#regardless of how true your statements should be

[miracotar]

I, the naive little optimist that I am, hope that Gabriel’s last wish was for Adrien’s happiness. If Marinette was able to convince Gabriel to “be a good father” (juxtaposing, I know), even for that moment, then I can wholeheartedly see this being what’s best for Adrien, rather than his abuser’s ideal reality.

That’s why Natalie was saved. Because she is his maternal figure, and she means so much to him.

Adrien has already grieved Emilie, and after the padded room, I’m sure wants little to nothing to do with Gabriel, which made him a fitting sacrifice for the wish.

He should be grieving and struggling and learning to cope with the Hell he had to endure, but I cannot realistically expect that kind of writing. Not after Marinette acknowledging Chat Blanc once, post-incident.

Marinette did technically use the amok on Adrien during the finale but given what she says while doing it I think it's supposed to be taken as a good thing

Marinette: You don't need to be like him. Just be yourself. Adrien, you're the only one who can decide what you make of your life.

So like. Here's the thing on that.

Firstly, in /theory/ this is a good thing. She's trying to Ella Enchanted her way out of this and tell him he doesn't need to listen to everyone else, just himself. However we've already seen through Nathalie trying this that it won't work. As soon as someone else uses the Amok, that order is canceled.

Secondly

You can manipulate someone without a Magic remote control. Marinette is already choosing things for Adrien, and will likely continue to do so, and his past trauma means that he's likely to comply with her wants (even if she's not intentionally manipulating him) because he's scared of doing something 'wrong' and losing her affection.

[knifearo]

here's the thing. "ace people can still have sex" and "aro people can still be in relationships" are objectively true statements. this is because people can do whatever the fuck they want forever regardless of their label/orientation. however some of you have GOT to get your shit together and stop using those statements to undermine larger conversations about aspec identity. following up "ace people don't owe you sex in a relationship" with "ace people can still have sex in a relationship though!" is not fucking helpful! yes it's true. yes it's a reality for many people. however if we used our fucking brains for a second and thought about how following up "people don't have to conform to societal expectation" with "but people can still conform!! don't worry they can still conform!!!!" is counterproductive and very frustrating for a lot of people then we could get back to the actual point which is not "aspec people can still have sex/be in relationships" but "aspec people can do whatever they want with their relationships and their bodies". which they can, by the way. they can do whatever they want forever. and you should give them 200 dollars every time you see them for dealing with this shit

[chiscaralight]

men who are so cocky about their dick game. he tells his friends he can fuck whoever he wants, whenever he wants and they'd be all over him for another round! no statement can be proven true without at least one example, so they make a bet—you. all he has to do is get you to admit you’d do almost anything for another fuck, and he had whatever rights he wants for a month.

and it’s fairly easy to coerce you into his bed; he’s not even upset either. your voice is silty and your moves as you dance are oh-so-sexy, even without the bet he probably would’ve tried to find a way to get in your pants regardless of the reason.

but he’s awestruck at how amazing you feel, groaning a deep fuuuck as he slides into you. is pussy supposed to feel this good? he’s practically losing his mind over here. your smaller hand is gripping his bicep as he bottoms out, pretty lashes barely cracking open as you meet his eyes. you’re so fucking gorgeous that he could cum from the sight alone, but he’s on a mission… that he actually forgot.

because you’re going a stupid amount of rounds that night; him bending you into all forms and positions so he can fuck you just right. you’re more than accommodating, sickly sweet in the way you fuck back and he swears he’s found his match made in heaven.

even when you try to leave after a couple of hours, he’s pressing his chest to your back, rough fingers dancing dangerously close to your sore clit as you attempt to pull your skirt back up. you should be going, you really should. but his breath is just so hot against your neck and his fingers are already sliding past your ruined underwear—come on, are you actually supposed to say no?

and he ends up catching you in some random convenience store two days later, nudging you slightly to get your attention. it’s completely shameless how he describes how much he’s been thinking about you, he needs those sweet lips wrapped around his cock again. wait, shouldn’t this be the other way round?

he guesses he can bend the story just a teensy bit to his guys in a couple of days because you’re the one who abandoned your somewhat full shopping cart to let him press you against the bathroom wall. his hand is pressed hard over your mouth as he fills you up with his thick length again, biting back another groan as you squeeze around him. fuck the bet honestly, he just wants you.

GENSHIN IMPACT: tartaglia, SCARAMOUCHE, itto, kaeya, shikanoin heizou,

HONKAI: STAR RAIL: gallagher, BOOTHILL, aventurine, JING YUAN, SAMPO, CAELUSSSSS, jiaoqiu

JUJUTSU KAISEN: GOJO, geto, toji, sukuna

+ your favs!

[celesomnis]

❝ Loosen Up Your Buttons. . . ❞

Nyoka Wadjet x Photographer Reader

The Prefect assists Nyoka with what they expect to be a small and casual photo-shoot for his magicam profile. What transpires is the most breath-loss the Prefect's has ever experienced in a mere hour's time.

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@cozymochi and @oddberryshortcake 's slitheringly handsome oc makes a return, baby

you know I had to do it to em.

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Now, truth be told, you didn't exactly grasp the huge draw to Magicam.

It seemed not to be dissimilar to your universe's version of instagram, and maybe fused with facebook too based on some of the interface.

Your old friends back home had always found it amusing that you weren't a social-media-bug, despite being so proficient in digital photography.

The short answer to that was: you preferred candids. And every photo on people's socials went through more edits and "touch-ups" than celebrity magazine covers.

Now, by some miraculous grace of fate, one of the first things you acquired when you entered this brand new world was the thing you can scarcely imagine living without - a camera.

A normal one? No. Professional one? Doubtful. Crowley gave it to you, after all.

But until you can get home, the pictures it develops are a high enough quality to satisfy your itch.

Now, even though you didn't exactly shy away from expressing your love for your hobby t your new friends here, it still took the NRC a little while to catch on to your exact talents.

It wasn't until Vil payed you a (shockingly substantial) amount of Thaumarks to photograph a few headshots for Epel that the school got its first a real taste for your skills.

And this was where a certain beastman came slithering back onto your radar.

"A photoshoot?" you repeat as you stall from placing down your final knight. You were in the middle of one of your now weekly sessions of chess matches, currently pretending you weren't vitally aware how badly you were losing this time. "Like, a real one? For your magicam account?"

"Yes." his reply is low and matter-of-fact, and, you notice, without shame.

Not that he should feel shame. Of all people, you think he should not. Every time you see him, it just re-instills in you how unnatural perfect he is.

You have to break yourself free of your own thoughts, teasing him to cover your blush, "Oh? So you don't 'have a guy' for that already?"

"I will," Nyoka leans more onto his knuckle, making the window light flicker across his glasses. "Have you. If you agree to it."

That sets off the heat in your face tenfold. You make a clumsy move on the board that Nyoka takes instant advantage of. A few more moves go by, between you both, before you finally answer.

"Alright" you say, holding up a finger, "On one condition. Outside of lighting and contrast adjustments, the photos get no edits."

You can't tell if the face he gives is because he finds that condition foolish, or if he is minutely approvingly towards your integrity.

Regardless, leans forward a tad more, showing off the sharp juts of his collarbones, and murmurs, "Very well." before checkmating you.

May the Seven have mercy on me, you think to yourself.

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The Seven do not have mercy at all, and in fact, must have banded together for your downfall.

Because when you walk into the private Savanaclaw room where Nyoka texted you to meet him, your knees almost buckle.

"Wadjet." The sight before you is off-guard catching that you call him by his surname.

He gives you only an acknowledging "Mmh?" while adjusting his braids over the many, many defined muscles of his back. Each one sticking out against his sheer shirt.

You think you die while this happens. You're still standing, and awake, but you aren't breathing, so you can't be too sure either way.

"You're-" comes squeaking from your throat.

You were about to say "you're wet", because the statement is true. He is wet. His entire upper half is drenched enough that his shirt has become see-through.

And it so baffling that this is the reality you're in that you nearly just blurt "you're wet" at him, but you can't say that. Not out loud. That can't come out anything but wrong.

He's watching you now, pinning you with those snake charmer eyes. Without the glare of his glasses, the warm sunlike colors in his eyes shine unobscured, drying your throat like desert sand.

Oh hell, prefect, get ahold of yourself. Please. You're a photographer. He asked you because he must trust you to be professional. Do not ruin this already fragile friendship by being stupid.

"You're ready... for the pictures... like that."

Oh god.

"You were late. I got prepared to keep ahead of schedule." Nyoka points out dryly.

He surely must to see how disheveled your expression is, and how your eyes keep skating down his chest, but you're thankful he isn't bringing it up.

You force a breath in and out. "Right. Let's- let's just get started. Where do you want to stand?"

"Are you not the photographer?" Nyoka challenges coolly, "And I not the subject? Your job is to adjust me into the ideal image."

Hauntingly erotic visage or no, he is still the Nyoka you've been playing chess with for the passed weeks.

To yourself, you mutter, "like you need me for that.", while pointing your camera to a few different spots in the room. Looking for the points with the best lighting.

"Over here." you decide, directing him between two deep red curtails.

There's a scoff from him, but he moves obediently to the position. The first pose he tries is a simple one. Raising his arms into a loose grasp of each curtain, stretching his wet shirt up slightly up his stomach.

You swallow hard.

"Uh, maybe, um, turn a little. To the side."

Nyoka edges his body sideways slowly, waiting for your signal to stop. His movement is languid, smooth and fluid as water. His face, though is as impassive as ever, clearly unaffected by the alluded high intimacy of this venture at all.

But in front of the lens, it turns smoldering. His professional training kicking in. His eyes burn you, and his lips are very slightly pursed in a way that accentuates their shape.

The camera is shaking in your hands. If these photos come out blurry, there'll be nothing else to blame except you.

With all your will, you steel your arms.

"Good. Can you," you hear yourself say, "Curl your tale, around your body."

After a minute, his tail slides up from its spot on the floor, and begins to spiral around his waist, peaking up into the lens view of the shot.

"Higher?" you rasp.

He does what you ask. The tail curls up until its a loop frames his abdomen, and the tip is grazing a loose hug to his chest. You swear that somehow you can feel the tail as if its on your own body instead.

Photos snap. Your heart won't stop slamming itself into your ribs.

His scales glitter with the perspiration on his neck. The pose you adjusted him to reveals the contours of his figure like some kind of marble statue in a museum. His skin glowing in this warm, fiery light.

These are probably the best photos you'll take in your whole life, and you aren't sure you can ever look at them again, not if you want to maintain any semblance of sanity in front of Nyoka from now on.

You stop clicking.

"Okay... I got- I got it."

Nyoka relaxes into a more familiar pose, crossing his arms and inclining his head by way to call you over. Wanting to see the results.

You inch over to him. You mean to just hand him the camera, even though it feels like you're handing someone your own severed limb every time you let people scrutinize your work.

But instead, he leans over you. His tall form hunches to peer over one of your shoulders, his wet shirt pressing onto your back, and his hand grabs over your's that's still on the camera.

Nyoka lightly pushes you finger aside with his own and hits the scrolling button. Reviewing the footage.

You do nothing because you actually are dead this time. Every ounce of breath has exited your lungs. There's nothing left inside you except mush and a loud, deafening roaring sound at your's ears.

A hum blows passed your ear. "So Schoenheit wasn't exaggerating. You are well at what you do. I could be impressed, mouse."

Oh yeah, you're dead.

Some mild eternity later, Nyoka rescues your soul by detaching from you. Walking to grab a small towel and pressing it over his neck.

"Adjust the lighting on those final four how you see fit," you hear him instruct you distantly, "I will chose the best one when you send them to me. Have them sent to me before next week's shoot, we'll discuss pay and post dates then."

Life crashes back upon you.

You whip around. Nearly drop the camera, fumble for it, and squeeze it into your both arms like it can protect you from the prospect you just heard.

"Next week!?"

"Next week," Nyoka confirrms. His eyes find your's, they pool heat into like lava. "You're my 'guy' for this now. Wasn't that the deal."

Oh. What the hell have you gotten yourself into.

[tavs-adventures]

Ascended Astarion X Reader

…

Synopsis: A year had passed since Cazadors death, Astarions Accession, and the defeat of the Elder Brain. Of course, that year came with one too many problems, allowing the now true vampire to get away with too much after your party disbanded and spread across FaeRun to handle their own business. Now, it's up to you to approach Astarion your ex-lover with an offer. Hopefully one he can't refuse.

You were tasked by the city officials to seek the cause of the heavy fog engulfing Baldur's Gate and put a stop to the countless murders that were happening alongside it. You weren't sure of the cause yourself but all things considered Astarion wasn't doing the best job with keeping a low profile. The now ascended vampire Lord of the Crimson Palace, as well as your ex-lover got a bit too close to the sun so you were called in for damage control. Hoping to either stop him or find the true cause of these random and rampant murders.

After some careful decision making you decided to confront him in his Palace. No asking, no formalities, no invitation.

As you enter the Castle grounds walking past the now destroyed gate and push past the spawn casting holy light they hiss. Glaring they back away from you, unable to touch you. You doubt Astarion would let them touch you regardless. He always loved a dramatic entrance.

Storming through the castle stopping in his precious throne room you finally find him. Lounging on a golden throne in the middle of the space, his gaze burned through you as you came forward to speak.

"Astarion." You greet, looking less than amused as you dust yourself off. Wyll was busy with his Duke duties and the killings were becoming too much so you were sent to handle this issue. Ever since his Ascension so much had changed. But not so much that Astarion wouldn't listen to you. If anyone could make him change his mind it was you and everyone knew it.

"... (Y/N)." He replied boredly as he looked at his nails than at you. His tone remained cool and disinterested though he was attempting to hide a smile that threatened to appear on his face. His chin rested on his hand as he shifted turning his focus solely towards you. "To what do I owe the pleasure of being visited by you…” His eyes trail the hallway behind you and for a moment he seems to be having a conversation. His lips which had been fighting a sly smile curl into a satisfied smirk. “alone..?” He finally finishes his red eyes taking in your form with interest as it clicks that his old friend is truly there with no backup. While that look should scare you, it didn't. Despite everything you knew Astarion would never really hurt you.

"I was hoping we could talk like the old friends we are and come to an agreement. If not, this will become less Civil." You state taking a step forward. He hums crimson gaze remaining locked on your form.

Astarion after a moment to let the words settle chuckled more than amused from your statement. You're sure he was thinking how you were always the diplomat, always wanting a peaceful solution. He often commented on your more calm methods which drove his sanity and patience to no end. Even before his ascension he truly struggled with the idea of humanity, of kindness.

"Hah, you think you can come to me, in my palace, my domain, and demand me to listen to you?" He chuckled darkly, standing up from the throne. As he loomed over you, his steps were silent. His presence domineering. He walked closer to you but you didn't stand down, eyes staring back at him refusing to bow to his whims. "I know your game, darling. You think you can sweet talk me, with your pretty little words. But I'm not the weak spawn you know from all that time ago. You have no power over me.” He states firmly stopping only a foot or so away from you in all his vampiric elegance.

You could reach out and touch him, he was so close and so you do.

A small smile reaches your lips as your hand lands on his chest. He was taller than you, not that you ever minded. "Really?" You hummed not at all afraid as he tried to be imposing. Your stern attitude faded, replaced with a coy playfulness that always got you exactly what you wanted from him. "You don't still want a pretty little consort?" You question teasing him, your hand becoming two fingers as you walk your hand up his chest.

As Astarion stiffens under your touch clearly not expecting that he suddenly smirked, willing to play the game. Pressing himself closer your hand moves from his chest and instead reaches up to brush against his cheek. Astarions eyes widen at your bold move and as you smile softly you know he wasn't expecting this. "I did miss you Astarion. Was all of this to get my attention?" You question in a teasing tone a mischievous look in your eye as you tilt your head and flutter your lashes.

His cheeks flush ever so slightly and his eyes focused on you with an intensity that would leave others trembling. He was completely caught off guard at your words; your affections. Astarion had expected you to simply grovel for your precious city or to immediately get on with your demands. Yet here you were, after all this time teasing him and touching him so tenderly. Lovingly. Like you once did. And here he was leaning into your touch realizing how much he missed it. How much he missed you.

Astarion realizing what you're doing hissed in frustration. He grabbed your wrist, his grip tight, but not painful as he forced your hand away from his face. "Don't play coy with me. We’re both smarter than that.” He warned.

"I'm being truthful!” You protest feigning innocence but if you really looked at your behavior, analyzed your words, apart of it wasn't acting. You did mean what you were saying. You missed him. “I did want to visit you! You never invited me to any of your fancy balls and you never gave me a proper Summons. I'm not much of a party crasher but then people's safety became an issue." You hum before pausing. Grabbing his hand again you smile at Astarion with a knowing look. "No Ring despite your many suitors. Are you waiting for someone?" You question.

Astarion allowed you to grab his hand. Despite having the ability to pull away or harm you for touching him he was completely enraptured by you, by the way you toyed with him.

"Many suitors, yes, perhaps." He replied, rolling his eyes in faux annoyance, but there was a pang of… was it jealousy? Irritation. You saw a brief expression depicting his real emotions before he hid behind a mask of indifference. He hated himself for feeling anything about you but here he was and there you were. Feeling. He gritted his teeth and you just smiled, making him huff. "None I would consider keeping, at any rate. And certainly none with your… charm." He finally settles on, his crimson eyes scanning your face for a reaction.

You hummed before glancing backwards looking around his empty throne room that gradually transformed into a ballroom. Your hand was still holding his and you couldn't help but really take in the beauty of this place, dragging him slightly as you walked away.

Astarion had completely restored the once in ruins castle. Cazadors palace was no more, no this was the Anuncins Crimson Palace now and it was beautiful, truly a work of art. Of course you expected nothing less from Astarion and his lavish lifestyle.

The spawn now a true vampire always did have a taste for the finer things in life. And despite being terrible at planning once upon a time he gained confidence when he Ascended and that confidence led to plans that were now more than ambition and ideals. Astarion always was smarter than people gave him credit for.

"You owe me a dance." You state pulling on his hand to drag him further on the dance floor as you give him a playful look.

Astarion's lips curled into a smirk as you spoke. He was clearly amused by your demand, and yet watching him closely, he had no intentions of saying no.

"Oh, I do~?" He asked, though he was already leading you to the center of the room. One hand was at your waist, as the other one held your hand. "And who do I owe it to Lordship…?” He questions wanting a last name, wanting to know if his favorite party leader ever settled down.

“An old friend.” You hum and he smiles tilting his head.

“just a friend?” He questions and you swallow changing the subject.

"... 7,000 souls was a steep price to pay Astarion. But I hope you know that isn't the only reason I felt like I had to leave. I still care about you, I always will." You state firmly as he begins to dance with you. His grip tightening slightly as he thinks about you slipping through his fingers again. "I'm a little frustrated you stopped all communication you know. I sent letters asking how you were, wanting to know if you were doing okay. I asked your thraals if I could have a meeting with you whenever I was in town, but they always denied me." You state pouting at him.

Astarions brows suddenly furrowed as he almost stopped dancing. His eyes hardened, seeming to process something. Letters? Meetings? Observing his face you realize that was news to him.

“You don't exactly have an address.” He finally responds, his calculating gaze never leaving you as you dance together.

"You know I've never been one for Nobel Life. I prefer the Nomadic and Adventurer life style. I agree I moved around a lot but you could've found me. A Ball would've been nice. I've always loved to dance and I've always loved to see you happy." You hum softly smiling as he spins you.

Astarion's eyes narrowed as you said this, his mind racing to think of a reason for why he hadn't received any letters. Could someone be… preventing him from seeing you? His spawn were connected to him, but they had free will. Astarion wasn't Cazador. Studying him his grip on you became tighter as you continued to dance. Your eyes glanced at the sudden death grip and he only relaxed when you mentioned how you preferred the life of a nomad and adventurer. Old memories seemed to spark in his mind.

"Yes, I do remember that. No doubt you were traipsing across the countryside, getting yourself into trouble and endangering your own life while I was here surrounded by finery and luxury.” He hums his gaze soft as he takes in your visage.

"I'm still here!" You respond a smile on your face before you squeal as Astarion spins you suddenly. "This is hard without music. I'm lost on the steps-" You giggle as you catch yourself from stumbling and Astarion hummed bringing you closer to nuzzle against your exposed neck.

He chuckled as you squealed, his grip on you becoming tight and possessive once more. His nose nuzzled your neck, as he took a good whiff of you, taking in your natural scent. You could feel the longing in his touch, the need in his body. He wanted to bite you so badly…

"Lost, you say?” He whispers against your ear. I'm surprised you remember the steps at all. I thought I remembered having to correct your footwork every few seconds and how you stepped on my poor shoes." He teased, trying to get a rise out of you.

"I've already said sorry! I was drunk and was trying to impress you!" You retort before giggling as Astarion dips you. "You are doing the dance wrong on purpose to get a rise out of me." You observe before lightly smacking his chest. As you laugh he pulls you to your feet and spins you again. "Your trying to make me dizzy!" You complain but it's clear from your laugh you're having fun. Despite the danger you did miss Astarion.

Astarion laughed with you, continuing the dance as he spun you once more, before bringing your body as close as possible to his chest. "Now, why would I try to get a rise out of you?~" He asked, feigning innocence.

He was very much taking advantage of this opportunity to hold you close. Too close perhaps.

As he gazed at you longingly you swallowed. It had been so long since he'd felt your body against his. Something in his eyes told you it had been too long- and that he wanted to savor every second of it. He was certainly being touchy.

You smile and lean against his chest. Putting your shoes on top of his so he can hold you and glide the two of you across the ballroom floor you decide to let your worries fade away for now.

He pulls you closer, still keeping the guise of the dance as he leaned down to nuzzle against your neck again. Astarion took a deep breath in, taking in your scent, your warmth, and the flutter of your pulse against his lips. He had missed all of this far more than he was willing to admit. And maybe you were the same.

His lips were pressed delicately against the skin of your neck, and he could feel your shuddering breaths against his chest each time he exhaled, but he was hesitant to kiss you, to taste you.

"Stari?" You question a slight laugh to your tone.

“Mhm?” He hummed in response, his face shifting to bury itself within your hair, enjoying the closeness you shared more than anything else.

His hand moved lower, from the small of your back to just above your hip, holding you tightly, afraid of you slipping away…

His lips hovered over your neck again, almost touching your skin as he waited for you to speak. His fangs were out, and they itched, begging to sink into your soft, supple skin.

"I missed you..." You whisper softly before hiding your face in his chest. "I really really missed you..."

"I missed you too..." He mirrored back softly, as his arms wrapped tight around you, holding you as close as he could. His hand reached up, to cup your chin and gently lift your head up to look at him.

He was staring into your eyes intently, studying every little detail of you that he could. Memorizing it all. "You can't imagine how much I've missed you... My darling.” He purrs softly.

As his lips press against yours, the dancing stops and your body goes limp in his hold, melting into his touch. You lower your guard...

Before you can realize what he's doing and stop him Astarion takes off the amulet protecting you from his vampiric enthrall powers. As you pull away from the kiss your eyes widen and you make a desperate grab for the amulet. It was a gift from Gale and Wyll to keep you safe during the negotiation with Astarion. Something that made it so the vampire couldn't enthrall or mind control you. "Stari-" You whine and he hums wagging it infront of your face.

As he removed the amulet from your neck, the look of surprise, perhaps even fear that flashed within your eyes, was something he couldn't help but enjoy.

"Sorry darling, did you think I wouldn't have a way around such.. protections?" He asked mockingly a smirk plastered across his features.

He ran his thumb across your cheek, his touch gentle, his motions almost loving as he stared into your eyes. Now that you were under his enthrall he was going to make sure you'd stay that way this time.

As he tucked away the amulet his other hand which had been tangled in your hair moved to your chin. His grip was tight as he forced you to look upwards at him but not bruising, never bruising.

His gaze was intense and his pupils blown wide at having won. He could see the pulse on your neck as your words really sunk in. You missed him, you really missed him and now he had you…

"You should have never left in the first place~" He said softly, his tone mocking as it was his turn to tease you. As he leaned down and placed a soft, fleeting kiss on your forehead a shiver traveled through your body.

You had never truly seen him like this. Sure, he was commanding in bed, but he was never in complete control, you always had some agency and say in what happened.

Now, you stood completely powerless against him. And the way he stared down at you, a smug smirk on his face, was making your heart beat faster for the first time in a long time.

His lips met your forehead in another gentle yet mocking kiss, as if telling you that he had you wrapped around his finger.

"Astarion-" You grit through your teeth.

"It's your turn to listen love." He hums softly playing with your hair.

Astarion smiled at you, his hand twirling a lock of your hair, as he regarded you with mock sympathy. "... Now now darling, don't start complaining. You should have learned your lesson by now." He hums seeing your pout.

He leaned down, his hand at your chin, forcing eye contact as he whispered in your ear. "You are mine now. No more leaving.” He states. “No more leaving my sight. No more disappearing and getting yourself into trouble. No more not knowing where you are. I'm going to keep you here, by my side, where you belong.” He finishes before pecking your lips.

"Astarion." You repeat through grit teeth fighting his control and he paused. His Darling had a fight in them others didn't. He'd give you that. He continues playing with your hair but he doesn't ask you to stop talking. He's clearly curious to see what you'll say. "You want me? I want you just as much. You can have me." You state grabbing at his shirt. Astarions eyes widened slightly surprised by your boldness. "But we need to talk." You beg your hands tightening their grip.

Astarion's composure faltered for a moment, as you words hit him. He hadn't expected you to be… forward about this. You were supposed to be begging on your knees for him. Not…

He regained his composure quickly enough, though. He was the one in control here, and he made sure his voice reflected that.

"Talk? Oh my dear, that's the last thing we need to be doing right now." His hand moved from your chin, to grab your wrist, gently yet firmly, intending to take you off somewhere more intimate and private.

"STOP. Listen." You hiss and Astarion pauses. "I love you. So Listen." You beg making him stiffen.

Astarion's expression hardened for a moment, as you suddenly snapped at him, ordered him to listen, to stop. He had meant to lead you away, but now he stood still, listening to your words.

"…Very well. Talk." He replied, his grip on your wrist tightening just enough to be noticeable, a show of power.

You took a deep breath, it felt like a heaviness in your chest had lifted. Like you were no longer trapped.

Your eyes widened as you looked up. Astarion hummed and moved some hair out of your face. His red eyes focused on your hair as he played with it. He had dropped the enthrall. You had his attention.

Astarion smirked as your eyes widened, his fingers running through the locks of your hair, a casual gesture, almost… affectionate.

"Well, my darling, you have my attention. Make sure that whatever's on your mind, you're very clear about it." His voice was low and smooth, his gaze fixed on your face, studying your expression with his calculating gaze.

"I don't care that people are dying. I understand you and your Spawn need to feed. But Astarion it's Fathers, Mother's, Children." You state quickly and Astarion stiffens.

Children? That was obviously news to him. He forbade his spawn from touching kids. Astarion's expression darkened at your words- at the mention of children. "What?" He questioned, his voice low, an almost dangerous tone to his words. "Spawn are forbidden from drinking from or taking children." He said slowly, his grip on your wrist tightening at theaccusation.

He was more than aware that most people thought of him as a monster, and he'd never cared all that much. But the idea that his spawn had gone against his direct orders…

"Astarion. Children and Orphans. Young ones are going missing. If they are in the orphanage they are safe. But if they are on the street, especially at night, they're going missing." You explain softly. "Wyll and I have a deal for you. Please consider it or it will be war." You beg your hands gripping his suit tightly. "I dont... I don't want to lose you." You plead tears appearing in your eyes at the thought.

Astarion's expression remained grim, his frown deepening as you spoke. The thought of children, of children being targeted… it didn't sit well with him. But he felt a sense of anger at the thought of a deal, of a negotiation.

"What kind of deal are you talking about?" He asked, his voice still low- but there was curiosity now, a hint of intrigue, despite his anger in their interference.

"Either the spawn conversion rate or spawn drinking rate is too high. People are dying in numbers Baldur's Gate can't keep up with.” You state.

Astarion let out a frustrated huff, his grip still tight on you wrist, though he wasn't hurting you - he knew not to, in this situation- but he was struggling to control himself. He would not be threatened.

"What exactly is the 'deal' being proposed, then?" He asked again, his eyes boring into your, demanding a more concrete answer this time.

"You are an important part of Baldur's Gate now. The Crimson palace keeps half the economy in Baldur's Gate going with the number of people you hire and the trade and exports you bring in."

Astarion raises an eyebrow at your words, his initial annoyance slowly shifting towards curiosity. It was… an interesting point. One that he hadn't been expecting.

"And what would this 'deal' involve on my part?" He asked, his expression softening slightly. "Money? Slaves? What's the price?”

"Wyll wants an exact number of your spawn and your workforce. He would like names to match with the dead so he can send letters to families and proper compensation. I know you give your spawn traditional burials and compensation for their deaths. I know that you're not your old master. That when you overdrink and kill someone money appears on their families door. That the body is properly taken care of. You're not as cruel as you pretend to be." You say softy and Astarion stiffens.

He huffs at the accusation of being kind but a small part of him knows your right. He nuzzles against your warm neck trying to soothe himself. Your warm body and gentle pulse is a balm on his otherwise injured ego. Despite the stakes your heart doesn't race. You still aren't afraid of him and he's glad that after all this time you trust him.

Astarion remains motionless for a moment, his chin resting atop your shoulder. The idea of providing exact numbers felt like a weakness, a show of vulnerability. For a moment, he wanted to refuse, to take offense at your request. But he couldn't. Not when you were standing there, being so… understanding. Your warning, your trust, it had gotten to him.

"Very well." He said, with only a hint of reluctance in his voice. "I'll provide a list of the spawn, as well as the deaths.”

"I want whoever drank from the children dead." You add softly. "Whoever killed them needs to be on trial for their crimes." You add. “You typically punish your spawn as they are your people but whoever did this. I want them.”

Astarion let out a low, growling groan. Dealing with spawn was like herding cats as it was, and the thought of a trial… it felt like an unnecessary hassle. Just a political game. And not a fun one.

"Very well, I'll have the offenders identified and... dealt with." He grumbled, the anger slowly fading into resigned acceptance. It was a fair condition - as much as he hated it.

"Now I want to discuss ethical blood letting and donation." You shift the conversation to the actual deal part. What Astarion gets from agreeing. "That's what Wyll and I are willing to give you in exchange for all this information and corporation." You state gaining more confidence now that you felt like he was truly listening.

Astarion lifted his head, his expression intrigued, listening intently as you spoke. The mention of blood donations was… unexpected.

"Oh, do continue- I'm very curious to see how you think this will work." He said, as a sly smirk made its way onto his face.

"I've done the math with Gale and Wyll. Criminals are typically hanged in Baldur's Gate. There's almost a hanging a day. Same on the Sword Coast in various cities. Your spawn may feed on them. You can keep them alive in your dungeons or drain them in one go if they have the death penalty. Criminals will be delivered directly to you. It will make crime go down, it will save innocent people from being killed. Those that have sentences and are staying in jail will give up blood once or twice a week to not exhaust or kill them. They'll be fed exceptional diets and will exercise to keep their blood healthy and clean of disease. If you have a more expensive taste Nobles have offered to trade blood for favors. It's dubious but far more ethical than random murders." You offer

Astarion hums, contemplating the proposal. His fingers brush against your cheek as he stares into your eyes. It was... not terrible, he had to admit. Criminals and prisoners being given as food... it was not a bad idea.

"And the Nobility? What is their idea of a 'favor' exactly?" He questions curious his thumb brushing your bottom lip.

He didn't trust the nobles as far as he could throw them and he doesn't believe they'll make good on their word to give blood.

"Land extensions, tax breaks, laws being passed." You explain. "Wyll will be overseeing that project. The size of the favor will depend on the longevity of their donation." You add. "Basically, we're creating a new currency. One of blood rather than Gold. Does that make sense?"

Blood debts was a new one. Astarion signed feeling your warm flesh under his cold touch. He had been rather sloppy with his spawn conversion as of late and he knew it'd bite him sooner or later. The amount he was creating… making a more accurate account of his growing number of subjects was an imposing task he had been ignoring. One that now seemed appealing considering this system would make sure they were all fed without allowing them to go feral on the streets at night.

But there was something else he wanted.

Astarion's lips curled into a small smirk as you explained your idea. Blood debts... it was a unique idea, and one he could certainly see it working.

"You know love, you're quite smart when you want to be." He said, as his thumb brushed your lip again. "There is only one small, additional detail I'd like to add.” He purrs, leaning in close.

As he smirked down at you, you rolled your eyes. "Yes Astarion?" You question already knowing what he'd ask for.

He hummed softly, amused at your annoyance, before gently brushing a lock of hair away from your face. His touch still surprisingly gentle, almost sensual.

"Oh, you already know what I will say darling." He hums, his smirk widening into a devilish grin. "I was serious before. No more going off on your own little adventures. You'll stay here with me, where I can keep an eye on you at all times.”

"I want to be your official consort and I want to oversee the prisoner project." You state firmly. "Or no deal.”

Astarion's smirk faltered for a moment at your declaration though he quickly regained his composure, his gaze hardening slightly. He hadn't expected you to demand something like that in return - to try to negotiate with him so boldly. And yet it wouldn't be you if you didn't. His finger tapped your lip.

"Oh, you're quite the little negotiator now, are you? It's adorable, really." He purred his tone slightly mocking, but with a hint of genuine... fondness? "Fine. You may oversee the prisoners. But don't think that means you can go running off on any adventures when I'm not looking.” Astarion states. “Wyll can come here, you won't be leaving the castle or going back to sword coast. You'll stay. With me.” He hummed his lips hovering over yours as he went to kiss you. You frown not done yet before you lean back to keep him away for just a moment longer.

"As your consort you'll turn me then?” You clarify. “I don't want to be a thrall Astarion. I'd rather be dead than just another pawn in this game you play. A body you use. You will make me a True Vampire, if I'm your consort I'm your partner. We'll be committed. There'll be a vampire bride and vampire rites ceremony. There's no going back. Things will change." You list your demands staring in his eyes as he looks at your lips.

Astarion chuckled softly at your words, a smirk still plastered across his face. He'd known this was coming, had thought about it often before. He'd even rehearsed his response.

But you were so adamant, so demanding, and he couldn't help but find it endearing.

"So you want to be my partner, my darling consort for all eternity ~" He purred, moving closer, pinning you against his body. One hand was planted firmly on your back as you were dipped slightly. The other hand rested on your chin forcing you to look directly at him as he leaned in. "It's quite the commitment you're asking for~”

As he smirked down at you, you rolled your eyes. But there was a fondness in them, a gentle playfulness in the action rather than true annoyance. As his hand moved from your chin to your cheek you melted into his touch. You tilted your neck slightly giving him an open invitation. "I know exactly what I'm asking for. Are you willing to give it?" You question.

He smiled his lips centimeters above yours. When you leaned in he finally closed the distance giving you a proper kiss. The feeling made your body tremble. Melting into him, into his hold, a warmth started in your chest that spread throughout your body. As Astarion pulled away his lips left a soft trial of kisses to your neck until he paused over your jugular.

His lips hovered. He was close enough he could smell your blood, feel the subtle thrum of your pulse against his tongue. You were taunting him, teasing him, and he loved every second of it.

"Am I willing to give it?" He breathed, his nose nuzzling against your pulse point, as he held you tightly in his arms practically drooling. "Oh my darling, for you, I'll give you anything you want.” He promised.

You nodded and that's all Astarion needed. The bite was more painful than you remembered and you whimpered slightly as his fangs sunk into your neck. But despite the adrenaline from the pain you felt completely safe in Astarions arms. He wouldn't harm you. And that painful sensation slowly turned to euphoric bliss as you realized that.

Astarion's arms wrapped tight around you, holding you close as he fed on you. Your blood, your scent, your taste... it was all just as he remembered. Just as addictive as the first time he'd fed from you. How he missed it while you were away.

As your blood filled his mouth, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of possessiveness as he held you in his arms, as your life essence flowed within him, bonding the two of you. He was feeding on you... and he'd never let you go.

As your eyes fluttered from how much he was drinking Astarion pulled away gently kissing the wound as you collapsed in his arms dizzy from the blood loss and pleasure. As he smiled down at you he returned your necklace. He was only half being serious when he took it earlier. If you were staying he supposed he didn't need to keep it.

He softly kissed his bite mark on you. You wanted a Vampire Bridal Ceremony and a Vampires Rites Ceremony.

He'd keep you human until then. Feed on you a few more times and really savor your sweetness until you were turned like him.

"Stari..." You mumble softly your vision slowly fading out.

Astarion caught you as you nearly collapsed. He held you tight in his arms. There was something almost... tender about the way he held you gently, as if you were the most precious thing in the world. Surrounded by all this opulence and his only waking thoughts were always of you.

His lips placed a gentle kiss on your forehead as you murmured his name in your dazed state. "Hush, my darling. Rest now." He said softly. "I'll take you back to my room and keep you safe. When you wake up we can... discuss the ceremony and our future.” He promised.

As he shifted you to cradle you against him you hummed content. "I missed you..." You repeat fading into unconsciousness the bite mark now feeling numb as the pain slowly melted away.

Astarion's heart fluttered at those simple words. He smiled and adjusted you as he held you tightly in his arms. Hearing you say that you missed him... after he'd spent so long wondering if you ever wanted to see him again... it was like music to his ears.

"I missed you too... my darling consort." He gently cooed before he carried you through the halls of his palace, headed towards his and now your bedroom.

[windvexer]

Hiya Chicken, hope all is well with you! Something’s been on my mind and I would love your perspective.

The thrust of it is: can the will of the universe (if there is such a thing) override spellwork?

For context, I lost my job earlier this year, and have been working some magic to get re-employed (along with a metric shit ton of mundane legwork). None of it has been fruitful, and in attempting to troubleshoot, I realized that several of my spells had conditions along the lines of “this new job will serve my highest and best self.”

I’m still a novice at casting – frankly, I’ve not had much success with *any* magic (😞) – so I’m guessing the more immediately pertinent issue has to do with raising power/magical headspace. But, I’m curious if that nebulous “highest and best” would get in the way of producing results.

Also, where exactly does that language originate?? I think I’ve seen it when people talk about petitioning the universe for guidance, or getting in touch with your purpose/path in this life, but is that from a certain tradition or set of beliefs? And if everyone has a pre-determined purpose (or something else that counts as becoming your highest and best self), would including such a statement cause spells to fail if whatever you’re casting for doesn’t align with that purpose? Because real talk, my unemployment has run out and I don’t have time to wait for the highest and best job any more.

Thanks so much for your time, I appreciate you!!

It's New Age.

FUCK your highest/best self.

Even if it exists it can go suck a room temperature limp pickle.

Bear with me my guy. Let's be bears together, peacefully watching the sunrise of this idea over the serene forests of wisdom:

What in the good fuck is the point of being a witch if not to DO WHAT YOU WANT TO DO REGARDLESS OF WHAT THE SHIT UNIVERSE HAS DELEGATED FOR YOU.

It is changing fate.

It is CHANGING FATE.

WITCHCRAFT IS CHANGING FATE.

THEREFORE HOW CAN YOU DO THAT IF YOU JUST ASK THE UNIVERSE TO KEEP DOING WHAT ITS DOING?!

"Hi I believe in this life I have been assigned a True Goal and Best Outcome. I don't know what it is! The Universe could decide it's in my best interest to never escape poverty so my soul can learn some shit. But whatever this Best Outcome is, I will obey it :) blindly :) Spells, go do my bidding! But not if they change my fate. I'm on those train tracks, baybeee. Full speed ahead towards the same place I've been going since birth."

YOUR SPIRITUALITY FOR HOW YOU CHOOSE TO STRIVE TO BE A GOOD PERSON, AND THE PERSONAL WORK YOU DO TO BETTER YOURSELF, SHOULD PROBABLY BE INTENTIONAL I BET.

What is your highest good? Because I kind of feel like you shouldn't leave that up to a nebulous force you don't understand. My guy, and I mean this in the best possible way, you don't even know the widely popular faith (New Age) these beliefs are coming from. I don't think you understand this concept of The Universe; and yet you seem to be willing to place your fate in its hands.

And I think you may also be horrified by the realization that you are ceding autonomy of your ambitions, your goals, your needs, even the very core of your morality, to some fucking Power or Presence or whatever.

What is your highest good? I'm sorry, I mean this genuinely - you do not get to let someone else decide that for you. We all have to read some philosophy and smoke weed and look at the stars with friends and decide for ourselves what it means to be a good person who lives well. Many of us will grapple with this our entire lives.

There is no shortcut. You can't be your best self by doing whatever you want and delegating the decision making to some outside force, hoping that a smarter and more benevolent power will just cancel out any bad decisions you make based on a rubric you don't understand.

If we do have Highest Selves and soul evolution, I do not believe we can evolve based on always letting someone else make the final call for us.

YOU CAN HAVE GUIDANCE. You can have help. You can have plenty of it!!

That's what the witch's familiar is for. That's what tutelary spirits are for. That's why so many people turn to gods for guidance. You can research someone, or ask for a specific kind of help, and say, "hi I want to cast a job spell but I don't know sorcery great, can someone help me craft this so that I don't end up doing something disastrous?"

That's what I do all the time! I'll be about to do some stupid shit about twice a week, but the spirits who love me and help me are like, "Hey! please do not do that sweaty :) That would be Bad," and I listen to them, because they are not nebulous faraway forces; they are my very good friends whom I have known for years and trust completely.

But at the end of the day, they can't make decisions for you. A very creepy truth, that I believe is actually true, is that gods and spirits of Witchcraft will not make decisions for you. They will not cancel out spells if it's not in your "highest good." They will let you do anything you want in your own worst interest.

They will help you and they will guide you. But it's like I said: you can't end up being your best self by doing whatever and hoping someone else picks up the slack.

I don't think it's possible to ever achieve any highest good or best self by never making an actual decision.

And that's what it is, I think. That's what it is when you say, "let me have a job if someone else thinks it's a good idea."

That's not your decision. That's not your choice. That's not your power. That's raising your hand in the back of class and hoping teacher will call on you.

Fuck the Universe. Fuck the highest good. How about some of that live deliciously shit? When do YOU get to eat? Your highest self must be stuffed at the table of delicacies harvested from every moment of your life that you sacrifice to it while you are here with your unemployment run out.

Look in The Universe's eye and tell it to start calling you daddy.

Command. Do not ask, do not intend. Force; compel. Dominate.

next I visualize that the candle is full of prosperous energies if Earth-Goddess wills it in my highest good- NO.

"Listen to me. Listen to me, Earth. Listen to me, Sky. Listen to me, my own Soul. For 27 goddamn years I have been doing whatever I think you want me to do. Now you're all going to do what I want to do. It is not my normal voice that speaks, but the voice of my power. The power within me laces every word, it seeps into the air like water into paper."

Do you feel like someone is suddenly squeezing you by the throat? Do words suddenly become hard to find? Do you feel a bit dizzy? Do you have a strange moment where you can't remember why you started any of this, like you're not sure how you got there? You're on the right track.

"On this day of Jupiter, on this hour of Jupiter, I am giving a command. I command that the magical pathways of this candle be opened, so that the free-flowing and freely given benevolent powers of Jupiter will empower and charge my spell."

(Do not command Jupiter, of course. We're engaging in a little courageousness, not trying to get struck by lightning)

"I do not need to visualize the movement of energies. I know the truth because I have commanded the truth and I am a creator god born into this flesh: The candle is filled with the power of a God, I have the ability to channel the freely-given power of one of the Seven Governors whom has been worshiped by humans since the start of time, it is here and I have claimed it as is my right, as was offered to me:

This candle spell will bring me the fate I desire, because I have designed that it will occur, and no god, spirit, beast, or man will stand in my way."

It should feel fucked up, my friend. It should give you stage fright. It should make your palms sweat and your stomach queasy. It should give you the same emotional sensation as having a heartbreaking conversation that you know will change a relationship forever.

Sorry, reality. Sorry, fate. It's just not working out. And since we can't get divorced, you two need to shape up your act because right now I'm in charge of this polycule. When the spell is over, we can be equals again.

And if you do it right, it should make you have to sleep for probably about a week. If your health allows it of course, I recommend not trying to restrict carb intake for the next few days. Keep headache medicine on hand also.

Thank you for being a bear with me. I hope you enjoyed this serene forest of wisdom.

[cacophony-eg]

Okay so saw the trailer for Season 5 of LMK and the discord that is happening. So I did a little research and here’s some information all LMK fans should be aware of. (EDIT: new information has come forth)

Link (One of the people who worked on Monkie Kid at FlyingBark has now made a statement, I’ve rebloged the tweet for anyone who may not have access to twitter)

Looks like it’s official that Flying Bark will no longer be working on LMK.

https://issuu.com/brunico-issuu/docs/kidscreen_febmar23_lowres/s/18007818 (<- Link to article)

It looks like LEGO has given WildBrain studios the license to LMK for the next 2 seasons plus a Special.

(It has been shown to me, that I have mis interpreted the information in the Kidscreen article and I apologize for that. I was trying to find some string of answers and jumped onto the first thread of evidence I could find.

What does remain true is WildBrains credentials and to please not point your annoyance, frustration, and disappointment onto either of the animation studios, or their staff, if your goal is for better animation your best corse of action is still to push LEGO company about it)

Now first off I want to say that The Vancouver studio they are talking about is pretty good, they used to be DHX and the part of DHX that did My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, along with Carmen Sandiego, so they do know how to animate 2D pretty well but it’s all rigged 2D either done through Flash or Harmony, so doubtful we will get the kind of battle animation we got from Barks studios.

PLEASE don’t stop supporting or watching LMK that’s not going to help, it’s probably already set in stone that WildBrain will have LMK for the at least the next 2 seasons plus special, also don’t attack WildBrain that’s like complaining to a cashier about how a store is run don’t do that. Also don’t go after the show runners(ie: writers); they are the cashier supervisors; When it comes to massive properties like LEGO, they have no control over who the company hires to be cashiers.

If you're going to complain to anyone, complain to LEGO company, (the part that has control over shows, not the one that has control over lego sets). Now don’t say things like “if you keep this studio I’m gonna stop watching Monkie Kid and buying your merch” don’t do this it will only cause LEGO to drop the show, if a show doesn’t have the view numbers or the merch numbers, they’ll drop the show regardless of the praise or complains about said show.

Question Lego about their choices, request Lego for animation the same quality as the previous season, question lego how to get flybark’s animation back.(new info has come in, please read link to twitter statement or the reblog of the twitter statement)

Please reblog this, or screen shot and repost what I am saying; this is the one case where I give permission. I know a lot of fans are spinning (Me included) right now and I don’t want anyone to take out their annoyance, frustration and disappointment on the wrong people.

[monsterlets]

conversation tip for autistic people, from an autistic linguist

if you've ever run into this dilemma:

you are telling someone a story or informing them about something. there is a piece of information that you are not sure if they already know or not, but they need to know it in order for the rest of what you're saying to make sense. you are now trying to guess based on nothing. if you tell them and they already knew, they might think you're insulting their intelligence (or just that it was weird that you thought they wouldn't know). if you don't tell them and they didn't already know, then they'll feel lost

you can get around this with presuppositions

a presupposition is a piece of information in a sentence that is not the main point of the sentence, but that must be true in order for the sentence as a whole to be true. this is very dependent on where in the sentence the information is

for example:

you're telling someone a story about a mutual friend. the only way this story makes sense is if the listener knows that the friend's dad used to be a doctor. you don't know if they know that

this is a direct statement: "her dad used to be a doctor"

the main point of this sentence is "her dad used to be a doctor", but more importantly it's obviously the main point of the sentence. if they think you should assume they already knew that, that is now at the front of their mind. and they might think you're implying that they're not close to your mutual friend

here is a sentence with a presupposition: "when her dad was a doctor, he saw this really weird thing"

the main point of this sentence is "he saw this really weird thing". "her dad was a doctor" is just background information. not only that, but including information as a presupposition implies that you thought they already knew it

if they did in fact already know, they might not even register the fact that you mentioned it again, or if they do it wouldn't seem out of place. they just breeze right past it and on to the rest of the sentence

if they didn't know, they likely won't think that much about it since you didn't call much attention to it, and even if they take note of it they'll at least think you assumed the best of them. at this point one of three things is likely to happen (from most to least likely):

they just quickly assimilate the information into their worldview and move on to interpreting the rest of the sentence

it blows their mind so much that they ask you to explain. which is a great outcome imo

it threatens their worldview so strongly that they cannot move past it. at this point they may get mad at you, but it's not because of what you implied they knew or didn't know - it's because they just strongly disagree with you, and they were gonna get mad regardless of how you said it. this will rarely come up unless you're talking about a particularly polarizing/emotionally charged topic

note: as I said, where you put the information in the sentence matters a lot. coordinating conjunctions connect two main ideas. the sentence "her dad used to be a doctor, and he saw this really weird thing" has two main ideas. and one of them is the one that you wanted to not be a main idea

if you want more examples of the forms presuppositions can take with more technical descriptions, wikipedia has a pretty good list

also note, this is a guideline, not a rule. it's hard to go wrong with it, but if you know what you're doing you can break it

for instance, if I am not talking about anything personal, just telling someone about a special interest, I'll do different things depending on how niche the information is

if I know something is common knowledge (ex: t rex was a predator) then I'll either not mention it, or if I think it's something they need to not only know but be actively thinking about for the rest of it to make sense, then I will remind them with a presupposition

if I know something is not entirely common knowledge, but I have at some point seen people who are not deep into the topic talking about it ("dimetrodon was more closely related to mammals than dinosaurs") then I might just straight up ask them if they know that, since it doesn't say anything about them as a person other than what random information they happened to come across

if it's something you almost certainly wouldn't know about without being deep into the topic, I just say it. if they do happen to know about it it's because they randomly heard it and they probably wouldn't think it's weird that I assumed they didn't know (note: in this situation do not say anything along the lines of "you probably wouldn't know this" "this is so niche". just say the information)

you might have noticed that I haven't been following the guideline in this post either. this is for a couple reasons

I'm not talking to specific people, I'm writing for a broad audience. generally when you say things people already knew in that context they're like "well I didn't need that spelled out for me, but I guess somebody does"

I am not aiming this at neurotypicals, and I assume that you'll appreciate me being as explicit as I can regardless of how much you already knew

[fairuzfan]

I’m a genocide historian and I do think comparisons between the Holocaust and the genocide in Palestine are unproductive because A) the Holocaust is pretty distinct from Palestinian genocide not in its exceptionalism but in its method - the “shipping” of victims from 20+ countries by international rail to a handful of centralized killing sites; 15000 people being gassed in Auschwitz daily (a single gas chamber had standing capacity for 2,000 people) and their stolen hair sold in bales for use as maritime rope and cushion stuffing - and forcing Holocaust parallels obfuscates the terrible and very unique methods of genocide being used by Israel against Palestinians. B) People often invoke the Holocaust as an emotional appeal regarding the moral culpability of all Jews (“how could you do what was done to your ancestors!”) when the same responsibility to end the genocide in Palestine exists regardless of one’s background or religion.

What Israel is doing in Palestine is 100% a genocide. Whether or not it is similar to the Holocaust (or any previous atrocity) does not make this any more or less true.

The thing that doesn't make sense to me with this point is that no one is saying that the Holocaust and Palestinian genocide are a 1:1 comparison. Like most people acknowledge the terrible genocide that occurred in the Holocaust against all its victims. But when they're talking about comparing genocides, there are tell tale signs that repeat throughout history that are precursers to larger events. Like when people compare the Warsaw ghetto to Gaza. I'd say those are quite similar in practice and intention. When we "compare" genocides (not a 1:1 but more of a drawing parellels by disecting the inteion and reasoning behind certain events that werent necessarily actively violent but passively violent) its to show "hey this is going to get really bad really soon because something like this happened before." Masha Gessen has an article about this that I reblogged.

People should care about fighting injustice everywhere I agree. But that doesn't change the fact that parallel drawing is an act separate from emotional invocation. When genocide scholars and survivors talk about "Hey this was like xyz that happened to me/in history" it's to show that there is precedent for this thinking and a terrible methodology happening when genocides occur. They dont just get really bad out of nowhere, you need to examine the precursors to prevent the large event from happening. How that large event happens differs from place to place, I agree. But to say that because things happen differently against different people means you can't examine the underlying reasons behind those actions is kind of reductive. By this definition you can never compare any genocide ever and all the terrible things that happen just happen naturally without any political or social influence.

Arnesa talks about how the Bosnian genocide precursors mirror the Palestinian genocide. She also talks about how Lula specifically should have mentioned other genocides (like Rwanda, Bosnia, etc) in his statement because there are parallels there too. I'd argue that's the real intention behind genocide studies, in that you notice trends and patterns to analyze how certain events might turn out.

I do want to mention because this is where im coming from a little bit, it is a pretty big zionist talking point (by especially American dems) saying you can't compare the holocaust to what's happening to Palestinians because it's antisemitic, which is not a real talking point and actually kind of rude in that it assumes that Palestinians can't call out parallels between their treatment and the treatment of those in the Holocaust because they're fundamentally doing it from a point of antisemitism and not a plea for recognition that the events are mirroring each other.

[levyfiles]

some people are mad at steven for a moral issue, tbf. regardless of your thoughts on watcher’s streaming service he did still say he has racist and homophobic friends. he still goes to a homophobic church.

STEVEN LIM??? OF WATCHER ENTERTAINMENT??? HOMOPHOBIC???

I assume that you must have been recently introduced to The Pod Clip that the twitter teens who hate him preserved to break out whenever it's a fresh moment to rally hate against him, but I would advise anyone just receiving this clip from August 2020 being passed around with the angle that Watcher tried to hide this to examine the facts of the situation more critically.

I and many others were there when this all went down and just know that I have a zero tolerance standard for people who show no remorse or growth when they uplift racists and bigots so if this was true I would have been long gone from this fanspace.

Myself and other fans who were startled by the statement hoped publicly that it would be an opportunity to clear the air for Watcher because the current political climate was just finally examining anti-blackness in everyone's biases and as someone who is mixed-African growing up in an Asian household, I know that anti blackness is and has been a normalised mindset in the Asian community.

But the thing is, months before this, Steven platformed Tammy Cho and her colleagues to discuss how all of us can work together to stop Asian hate and one of the conversations I highlighted back then was how very clear Tammy was that allyship from the Asian community to the African-American community was tantamount to moving forward. That the us vs them rhetoric has and continues to be harmful for both parties. Ryan and Steven were very involved in this discussion and agreed wholeheartedly.

Having said that, the narrative around the podcast ep never had a chance to be discussed rationally. It really ended up skewed because Steven's response to the backlash from that clip was this

I hope that's legible to you. Many people who felt uneasy about what he said felt a lot better and his intention to say something at the top of the next episode would once again, unfortunately, get derailed because Twitter users (some who are particularly loud about loving and supporting Watcher yet constantly join in on the throng of bullying as soon as the tide turns) were adamant that they needed Watcher to post the clip and Steven's apology publicly on their youtube front page and on the main socials, to literally advertise it when the reality is that not many people were watching/listening to the podcast. For what reason would it be intelligent or good business practice to broadcast this hurtful moment so that more people could get hurt by it?

Watcher's response amid the harassment was to release a full podcast episode where they all discussed what they would do going forward to show that they are allies, not just by not being racist or homophobic but by being anti-these things. They showed that they cared about their impact. It was emotional and devastating to watch and by that time, we knew the pod was likely going to wind down. 2020 was already a miserable time and it was made worse because no matter what Steven or Watcher said at the time, the "stans" on Twitter wanted the man fired, they posted memes saying the world would be better if Steven Lim didn't exist, they wanted him shamed by his staff, and for Ryan and Shane to publicly disavow him. Many of these so-called devoted fans raided the server to yell about how Steven's alleged homophobia hurts them, most of them were white and pointedly talking over people of colour telling them "it's not your apology to accept!". It was a blood bath.

And I see waaaay too many of the same faces utilizing this completely neutral move--that of COURSE could have been executed better--to terrorize Steven, to make petitions to get him fired, commenting on his wedding photo telling him that Tammy should leave him, posting those same damn disgusting memes because you see, a whole bunch of people forgot how disgusting and evil this vendetta was to the point where even watcher's socials started to FOLLOW some of these genuinely mean-spirited individuals. They didn't give a shit about a movement or activism.

What kills me--what absolutely THROWS me--is that these same people expect to be able to return to interacting with the staff, attending live shows, buying merch and sending fan mail as soon as the hate tide winds down. All these people so concerned about a statement referencing faceless hypothetical racists and homophobes that Steven never named nor attributed any context for--as he was never given the chance--are so quick to dehumanize and caricaturize real human beings to their faces and they think this is a normal and acceptable behaviour.

You'll have to excuse me, as an older fan who has seen my fair share of normalised homophobia and racism in these communities, if I disagree.

[sexhaver]

for over a decade now i've been reading snarky asides and lengthy effortposts alike about how the latest Fromsoft game du jour is ableist - not on a narrative level, but a game design one.

the most common argument put forth by these poasts is that the game only has one difficulty, Really Fucking Hard, which excludes those who physically can't keep up with the button presses the game demands. i really wish we covered topics like this in high school debate class because there are so many different angles to attack that argument from: listing the ways the games let you choose your own difficulty (co-op, spirit summons, magic builds, cheese strats), questioning whether the unspoken axiom of "everyone should be able to experience every video game ever made and if they can't then that means the developer is ableist" actually holds water, pointing out that putting the onus of modifying a game's difficulty squarely on developers is somewhat unreasonable and also less effective than just teaching disabled gamers how to use Cheat Engine to tailor difficulties to their taste regardless of developer cooperation, discussing how the difficulty of the game is part of the intended experience/metanarrative and compromising on that difficulty could cheapen the statement the developer is trying to make, etc. etc.

and then there is the second argument, thankfully less common these days, that Fromsoft games are ableist because they don't let you pause. which can be defused with a 1-2 punch of "why is that specifically ableist?" true comboing into "also you know you can literally pause in most Fromsoft games, right? including Elden Ring?"

[doberbutts]

Was talking to someone about how it’s not okay to consider transmisogyny the root of all oppression and they agreed, but when I said it’s also not okay to consider misogynoir the root of all oppression either they seemed to consider me racist for that (we are both nonblack poc). I’m sorry if I’m wrong there, it just doesn’t seem fair to believe any one type of oppression is the worst one that causes all the rest. All oppression is interrelated but not in that way to me?

So normally I wouldn't answer this because it reads like bait HOWEVER I know who's asking bc I saw your conversation about it in the discord channel so I'm willing to take in good faith only bc of that.

In the context you were speaking of, I both agree and disagree with the statement "fixing misogynoir would fix all oppression".

Misogynoir is so intertwined with so many things, and while they're all pointed at black women, fixing each hook of the web will inevitably help both non-black and non-women people. I think I referred to oppressive society as a jenga tower a couple weeks ago. Wiggle one block free and the tower shakes but doesn't fall. Remove enough blocks and eventually the whole thing collapses. You can think of misogynoir as a collective of probably a third to a full half of the total number of blocks in the tower. It's not the whole tower, but it's a significant enough portion that removing them all probably does break the whole thing. Even if the tower IS still standing by the end, it's more likely to begin to fail as you remove what few blocks are left keeping the structure upright.

I have never met someone devoted to misogynoir who is not also intensely ableist, homophobic, transphobic, classist, xenophobic, as well as sexist and racist in other ways. This is especially, and unfortunately, true of the black men who refuse to support their sisters and instead push them down while seeking their own freedom. This is a known problem and fairly intensely discussed in black feminism.

HOWEVER I understand that your interpretation is that would then mean that black women are The Most Oppressed. I do not think that is what that statement is intended to imply, but I also get how it could be read in that manner. I think it is dangerous to try to measure oppression on this sort of scaling, because A: personally I think it is too contextual to say any one demographic or combination of identities is "the most" anything, and B: even if there truly is a "The Most Oppressed", people who are crying out for help should be helped, regardless of where they sit on that ladder. If you don't have food you don't have food, let's solve the problem of people not having food first and we can quibble about the details later.

Rather, it is more that specifically misogynoir as said is so interwoven with so much more than simply "racism and sexism towards black women" that fixing all the pieces of misogynoir would make such a vast improvement on the whole of society that many, many, many oppressive structures would vanish.

I also think you can say that about pretty much any intersectional view of oppression, which is why I'm always saying that we need to be joining hands and lifting each other out of the pit rather than fighting over crumbs and our 5 seconds in the spotlight. If I'm fighting misogynoir, and a friend is fighting antisemitism, and a third friend is fighting transmisogyny, and a fourth is fighting for disability rights... all of these things hook together. The other three's fights directly influence mine, and visa versa. So rather than reading it as "abandon your cause and join mine instead", it should be "therefore we are allies because our goals run parallel to each other".

I'm also aware that plenty of people interpret it the first way, and refuse to listen to the second. This is also fairly widely discussed in black feminism, with some having the first interpretation and others the second.

[outsideratheart]

Be Proud (Ana Maria-Crnogorcevic x reader)

A/N: Based off this request.

You had missed your girlfriend dearly. So much so that you were tempted to break the curfew so you could go to her hotel and see her before you became opponents. 

In the end you decide against it. 

The first time you see Ana is when you walk onto the pitch for the inspection. She is talking to Jenni in the centre whilst you stand on the sidelines with Alexia. 

“You can go see her you know?” Your club captain nudges you. 

What Alexia didn’t know is that you had been warned by Jorge not to see her before the game. He said he needed his star forward focused and even went as far to call Ana a distraction. Something that didn’t settle well with you. 

“I’ll wait till after the game. I can’t deal with him before the game” you shrug your shoulders but Alexia knew that you played your best football when you saw Ana, whether that is when she’s by your side or a quick hi before kick off. 

“I’m going over and you’re coming with me” she puts her arm round your shoulder and all but pushes you towards your girlfriend. 

You don’t make your presence known immediately as Jenni is in the middle of speaking. Ana, on the other hand, had no problem in turning all her attention to you regardless if Jenni is talking or not. 

It was sickening to those around them. It didn’t matter whether there was twenty people around, when you and Ana was in close proximity everyone and everything around you became irrelevant. 

“Hi” your tone is low. 

“Hi” Ana replies; the corner of her mouth rising to form a smirk. 

It had been mere weeks since you last saw her but you could have sworn she’s changed somehow. 

“Anyways don’t take it personally when we beat you” Jenni unintentionally ruins the moment between you. Her words bring back the reality of the reason why Ana is standing in front of you in the first place. 

“Ana what—“

“Don’t. This is part of the sport. Sometimes we are team mates and sometimes we are opponents” 

“Win or lose. You’re mine” you say. It was both a question and a statement. 

Ana doesn’t have the chance to respond as she is called over by her coach. 

It was game time. 

You had put on a flawless performance but this came at a cost, not for you but for Ana because Spain’s win sent Switzerland home. For the first time in your career you wasn’t entirely happy about winning.

Ana was your first thought when the whistle was blown but Jorge pulled you over to him and the coaching staff.

“Great game Y/N. See what happens when you’re not distracted” Jorge says smugly. That man’s arrogance and annoyance knew no bounds.

“Me and the girls played well now if you’ll excuse I am going to show respect to our opponents and that includes my girlfriend” 

The blonde woman saw you walking over and met you half way. She had a look of disappointment on her face which is to be expected but she also wore a smile on her face. Even in the defeat she had the energy to be proud of you.

“You could have taken it easy on us” she says as she pulls you into her arms. With the height difference she can just about rest her chin on the top of your head.

“I did” you say rather smugly. Ana pulls away and gives you a look, one which makes you regret your comment “Sorry”

“Don’t be. I’m proud of you Y/N”

“Ana, you should be proud of how you played. Not just today but of every game you have played so far”

“You’re biased” Ana wanted to believe you but with the results they had it was hard.

“I am but that doesn’t mean what I’m saying isn’t true” 

The two of you were so caught up in each other that you didn’t realise both of your teams had begun doing their lap of the field thanking those who came to support them. Not wanting to be rude you joined them but stay together instead of going to your team mates. Ana’s arm rested comfortably on your shoulder as you walk. It was her way of keeping you close and in the bubble that was sure to be popped once you reached the tunnel.

“Can we swap shirts?” You ask timidly. 

“I would love to but I have promised it to someone else” 

“Who? Was it Jenni? Aitana? Alexia? Tell me who it is and I’ll fight them for it. I’m the only one that’s allowed to wear Crnogorcevic on the back of my shirt”

Ana cannot help but laugh at your protectiveness and she knows that you will soon soften when she tells you who is getting her shirt.

“You’re cute but you won’t be fighting anyone” she says confidently.

“Watch me” you weren’t backing down. You wanted Ana’s shirt. Who could be more important than her girlfriend.

Ana removed her arm and chose to hold your hand instead whilst pulling you towards the family and friends section, the Spanish family and friends section. She hopped the barrier, you followed in suit and together you walked to where Irene was talking to Lucia and their son. Mateo reached out his arms and chose to be held by you instead of Irene. Something which you loved.

Your girlfriend watched the way you held him and the way you talked to him as if he was your best friend. She loved seeing you with Mateo because it gave her a glimpse of what the future could look like.

You were so caught up with the little boy in your arms that you didn’t notice Ana taking her shirt off, almost. 

“Irene. I won’t let you wear my girlfriend’s shirt. Nope, sorry, not going to happen” 

The look the defender gave confused you. 

“Wrong Parades Y/N” 

Ana then proceeds to handing Mateo her shirt.

“How can I fight him? He’s so cute and small and look at those cheeks” you knew in that moment that there’s nothing you could do. 

“Told you so” Ana knew that you would have no problem letting the little boy have her shirt.

Irene takes her son from you and puts him down. It gives you the opportunity to place the shirt over his head and helping him get his arms through. You have no problem admitting he looked cute in Ana’s shirt.

The three of you, plus Mateo walk back across the pitch and towards the changing rooms. 

“Next time, I get your shirt” 

“Next time, I promise”

[solomons-poison]

Overworked

Lucifer x reader

: ̗̀➛ A/N: Uhhhh inspired by some history of burn out at work... >>; and just general issues with perfectionist ideas. Honestly, this has been in my drafts for nearly two years now. I was unhappy with how it sounded, but much like the message in this piece, I realized I need to be okay with less-than-perfect things. So cleaned it up a little bit and here you go. Written and edited on mobile so please excuse any formatting issues

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: GN reader, angst to fluff, general insecurities, crying, reader ignoring signs of sickness; Lucifer fluff, no established relationship but Lucifer is very soft on reader~

: ̗̀➛ Word Count: 4652

You should have known something was coming on before it got this bad, but unfortunately, you had a bad habit of ignoring body signals, which was ultimately your downfall.

You'd been feeling... off, for the past couple of days. More exhausted than usual, decreased appetite, just generally run down. You often found yourself in a daze, losing concentration on anything that wasn't your work assignments. It didn't help that the coursework at R.A.D. was naturally more difficult for you as a human, dealing with school subjects you never dreamed of or would ever encounter in the human realm. It was also a busy time in the school year, with big exams coming up and the workload increasing in difficulty by the day, so you attributed your exhaustion to this and wrote it off. Of course, by the time you realized what was going on, it was too late. This was mistake #1.

You woke up in the morning to your blaring alarm, feeling tired and sluggish again, and noticed the missed alarms on your phone. Although you occasionally slept through one or two alarms, you almost never slept this late unless you wanted to. But you didn't have time to think about the reasons and rationale on why your body sought so much extra rest. Instead, you pushed yourself through your confusion and sleepiness to get dressed and head down for breakfast as quickly as possible, hoping Lucifer wouldn't punish you too harshly. Mistake #2.

As you started to leave your room, you couldn't help but shiver a little and quickly grabbed a cardigan to wear over your uniform. It wasn't unusual for the air to feel chilly in the Devildom, thanks to the lack of sunlight. However, the chill seemed to be bone-deep this morning, and something in you felt the cardigan was going to be no help. In general, everything in you was screaming to take a day off and rest, but one of your classes had a quiz later that day that you knew you couldn't miss. Once again, you found yourself pushing forward regardless of the glaring warning signs in your peripheral vision.

Mistake #3.

By the time you made it to the dining room, everyone was already seated, including Belphie, a true testament to just how much you overslept. Everyone turned to glance at you except Beel, who was more focused on his food as per usual. Part of your brain noticed Lucifer looking at you a moment longer than the others, but it was forgotten as the second born pointed his fork at you accusingly.

"Finally, human! I thought ya were gonna sleep all day, with your alarm goin' off like that," he said.

"Sorry, Mammon. I guess I must have been sleeping pretty deeply," you replied, smiling sheepishly. You knew he was mostly pulling your leg, but your phone alarms had a tendency to be on the loud side and felt guilty for disturbing any of the brothers with the noise. "I don't even remember going to bed either."

"I don't think that's unusual, I do that all the time," Belphie piped up from down the table, earning pointed looks from the others.

You didn't miss the way the eldest brother's eyes sneaked up to look at you upon hearing your statement, though, clearly studying your face.

"Are you feeling alright, MC? You do seem to look rather tired this morning," Lucifer commented, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

You knew the second you made eye contact you'd be doomed to an interrogation, so you barely spared a glance before training your gaze on your breakfast as you responded. "Yeah, I'm fine, I'm sure I just stayed up too long studying for this quiz I've got today." But even as you said the words, you knew something wasn't right, and it only seemed to be getting worse the longer you sat there.

You could feel it in the air that Lucifer was unsatisfied with that answer, but he remained silent and you continued on with your food.

By the time you'd finished your breakfast, only a few brothers remained in the dining room after your late arrival. Beel and Belphie were both there. But strangely enough, it was Lucifer still being there that really confused you, given his penchant for being early to everything. Unfortunately, your fatigue-addled brain simply couldn't put forth the effort to think hard about the reason. The chill from earlier had now settled deep in your bones, and everything about the situation was screaming "wrong!!".

Once again ignoring the strange phenomena, you stood to bring your dishes back to the kitchen, but you were hit almost instantly by a wave of dizziness and shivering, knees buckling and your vision turning dark as you stumbled forward. You managed to catch yourself on a chair and stayed upright, but all three brothers were instantly on their feet. Lucifer got to you first, his gloved hand gripping your upper arm to steady you further.

"MC! Are you all right? What's wrong?" he questioned, voice rich with concern and a deep frown on his face. Beel and Belphie crowded around, watching you for any risk of falling.

You took a moment to breathe, cold sweat running down your back, fighting hard against the sensations running through your body, and worked up the strength to look up at the first born. "I'm OK. Sorry," you said, smiling shakily, but Lucifer's frown only deepened at your response. "I guess I was more tired than I thought."

"This is more than fatigue, MC. Are you certain you're not sick?"

You gathered the strength to stand a little taller. As you did, something in the back of your brain was yelling at you again that this was a mistake, to sit back down, to call out sick, rest, anything but go to class. But your stubbornness and anxiety won out, knowing that missing just the one class would really put you behind your studies, and you prided yourself on your ability to work hard on your own. You hadn't spent months of pushing yourself, working overtime and scouring textbook after textbook, to quit now from some measly sickness. Your brain just couldn't rationalize any other way around it.

"Really, Lucifer, I'm OK. You don't need to worry so much—" you managed to say, but as the last words left your mouth, your last bit of strength finally ran out, and a blanket of darkness came down on your vision as you lost consciousness.

“MC–!” “Hey!” Multiple voices called out as you passed out in front of them.

Beel caught your body as you fell back out of Lucifer's hold, and he quickly picked up your legs to hold onto your unconscious body. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin and a sad frown twisted his features.

"I think they have a fever," he said, holding you close to himself, and Belphie leaned in to take a closer look at your face.

Lucifer could feel his face fall at Beel's statement, but steeled himself quickly before either of his brothers could notice. However, all it would take is a closer look to see the worry evident in his dark ruby eyes. He sighed quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on as he quickly made up a plan to deal with this new development.

"Beel, could you bring MC up to their room?" Lucifer asked. "I'm going to contact Solomon for some medicine to help with their illness." Beel nodded and started to leave the dining room with you cradled in his arms, Belphie following close behind. However, just before they stepped through the doorway, Lucifer stopped them briefly. "And do not bring this up with the others. If anyone else hears MC is sick, they're all going to leave class to come here and MC needs to rest. I will tell them when it’s appropriate."

He could tell both younger brothers wanted to say something about that, but luckily, they simply nodded and continued on their way. Once he was alone, Lucifer took a moment to himself to stop and breathe, anxiety coursing through his veins at the situation. But he shook it off as best he could before sending a notice out to Solomon, and another notice to Lord Diavolo and Barbatos to alert about your absence. He would have time to fret later, but for now, he needed to focus on you and making sure that you were taken care of. The last thing he needed was to let something terrible happen to one of the human exchange students and possibly disappoint Lord Diavolo… at least, that's what he told himself. But really, he knew it was more than that. Pushing those thoughts away, he shook his head and moved onwards, focusing on the task at hand.

After sending his messages, he quickly gathered some basic supplies, washcloths and a bowl for water to make a cold compress, as well as an extra blanket, and brought them up to your room where Belphie and Beel were waiting. You'd been laid out on your bed covered by a light blanket, your face contorted in discomfort. Lucifer could feel his heart twist in his chest at your visible pain.

"I will take over from here, you can go now," he said, setting down his supplies and removing his cloak.

Belphie frowned, crossing his arms in frustration. "MC is sick, we're not going anywhere. Class can wait–" he started, but Lucifer cut him off with a glare.

"No, you are not staying here," Lucifer said definitively. "MC needs to rest, and they cannot do that with a crowd in the room. Solomon is on his way here with medicine and I will be taking care of them in the meantime."

Belphie practically bristled, the tension in the room almost palpable between the eldest and youngest brothers, but Beel placed a hand on Belphie's shoulder, attempting to calm him down.

"Look, I don't care if you don't attend class today," Lucifer continued, his stress levels exhausting him of energy to fight. "But I want MC to get the rest they need. Until Solomon arrives and we can contact a more knowledgeable physician on human illnesses, we don't know how sick they are. I will keep you updated if anything changes, but for now, you must leave."

Beel and Belphie were silent for a long minute, not breaking eye contact with Lucifer. Eventually, they relented, however, and Belphie sighed, turning away towards the door.

"Fine, we'll go. Come on, Beel," Belphie muttered, going out the door with one last glance to your sleeping form.

Beel started to follow, but turned to Lucifer at the last moment. “We can pick up some food for MC to help them feel better. Would that be okay?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened at the request before softening, knowing his brothers were simply worried about their precious human. He nodded, and Beel smiled happily. “Yes, that will be fine. I believe easy to eat foods will be best, something to make into a soup or broth. I’ll also ask Solomon for recommendations on human world foods.”

“Awesome, I’ll tell Belphie,” Beel replied, smiling back, and headed out the door.

Now that Lucifer was finally alone with you, he heaved a great sigh that was almost too loud for the sudden silence. He shed his coat, placing it over the chair at your desk, before rolling up his sleeves and removing his gloves. He retrieved some cool water from your bathroom and dipped the washcloth in, then took a seat beside your bed, wringing the washcloth before pressing it to your forehead.

The fever had caused a sweat to break out, and your face was twisted in pain even in your sleep. The sound of your labored breathing weighed heavily on Lucifer's mind. But the cooling effects of the washcloth seemed to alleviate your discomfort a little as your face relaxed, and seeing you a little more comfortable eased the ache in his heart. The weight that had been sitting on his shoulders ever since you fainted lifted a little, giving him the slightest bit of relief, and he turned around to refresh your washcloth.

“Mmm.. Lu..cifer…”

Lucifer’s ears perked up almost embarrassingly fast upon hearing you say his name, and his head whipped around to look at you. However, it was evidently just talking in your sleep as your eyes remained closed and your breathing was even. He reached over to pull the blanket up, tucking you in, and did his best to ignore the pounding of his heart.

Although you two weren't a couple, you still seemed to hold a special place in his heart alongside his brothers. You were family now, but even that word didn't seem sufficient for the way he felt. And seeing you so sick all of a sudden gave him a greater shock than he was prepared for. It was moments like this that he realized how truly mortal you were, that you didn’t recover from sickness the same way Lucifer and his brothers could.

He couldn’t even be sure of what you were sick with. For all he knew, he was overreacting and you were likely fine. But still, the fear of the unknown settled deep in his heart, unable to rest until he could get an answer. For now, all he could do was swallow down his worries and continue on with what he was doing, trying to ignore the desperate aching in his chest.

Half an hour passed before a knock resounded at your bedroom door, and Lucifer okayed entry without taking his eyes off of you. He was settled back in your chair, sleeves still rolled up in an unusual display of casualness, although his crossed arms betrayed his true feelings. Solomon quietly opened the door, peeking his head in before entering, a small satchel in his arms that clinked softly as he moved it. Barbatos had come with him and trailed through silently, letting Solomon take the lead.

“Wow, MC really is sick,” Solomon commented, seeing your quiet form tucked in on the bed. However, he wasn’t sure which to be more surprised by, the fact you had fallen ill like this or the sight of Lucifer dressed down, sitting at your bedside.

Lucifer sighed, moving his stiff form now to turn and look at your guests. “Yes, they were looking awful all during breakfast, and after getting up from their chair, they just fainted. I’m not sure what it is, but they have some kind of fever. I’ve been applying this compress but of course we don’t have any human world medicine here.”

Solomon nodded, setting down his satchel on the top of your desk. “I’ve brought a potion that will help bring down their fever for now,” he said, removing a carefully packaged vial filled with a fascinating colored liquid. “Unfortunately, I’m not a doctor so I can’t treat the root cause, but I’ll do my best until a physician can get here.”

“That’s fine, thank you,” Lucifer said, nodding. He glanced at Barbatos, who was standing silently at the foot of your bed. “I didn’t expect you to come here, Barbatos. Did you need something?”

Barbatos only shook his head.

“No, when I received your message that MC was sick, I thought it best to bring some tea for them to drink," he replied, bringing forward a small tin. "Peppermint tea is supposed to provide some medicinal properties, such as relieving fever and nausea. Once MC is awake, perhaps they can drink it to help their symptoms. I've also called on the services of a doctor who is familiar with human health and illnesses, they should be arriving soon."

Lucifer accepted it, taking the tin and placing it on your bedside table. "Yes, that will be good, thank you," he said, prompting a small smile from the butler.

Lucifer reached over and gently shook your shoulders, feeling terrible for waking you but wanting to get the potion in your body already. “MC, can you hear me?” he said softly, and your face scrunched a little in response. “Solomon has brought some medicine to help your fever, you should try to take some.”

Solomon and Barbatos couldn't help glancing at each other at the demon's gentle tone.

"Lucifer..?" You mumbled, bleary eyes blinking several times as you struggled to wake up.

"Yes, it's me," he responded, heart fluttering again at the sound of your voice. "Do you remember what happened? You had passed out after breakfast."

"Oh. That's wild."

Lucifer couldn't help himself as his eyebrows shot up at your response, which was obviously the product of still being half-asleep. But it was a very you response, and he refrained from laughing. He opened his mouth to continue, but was cutoff as you suddenly gasped, shooting up from the bed.

"My quiz! What happened to my quiz?" you shouted, but the outburst was short-lived as the sudden change in elevation made you waver, your fatigued body not strong enough to handle this.

Lucifer caught your body as you started to fall backwards, and he gently eased you back onto your pillow. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Of all the things to think about now, a quiz was on your mind?

"You passed out in front of me and you're worried about a quiz?" he couldn't help but question. "Diavolo was made aware of what happened, you don't have to worry about your class. We're more concerned with your fever, we think you may be sick."

Solomon took the chance to step forward, grabbing the colorful vial he'd brought earlier.

"Here, MC, this potion should help you feel better for now. But we're trying to find you a doctor just to make sure everything is okay," he said, uncorking the vial. Despite your dubious look, you accepted and drank it down with his help before settling back down on the pillow. You could immediately feel the effects of the potion, already getting some relief from the fatigue in your body and the cold sweats plaguing you.

Barbatos also took the opportunity to speak up, stepping up to the end of your bed. “I’ve also brought you some peppermint tea leaves. Please let me know if you’d like me to brew some tea for you. The Young Lord is wishing for your speedy recovery.”

“Thanks, Solomon, that does make me feel a little better. And not right now, Barbatos, but that does sound really good, I appreciate it. Please tell Diavolo thank you for me, as well.” You closed your eyes for a moment, relaxing against your pillow, before opening them again and looking at the three people in your room. “I’m sorry for worrying everyone, I promise I’ll get better soon.”

Lucifer only shook his head at you, pulling up your blanket around your body and tucking you in.

“You can hardly blame us for worrying about you, you have left a strong impression on all of us. Just focus on resting for now, a physician should be coming by soon,” he said, a slight smile on his lips. The other two smiled back at you, as well, before Solomon said his goodbyes and left.

Barbatos stayed behind to wait, eventually making you the tea in the meantime and just involving you in some small talk to comfort you. Once the physician arrived, Barbatos and Lucifer both left to give you some privacy, nervously waiting outside your door for the results. Lucifer even settled on the ground against the wall, sleeves still rolled up and hair a mess, uncharacteristically ruffled.

Although you had seemed in better spirits after taking Solomon’s potion and resting, Lucifer still felt restless, waiting for your assessment to be finished. When he heard your door click open, it was almost embarrassing how quickly he shot to his feet, afraid for the worst. But the physician quickly assuaged his fears.

Despite the fever and the passing out, everything pointed to simple burnout, caused by you overworking yourself in an attempt to get ahead. You would need to wait out the remainder of the fever, taking medicine as needed to help it along. But overall, the most important thing you needed now was rest, and plenty of it. Thankfully, that would be easy enough to arrange.

Unfortunately, the answer was not a surprising one. Lucifer knew that, despite the offers from him and the other RAD council members, you often declined on any kind of assistance or tutoring with your work. His own sin prompted him to say it was pride that prevented you from accepting outside help. But he knew that in general, you felt it could be a weakness, especially being in an environment with those that still looked down on humans and were uncertain of your place in their society. Deeper than that, he also knew you considered yourself a burden, trying to reduce your presence whenever possible, leaving you to work twice as hard to complete the same tasks.

Sometimes he wished that you would rely on him a little more, come to him when you needed help or just a listening ear. But if anyone understood the need to maintain their pride, it was the the Avatar of Pride himself. Lucifer also knew he hadn’t always been the most supportive, memories of your new arrival and the way he treated you burned into his mind like a shameful brand, so he couldn’t blame you for keeping things to yourself. But maybe, after this whole episode was resolved and you were back to full health, things could be different.

He stepped into your room once the physician departed, and you were sitting up in bed, propped up by your pillows. You were already looking much better than earlier, and it eased his heart immensely. Lucifer didn’t even need to say anything, as your sheepish expression said it all, but he still wanted to make sure of something.

“I trust you understand what the doctor has told you about your condition and what to do now,” he said. He couldn’t help gravitating towards you, ending up at the side of your bed once more.

You nodded, squeezing your hands nervously in front of you.

“I know, I understand,” you said, your voice meek and rough from your exhaustion.

Honestly, the whole thing was embarrassing. You were just trying to keep up with your classmates, make sure you weren’t embarrassing the Prince of the Devildom or the Seven Avatars that were hosting you in their home. And for a while, it seemed to be working. Sure you felt a little tired, but at least your grades were exemplary. But of course, it couldn’t be that easy, or stay that easy.

As you recalled what happened up until you passed out, and bits and pieces of Lucifer caring for you afterwards came to mind, you found yourself unable to make eye contact. Your body felt hot again, but it wasn’t the fever this time. Not only did you end up passing out from your efforts, but it was Lucifer that took care of you in the end. It was mortifying, truly. But almost as if sensing your feelings, Lucifer sat at the edge of your bed, his still-uncovered hand moving to cover both of yours.

The touch surprised you, making you look up finally, but his next words were what truly took you off guard.

“I know that you feel you have to work hard to keep up with your studies,” Lucifer said, squeezing your hands gently. “And while we— Diavolo and I— appreciate your efforts, the whole point of you coming to the Devildom was not to get good grades. You are part of the exchange program, but you are also our guest. I know we have not always been as welcome as we should have been, but we hope that you can come to us when you feel that you’re struggling. At least, I hope that you can come to me, if you are struggling.”

You couldn’t help it as your eyes widened. A soft look you’d never noticed before filled Lucifer’s face, a reassuring smile gracing his lips. You’d seen a lot of expressions cross Lucifer’s face, but this was the rarest of all, and one you never expected to be aimed towards you.

This, combined with his words, was all too much for you at once. Suddenly, your vision was swimming and something wet was falling down one of your cheeks, dripping onto your shirt. Almost immediately, Lucifer’s smile dropped in panic, and through your tears, you could just barely make out his mouth opening and closing as he struggled for words.

“Oh—” Damn it. Lucifer wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting when he told you how he felt, but it certainly wasn’t tears. He quickly reached up, brushing away your tears with his fingers, his touch awkward but achingly gentle. Of course, his touch only made you cry harder.

“I– I’m sorry, MC, it wasn’t my intention to make you cry,” he said, finally remembering a handkerchief he keeps in his vest, and patted your cheeks with it, trying desperately to slow your tears.

You struggled to calm yourself down, wanting to reassure the demon of any misunderstanding.

“I-it’s not that,” you said, involuntary gasps breaking up your words. “I just feel so stupid. Like I just keep making the same dumb mistakes over and over again, no matter what. And now here I am, sick in bed and you’re having to take care of me, and you’re being so nice, and I just don’t know what to do.”

“Nice” wasn’t a word often used to describe Lucifer, at least not anymore. And he could guess that it’s not a word you’d used to describe him in the past. It also hurt him to hear how you saw yourself and all your efforts. Although you came across as reckless and a little ridiculous at times, you were also genuine and a hard worker. Lucifer’s pride made it difficult for him to admit many things, but he genuinely came to appreciate the way you treated your studies, unlike some of his brothers. Even if your grades were poor, even if you struggled with the subjects, he simply admired your sincerity in everything you did, and that was enough to make him happy. He just wished that you could feel the same.

“I think you’re being generous by calling me nice. But you don’t need to do anything special, MC,” he said. Finally, your tears were starting to dry a little bit, easing his own aching heart. “We all appreciate your efforts, but we just want you to keep being yourself, more than anything. Keep reminding us that you are human, in the way only you can. Of course, if you can do that without worrying me sick, that would also be appreciated.”

The last part made you laugh, and you couldn’t help but sniffle as the crying finally ended.

“Okay.”

“And if you’re having trouble with a subject, many of us would be happy to help you. Satan does make an excellent tutor, and despite Belphie’s knack for sleeping in class, he often has a good grasp on the subjects as well.” Now that your eyes were dry, Lucifer put the damp handkerchief back in his pocket in order to use a hand to squeeze yours. His other hand brushed over your cheek, rubbing softly, soothingly.

You could only nod, more tears threatening to rip a sob from you if you opened your mouth again. But no more words were needed, getting to relax your impossible standards for once and finally feeling at peace knowing that there were others there to support you, including a certain red-eyed devil at your side.

As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated! 💜 You can also support me by buying a coffee ☕️!

[patheticpoems]

quick round of questions and short responses

"how do I get xyz?" just assume it is true, that it is done/will happen, that you have it/it will come

"law of assumption isn't logical" logic is a man-made concept, applying something like that to something that is a law is more illogical than the statement made. Its like saying gravity isn't logical.

"do my bad thoughts manifest?" no. you only manifest what you want. your subconscious mind knows what it wants, because you are 'I am', you are what is aware.

"is it bad if i feel negative emotions or 'waver'" no. don't force yourself to try and always be positive. you can manifest regardless your emotional state, you being sad won't suddenly ruin things for you. if you own something it's gonna be there and yours regardless of your emotions.

"what affirmation should I use/how do I affirm for xyz" don't search for the singular perfect sentence, you don't need that. It is something you have or are getting it doesn't matter how it is worded because the implication is obvious. on a one off note you don't have to affirm to manifest

[bleue-flora]

It never ceases to amaze me about how many different dehumanizing labels Dream is cast in. The tyrant, the green boy, the bad guy, the wrong’un, the villain, a psycho, psychopath (which tbh are already rather kinda extreme for his supposed crimes especially at the beginning when they started). But then they go further, calling him a snake thing, pure evil, a monster [clip], a freaking ghoul [clip], even to the point of calling him Lucifer in the finale - The Biblical incarnate of evil [clip].

And what’s really interesting is the inconsistency in which Dream reacts - because on one hand he should stand up for himself, but on the other maybe he should just lean into it and maybe they’ll leave him alone. Maybe the fear and label can be his defense instead of their offense. And that gives him control over it, turns him from the victim to the victor.

In the disc confrontation, Tommy calls him pure evil and asks “how do you sleep at night”, to which he responds “just fine” [clip] {oddly, directly contradicting his comment to Techno about no sleeping btw lol…}. Later, he talks about building the prison with a “little bit of evil” but then counters Tommy’s accusation of calling him evil again with “evil is in the eye of the beholder” and “you’re evil to me” [clip].

In the finale, towards the end, Tommy talks about how he saw Dream as nothing but The villain but that isn’t true, and surprisingly Dream disagrees by saying “I am. I tortured you” [clip] {also contradicting what he says to Sam in Daedalus…}. Which is interesting. In the finale, he also makes statements like ‘we can’t because we’re soo evil’ and “we have done plenty of evil evil things” [clip] (which Punz actually counters with “not for no reason.”) But in instances when they call him a psycho and psychopath he has a different reaction saying “huh, I mean, I wouldn’t say that,” [clip] “I’m not a psycho. Everything I do is deliberate” [clip] and, in the finale, “you guys are psychos. You broke in and tried—and killed me in my own house—the prison.” [clip]

One of the keys here I think is the distinction of having reasons - he’s not evil for kicks, he has a reason and motive and logic behind it. Something, in the finale, he questions whether Tommy has, first because he broke in and killed him unfounded and then towards the end of the stream asking about why he constantly steals and griefs and stuff, “why are you trying to ruin everything all the time.” [clip] - What was your reason? Because that mattered to Dream, someone can do evil things but they have their reasons, it’s when they don’t that they are more so truly evil.

He may have done evil things, he may even be the villain, but in his mind he’s not a psycho or pure evil, or a monster because he has reasons, there is a reason he did the things he did, there is a reason he ended up here. Not that those make his deeds justified and less evil (like Sam and Quackity more so believe) but that just makes him a person, who sure does evil, but also feels, and has reasons, desires, and motivations…etc. Just like everyone else. He doesn’t even see Quackity, who confessed to being sadistic and spent months torturing him, as pure evil or even a psychopath instead saying sarcastically in Daedalus, “like Quackity ‘cause he’s full of feelings… He’s totally not a sociopath…” because that distinction between sociopath and psychopath in Dream’s mind is important. Quackity is a bad person but he isn’t the embodiment of evil, he’s just a person who did evil things.

During the first war, Wilbur calls him a little lizard snake thing, to which Dream responds “I’m powerful” [clip]. Which is strange and kinda sad to me that despite being called an actual animal(s), one more importantly often representing evil like Lucifer the snake, he doesn’t counteract it. Maybe because he’s tired of Wilbur calling him similar dehumanizing terms or tired of arguing with Wilbur in general, since everyone believes him anyways. Regardless, he instead rephrases Wilbur’s words - maybe I am a lizard or a snake but you better not step on me because I am venomous and powerful. Which aligns pretty well with his monologue [transcript] where he talks about “Do snakes just bite?” or is there a reason. Because maybe he can’t change Wilbur and Tommy’s metaphor and maybe he can’t change the label of evil despite his attempts because everyone believes them instead, but maybe he can try and use their own words to defend himself. Maybe then they’ll see him as an actual person. {or not…}