you ran into someone quite familiar.

“Tristan?” You panted, hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath while looking up at your worried roommate.

“(Name)? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Tristan asked, putting a hand on your shoulder to try and comfort you. “What are you doing out here?”

You sucked in a few more breaths before explaining the situation to him. “There…someone….some guy broke into the house… He was after me…he tried…tried…” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, it was too terrifying to relive. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” Tristan hushed you, pulling you into a surprising embrace. It was something you never expected from him, but you returned the gesture anyway.

“He’s still in the house, Tristan… We need to call the cops and get away from here,” You pulled away from the hug, eyes now focused back on the house. “I left my phone in my room, so can you call them?”

“Yeah, I will,” He nodded, whipping out his phone to start dialing. “Let’s go back to my car and stay there until they arrive, okay?”

The two of you made yourselves comfortable in the warm car, and you listened intently as Tristan called 911. After he hung up, he told you that they were on their way and would be there as soon as possible. It was able to calm your beating heart only a little bit. There was a beat of silence between you two before you decided to speak up.

“So where’s Mallory? Is she still at the party?”

Without missing a beat, Tristan said, “Yeah, she is. I just had to come back cuz I forgot something. The last thing I expected was to see you in such a panic, though. Good thing I got here when I did.”

“Yeah… I wasn’t sure what neighbor would answer the door to help me, so I’m glad I ran into you,” You confessed.

Tristan laid a comforting hand over yours and smiled. “I’m just happy you’re not hurt. That guy’s gonna pay for what he did.”

You gave him a weak smile in return, before leaning into his touch. Seeing Tristan being so soft was new, but you found it sweet and appreciated how hard he was trying to soothe you. You closed your eyes as he wrapped an arm around you, glad that you were finally away from that creepy intruder.

Tristan let you rest, pulling out his phone when it buzzed with a text alert. Opening the message, it read:

I’m out of the house now. Sorry I couldn’t keep em pinned for longer, I know u wanted to look like the hero or some shit. Though it looks like it still worked out in the end

Trying to hide his smile, Tristan replied:

Thanks man. I’ll send the rest of your payment over in a bit, after the cops leave and things settle down.

Stuffing his phone away, he squeezed your arm gently, smirking at the way you moved in closer. You were so easy to scare.

Right into his arms.

[wonderlandwalker]

Desperate Measures | Remus Lupin x Reader

Marauders Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: (Part 1: Desperate Times) After your break-up Remus doesn't know what to do with himself, but when he finally gets to see you again he promises himself to make it up to you by any means he can

Content Warnings/Tags: fluff, small amount of angst, big amount of smut, minord dni, 18+, unedited writing, still not sure if smut is my strong suit but won't stop me from trying

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: A lot has happened while I took a break from writing for a little while but it basically comes down to the fact that I still struggle with my mental health on a daily basis and writing isn't always my priority. While I do not plan to stop writing any time soon, the intervals of them will probably continue to stay longer. So thank you to everyone who has the patience to wait. Anyway, today is my birthday, so this is my small gift to all of you for the occasion xx

His friends didn't dare say anything, no, they could see how he was doing, they didn't need to ask. So they let him sulk, and it's not like they hadn't tried to cheer him up, but there was nothing that seemed to work. Not the speech from James, not the distractions Sirius tried, and not even the chocolate muffins Peter swiped from the kitchen could get a smile on his face. Just letting him wait it out seemed like the best option. But as time continued to pass and Remus continued to sulk, they realised a more hands-on approach was needed.

They weren't sure if talking to you would go over well, so they decided to test the waters by talking to your friends.

"What do you want Potter" Lily glared at James as he sat down next to her.

"Don't you think it's time she apologizes"

Now see, all of them were used to the incredulous looks Lily would give James, but this one beat the record.

"What in the seven hells are you on about"

"Remus has suffered enough, he hasn't left the dorm in nearly a week."

"So?"

"So. Whatever fight they had she clearly seems fine" he gestured over to where you were sitting a little further away, breaking your pastry up into small bits to eat as you laughed with Marlene over some joke he couldn't hear.

"Don't you think she should apologise to him by now, they always make up eventually"

Lily dropped the exasperated expression as her face turned to stone while she spoke her next words.

"Yes, James, she seems fine. I found her crying her eyes out on the bathroom floor. Just because she is coping better than Remus doesn't entitle him to anything. "

James's overconfident demeanour dropped slightly. He had been worried about his friend all this time, he hadn't stopped to look at how it affected you. But when paying closer attention he could see Lily was right, there were bags under your eyes and they were still a little red, you must have cried even more after the night Lily was talking about.

"You know I care for her as well, but Remus is being stubborn, he won't even talk to us, won't even tell us what happened, we just thought that if she saw the state he is in, she'd maybe forgive him, get through to him"

"There is nothing to get through about. He broke up with her, now he's suffering the consequences, good riddance if you ask me"

Now it was James' turn to look startled

"Hang on a second. They broke up?" Lily copied his expression

"Yes they broke up, what did you idiots think was going on"

"We figured they fought, they fight sometimes but they always make up" Lily started shaking her head as she answered him.

"Not this time, he broke her heart, James. Even if he did regret it, I'm not sure she'd forgive him, and I don't think she should either"

Taking a last look at you, James bolted from the table. All this time they had simply assumed he was irritable because of a fight, but you had broken up. Not only that, it was Remus that had broken up with you. No, this would surely not do, not if they could help it.

Over the next few days, they came up with a plan to, in the easiest of terms, get Remus to beg for forgiveness. It all started with the party

"I'm really not in the mood Sirius" Remus was stretching time the most he could, but Sirius wasn't letting up.

"You've been cooked up in that bed for nearly two weeks now, people are starting to wonder if we've killed you with one of our pranks. Besides, if nothing else there'll be liquor, liquor solves everything"

Normally Remus would have argued, but strangely enough, this time Sirius had a point. But Sirius had a mission too. Yes, he was following the plan step by step. He had talked to Marlene, who had promised to get you to the party as well, which was probably a much easier task than he had been left with, seeing how after last week you had decided it was no use sitting around moping any longer.

He dragged Remus down to the party going on in the Gryffindor common room, poured him a glass of the strongest thing he could find, and got him settled on the couch. For a moment he debated getting Remus to dance, but that might have been a bit too ambitious. Either way, Remus was here now, Sirius's part was done.

Remus saw you standing on the other side of the room, and either you hadn't noticed him yet or you were simply ignoring him, but you seemed to be in your own world. And he was fine with looking at you from where he was, after all, that's the fate he had resigned himself to. He was fine with watching you because you seemed like you were enjoying yourself.

But it didn't take long for his so-called plan to crumble down like a poorly constructed house of cards. Because he saw someone walk up to you, he saw someone get close to you, someone who wasn't supposed to.

What was Evan Rosier doing at a Gryffindor party? But he didn't have much time to think about it, because he saw Evan walk up from behind you, and at first you seemed startled, but when you turned around to face him you seemed to light up. You pushed up on your toes to hug him and Remus's stomach started to twist. Not in the way it always used to when it came to you. His insides used to do somersaults every time he got a smile out of you. No matter how sour of a mood he was in, it would light him up.

His friends used to poke fun at him for it, but they soon realized you were the only thing that would cheer him up when their usual methods had run out, and they surrendered to the spell you seemed to have him under.

But this was nothing like that. Evan secured his arms around you and you let him, why did you let him? He knew he had been avoiding you, but he couldn't have missed this much. He sat there and watched, his body seemed to have turned to stone as if you had been Medusa herself. His eyes he couldn't keep off you, it was only when Evan pulled back that he thought the nausea that had bubbled up in his stomach would disappear, but he couldn't have been more wrong. Because the moment he did, Evan took off his jacket, and put it around you. The green colour of it engulfed you and Remus was filled with it just the same.

He felt as if he wasn't in control of his own body as he stood up from the couch, walking in your direction. He wasn't even sure what he would say, what he would do, but he could no longer sit and watch idly. So when Remus reached you he did the only thing that made sense to him, he pulled you in and kissed you. He kissed you like he had thought about doing every minute for the last few weeks. He had wondered if your lips were still as soft as they used to be, what a stupid question, he thought now, of course they were.

For just a second his life is back the way it should be, you're kissing him as if it's pure muscle memory, and perhaps it is because only a moment later you seem to come to your senses and pull away. But you're still looking at him, and your eyes have him just as Enchanted as the first time he saw you. He recognizes a small sparkle in them and promises himself to make it ablaze again.

"Can we talk, please" He is ready to get down on his knees and beg you, because he doesn't know if he can stand being without you anymore. He would drop to the floor and grovel for your forgiveness if that was what it took, but of course, you don't make him. Even before he's always been ready to tear his heart from his chest and give it to you the moment you requested so. He would watch it continue to beat as he ripped it out because by now it was entirely yours anyway, it wouldn't stop as long as you were near, wouldn't dare let you down.

You nod your head to the stairs leading up to the dorms and he walks with you until you're in the dorm, the door shutting behind you. He wants to push you up against the door and trail kisses down your neck like he used to, but he can tell you have something to say, so he sits down on the foot of your bed, trying not to fidget with his hands too much.

"You really hurt me Remus" The way your eyebrows slightly pinch together and the slight pout on your face makes him once again regret every single word he uttered that night. He's trying to think of what to say, how to continue. Because he's gotten this far and he's determined not to mess up again. But what is there to say, what can he say other than the fact that he's sorry, which seems like too much of an understatement for the situation he created.

"I know" is all he can come up with, and it's true, he spent so much time thinking about what he had done and how it had hurt you.

"I don't know if I'm ready to just move on as if nothing happened"

"I know" Remus wants to smack his own head for his response. This was his one chance to make it right and he couldn't even form a coherent thought.

"I'm sorry" is all he can say next, and he wants to smack himself again for the oversimplification. But you look at him as if it's enough, as if you know the weight those words truly hold behind them. He wouldn't be surprised if you could see right into his mind, you've always been able to read him so well.

"Please let me make it up to you, I promise I will" You look at him again, and walk closer to where he is sitting.

"How exactly do you propose to do that?" Your tone has shifted, and he's still nervous, but no longer for the same reason. It's the kind of nervous jitters he still gets when he's close to you, the kind that makes him want to pin you down underneath him and spend eternity looking at you. Except this time he's not sure what to do. He usually knows exactly what you want, has got your body memorised like a map that leads to treasure. But now he needs to tread more lightly, not taking any chance of having read it wrong.

But you walk towards him until you've slotted yourself between his open legs, and he knows it is all going to be okay, because you start to softly move your hands through his hair in a way that makes his head spin, and he grounds himself by pulling you closer, hugging his face to your stomach. He lets himself enjoy it for a few seconds before he remembers the promise he just made.

He starts to leave small kisses going up your torso, and ghosts his fingers over the back of your thighs as you're still standing in front of him. He holds your body closer to his and hears a small moan leave your mouth. And it's only softly, but he hears it, and it’s his sign not to stop.

His hands move with a mind of their own, trailing further up until he reaches under your skirt, finding the soft flesh of your ass and giving it a gentle squeeze before he retracts one of his hands to slap it. And now he’s sure, because the sound that leaves you is no longer hesitant, it's pleading. He grabs onto your legs and flips you over onto the bed behind him, your head hitting the pillow as he hovers over you.

You move to kiss him, and he doesn't dare refuse. It’s different from earlier, more desperate. Not only his but your emotions showing through it, it's harsh, too much teeth, too forceful, but he can't find it in himself to mind. He kisses you back with just as much passion, and while he could spend eternity like this, he had something else in mind for now. So he moves his lips down your neck, and you arch into him immediately, giving him better access to the spot he’s looking for.

“Remus please” he doesn't need to be told twice, not today at least. His hands inch up underneath your shirt, delicately moving it up your body until it reaches your head, and you don’t hesitate to shrug it off and throw it off the bed. He’s enthralled for a moment, the sight before his eyes so familiar yet so captivating.

He makes quick work of his own shirt and moves back to leave open-mouth kisses down your chest as his hands once again travel down. But he doesn't make you wait long, because it’s followed by him moving your underwear to the side, sliding his fingers over your folds, feeling how wet you already are for him. His mouth is still busy on your chest, reacting to the sounds you make as he’s sucking bruises into your skin. With his free hand he tugs down your bra, finally giving him full access to your chest. The moment his mouth grazes over your nipple you moan out his name and he starts circling your clit before inserting two of his fingers into you. Your body immediately remembers the feeling and he can feel you already starting to clench around him, but he’s not about to question it. He’s still using his thumb to trace patterns onto your clit as he moves his fingers in and out of you, searching for the spot he knows will make you see the stars. He curls them once again and from the sounds leaving you he knows he’s found it, relentlessly hitting it as if it's his only goal in life, and right now it is.

It doesn't take much longer until you’re panting and writhing underneath him, and he has to use his free hand to pin your hips down on the mattress. As moans and whispers of his name continue to stream from you he wonders how he ever thought he could make peace with never hearing you say his name again, but he doesn't dwell on it for long as he feels you spasming around his fingers, clenching as if your body is trying to keep him there. He coaxes you through it until your breathing turns back to normal and he pulls his fingers out, hovering back over you as he cleans them off with his mouth, humming at the taste.

You’re starting to come back down from your haze and he can feel your hands travelling over his body before one of them drags over the bulge in his trousers. The friction makes him close his eyes and sighs, dropping his head in the crook of your neck. You’re trying to undo his belt when he snaps back to reality, catching your hands in his own as he stops you.

“What’s wrong?” The concern in your voice makes him want to soothe away any worries you might be carrying, and he’s quick to tell you.

“Nothing’s wrong darling, I’m just not finished apologizing yet.” It’s not that he doesn't want to feel your hands on him, pumping him as he loses his composure, but he’s already painfully hard from making you cum on his fingers, and he wasn't finished.

And so with a final kiss to your lips he shifts back down your body until he's face to face with your pussy. You’re fidgeting underneath him and he uses his hands to lock your legs in place, holding them open so he can do exactly as he wants. He starts by tickling your inner thighs with kisses, enjoying the feeling of your skin against his. Normally he would take his time, get you desperate underneath him, but he’s the desperate one now, so he doesn't waste any more time. His tongue flattens out over your entrance and a whine of his name leaves your mouth, followed by more moans that make him rut into the mattress, seeking for some friction of his own.

He distracts himself by massaging the fat of your thighs, trailing over the stretch marks he adores. You're rutting your hips into his mouth and when your hand finds purchase in his hair, tugging on it as his tongue enters your folds, he no longer tries to hold back. His attack on you is so sweetly malicious, your taste intoxicating hum further than any liquor could, he grinds down and moans into you. The vibrations make your breath hitch and he can feel you getting close again. The soft pleas and whines coming from you are a melody he will orchestrate for as long as he can, his nose bumps against your clit as his tongue is still busy lapping up your juices and it makes you twitch under him.

“That's it darling, cum all over my tongue” He's craving it just as much himself, every shaky breath from you and every time he feels you clench he gets closer to his own high. All he wants to do is get you there so he can let go himself. He doubles his efforts, remembering what you like, listening to your body react, and with his mouth still busy between your legs you suddenly go still, your body motionless except for the small flexes of the muscles in your thighs. He knows better than to stop, coaxing you further until the filthiest of moans come from your mouth, relentlessly thanking him, although he's certain he should be the one thanking you.

He's still chasing your sweet taste as he can feel his cock straining impossibly hard, the tip pulsating as he finds his own release, too caught up in you to even care that he is coming in his trousers, whines leaving his mouth as he still laps up anything you give him. He doesn't stop until you push his head away and he glances up at your face, a thin layer of sweat glistening above your eyebrows. You're radiating pure ecstasy and he can't help but smile at the sight. You silently ask him to come up by tugging the back of his neck towards you and he wouldn't even dream of doing anything other than complying.

“I've missed you Remmy” it's barely there, your voice a whisper in the now quiet room, but it's more than enough for him. He leaves featherlight kisses over your face, from your forehead to your cheekbone and finally finding his final destination on your lips. It's soft, sensual and full of pent up emotions and apologies, but the way in which you settle yourself next to him, cuddling into him with a content sigh as if he's the puzzle piece you fit next to let's him know that despite everything, you'll always find your way back to each other, even in the most desperate of times.

Taglist: @hesperdern, @lexmoon17, @y0urm0m12, @dreamingofmarauders

[onyourowndaisymae]

when satan falls in love

content + warnings: satan x reader, satan's in his demon form and his tail is Not Cooperating, fluff // [masterlist]

word count: ~1.4k

satan's feet drag along the floor as he journeys from the front door to his safe haven. he stopped hiding his demon form the moment he trudged through the door-- now his heavy footsteps and the ominous drag of his tail against the ground are what tell people to stay away. the barbs catch a little along the wood floors. lucifer will bitch at him again when he notices, but right now satan isn't the least bit worried about his older brother's opinions.

the door to his room shuts with a loud thunk! the bookcases shudder with effort, the disorganized book stacks groaning with a quiet threat of toppling over. the noise echoes to his high ceilings, then dies amongst poetic words and fantastical novels.

he collapses on his bed and groans testily. his tail flicks about, impatient, looking for things to destroy-- he knows if he gives into his destructive urges he'll only regret it later. he's lost countless tomes to a fit of rage, spent hours cleaning up his messes only to piss himself off more.

satan rolls over and closes his eyes, practicing his breathing exercises to calm himself down. what had him worked up this much, anyways?

lots of things. his brothers had been especially rowdy today, starting his day off with an unusually irritating breakfast. then he had a surprise quiz early in the day. at lunch, you were whisked away by lord diavolo for some bullshit reason or another. he can still picture the apologetic look on your face, waving over your shoulder with a slight frown as you had to abandon him in favor of your responsibilities. pair that with a few hellish classes and another surprise student council meeting, and you'll understand why satan is particularly testy today.

damn. after all this time, he'd grown much better at making sure he could handle massive slights that pissed him off. it's the stacking of little things on top of each other that presses his buttons.

in truth, he'd probably be better if he'd seen more of you lately. lunch just seemed to be a tipping point in the drought of your love. how long has it been since he's been able curl up with you at his side? since he's gotten a moment to have a proper date with you? the tangled emotions only make his blood boil more.

his emerald eyes catch something unfamiliar at the edge of his vision. he knows the layout of his room top to bottom-- any minor changes to his disorganization are noted fairly quickly, regardless of what others might think.

there's an envelope peaking out of a nearby bookshelf. it's subtle, but noticeable enough when he believes he was intended to find it. his first instinct is to be angry. who the fuck thought they were entitled to access his room when he was gone?

satan rises from his bed and angrily snatches the envelope from its hiding spot. he's ready to rip it in half in a destructive fit of rage when he spots your handwriting on the front. the fire inside of him settles to embers as his eyes follow the curl of your letters as you wrote his name. he could spot that handwriting anywhere. the "s" in his name swoops with grandeur, like you're going out of your way to be fancy, and he can't help but smile a little. he opens the letter carefully-- there's no way he won't keep whatever this is, all because it came from you-- and begins to read your familiar scrawl across a nice piece of stationary.

my beloved satan,

i've missed you! that's odd to say considering we live together, but... life seems to find new ways every day to keep us apart. it's weird to look back on my day and realize i've barely seen you. we barely get a peaceful lunch together anymore! there's always someone joining us or pulling one of us away before we can settle... i don't mean to sound clingy, but i don't think it's bad to want to have some alone with your boyfriend!

as i'm writing this, i'm cooped up in diavolo's office during a little break in some meetings. there's some trouble with some of their human world contacts, so i've been brought in to act as a "bridge" between the two. that apparently means sitting through lots of boring, professional talks and trying to pretend like i'm not about to fall asleep. barbatos made some really nice tea, though, and that's been my saving grace so far.

i can't wait until we find some alone time again. i've never found something more peaceful than cuddling up to you while you're reading and listening to you breathe. if i rest my hand on your chest, i can hear your steady heartbeat, too. you always tease me for being so sleepy and run your hand along my back, but who wouldn't fall asleep under those conditions? i just feel so at peace when i'm with you. nobody else can make me feel so safe and cared for. even when we're not together, knowing you're there for me makes each day better.

was it weird of me to write this as a letter? i hope not. you hear about people writing their lovers romantic love letters in the movies and books. i thought i'd give it a try. it's nice to have a physical reminder of someone's feelings for you. ticket stubs and stuffed animals are nice, but i wanted to give you something that illustrates my feelings more clearly. i adore you. you mean the world to me. i feel like it's harder to say things like that when you look at me, but here in the letter i'll say it as many times as i want to. you are my best friend, satan, and i'm glad to have you as my partner.

i hope this letter makes you smile. i'm planning on hiding it in your room, so hopefully it'll take you a bit to find it.

yours always,

mc

so much for him waiting to find the letter.

in the quiet of his room, devoid of all distraction except the gentle whir of the air leaving a nearby vent, satan realizes he's in love with you.

his body freezes. for these past few weeks, he's intellectualized his feelings for you-- it's not love, but adoration. infatuation. lust, even. but no. he can feel the realization settling on his shoulders like a warm blanket fresh from the dryer.

when he was created, all satan would feel was reckless, horrifying, world-ending rage. it consumed him like a wildfire during a dry season, devouring any part of him that might be redeemable with the crackle of wild grass and the unforgiving heat. but meeting you changed him. his smiles were no longer plastic, but easy and natural. his irritation often simmered in his chest instead of exploding from his lips as harsh words, now just huffs and sharp glances.

you made him better. he knows now there's more to him than wrath. every single positive change in his life ever since you came to the devildom was driven by you.

he takes a deep breath to calm himself. instead of wrath, he's fighting the flush creeping up the back his neck. he reads the letter again, then again, each time sparking something in his stomach that he had to push down.

love. so this is what it feels like, huh?

he's read his fair share of sappy stories, but they all pale in comparison to the real thing. it's unsettling for him to be bursting with positive emotion, but here he is. flushed, stiff, listening to the silence as his heartbeat pounds in his ears. it takes him too long to realize that his tail was swishing behind him, thumping against a nearby chair enthusiastically. that only embarrasses him more-- is he really so in love with you that he's wagging his tail like a dog?

originally, he thought to corner you right now and show you just how much he appreciates the letter. but with his body acting out like this...

satan takes a seat his desk, digging around until he finds some suitable stationary, a writing feather (pretentious, he knows, but he can't ignore the urge to be so traditional), and an inkwell. if you were exchanging letters to express your feelings, now, then expect him to write you the best damn love letter you've ever seen.

taglist for this series: @deepseafragments // @darkflowerav // @annoying-and-upset // @katerinaval // @lurkingsnails // @chirikoheina // @all-mights-wife // @notareum