#so often i feel like i failed at gender. like maybe i was just trying too hard at trying to be smth im not

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[theonpilled]

I'm not as dysphoric as I was as a teen. was it just the puberty? did I simply come to terms with it now? am I ignoring it? is it the meds? am I not actually trans? what is happening

[prettyboykatsuki]

— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.

▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.

▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.

most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.

reader / tav is always gender neutral!

▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.

ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel

no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.

❈ ASTARION ;

Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.

Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.

And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.

You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.

Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.

In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.

You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.

Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.

"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.

"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"

Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.

Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.

Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.

"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."

"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."

"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."

He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.

"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."

❈ WYLL ;

it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.

For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.

You liked getting under his skin, after all.

You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills

Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.

It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.

He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.

Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.

Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.

It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.

And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.

Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.

"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."

He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.

"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."

You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."

You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."

It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.

"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.

"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."

You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.

"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"

"Sorry to disappoint."

He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.

Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.

❈ GALE ;

Gale is always the poet, never the muse.

He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.

But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.

When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.

He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.

When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.

It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.

But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.

Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.

Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.

It has a special effect on Gale.

In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"

"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."

The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.

He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.

He's glad he's alive. To feel you.

"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."

He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.

❈ SHADOWHEART ;

You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.

You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.

Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.

Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.

Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.

Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.

She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.

She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.

You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.

Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.

She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.

You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.

She loves you more than she cares to admit.

"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"

Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.

"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"

She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.

"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"

"I think it more often that I say it,"

"And you always think to call me that?"

"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"

Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.

"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.

"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."

You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"

❈ KARLACH ;

Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.

She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.

Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.

Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.

Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.

And you always explain them to her afterwards.

You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.

The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.

With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.

You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.

She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.

"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."

"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."

Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.

"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"

"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"

The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.

"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."

"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"

Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.

With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.

It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.

"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.

You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"

❈ LAE'ZEL ;

The Githyanki do not fall in love.

It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.

For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.

You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.

Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.

That you'd wait for her.

Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.

Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.

But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.

"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"

You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.

A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."

"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."

"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."

"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."

"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."

She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest

"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"

You return her smile in kind.

"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."

"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."

The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.

▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.

this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!

anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !

[tobyfier]

Yandere Francis, headcannons of how we met into him gaining feelings that slowly turn into obsession and him kidnapping us etc etc.

Say it again.

;Gender neutral reader

Warning: obsession,toxic relationship,Stockholm syndrome,manipulation,swearing

Additional information: Reader is a baker

A/n: I’m not much experience with yandere type of stuffs, but I’m more welcome to try! Also this is actually my first request, and I hope I made it to your liking!

I’d say he did hear from the other tenants that there was gonna be a new person in the apartment but he didn’t really try and meet the person, to focus on his job and the doppelgänger situation

That is until of course, you went and greeted him yourself by knocking on his door and giving him a bag of cookies before bidding goodbye

The cookies were delicious btw, he couldn’t stop eating them

And one day as an act of gratitude for giving him the cookie, he came by at your apartment and gave you a couple of bottle milk

Supposedly he was just gonna thank you and give the tray of bottle of milks, but you insisted on letting him inside and get to know each other for a bit

That’s when he learns you were actually a baker and that you own a bakery

Huh..no wonder

You guys were on friends terms now

You always buy milk from him saying, the consistency of the milk was great

He gives milk and you give cookies, a win/win

The feelings started to appear after a month or so

It started off small he feels lighter and energized whenever you’re around, and he would get excited just by seeing your face

He started talking to you more, often times he would write letters to you whenever he’s out in the city for a few days

Day by day his feelings started to grow stronger and stronger, to the point he can’t go a day without even seeing your face once

But when he realized you liked him back, he had to double check if he heard you right

He made you say it again and again before he hugged you and thank the god’s above

You two started to live with each other after that

It was peaceful and comforting

Morning kisses is a must.

He comes home later than you, and he’s always happy to receive your kisses afterwards

But the peace..didn’t last long

He started to grow more and more possessive

It started off small..you didn’t mind it at all

Until he started to isolate you from others

You confronted him of course, but he brushed it off saying it was for the best

You didn’t say anything about it, thinking it was him being protective considering the doppelgänger situation

But when he asked you to close your bakery saying it was for the best

That’s when the argument started.

You defended yourself, telling him you can’t close the bakery because of his overprotective tendencies

It was your passion and it was your dream to open up a bakery

Closing it down meant all the efforts you had done to achieve this goes to waste.

The bastard told you that you can still bake in the apartment.

You called him crazy and tried to leave but he had an iron grip on your wrist and pulled you into a bedroom

Then locked it, saying this is for the best

You tried knocking the door down

you tried finding some tools that can help, a fail..

Even the windows were ironed shut

Heck even the windows are ironed shut.

The bastard planned all of this from the start and you didn’t even notice it.

The last few days you gave him the silent treatment

Only ever opened the door to give you food or water

If you didn’t eat he will force feed you.

He tried reasoning with you

That this is all for the best and for your safety

And that you don’t need anyone else but him.

Slowly he started to be more affectionate with you

Oh how you crave those touches..

It has been so long since you received affection like these

Slowly his words got to your mind

Maybe he was right

I mean he provides food,water,shelter,heck he even bought tools so you can bake in the apartment

And all you have to do was accept the situation and that you only needed him.

And no one else.

[project-sekai-facts]

I'm just gonna leave this here because I feel like I should say something. Mizuki is trans, I still agree with the stuff I said a month ago. Did they say it in the story? No. Were they ever going to say it in the story? Well it seemed like I was but they just pulled the most insane 4 year queerbait.

Did people warn me? Yes, and I probably should've listened more, but from a writer's perspective what happened in Ena5 is very stupid so I had a little bit more hope for clpl. Confining any sort of actual coming out scene to a card story and fading to black over the actual reveal is honestly just cruel. Not to mention that Mizuki's bio is probably locked as "gender: ?".

Mizuki is still a trans character and trans representation, though the lack of actual confirmation really sours her story. Especially since the only indirect confirmation of her identity as a woman comes from student a talking to Ena about Mizuki (the whole Ena is a "normal girl" thing). Having Mizuki being robbed of her chance to come out by transphobes, and never resolving this so her bullies are left as the only credible source of her gender is atrocious. Mizuki being outed was a crucial plot point, to never resolve just leaves a bad taste.

It's still a glaring issue that clpl is trying to play both sides here. Which has always been an issue with things like white day and other marketing featuring Mizuki and the boys together. It's just gross that they're still trying to do it now, cutting off the actual reveal of Mizuki's secret and having the characters say "Mizuki is Mizuki", something that's often used by people who want to deny any trans reading, and a new area conversation about Mizuki's voice. Remember that old area convo about Mizuki having a lower voice. It gets referenced in a new one.

The reveal of the secret itself, transness aside, is comedically bad. Project SEKAI's writing isn't exactly amazing by any means, it's pretty basic in the grand scheme of writing, but this is worse than a lot of their other worst offenders. Building up to this big reveal of a secret that is incredibly important to one character's development, only for it not to actually be revealed, and probably never mentioned again, is ridiculous. It feels like a last minute change to ensure mass appeal but I don't know if it was. If it was, they still failed because some fans are dissatisfied that they never got told what it was, regardless of what they think it was.

And no, it's not corporate meddling. Probably. From colopale, maybe, from Sega, honestly probably not. Sega has other franchises and games with queer and specifically trans characters so it's not like Mizuki would be harmful to their brand image. If anyone interfered it was other staff at colopale.

Anyway, I'm not quitting the game and I'll still be running this blog for the time being. Not saying you have to continue playing and I totally understand people who are dropping the game over this. If anyone wants to add their thoughts to this post or send an ask freel free to.

[rationaliity]

blade, ratio, gallagher, sampo, welt yang, and nanook with a shorter s/o

yeah !!! i'm trying something new-ish !! its all mostly fluffy, gallagher's is slightly suggestive and so is welt's. keep in mind of course that they'll all love you regardless and theyre just giants, so you could be like damn near six foot and still be shorter than them. this aint just for 5'0 people ( although it was written by a shortie so,,, yeah ) GENDER NEUTRAL READER !!!

BLADE —

oh you're shorter than him ?

honestly he doesn't even notice half of the time

it's not like he's always searching for someone who's shorter than him so he can take care of them or whatever

it was just life that you were shorter than him and he wasn't really one to make a fuss about anything

but that doesn't mean that he's absolutely immune to your charms, in any case

sometimes he sees that you're struggling with something and that he can help you

other times he finds you to be rather useful yourself

especially when trying to hide when out on a mission, he finds that your height allows you to be a little bit more conspicuous than him

something that he doesn't necessarily mention, but you've come to expect it at this point

if you're out on a mission together, you can best believe that you're the one sneaking into wherever you are while blade is laid low behind you ready to strike if you failed

he'll always always always praise you for your efforts and your abilities to hide in plain sight from others

not necessarily your height, but just your skills in general

sometimes if you have the time to be a little slow with how you moved about, he'd pull you closer and give you a little kiss on the top of your head

affection wasn't necessarily his thing, but if you were doing such a good job helping him, who was he to deny you

you were putting your life down on the line for the mission. this was something that he never took for granted, even though he often went in head first without caring because he didn't have to put down his life for elio's path. he was actively going down this path to reach that finality, but you weren't. you forced him to go about missions with more finesse, because he was absolutely terrified of failing you. often, he would be there as a backup, ready to spring in at a moment's notice if you needed him to be there. you were shorter than him, so you were usually tasked with infiltration, just like now. you could clearly see the goal - it was right there in reach. but of course, with many things, there was also guards hanging around the area, protecting the gem and keeping you at arm's length away from it. of course, blade wanted to cut everyone down and just take it by force, but he knew that wasn't how you did things, and that cutting them down would mean that there was a high chance that more guards would come running. and he couldn't bring himself to put you in that kind of danger, so he let you make a plan in your head. he watched as you snuck past the guards, using things that would show his taller, larger form as a perfect hiding spot for yourself. when you snatched the gem right under their noses, and you came back to him, he couldn't stop himself from grinning a little bit. " good job, " blade whispered once you were in a private area together, allowed some time off. " maybe your height helps you out in certain situations. " " yea- hey ! are you calling me short ? " " yes, " he leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. " but it's cute. you're cute. " you let out a quiet little sigh, but you eventually wrapped your arms around him, feeling the man stiffen up in your arms at the sudden contact, but he soon melted within your touch. " mm. whatever you say, bladie. i just don't think you'd be very good at sneaking around. " he chuckled, sitting his head on the top of your head. " i think you're right about that. "

RATIO —

ratio does not and will not care about your height

your physical attributes were never what attracted him to you in the first place

although you being so attractive definitely helped, but he wouldn't openly admit that unless you held him by gunpoint

he liked the breath of fresh air that you brought into his life

how vibrant and charming you were, effortlessly piercing through his walls with such expertise he almost didn't want to trust it at first

but he still treated you how he treated most people, including scolding you when you did something wrong, and scowling when you suggested something that he didnt want to do

however, there was one thing you could do that made him fold ever single time

the way you looked up at him through your pretty lashes, pouting as you tilted your head up to look at him and whispered your little apology

you just looked so.. cute like that, he can't stop himself from letting out a fake sigh of annoyance before telling you not to do it again and ultimately letting you have your way

there was nothing he could do against you, he had no defenses to protect himself against your pouting

especially when you had to tilt your head so high up just to look at him

if he didn't know better he would be sure that you did this one purpose just to get your way

ratio called your name once from downstairs, and you froze immediately in place, knowing that tone in his voice. he was disappointed in you for something, and you weren't sure what it was, but you were sure that you would get your ear chewed out and that you would get another lecture on your behavior. you debated on whether or not you should just give up easily and listen to him, and resign yourself to listening to his lecture, or you could pretend to be asleep and get out of his disappointment for just a little while, but ratio was not a man who forgot, and you knew that well by now. no matter how much you wanted to run, you knew that you had to own up to what you did. after he called you the second time, you slowly walked downstairs, finding him in the living room, his legs crossed as he read a book, his reading glasses on. " you called me, love ? " you asked nervously, sitting beside him. " are you forgetting something important ? " ratio closed his book, resting his head on his hand that sat on the armchair as he looked at you, his eyes narrowed. you thought a moment, before your eyes widened, and you rushed into the kitchen. you'd completely forgotten that you were baking some cupcakes ! what happened ? you found them already taken out, cooling on top of the oven. " o-oh no, i'm so sorry, ratio- " you apologized profusely. you turned around, just to find him right behind you, his eyes trained on yours. " your little mistake could've ended badly, " ratio shook his head, and you could feel the guilt creeping up into you, knowing that you had messed up, and now you were paying for it. " you're very lucky i had an eye on it. " you pouted, feeling both embarrassed and guilty that you'd forgotten something like this, feeling like you were about to cry, the hot tears welling in your eyes. you looked up at him through your lashes, unsure how to convey your sincere regret. " i'm so sorry, veritas. " ratio stiffened for a moment, looking into your eyes, and he felt his resolve crumble. he couldn't be mad at you when you looked up at him like that. his hand found its way on the side of your cheek, gently caressing the side of your face. " just.. don't do it again, okay ? "

GALLAGHER —

oh man he thinks you're cute

your height was just part of your charm

it wasn't necessarily a make or break thing where you were required to be shorter than him

but he had to admit.. you were absolutely adorable when you wanted something from him

particularly when you wanted to kiss him, and the lengths that you would go to get a kiss from him

( one that he was willing to give you, but he would make you work for it a little first. he's a tease like that )

he'd watch you with his arms crossed as you looked up at him and asked him for a kiss

and when he would say come get it, you would stand up on your tippy toes and try to kiss him

but he would just lean backwards so you couldn't reach him

then you would pout, and your brain would think about all that you could do to get that kiss that you so desperately want from him

sometimes you were silly with it, sometimes you weren't

sometimes you would grab one of the bar stools and use that to add to your height to kiss him

sometimes you would just grab him by his collar and pull him down for a kiss

sometimes you would use your charm to get him to cave and finally give you what you wanted

it really just depended on the day, something that he was always eager to find out

" gallagher, " you called out, approaching him from behind the bar, waving at him excitedly. he looked up at you, his hands busied as he cleaned the rocks glasses, the towel in his hand buffing out any fingerprints on the pristine glasses, making them look just as perfect as penacony itself. you'd come to share some good news with him about your own job, but the way his messy hair was in his face made your heart swell just a little bit, and you smiled, looking up at him through your lashes. he knew exactly what you wanted without you even asking, and all gallagher did was hum in response. " sorry, honey, i'm a lil busy right now, " his gaze flickered from the glass in his hands to you, and then back to the glass. " maybe you'll get a kiss later, yeah ? " you pouted, hoping that you wouldn't have to go through this again, but also secretly rather enjoying this little game that the two of you played. you leaned forward, your hand on his shoulder for support as you tried to kiss him, but he just leaned away from you with a small chuckle escaping his chest. " maybe later, babe. " he shrugged you off, and you just let out a loud sigh. " come on, pleasseee ? " you begged a little, before finally deciding that, fine. he can have it his way. you knew the bar would be closing soon, and that no one would be in, probably. so you just hopped on top of the bar, your hand holding onto his shirt to keep him close, your legs spread slightly so he was as close as possible. " i've got to close the bar, " gallagher tried to half-heartedly tried to reason with you, but his hands were already gripping the bar beneath you, and he was already leaning in for a kiss, his lips grazing over your lips. " you know better than this. " the glasses, you figured, could be cleaned later.

SAMPO —

haha what a loser

imagine being shorter than the great sampo koski

your height is something that he will point out every single chance he gets

ooh he's so much bigger and stronger than you, of course you needed him

it only made sense that you were dating him, he was soooo perfect for you in every way

yeah it helped his ego, and yeah he wasn't going to let it go easily

no matter how much you pouted and complained about his inflated ego and sense of self worth

he would dramatically announce that he was going to do something for you

practically declaring to the world how thankful and loving you should be that he was so benevolent to do these things for you

he's just looking for some praise and a little attention, something that you both knew well

and if you point out how much he just craves your recognition, he'd turn into a sopping wet cat

sampo did the thing for you !! you should say thank you and give him a kiss !!

that's how relationships are supposed to work and he did the thing that he was supposed to do

its only natural that he would want a reward for all of his efforts

even if he spent the last thirty minutes teasing you about your height

" you're just so short, " sampo teased, playfully ruffling your hair as the two of you walked down the streets of belobog while you glanced down at the map in your hands, looking for what you had assumed would be a wild goose chase because sampo said that if you found it, it would make the two of you rich beyond belief. of course, there was a solid chance that it was something that he stole and he was just using this as an excuse to be close to you for a little while. seriously, what are you going to do with him sometimes ? you sighed, shaking your head to shrug off his hand from your head, trying not to get frustrated with him, but he made it so hard sometimes. especially with his nonstop teasing and jokes, like he knew that he was getting on your nerves and yet he continued to do exactly what he was doing regardless. " sampo, are you required to make fun of me every single second of every day ? " " come on, now, doll, i'm not making fun of you ! i'm just pointing out a fact ! you need me, right ? you need me and you can't live without me, and you love me so much. " sampo shot you a cheeky little grin, making your face heat up just a little bit. he was right, but he didn't have to say it like that. " samp- " just as you began to speak, the map you were holding blew out of your hands with a strong gust of wind, flying high up in the air, far too high for you to catch it, even though you did try to reach for it. sampo, however, grabbed the map with ease, oh-so gently place it back into your hands. " see, my point is proven by the winds themselves ! you need me to help you when things fly out of your hands ! " sampo declared victoriously, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side while he walked. you let out an audible sigh, but leaned into him, deciding that he had done well enough. " thank you, sampo. although, we're putting this little treasure hunt on hold, and we're going to grab a snack. i'm hungry, and i have a sneaking suspicion that we aren't going to be rich by the end of the day. "

WELT YANG —

welt does his absolute best not to point out the height difference between the two of you

he knew that sometimes height was a sensitive point so he wouldn't say anything that he thought would bring you discomfort

although, secretly, it's a point of endearment from you

especially when he has to help you out with things, like reaching the top shelf or picking you up a little bit so you could see over a crowd

it made him feel useful and helpful, a feeling that he loved

he liked that you didn't hesitate to ask him when you needed help, no matter what it was

because you were his partner, and he loved you dearly

he'd do anything that you needed him to do, happily

but his absolute favorite thing was when he does things for you without you asking

and then he gets to see your happy face beaming at him while you said thank you

and, as a reward for his kindness, maybe you'll stand up on your tippy toes

and use his shoulders to keep yourself steady as you kiss his cheek

and maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to wrap his arms around you and pull you in for more kisses

what ? he doesn't indulge in himself all too often, he deserves it sometimes, he thinks

the astral express had stopped at a world just for a little while to have a small break. after the events of the last world, you all desperately needed some time to rest and take your minds off of these things. the three trailblazer kids were all out and about, no doubt getting into some trouble no matter how many times someone told them just to enjoy their stays. himeko had left to go ' check up on the coffee shops in town ' as she put it, but you were nearly sure it was just to give you and welt some time to spend together alone, since it very rarely happened. there was almost always someone that you had to take care of within the express, and he always had something else to do, too. not that either one of you minded, since you truly did love everyone on the express. you were up early, making a cake for everyone for when they came back. you knew welt was still in the bedroom, probably just waking up. you had made the cake pretty much on your own, there was just one thing that you needed, that you couldn't find no matter how hard you were looking. you just needed to find some candles to make it look special. who cares if it wasn't a birthday ? you finally found them on the top shelf, and you were almost out of options, about to just climb up on the counters to get it. when welt's body pressed up against yours from behind, his hand on your shoulder as he reached up and grabbed the candles you were wanting. " were you looking for this ? " he asked, handing it to you. " yeah ! thank you, you're the best ever. " despite him just giving them to you, you sat the little package down, leaning against his chest, your hands holding onto his arms. " whatever would i do without you ? " " climb up on the shelf to grab the candles, " welt joked softly, leaning down to bury his face in your shoulder, gently kissing the smooth skin. you laughed softly, turning around in the man's arms to face him, your back pressed against the counter. " mm. yeah, you're right. i could've died. " you stood up on your tippy toes, your arms wrapped around his shoulder as you kissed him gently on his cheek. " thank you, welt. for looking after me. " welt hummed, his hand moving up from your waist to your cheek, tilting your head up so he could press a hungry kiss on your lips. you had a little while until anyone was back home, and you two had an idea how you could spend that time while the cake was baking in the oven.

NANOOK —

to be quite fair,, they're an aeon

everything is going to be shorter than them

you could be the tallest person of your race and you would still be an ant to them as long as they were showing themself as the aeon of destruction

for you, though, it was more often that they had a shorter, more human form

with a little less golden blood dripping down their torso, and a little more legs

unfortunately for you, you were shorter than them in this form, too

who would've guess that they'd be huge even in their human form

they don't really care honestly because they feel like mortals like you should be shorter than them anyways

like a fucked up power play kind of thing

they're a god, you're not. of course you should be shorter than them

they're a very serious being, and its very rare for them to crack any jokes

but they will sometimes use your head as an armrest while just talking normally to another

kinda like they were branding you as theirs ?

after all, who's going to mess with someone who the aeon of destruction is using as their armrest ?

they like how it annoys you, but you won't do anything about it

you'll just sit there and pout while they publicly claim you as theirs

" my liege, " phantylia the undying bowed at the presence of her aeon, a sight that almost no emanators go to see regularly. nanook was always doing something, always at the edge of a solar system ready to reign destruction upon it. to see nanook engaging in anything that wasn't ultimately tearing worlds apart with their bare hands was a rare sight indeed, especially for those who didn't travel the cosmos by their side. you would have to be unfortunate enough to come across them, as phantylia was now. when she picked her head up, she finally took notice of the small human standing next to the aeon, and she flinched for a second, as if she weren't expecting there to be anyone there. " oh- my liege, you have- " " company, yes, " they grumbled out, their large hand gesturing to you, although their words were cold as they regarded you. " do not bother to get acquainted. " phantylia nodded, immediately assuming that you were going to be killed by nanook, or they were forcing you to watch as they burned your home world. perhaps, even, forcing you to hold the lighter as they did so. she almost felt bad for you. almost. she wondered if she would be able to toy with you, too. surely nanook would indulge in one of their emanator's whims, no ? before she could voice her question, her eyes flitted towards nanook, and she noticed that they had their arm resting on your head, and your arms were crossing, looking up at them with a pout on your face. " nanook- " you whined, glaring at the taller aeon. " do i look like an armrest to you ? " " no. in fact, you look less than, " they commented dryly, their gaze turning to you, and phantylia swore she saw something akin to affection in his golden eyes. " but i suppose you offer me a little usefulness from time to time. " " all of this time travelling together and you still treat me like a little lapdog, " you shook your head, and although you were still frustrated with them, you turned to phantylia, giving her an almost warm smile. " sorry about that, they're... weird. it's nice to meet you. " the moment nanook's gaze fell upon her, and phantylia felt like she had been sliced through with a hundred blades just for talking to you, her heart retching in terror from the shear intimidation alone, she figured that it was better for her own self that she didn't answer you. when you were alone that day after phantylia left, you were in their arms, watching with mild amusement as people tried the craziest shit just to get their attention. " why do you do that every single time someone approaches us ? you're always picking fights with the people who probably have at least not horrible intentions. " what's mine is mine and i don't share, " they replied plainly, their attention focused elsewhere. " and there's no point in you introducing yourself again if they'll just be dead before you can remeet. "

[onlinedolly]

cw: drug use, misogynistic undertones (brief mention of gender roles), degradation, p in v, p in mouth, dubcon (if u squint maybe?), mentions of piss, mean awful leon, i think that’s it? lmk if i miss any ok thank u

an: for my angel 🕊️ annonie who rq more corrupt cop leon!!!! i don’t put tws in tags so please read the list above carefully. if any of those things are too much for you please feel free to bypass this okay thanks so much. also i did not proof read this cuz im terrible sorry ):

corrupt cop!leon is a mean man. a star in the raccoon city PD, an officer who’d spent years building up nothing but a positive reputation, but behind closed doors he was anything but kind. you were his pretty little girlfriend, over a decade his junior and a former rookie at the same place he worked.

corrupt cop!leon who drank the minute he got home until he went to bed, expecting dinner and clean home when he arrived. so pleased to see his pretty little doll and dressed up for him over a hot stove. he got too drunk, like usual, and that’s when he’d become violent and crude.

“why don’t you come over here, little one?”

corrupt cop!leon would say, patting his legs with an almost empty whiskey glass to his side. and like the pretty, sweet thing you are, there you’d go prancing over to place yourself on his lap. smothering him with kisses, asking about his day, complimenting him on what a good cop he was (not that he needed the ego boost). and he’d sigh, tap your pretty cheek to get you to open your mouth big and wide before slipping whatever pills he’d stolen from the evidence locker a few hours prior. it really wasn’t as bad as it seemed, leon would think to himself, he was just helping, right. the pills made you happy, pliable, sweet and made that little brain of yours dumb.

and oh boy, did corrupt cop!leon love when you were hazy and high and oh so fucking stupid.

“ain’t got a thought up there, do ya?”

corrupt cop!leon who’d roughly knock on your head as if someone would answer. and you just smile all bright at him, like you do so often, and tell him the only thing up there is thoughts of him. you were perfect, a small, sweet thing who let him do whatever he wanted to you. and he ate it up.

corrupt cop!leon who was drunker now, meaner, and after supper is when he’d start to push you around. climbing onto his lap to only be shoved into the cold hardwood as he mumbled how ‘fucking hot he was’. pressing down on your tummy with a full bladder until you pissed yourself, getting so angry at you for using the restroom on the living room floor. and still, you looked at him with hearts and stars in your eyes.

corrupt cop!leon who had you so trained all he had to do was pull his cock out and there you were, on your knees in a second.

“dirty thing, this is all your good for, hm? taking cock and fuckin annoyin me’”

corrupt cop!leon would slur out drunkenly, as you kitten lick the top of his cock. leon would let you tease him for only a few moments before he’d grab the back of your head, hand in your hair, pushing you roughly down the length of his cock. you sputter and cough in a feeble failed attempt to tell him to pull back, but it’s to avail (it’s usually not).

“bet you like that, don’t cha? choking around an older guys cock, whore.”

corrupt cop!leon’s cock which is so big you’re terrified it’ll break your jaw, and especially at the rough and fast pace he’s fucking himself. you can’t breathe and tears spring to the corners of your eyes as you desperately try to gasp for air. but leon’s never been one to give up, no. your tongue is swirling around his cock and your hands are cupped around his balls like you’ve been trained to do, despite the lack of air.

“ain’t you something? fucking perfect.”

corrupt cop!leon would growl out between moans. and right before he cums does he let you breathe, pulling you roughly off of him by your hair. you gasp for air, big gulps that can’t seem to come soon enough as you wipe the tears and snot away from your face. before leon even has to instruct you you’re sinking down on his cock, no panties under that pretty little dress he picked out for you this morning.

corrupt cop!leon who thinks you’re going just too fucking slow. so he takes matters into his own hands, grabbing your hips roughly and slamming you down on his cock and you cry out. leon loved to hear your pained little whimpers, especially when they were still paired with that oh so loving, hazy look you give him.

“next time speed up and i won’t have to hurt ya, so bad y’know? stupid little baby, need me to do fucking everything.”

“s-sorry, sir,” you sputter out, “need you to everything your rig-“ a scream rips through your body as he lifts you up and slams you back down on his cock, you lean forward gripping the back of the couch for some kind of support as he begins a brutal pace, pistoning himself inside your tight cunt.

“fuckers at the force think i’m so good, don’t they baby? it’s cuz im the best, ain’t i? go on say it, your old mans the best cop there ever was, hm?”

you want to speak, relay compliments on him like you’ve done a thousand times before. but you’re just so full and so so overwhelmed. you’re sobbing from the needy feeling as leon fucks into you, enough to give you a tinge of pleasure but never enough to hit that soft spongy spot inside of you.

and leon wasn’t an idiot, he was actually very smart thank-you-very-fucking-much, he knew exactly what he was doing. knew your body enough to fuck you until you’re begging for him to hit right where you need him too.

corrupt cop!leon is a mean fucking man, who loves fucking you like one.

“can’t answer me? what? am i a terrible cop? a bad guy? is that what you think of me?” he eggs on, venom laced in his words.

“n-no!” you cry, his grip on your hips so tight it makes you gasp, “leon’s a good man, good cop, good — ah — everything.”

leon’s fucking you brutally at this point, the exact words he needs to hear from his baby has him reeling, and finally he slams you down against his thighs, his cock hitting you so deep it’s borderline pain as he finally grazes that spongy little spot with his tip. it sends you over the moon, leaning back to rest your hands on his thighs as your hips involuntarily roll against him, hitting your g spot over and over again until your eyes are rolling in the back of your head.

“god what a slut you are, fucking yourself on my cock, now who told your pretty self you could do that?”

it’s like whiplash the way he picks your smaller frame up, spinning you both around and slamming you into the couch. your legs are spread in the air and he’s fucking you so roughly the couch rocks against the wall.

and corrupt cop!leon is a mean man, but he’s not cruel, so he takes one of his hands and rubs fast circles on your clit until your spasming around him, your orgasm crashing over you like a large tidal wave.

and he’s close too, he can feel it, so he picks up the pace, fucking you hard and ruthlessly as he mumbles pet names into your ear.

“god baby” “fuck, angel.” “cunt made just for me, hm, cupcake?”

finally he cums with a growl that’s almost animalistic, gripping your hip harshly as he unloads his seed inside of you. he’s sweating and panting and you’re looking at him with stars in your glossed over eyes, he takes a few moments to soften inside of you before pulling out.

“you should really clean yourself up, huh? look downright filthy with cum leakin’ out of you like that.”

he says before sauntering away, sure to grab his whiskey glass he’d left of the table.

corrupt cop!leon was a mean man and he was everything to you.

[froggywritesstuff]

fizzarolli & asmodeus dating hc's

ship/pairing: Fizzarolli x Asmodeus x male!bodyguard!reader (though there's not much talk of the reader's gender)

request: anon: Would it be okay to have an asmodeus x fizzarolli x Male bodyguard reader, I just want some fluff Headcanons like how the relationship would be like.

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of feeling insecure, swearing, maybe ooc, not proofread

A/N: thank you for requesting! i originally only started writing this for fizzarolli because i didn't know enough about asmodeus, but after watching the new episode i decided to edit it for asmodeus as well. hope you enjoy!

they constantly flirt with you 

what’s the point of having a cute bodyguard with you if you’re not gonna try flirt with them occasionally 

if occasionally meant almost every five seconds of every day

they fucking love how flustered you look after they compliment you or makes a flirty remark 

they both especially love how you try (and fail) to stay professional 

fizzarolli's flirting is definitely more crude, while asmodeos is still lewd, but more sensual

overtime their flirting gets more personal

fizzarolli isn't used to someone caring about his safety and well-being like you do, so he truly starts to appreciate your company very soon, and he makes sure to let you know it 

if you tell them you enjoy their company and being around them, they get a thousand times more flirty and clingy with you

even though your job is to literally bodyguard him, asmodeus gets really protective over you

checks if you and fizz are ok like a thousand times after coming home from a day out

he knows you can protect yourself, but if he hears someone talking shit about you behind your back or to your face, he's gonna fuck them up.

now obviously they both adore seeing you flustered around them

but when you spring into action and fight off some random imp that was harassing one of them

different reactions from each, but generally speaking, they're down bAD 

even more than they usually are

as well as it being a huge turn on for fizz, he feels his heart just explode

he doesn’t often see you so strong and protective of him, so when he does it’s like he’s in a trance and can never look away

if you use that opportunity to flirt with him, he's gonna be putty in your hands

being his bodyguard, you don't flirt with him that often so when you do he goes bright red, and turns to a flustered, stuttering mess

asmodeus mainly finds it hot

after confirming that you're not hurt and you're safe, he'll definitely flirt with you 

gets super physical as well, even if you're in public and lots of people can see you 

though he tries to hide it, fizzarolli gets really insecure about your relationship, and thinks you're just faking your feelings since you were hired to be his and asmodeus's bodyguard

it takes a long time for him to actually be vulnerable with you and talk about his feelings

it's a big moment for him so do not try to downplay his feelings or dismiss him

if you ever need to talk about your feelings, or literally anything, asmodeus is definitely the best demon for that

you can rant for hours and he'll stay beside you, nodding and intently listening, chiming in when necessary 

fizzarolli definitely isn't the best listener in hell, but he really makes an effort for you

puts in 110% effort to listen to you and make sure you feel listened to

a lot of the time if you're ranting about something he definitely joins in, and you two have hour long conversations

they're both super supportive of you in whatever you do

and if you're ever feeling insecure about yourself, they're so quick to shut it down and shower you with compliments

[lxvebun]

flurry of colours

synopsis: asking the genshin boyfriends what color they see you as

content: Alhaitham/Kazuha/Wriothesley x gender neutral reader. Fluff! Use of nickname darling/dove. Wrio is pretty short I wasn't entirely sure how to write him😭. English is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes♡

D*rk content blogs do not interact (*a)

Alhaitham

"It's not your problem if Kaveh's struggling with his color schemes, darling" he replies quickly, not even bothering to look up from the page in his book.

"Archons, Haitham, it's not like that. Just look at me and imagine what color I radiate :)

he sighs a little, closing the book but keeping his fingers between the pages. Even if he thinks it's a bit of a silly question, he does take a moment to let his eyes trace over you, shamelessly letting them linger on your lips too. for a second you think he's actually going to answer your question but then you see him failing to suppress a smirk and his gaze meets yours with an expression you can only describe as Are you serious?

"Humor me Alhaitham"

Alright, let me think.. he completely closes his book this time, placing it in front of him on his desk and rests his head on his hand

"Colors can actually invoke a lot of thoughts and impressions. Most people associate red with warmth, and passion, but also with danger or fear depending on the context. A lot of people view black as a masking color be it clothes to hide certain parts of yourself or the shadows in your nightmares, but you can also see it as a protective color as it doesn't reflect. Blue is usually related to the sea, the lighter tones with sunny mornings walking along the shore, darker tones of blue can relate to the deep cold unknown depth that's hidden from prying eyes......if I had to describe you a color..it would be green. Not necessarily because of the associations with it, wisdom, calmness, and hope. which do apply to you don't get me wrong, but green is my favorite color, and you're my favorite person. Simple as that. Now, care to read with me for a bit?

*he's so annoying but he does it so well. Bites him*

Kazuha and wrio under the cut♡

Kazuha

kazuha has been a bit gloomy as of lately. His usual flowery words have lost their petals, His leatherbound notebook has not made an appearance in a while, neither have the little poems he writes for you to wake up to, and his fingers are clean, not covered with his usual, and at this point, you believed to be permanent, ink stains. It's clear he's been going through the infamous writers block. something that most artist go through and also get out of but it's nonetheless an infuriating part of being an creative individual. But since Kazuha has made you his muse as he told you many many times before, who are you to not try and help inspire your lovely boyfriend.

It takes you a while of bringing him to random locations for sunset walks or stargazing and asking him random questions until one finally hits the spot. His eyes immediately lighting up as he turns to you with such a warm expression of love and adoration you're pretty sure your heart skipped a beat

"That's a very beautiful question, dove"

He takes a moment to think about it, eyes lovingly tracing over every little detail of you, the backlight of the sun, the glimmer of the waves shining in your eyes

"I don't think describing you as one color does you justice. You shift hues as softly and gently as the day shifts into night, and the sun makes place for the moon in the sky. But if I do have to say just one, I see hints of purple in you, but that could also be because the color reminds me of my hometown and everytime I look at you, my soul feels at home" He answers with a new found excitement in his voice

"Actually, maybe I can use this for a poem-"

*i'm projecting can you tell?*

Wriothesley

You often come down into the fortress to spend some time with him on his break. With both of you living on different levels of Fontaine, you'll take any chance you can get to be around him and even when it's not officially his break time, he could never say no to you....or tea time

That's why you're here now sitting on the edge of his desk as he hastily discared the paperwork to make room for the teapot and biscuits. As quickly as the tea flows, the conversation passes from deep and meaningful, romantic ones, to terrible jokes and banter as both of you just talk about whatever comes to mind.

So he doesn't raise an eyebrow when you ask him what colors remind him of you. it's quite endearing how he just goes along with whatever silly questions or requests you throw at him without making you feel embarrassed about it

"Probably between a pearlescent white and a warm honey yellow."

"Interesting answer...why?"

"the colours remind me of the sun and the moon, and living at the bottom of the ocean here in the fortress we don't have either of those of course. You're the closest thing I have to feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin or experiencing calm atmosphere of the moonlight. And to be honest I prefer you over the real thing♡"

Hes so cute *cries*

Thank you for reading angels!♡

[yanderes-galore]

So... what about headcanons of Vox and Alastor fighting over a Fallen Angel! GN Reader?

Oh No... Vox and Alastor alone is bad enough... with a Fallen Angel is somehow worse. I will be honest, I struggled HARD on this one, even with @okchijt's help. So I hope what I got across was coherent, even if not all that intense.

Yandere! Vox vs Alastor with Fallen Angel! Darling

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Coercion, Violence, Dubious relationship/companionship.

First of all, if we take Lucifer into account, fallen angels are powerful.

Even Vaggie, who I think I can rope into that category, is strong in a different way.

I personally consider fallen angels rare.

Lucifer and Vaggie are the only ones I can really think of in Hell.

So imagine the fame you can get as a fallen angel?

That would be Vox's beginning obsession with you.

A fallen angel would be great for views.

Meanwhile, Alastor would probably first be intrigued due to the power angels contain, even when fallen.

Although, Alastor may also just be interested since Vox is.

Alastor would do anything to piss the TV off.

The two would start their obsessions simply for their own goals.

Vox wants to use your rarity to his advantage.

While Alastor both wants to mess with Vox and fuel his own motives.

Essentially, both Overlords want a deal with you.

Which often leaves you trying to avoid and ignore them.

I feel like any Alastor vs Vox rivalry is created primarily due to the hate they have for each other.

Vox may genuinely feel he has feelings for you or just want to own a powerful being such as yourself.

Meanwhile Alastor primarily wants you as it would devastate Vox.

That or maybe Alastor gets interested in you first, as two fallen angels I know of work at the hotel already.

Only for Vox to catch wind of it and begin to envy that Alastor managed to score a fallen angel.

Both definitely try to tempt you.

Vox more than anything, with fame and stardom.

While Alastor tried to tempt you with power, a deal that could benefit both of you.

It's all just a competition to get you on one side or the other.

How they do it definitely depends on your strength.

If you're near Lucifer's power, then kidnapping is out of the question.

They'd need to use manipulation to coax you into siding with one of them.

If you're similar to Vaggie or somewhere a bit stronger?

They could probably kidnap you if they lured you somewhere.

A big part of the rivalry is control and power struggles.

It feels a lot like you're being used.

In fact, for the most part, you are.

The two only seem to want you to gloat to the other one.

It's petty and very much like them to do.

Between the two, you'd probably side with Alastor more.

Maybe you've fallen by a mistake.

Maybe you want to go back to heaven?

You don't entirely trust him, but Alastor no doubt picks up on this.

He may even tempt you into a deal, saying that staying with him will give you a chance to get back into heaven.

You just need to make a deal.

Of course, Alastor is a liar, but naive you don't know that.

The only catch is you stay away from Vox.

He likes to make you think that, anyways.

You'll never properly rehabilitate as Alastor will always make you fail.

Both of your "admirers" want to make a deal with you.

While you don't trust either of them, you're also unfamiliar with deals.

So maybe you will stay with Alastor.

But Vox always seems more... welcome.

After all, he wants to make you feel welcome.

Always with honeyed words and friendly gestures.

While Alastor does something similar...

It's all manipulation.

All little lies and fake faces, just to make you trust them.

That's all the rivalry is.

Mind games and competition.

Two demons tempting a naive fallen angel, fresh out of heaven and into the fiery pits.

A rabbit entering a lion's den.

To them it's definitely all about control.

You may be naive, but you've still got some power.

At first, it really is all about power.

Yet over time... It's something else.

Perhaps they begin to want your companionship.

Like with Vox bribing you to stay at the tower.

Or Alastor suggesting you spend more time at the hotel for "redemption".

Perhaps they begin to enjoy your presence.

A little slice of heaven, y'know?

It's eventually less about power, and more just craving your presence.

Fighting to win you over eventually makes them obsessed.

After all, neither of them could ask for a better prize.

A fallen angel? Imagine the attention they'd get when they make you theirs?

So... even when they're obsessed, it's really all about ownership.

Even when they begin to care more, they still want to win against the other.

When affectionate, the two have a possessive undertone.

Their rivalry is bad enough as is.

But with a being such as you, someone so easy to exploit...

It only seems to make things worse for you, stuck between two demons who are competing on who can own you first.

[defectivevillain]

slashers & thrillers

individual pairings: Reader/Demon Brothers, Barbatos, Diavolo, Simeon, and Solomon

It's horror movie night at the House of Lamentation!

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors used.

word count: 4.2k | ao3 version

this was just my excuse to write horror movie headcanons for the characters. there, i said it.

warnings: blood/violence/gore typical of horror movies; slight angst in Simeon and Diavolo's parts

Asmodeus tends to be more preoccupied with the attractiveness of the actors than the story itself. In fact, he often forgets that you’re watching *horror* movies, as he usually enjoys watching romance films. Sometimes you’ll catch him leaning forward when two characters are in close proximity, only to flinch and fall backwards when the villain evidently appears. 

And, safe to say, showing him the Friday the 13th films is a huge mistake. You had forgotten the sheer amount of nudity and sex in the first movie until Asmodeus was dazedly remarking, “I like this movie.” You shake your head in disbelief. 

It’s rather surprising to learn that he enjoys the gore. You wouldn’t have necessarily seen him as the type, but he’s often leaning closer to the screen when people are being ripped apart. You want to joke that he may be part vampire, but you know that he’s just fascinated with the grotesque. Surprisingly, he even enjoys the films with monsters in them—especially if they’re rather unsightly and have sharp teeth or slime. It’s oddly touching (albeit in a weird way) that he can find beauty in the most unlikely of places.

Beelzebub is just there for the snacks. He doesn’t really care about horror movies one way or another. He’ll often leave to get snacks and never return. One night, you track him down after to ask if he disliked the movie, only for him to blink at you owlishly and go, “What movie?” He’ll see the way your face contorts slightly at his answer and try to remember. “Oh, right! It was good, I was just hungry.” Beelzebub admits. Your lips quirk at the edges. 

“We should just watch it in the kitchen next time,” you respond playfully. Despite the fact that the suggestion is clearly a joke, Beelzebub brightens at the idea. You resist the urge to laugh at his reaction, instead trying to think about how you could keep him in the room longer. “Maybe we need a popcorn machine or something, huh? A spare fridge?”

Beelzebub is practically salivating at the mention of a spare fridge in the room where you watch movies. He nods excitedly, neglecting the food in his hands to reach out and give you a hug. You happily embrace him back, glad that he doesn’t feel left out or guilty for leaving.

Belphegor falls asleep nearly every time. It doesn’t matter how gory or violent the movie is—by the time it’s nearing the end, he’ll be peacefully sleeping. It’s honestly a pretty impressive skill, considering the sheer volume of the movie and the chaos occurring all around him. After all, with all his brothers, you, Diavolo, Simeon, Solomon, and Barbatos, you’re sort of a rowdy group. 

Belphegor usually sits next to you, so you often end up with his head slumped on your shoulder at some point throughout the movie. You can’t find yourself to be bothered by it—he’s a peaceful sleeper and doesn’t make so much as a single sound. His brothers, on the other hand, are rambunctious as ever. They often bicker about whether they should wake Belphie up or not, but you violently shush them and they eventually let it go. 

One time, you’re so engrossed in the movie that you don’t notice Mammon and Satan trying to throw popcorn at Belphie until you’re promptly hit in the face with a kernel. You blink and look over at them, watching as they try and fail to hide your laughter. You then glance over at Belphegor, only to find that he has a few kernels stuck in his hair. Feeling strangely sympathetic, you pick them out and throw them back at Mammon and Satan. 

If there’s a movie Belphegor really enjoys, he’ll make sure to drink some caffeine before watching—so that he doesn’t fall asleep. He will still lean into your shoulder and act as if he’s an unmoving pile of limbs, but he’ll watch with unusually rapt attention. You haven’t quite picked up on the pattern between the movies he likes, but you hope to learn more as time passes.

Levi’s interest really depends on the movie. He enjoys the stories that are fleshed-out and have compelling characters; slasher films without much plot tend to bore and irritate him. If he doesn’t like the movie, he’ll often pull out his gaming console on low brightness and start playing that. Sometimes, if you find a film boring too—which is usually a rarer occurrence—you’ll rest your head on his shoulder and watch him play. Levi will let you, but if he loses or messes up, he’ll often blame it on you. He gets strangely embarrassed in those moments, as if ashamed of letting you see him fail. At that point, you’ll try to lift your head off his shoulder and give him some space, but he’s quick to tug you back and insist you watch him try again. 

If he is watching the movie, Levi is prone to letting out sarcastic and spiteful comments like Mammon—especially when he doesn’t like it. The two of them together are a pretty lethal combination, and they often render a bad film to a complete dumpster fire by the end. 

Truthfully, Levi enjoys psychological thrillers. There are a few of his favorites—and when you watch those, he’s practically shaking at your side as he resists the urge to explain the story, characters, and everything to you. You nudge him on the shoulder, encouraging him to speak. He’ll spend at least ten minutes of the movie whispering the details to you. And when Mammon turns around and hushes you both, you promptly throw the nearest object at him and urge Levi to continue.

Lucifer is a bit difficult to read. You can’t tell if he’s here to watch over his brothers or watch the movie. You suppose it could be both. He’s often tagging along to events like these, even if it seems as if he doesn’t want to be there. 

On the rare occasions that you find yourself near him, you always have a strange urge to make conversation with him. Whether it’s to reassure yourself that he’s not bored out of his mind or to make him more comfortable, you’re not sure. One time, you look pointedly to the main character on-screen, who is making their way through a dark cavern alone. “If you were ever in that situation-” You ask Lucifer, trying to make conversation. 

“I wouldn’t be,” Lucifer responds with almost unfounded confidence.

“But if you ever were-” You try to interject.

“I wouldn’t be.” He says with a prideful finality. 

“You’re just too good for the entire genre, huh?” You huff. Lucifer smiles knowingly and stares at the screen. He almost seems to relax after your small conversation; you swear you see his shoulders slowly lose their previous tension. 

Lucifer is often watching his brothers more than the movie itself. He’s always been the unofficial caretaker—and that role is never more apparent than during nights like these. He’s often anticipating fights before they happen; getting up to fetch things for his brothers when they need them; talking to them when they seem to feel off. You admire how much he cares for his siblings, but you always feel a little guilty. It never seems as if he has the chance to actually enjoy himself. 

At least, that’s what you think. But after one night, he pulls you aside and thanks you for organizing the event. You can’t quite control your thoughts at that moment. “It didn’t seem like you were enjoying yourself.” You immediately freeze and stare at him helplessly. 

Lucifer laughs goodnaturedly. “I appreciate your concern,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “My brothers are enjoying themselves. To see them so carefree… means more to me than you could ever know.”

“Oh,” you respond, feeling slightly foolish and embarrassed now. As if sensing your quickly spiraling thoughts, Lucifer squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. 

“Besides, seeing Mammon’s reaction was worth it.” Lucifer smirks. 

“It was, wasn’t it?” You smile in return. “He was talking such a big game earlier, too… Saying he wouldn’t be scared…” You think back to the way he flailed and screamed at the jump scare, practically hiding behind the couch. 

Lucifer’s hand falls from your shoulder and he pulls out his phone, tapping it a few times before showing you. Upon closer investigation, you find a picture of Mammon and him: with Mammon recoiling backwards in evident fear while Lucifer looks on with a blank expression. 

“That’s incredible,” you laugh. “Send that to me; I want it as my wallpaper.” 

“Will do,” Lucifer hums, clearly amused. He pockets his phone and studies you for a moment. His expression morphs into his typical stoicism, but with a hint of something uncharacteristic. Concern, perhaps? “Get some rest.”

“You too,” you respond. Lucifer nods and departs, leaving you to stand in the hall with a fuzzy feeling in your chest.

Mammon is the type to yell at the characters as if they can hear him. He’s often berating them for their stupid decisions and making sarcastic comments once they encounter the villain. He can be quite the talker, to the point where his brothers are frequently hissing at him to be quiet. Mammon will then cross his arms and pout exaggeratedly, until you tell him that he can just whisper his comments to you. 

He has somewhat dramatic reactions to the movie and its jump scares. Sometimes, you’ll catch him and Mammon will immediately stiffen, muttering something about how he was just acting. It’s never very convincing and he seems to know it, if the flush on his cheeks is anything to go by. 

Mammon enjoys seeing the cruel or vicious characters getting what they deserve. He’ll often be the one cheering when a filthy rich, abusive businessman gets cut in half or a criminal gets their eyes torn out. It’s amusing to see him so passionate, even if his glittering eyes and excited smile seem a bit misplaced. 

He also tends to brag about how he’d survive or fight through a situation the character is going through. Mammon is adamant that he wouldn’t take shit from anyone, ever, and it’s very amusing. He’s often pretending as if he’s in the scene himself, throwing fake punches with exaggerated sound effects. Mammon is a very active movie watcher, ultimately. It’s endearing most of the time, but when a movie is very quiet and requires you to really pay attention… Well, you often have to watch it again at a later date. 

Satan is infuriatingly knowledgeable about the specifics of horror movies: especially the medical practicalities. A needle jabbed into the neck of a person is enough to make him throw his hands up in the air in disbelief; a sacrificial cut to the palm will make him flip a table. “That’s not how it works!” He’ll hiss. 

“It’s fiction, you’re supposed to suspend your disbelief a little,” you try to remind him. This only makes him turn his infuriated attention towards you. 

“Oh, right,” he scoffs. “Because it’s totally smart to go to a hairdresser where someone was just murdered. This is stupid!”

“Satan, shut up!” You hiss, pointedly gesturing at the others, who are very engrossed in the movie. The two of you keep bickering for a while, until Mammon gets pissed and pauses the movie, chewing you both out and ordering you out of the room. (The irony of him telling you both to keep it down is not lost on you.) Satan and you exchange annoyed glances before you’re being pushed out of the room and sentenced to sitting in the hallway like two elementary students being disciplined. 

You adjust your posture and let your head fall back against the wall. “That movie was stupid,” you eventually acquiesce. Satan looks at you in disbelief, clearly not expecting you to concede the point. He was right, though. It made virtually no sense. It was just gore without plot. 

“Yeah,” Satan agrees after a second. “It really was.”

You tap your fingers restlessly against the ground. An awkward silence descends across the space, before you find yourself breaking through it. “Do you think Cat’s Eye is still open?” You ask. Offering to go to Satan’s favorite café seems like a pretty good peace offering. 

Indeed, Satan blinks for a moment, before a grin rises on his face. “It better be open.” He gets to his feet, walking over to you. Satan then offers you a hand and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. You walk through the halls and head outside to where the car is parked. Satan promises to drive and jumps into the front seat, a devilish smirk on his face. You sit in the passenger’s seat and pretend not to feel nervous… but it only takes moments for the reality of the situation to set in.

“...Lucifer’s going to kill us.” You realize aloud. He hates when you leave unannounced; as the eldest brother, he feels responsible for your safety, too. 

“Yep.” Satan smirks, looking thrilled at the prospect. 

Barbatos is just grateful to be there. It’s hard for him to escape the feeling that he’s just a third wheel… but you went out of your way to extend an invite to him specifically. If the other brothers are surprised by his presence, they don’t show it. Diavolo just raises his eyebrows at him, which Barbatos pretends not to notice. 

As for the movie itself… Even without his powers, Barbatos is usually able to intuit what will happen. He tends to keep his suspicions to himself, but one time he mutters something under his breath and a few of the brothers hear. Since then, they seem excited to test his theories. 

He doesn’t react to jump scares. At all. Even if he’ll truly be scared or frightened by something, Barbatos will remain stock-still with an unaffected expression on his face. When the brothers notice this, they soon take to attempting to scare him outside of movie nights. Unsurprisingly, their efforts never work. No matter how many times Mammon pops out from behind a corner or Asmodeus appears out of thin air, Barbatos is never affected.

“They’re never going to scare you, huh?” You ask him one time, after Mammon jumped out from behind a door and screamed loudly at him. Admittedly, it scared the shit out of you—but it didn’t even phase Barbatos. Mammon had departed after that, clearly conflicted between feeling proud of scaring you and disappointed for not scaring the demon. 

“I don’t think so,” Barbatos responds, a hint of amusement gracing his features. “But it’s fun to see them try.”

“Wow, that’s brutal,” you remark, unable to suppress your laughter. “It is funny to see them fail, though.” Barbatos is silent all of a sudden. You feel your lips rising into a smile. “What, now you’re going to deny it? Come on, it’s fun to mess with them.”

He’s still quiet. You feel strangely determined to break through his professionalism, to get a glimpse of the real Barbatos. “You can tell me, I won’t tell anyone. Hell, I live with them—if anyone gets it, it’s me.” You try to persuade him. 

Barbatos averts his eyes for a moment, as if making eye contact with you is growing to be too much for him. “Very well,” he acquiesces. “It is… amusing to mess with them.”

“There you go,” you smile, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You feel strangely proud of yourself for getting him to say it. 

Barbatos shakes his head in disbelief, a bit of color rising to his cheeks. “You are insufferable.”

Diavolo really enjoys himself at these movie nights. It’s not often that he can sneak away from his work—and few people treat him as a normal person. This movie night is refreshingly mundane. Here, he doesn’t have to be Lord Diavolo. He can just be Diavolo.  

He likes the movies too. Truthfully, he didn’t have much of a childhood: this is the first time he’s ever watched a movie. Diavolo doesn’t want to make that big of a deal about it, and he tells Lucifer as much as they’re talking in lowered voices. But then you whip around, somehow hearing him, and stare at him in disbelief. 

“You’ve never watched a movie?” You ask quietly from over the back of the couch. Fortunately, in the chaos of having all the brothers in the same room, the remark goes unheard. 

Diavolo stares at you for a moment, before looking to Lucifer for assistance. But Lucifer is just watching the exchange between the two of you, clearly unsurprised by your persistence. Diavolo rolls his eyes, before turning his attention towards you. “That’s correct.”

You stare at him for several seconds, studying his face. Lucifer is still sitting there, clearly sensing the tension but not making any move to diffuse it. It’s almost as if he’s amused by Diavolo’s suddenly precarious situation. Before Diavolo can muse on that thought any longer, Mammon and Satan are fighting—leaving Lucifer to walk off and break them up. 

“You’ve really never watched a movie?” You ask again, as if you genuinely can’t believe it.

“That’s what I said.” You can sense that he doesn’t want to talk about it, but you do get up from your seat and move to sit next to him. Diavolo chances a sidelong glance at you, confused. “What are you doing?” He eventually asks. 

“Sitting next to you,” you answer, as if the answer is obvious. “This is your first movie, I want to see how you like it.”

“Okay,” Diavolo frowns. 

“You don’t really seem like the horror type, but who knows?” You mutter to yourself, just barely loud enough for him to hear. Diavolo arches a brow and stares at you, expecting you to retract the remark. You just stare back at him unflinchingly, and he’s reminded of one of the many reasons why he likes you so much. You aren’t afraid of him. You treat him as if he’s a regular person. “You can pick the movie next time.” You offer. “Even if it’s not horror.”

“Thanks.” Diavolo says, not quite sure how to feel about what’s happening. On the one hand, you’re sitting next to him and conversing with him as a friend would. On the other, he can see you occasionally looking at him from the corner of your eye—as if seeing him in a new light. Somehow, Diavolo gets the feeling that you’ve intuited what his childhood was like. And that’s something he’s hidden from everyone in the room, save for Barbatos. 

Diavolo can’t shake the instinctual dread that’s assaulting his chest, as he imagines you worming your way into his heart and prying all of his secrets out of him. He’s seen the way you’ve interacted with the brothers—how you’ve grown closer with each and every one of them, despite their unwillingness. He knows it will likely only be a matter of time before you’re becoming a staple figure in his life, too. While before, he would’ve jumped at the chance to get to know you better, he finds himself in a strange balancing act. Diavolo can’t lie to you—he promised himself never to lie to others—but, at the same time, he can’t deny the appeal of closing off and remaining the elusive Headmaster. By all means, he should be nothing more than an acquaintance to you. Yet, here you are, sitting next to him during movie night and looking at him as if you’re actually worried for him, the future ruler of the Devildom. 

Diavolo doesn’t know how to feel about any of it. He doesn’t know how to feel about you. You’re igniting feelings within him that he had sworn off of. 

You must sense his racing thoughts, because you lean over to whisper to him. “You don’t have to talk about it,” you reassure him. He can feel the body heat practically radiating off of you. Humans are strange. “Just know that I’m here. If you ever need someone to listen.” You say, before leaning back and enforcing the distance between the two of you once more. 

Feeling strangely appreciative, Diavolo nods silently—pushing past the unfamiliar burning feeling in the back of his throat.

Simeon hates horror movies. He’s troubled by the violence and gore. You don’t realize this until it’s a bit too late—until he’s leaving the room with a flimsy excuse and not returning. After a few minutes, you decide to go looking for him. You eventually find him standing on one of the balconies outside, staring off into the distance. His shoulders are drawn tight and he looks tense. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask him as you approach. He almost flinches, before glancing back to find you and relaxing.

“Of course,” he responds deceptively. Simeon is rather adept at keeping his composure, but you’ve grown to know him better and are able to understand what he’s thinking. You frown and chance a sidelong glance at him, noticing the firm draw to his lips. 

“I’m sorry,” you hear yourself say. Your chest feels tight and you feel terribly guilty for not having the forethought to consider how violence and gore would distress him. 

“For what?” Simeon asks, his brows furrowing as he continues staring ahead. 

“I should’ve figured you wouldn’t like horror movies,” you frown. “Being an angel and all.”

Simeon just takes a shuddering breath. He’s shaking slightly, you realize. Concerned, you reach out and place a hand on his—which is gripping the railing of the balcony with an unnecessary amount of force. With your support, he slowly loosens his grip. You’re sure he must have bolts of pain sliding up and down his fingers, but he doesn’t show any sign of feeling it. 

You squeeze his hand for a moment, feeling helpless. For a moment, Simeon doesn’t respond verbally; then, he extends his arms and hugs you. You’re quick to reciprocate, secretly surprised that he’s initiating the contact.  “I’m sorry.” You murmur again. 

“You apologize a lot,” he chokes out. 

“Says the angel,” you huff in amusement. You pull back for a moment, worried by the uncharacteristic tone of his voice. To your surprise, there are tears falling down his cheeks. You swallow past your remorse and take a slow breath, bringing your hands up to cradle his face and wiping his tears away with your thumbs.

“You should get back,” Simeon says, a note of something unreadable in his voice. “The brothers will be worried.”

“They can be worried.” You say with an amused smile. They’re not the ones who need you right now. “They’ll survive.” 

“Doubtful,” Simeon responds, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. He’s grateful you stayed.

Solomon isn’t the biggest fan of horror movies in particular, but he enjoys spending time with you—especially doing “human” activities. It’s refreshing to do ordinary things—to maintain an air of normalcy, even when surrounded by demons and angels. It helps calm him down from the day’s events, from the pressure he sometimes threatens to buckle under. 

As it turns out, the Devildom’s horror movies are kind of bad. The two of you have to convince Lucifer—and later Diavolo—to let you snag some classics from the human world. This is how Solomon and you find yourselves standing in the middle of a superstore, sifting through a bin of clearance DVDs. 

“Will these even work with Devildom tech?” You realize aloud. You make sure to keep your voice down so any other humans don’t hear you. Solomon stares at you for a moment. 

“That’s a good question,” he huffs. “I guess we’ll find out.” 

You shrug and continue sorting through the seemingly endless pile of DVDs. The majority of the movies are rather old, but you glimpse Halloween out of the corner of your eye and immediately grab it excitedly. 

“What’d you find?” Solomon asks, evidently sensing your growing anticipation. 

“Halloween!” You respond. 

He looks down at the DVD in your hand and frowns. “Never heard of it,” he hums. 

“What?” You choke out. “You haven’t heard of it? It’s one of the most iconic horror movies of all time.” Solomon just shakes his head. You find yourself shaking your head in return, although your head shake is born out of disappointment. “I thought you were a human,” you say sarcastically. 

“Okay, low blow,” Solomon responds, clearly amused. “And, what, I’m not a human unless I know every movie ever made?”

“No, of course not!” You roll your eyes. “But Halloween? Seriously? Next you’re going to say you’ve never heard of Silence of the Lambs.” He doesn’t respond. “For real? How? Don’t you like The Quietude of the Black Lambs? It’s pretty much a plagiarized version!” 

Solomon throws his hands up in mock-surrender. “Okay, okay,” he says, attempting to calm you down. “I didn’t realize this was such a big deal for you.”

“It’s a huge deal,” you respond exaggeratedly. “We’ll have to fix this immediately. With a full night movie marathon, when we get back.”

Solomon just sighs. It appears you’ve adopted the brothers’ stubbornness.

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[caligvlasaqvarivm]

you think kankri and cronus

like all the dancestors, kankri and cronus mirror their counterparts (and as we all know, karkat and eridan are soul mates), but the brief interaction we do see of them makes them seem pretty toxic for each other. i think it's funny for that reason though!

Karkat and Kankri both love going on long, endless rants and walls of text, but where Karkat fills his spiels with self-loathing, Kankri fills his with incredible smugness and self-satisfaction (often calling his spiels "sermons" or "lectures" before catching himself and correcting them to "discussions" or "conversations," which have a less one-sided "i'm right and you're wrong" connotation). Moreover, where Karkat loves all his friends, and masks that under disdainful insults and screaming obscenities, Kankri tends to hold his friends in contempt, masking that under kind language and politeness.

KANKRI: And really, it's every9ne's 6usiness t9 examine their privilege, even 6urgundies, wh9 may 6e su6ject t9 the pitfall 9f 6elieving inc9rrectly there are n9ne 9n the scale 6eneath them wh9m they enj9y certain privileges 9ver, which 9ff-spectrum tr9lls will never kn9w, such as th9se identifying as 9ther6l99ds 9r caste-multiples, "p9ly6l99ded", any wh9 hem9gl96ically ID as having a caste which manifests n9where (as yet kn9wn) in any9ne physically, 9r f9r that matter 9ffspecs wh9 physically d9 p9ssess such a 6l99d type, 9r "mutants" (VERY pr96lematic term, highly triggering t9 s9me, 6e warned), such as y9u and I, Karkat.

Translation: lowbloods think they have it SO HARD, try being a mutant 🙄

KANKRI: I just think there is inherent danger in muddying the waters 9f disc9urse 6y intr9ducing s9cial issues which are suspect at 6est, thus c9nsuming crucial res9urces fr9m the limited cache 9f rhet9ric which pr9pels these narratives. And furtherm9re, 9ne c9uld argue it's m9re than a little pr96lematic, 9ffensive even, f9r y9u t9 6e appr9priating the lexic9n 9f sensitivity used t9 advance awareness 9f maj9r issues, thus reducing it t9 the level 6uzzspeak and pseud9science. It makes it m9re difficult f9r th9se 9f us wh9 are genuinely f9cused 9n p9sitive change t9 6e taken seri9usly, that's all. PORRIM: Appro+priating?? #That's no+t #what that even #means? PORRIM: PSEUDOSCIENCE??? #Yo+u did no+t just… KANKRI: I'm s9rry, I just d9n't think there's much there. We aren't like humans, wh9se species 6izarrely en9ugh includes highly specialized r9les f9r 69th sexes in the pr9cess 9f repr9ducti9n, and s9 this naturally had s9cial ramificati9ns f9r the way their civilizati9n ev9lved. 6ut that's n9t h9w it w9rks f9r us, s9 I fail t9 see h9w gender fact9rs int9 the discussi9n in a way that can 6e effectively and rati9nally pr96lematized. Where is the r99m f9r unexamined privilege in the dich9t9my? I d9n't see it. And appr9priating the talking p9ints and awareness-raising tactics f9r du6i9us issues like this is, frankly, fr9wned up9n, t9 put it p9litely. Such appr9priative gestures 9nly serve t9 marginalize and invalidate th9se su6ject t9 seri9us, real life struggles and 9ppressi9n, and I guess I'm a little disapp9inted t9 see y9u 6eing s9 6lithely and inappr9priately appr9priat9ry. #Fr9wned up9n #Fr9wns all ar9und #Welc9me t9 fr9wn t9wn PORRIM: Kanny, I'm starting to+ feel just a little bit triggered by all this "appro+priatio+n" bullshit. #Trigger warning: #Abo+ut to+ kick yo+ur tall pantsed ass KANKRI: 9h! My sincere ap9l9gies. I sh9uld have d9ne a 6etter j96 tagging my statements, 6ut f9r future reference, it's helpful t9 alert y9ur c9nversati9nal partners t9 y9ur triggers well in advance. Sh9uld I g9 fetch y9ur m9irail t9 help settle y9u d9wn? And if s9, wh9 exactly w9uld 6e filling that quadrant t9day? #It's the may9r, right? #G9tta 6e the may9r

Translation: Stop trying to steal my spotlight by bringing up your own social justice pursuits. Shut the fuck up. Oh, are you offended? Maybe you should go cry to your moirail. Slut. God I hate women.

KANKRI: 9n the 9ther hand, if I'm 6eing h9nest, I've f9und Mituna's entire existence t9 6e a pretty pr96lematic impediment t9 the advancement and 9verall awareness 9f a6leism and its painful manif9ld c9nsequences f9r una6ilitied pers9ns. The speech impediment, frankly, I c9uld d9 with9ut, and I'm 6y n9 means ecstatic 9ver his t9rrential 6ig9try and h9stility. 9n the 9ne hand, I want t9 6e sensitive t9 him as a pers9n and as a friend, 6ut 9n the 9ther, what kind 9f message d9es his 6ehavi9r send? And frankly, I'm n9t crazy a69ut the helmet, either. MITUNA: W4LT5 WR00NG W17H MY H4ML37 8( KANKRI: N9thing, friend, it's a really c99l helmet and it's a g99d l99k f9r y9u. 6ut are we n9w t9 assume that all th9se wh9 are stricken with y9ur particular disadvantage9n will 6e similarly pr9ne t9 require such headgear, due t9 falling d9wn and hitting their heads frequently? MITUNA: 8U7H 1 D0 F4LL D0WN 4ND H157 MY H34D FR3QUN3UN74NY KANKRI: 9h, I kn9w y9u d9, and I think y9u sh9uld c9ntinue wearing it f9r y9ur safety, particularly if y9u c9ntinue t9 insist 9n fl9undering a69ut 9n y9ur danger9us t9y. It's m9re a69ut the unf9rtunate message y9u are sending 9verall, with certain aspects 9f y9ur pers9nality and existence, that's all. MITUNA: 1M 50RRY KANKRI: As a friend, I w9uldn't want t9 change anything a69ut y9u, well, n9t m9st things. I just think y9u may n9t 6e d9ing y9urself 9r th9se wh9 are similarly disadvantaged any fav9rs with, what I'm h9ping, is a perfectly inn9cent array 9f traits and mannerisms. 8ut again, I say this with all due sensitivity. MEENAH: vantas youre being a shit dont talk about him like that

Translation: Mituna, you're such a goddamn embarrassment, I wish everything about you was completely different.

The big difference between Beforus and Alternia is also the definition of "culling," which on one meant killing and the other meant coddling. Naturally, this is its own form of oppression, as the longer-lived highbloods still hold great power over the lives and fates of those deemed cull-worthy, which includes a lot of lowbloods, and definitely mutants like Kankri who didn't have a lusus. However, it creates a different kind of mindset from that of more standard abuse, like what Karkat suffered for his off-spectrum nature - where Karkat spent every day fearing for his life and cursing himself:

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS. As was previously mentioned, it is your WRIGGLING DAY, which is barely even worth mentioning. It is an anniversary, if anything, to lament the faults of your existence, of which there are assuredly plenty.

Kankri was experiencing the opposite: being told that his mutation made him exceptional, made him special, made him MORE worthy of attention and praise than other people. At the same time, his agency was taken away from him, but the thing is, being 13 when he started the game, I don't necessarily think he'd have missed that - around the age of 13 is when kids START to crave agency, and he got it by playing the game. Kankri's dialogue suggests to me that he genuinely believes in his superiority to the people around him, more in line with being spoilt.

This is why, although he talks a big game about how bad casteism is, and how you shouldn't say slurs because they're offensive, he still unironically uses the term "Royal-V" to refer to violet bloods and chastises Mituna for calling Meenah a wader, which is an anti-seadweller (and anti-seadweller apologist) insult. Sure, he acknowledges within that chastisement that because Meenah and Royal-V's DO have privilege, the weight of the insult is not exactly the same, but then he follows up by saying that he wishes everything about Mituna was different, to the point MEENAH feels the need to defend him.

This is because Kankri is a fucking wader.

If you'll notice, he's actually quite agreeable and sympathetic to Meenah (despite Meenah being a confirmed bully, especially to the team rustblood):

KANKRI: Wh9a, Meenah. I didn't see y9u c9me in. Y9u sh9uld have c9me say hell9. ... KANKRI: I've als9 heard y9u're recruiting mem6ers f9r a militia? An9ther 69ld endeav9r. N9t surprising, th9ugh. 6ef9re y9u em6ark, I d9 h9pe y9u'll set aside at least several sweeps t9 listen t9 s9me 9f my…

KANKRI: And Meenah, while I can understand y9ur frustrati9n 9ver 6eing ver6ally assaulted under any circumstance, it is incum6ent 9n me t9 remind y9u that Mituna requires a certain am9unt 9f special c9nsiderati9n and m9re than a little patience. Please try t9 resist taking his 6ait, which I'm guessing is m9stly well intended(?), 6ef9re its c9ntenti9us undert9w pulls y9u further int9 an exchange laden with deeply pr96lematic expressi9ns 9f a6leism, a6leist slurs, and 9ther such manifestati9ns 9f unc9nsci9na6ly unchecked a6ility privilege.  #a6leism #a6ility privilege #6ait #undert9w #are the aquatic terms helping?

... And he's nice to Cronus. I just don't think it's a coincidence that Kankri is super mean and shitty to land dwellers, while being super kind to the two sea dwellers on the team, the caste he was presumably culled (raised) by - to the point of emulating their aquatic terms to try and ingratiate himself to them (something Karkat thinks is stupid and cringe.).

KARKAT: (not really.) #SHELLF IMPORTANT ABALONEY? #GODDAMN SEADWELLERS

And that brings us to Cronus. Now, I've written extensively about how Eridan is not actually casteist, but the TL;DR is that Eridan genuinely doesn't treat people differently based on their caste, but it's societally expected of him and he has an overwhelming amount of anxiety about living up to those expectations, so he will say a lot of slurs. He and Feferi are actually the only two highbloods that never say anything disparaging about Karkat's blood color.

In contrast, Cronus is a casteist; where Eridan tries to play up how casteist he is while secretly not being so, Cronus does the opposite and tries to play down how casteist he is while secretly being so.

CRONUS: nowv, please don't tell anyone i said so, but you and i both knowv pretty much all these people should feel honored to go out vwith a guy like me. CRONUS: vwhat being royalty and all, and not evwen slightly put off by dating dowvn on the spectrum. i mean, really, howv much more evwident can i make it to evweryone that im really a cool, progressivwe, easy going dude, vwho doesnt take the social order seriously or buy into any of the stereotypes? first of all, as if the hemospectrum scene isnt 8EYOND played out. #you should be sticking your fork in THAT CRONUS: i barely EVWER evwen bring up my high social status. it couldnt be LESS of a big deal to me, but i think people maybe are still intimidated by it? theyre probably putting me on a pedestal, in spite of all my easy going assurances that my royal lineage is something i nevwer evwen think about. like, no friend, i am just like you. vwe laugh at the same jokes, listen to, vwell, to some extent, the same music… #i at least USED to listen to music you like #does that count? CRONUS: all these cats and kittens, im telling you. theyre alvways drawvn to the freaks and rejects. you havwe to be 8ROKEN in some vway to get a little concupiscent attention. #cats #kittens #freaks #rejects #broken

You got a whole bunch of SEA DWELLER BLING! It's pretty obvious this all belongs to Cronus over there. He's just not wearing it right now so he can convince everyone he doesn't feel like his royalty status is a big deal, even though he does.

Moreover, we get a direct parallel to Eridan's final conversation between him, Feferi, and Sollux, with the interaction Cronus has with Meenah and Mituna - in both cases, the violet-blood has a crush on their fuchsia, while probably having some sort of blackrom thing with the mustard (ashen for Eridan, pitch for Cronus). The differences really highlight how different the two are.

First, Eridan doesn't actually mean all the casteist things he says to Sollux - we know this because he's actually mentioned Sollux twice before, and both times, felt no need to comment on Sollux's lowblood status at all. Eridan is so transparently full of shit that even his own teammates don't think he's actually being casteist, and instead take it as ashenflirting:

ERIDAN: hey finless this doesnt concern those wwith mustard sludge slippin through their vveins ERIDAN: its a matter for royalty only ERIDAN: so keep your mouth closed or ill slit you open ovver my next meal SOLLUX: w/e bro, not iintere2ted. FEFERI: -Eridan, please! I don't want to see any more dueling. FEFERI: Don't try to provoke )(im. It's not like I don't know w)( you're doing! You keep trying to spark a rivalry wit)( )(im to get me to auspiticize between you two, and pull us out of your quadrant! FEFERI: It is t)(e oldest and lamest trick in t)(e book. It didn't work t)(en and it won't work now!

But while Eridan leads with casteism he doesn't mean, after being rejected by his fuchsia blood, Cronus rounds on Mituna to vent his frustration, revealing HIS real feelings:

CRONUS: i said shut up. do you havwe any idea vwhat a man of my class vwould do if a mustard blood like you spoke to me this vway on alternia? honestly, sometimes i think i vwas hatched in the vwrong univwerse, let ALONE the vwrong body. CRONUS: i am so sick of havwing to pretend to treat you vwith the dignity you vwouldnt deservwe evwen if you COULD count the scars on my forehead. you couldnt tell me the ansvwer if i asked vwhat your favworite number vwas. ... CRONUS: you are a brain damaged reject on a team full of rejects. a rejects reject. i vwould havwe culled you myself if that vword meant vwhat it should havwe on our planet.

Moreover, Eridan is genuinely wracked with emotional anguish basically 24/7, but he refuses to allow anyone else to provide him with emotional support, lashing out at Feferi when she insinuates that she's been taking care of him up to that point.

CC: I can’t look after you anymore. CA: I DIDNT EVER NEED ANYONE TO LOOK AFTER ME CA: i was totally fuckin fine my ambitions were noble

On the other hand, Cronus outright admits that his constant talk of being a "sensitivwe soul" is bullshit he uses to attract the ladies:

MITUNA: 1M 50RRY CRONUS: no youre not. youre lying. CRONUS: your vwhole bifurcated demeanor is such an act. half the time you are noxious and incomprehensible, and the other half you are mild and contrite? sure, "PAL." CRONUS: as if im not SO on to you. you only pretend to say youre sorry to get girls to like you more. sure seems like pyropes a sucker for the ruse. like im not familiar vwith THOSE tactics. vwho do you think vwrote the book on that??

CRONUS: guess ill attempt ghost suicide YET AGAIN. CRONUS: of course by vwhich i mean, tell people i did, to vwin sympathy points. MITUNA: D0357H H47 W0RK CRONUS: not really.

This isn't to say that Cronus doesn't have legitimate emotional issues - just that they aren't the ones he says that they are. When Aranea is expositing on Cronus to Meenah, she winds up explaining that Cronus used to believe in a prophecy where he was Harry Potter and LE was Voldemort, and that it was his destiny to destroy this evil wizard, but that his team basically bullied that belief out of him:

ARANEA: The 8ard of Hope may seem a little jaded these days, 8ut he once had a deeply a8iding faith in magic, and dedicated himself to 8ecoming a great wizard. He 8ecame convinced he was hatched to defeat an extraordinarily evil magician, one he swore the angels foretold of. [...] I'm unsure why he suffered this crisis of faith, aside from the o8vious reasons having to do with an overall lack of character, or any other redeeming qualities. Perhaps someone talked him out of his 8eliefs. May8e a friend close to him. Or, if one is to 8elieve his fantasy held any water, perhaps someone who was in league with the evil magician. Whatever the case, it was pro8a8ly for the 8est, since pretty much everyone who had half a think pan thought it was all a 8unch of ridiculous nonsense.

Which, you know, given that he was their HOPE player, was probably a not-good thing that they did. Put a pin in this conversation, we'll return to it in a bit.

His humankin stuff is mostly treated as a joke, but it's also a symptom of this - we know that it's actually a portal to something Cronus genuinely feels bad about, because despite complaining about how you need to have something wrong with you to get concupiscent action, he's uncomfortable bringing it up to Meenah.

MEENAH: i heard a rumor you think youre a human now MEENAH: that true CRONUS: its a privwate matter. i dont see vwhy i should havwe to talk about it vwith you, and open myself up to more of your judgmental scorn.

He's a Hope player who lost what he believes in - so his actual emotional problems stem from directionlessness, exacerbated by the fact that he's generally untalented, feels entitled due to his high caste and resentful that it's not being respected, and doesn't seem to have any real goals aside from sleeping with other people (and now he's dead). As a result, he's clung onto this idea that maybe the reason he feels so empty inside is because he's not actually a troll - not wanting to be himself, he tries to be something else.

So let's go back to the pin we put into Aranea talking about how he was talked out of his beliefs. Cronus very nearly reaches self-awareness about how being humankin is just a cover for his actual emotional problems... and then "a friend close to him" - maybe the only friend close to him that he has - talked him out of that epiphany.

KANKRI: Listen, I was d9ing y9u a fav9r. Y9u d9n't need t9 6e dating any9ne wh9 can't appreciate y9u f9r wh9 y9u really are, 9r m9re imp9rtantly, which fantasy versi9n 9f y9urself y9u m9st str9ngly identify with. CRONUS: yeah, youre probably right. she doesnt appreciate me. so fevw of you cats do, really. #evwen the ones vwho literally identify as cats CRONUS: to be honest, she might be right. sometimes i think i might only be saying im a human to get attention. maybe i should givwe it up. KANKRI: I'd 6e extremely disapp9inted t9 hear that, if it were true. That w9uld 6e such a slap in the face t9 all th9se wh9 kn9w themselves t9 6e an alien while trapped in the pedestrian 69dy 9f their 9wn race. It w9uld 6e unspeaka6ly invalidating 9f their struggles and massively triggering t9 their em9ti9ns. #TW #invalidated struggles #triggered em9ti9ns KANKRI: 6ut f9rtunately, I kn9w y9u w9uld never st99p as l9w as that. Y9u understanda6ly have d9u6ts a69ut y9ur feelings and pr96a6ly d9wnplay them as a defense mechanism, since s9 few are prepared t9 rec9gnize the legitimacy 9f y9ur plight. 6ut I am, and I just wanted y9u t9 kn9w that I'm here f9r y9u, and am prepared t9 lecture t9 y9u extensively, I mean, listen t9 y9u extensively, a69ut y9ur ultra-imp9rtant pr96lem. CRONUS: vwowv. thanks, pal. CRONUS: youre right. my feelings really are real. not fake, like the huge disappointing fraud that magic turned out to be. CRONUS: i guess the truth is, deep dowvn i alvways knewv i vwas a 1950s-style human greaser. CRONUS: i just needed to finally be introduced to human culture to make sense of those feelings. KANKRI: W9nderful. I'm s9 happy y9u have f9und the light 9f truth within y9urself. N9w j9in me in tagging 9ur discussi9n with righte9us warnings, as we c9nsecrate y9ur disadvantage in the h9ly annals 9f Pr96lematics.

She also mentions it might have been someone "in league with the evil wizard," which would indicate Damara or Kurloz, but he never mentions Damara even once, and he actually seems to be on neutral terms with Kurloz:

and i vwouldnt dare to intrude on your longstanding moirallegiance vwith kurloz, and not because he scares the shit out of me either. that just really seems to vwork, you and him, doesnt it? i dont get a peep out of him of course, not evwen if im super nice and compliment his hideous hair[.]

So since we literally see Kankri exacerbating Cronus's problem by not only insisting that he not introspect, but expresses that he would be extremely disappointed in Cronus if Cronus did, I'm inclined to believe that the one who talked the Hope player into giving up his Hope beliefs was Kankri.

So what I'm saying is, if Karkat and Eridan are beautiful soul mates who make each other better in basically every way, Kankri and Cronus are incredibly toxic for each other and are in desperate need of a fucking auspice. Somebody please middle leaf these two, they cannot be left alone. Kankri's wader tendencies validate Cronus's entitlement and stagnation, and Kankri loves manipulating Cronus into believing whatever BS Kankri is espousing, because that's how Kankri gets his validation.

Kankri and Cronus means love loses.

Thank you for reading.

[gettinontopic]

This is so transphobic like what the hell is this

↓Screenshot↓

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[Image Id: A large addition to a tumblr poat reading "Also if I'm going to be honest, passing as a man is also just easier than passing as a woman. The rules to being a man and passing as a man are much more lenient than being a woman or passing as a woman. Trans women have to worry about shit like "I need to wear an outfit that distracts people from the fact I have an adams apple, and not allow people to see that I have shoulders, and learn makeup and basically become a voice actor and etc. and maybe I won't be called a man today" (and if you pass too well and the wrong cis guy feels guilty about being attracted to you, you get murdered meanwhile if you're a trans guy and you wanna pass as a man, you gotta like have short hair and hide or remove your boobs and at this point you can already just go to the grocery store and most people will see you as a man. Once you get facial hair and a deeper voice, most people will just see you as some guy. Like I don't understand why transmascs insist on this idea that they could never really pass. Like the idea that trans man who passes is almost far-fetched. Weird as hell." End Id]

Lets upack this shall we?

1."Passing as a man is easier than passing as a woman"

No it's not. The rules to being a man and passing as a men as strict as lots of rules for women. Have you ever seen a cis guys who fails to pass? They're called names, theyre physically beat, and theyre often ostracized from their cis peers just as fast as any trans person. Cis boys cant even pass half the time by the rules they made. Quit fucking lying about men just magically having it so easy.

Your experiences as passing as a man aren't universal and if you've never passed as one what makes you think it's fucking easy?

Also god forbid you're a black man, or a black man who is into something deemed feminine. Shit I've seen guys call black men women for wearing a damn hair bonnet.

Oh not to mention I'm only a man to transphobes when they can call me a "dangerous black man" only to switch back to tryibg to detransition me by saying "you can just be a masc girl!"

2.Adams apple

While you have to hide yours, I have to wear shit that distracts people that I *don't* have one. Cause, and I know this is wild, if they expect you not to have one for being a women, what do they expect me to have for being a man? Hmm? And if you're a man who's adams apple never came in? I've seen them called girls to. Shit I've heard a guy called not manly for missing his, and he was still in puberty!!

3.Shoulders

While you have to hide you shoulders, I have to do whatever I can to have the.. small shoulders on men? maybe if youre in a "non manly" field like music or art, but I do gym work. I better look likeit regardless of the disability that effacts my muscles growth and development or I am called maam by every guy there. Which sucks btw.

4. Makeup and voice acting:

Trans men also are regularly advised to wear makeup that masculinizes them and do voice training. thats some of our oldest passing tips. thats litterally never been unique to trans women. what the FUCK kinda of implications are you trying to put out here?

5. Murder:

Hey did you know cis guys will murder trans men bc they were attracted to them and then found out they werent "real men" and then kill them. shit cis women also kill us if they find out they were attracted to us and we aren't their ideal man anymore. do u know how men who hear im butch and into women behave?

Fuck right the fuck off trying to tokenize the murder lf trans women while throwing trans men murders in the "that doesn't happen" bin.

6. How many times have we said short hair and no boobs dont fucking automatically gets us gendered correcly!! We have voices that have to be trained, we have muscles were expected to build,and some men even watch the way you walk to guess if you have a dick or not.

Listen to any trans men. any of us for five minutes. those things do not making an easily passing trans man fuck you for lying about our experiences as not a trans man.

7. "You gotta like have short hair or remove your boobs"

Untrue! just Untrue. we also have to preform the rules of manhood really well. ive seen beareded transmen clocked for like so many different other reasons and you wouldn't listen to those men if it would save all trans people lives forever. cis men constantly dig at other men presentation to keep each other in line. Its a regular for them.

Also: not all of want to pass with those features. I deserve to have long hair and not bind and still pass as a man and you suck for defining everything around passing.

8. I don't know why you insist on this idea that trans women never really pass without obscene work (when ive met trans women that admit they have it easy by throwing on a dress and wearing her hair down) and that all trans men who have ascess to transition magically do pass (When multiple of us transitioning have said we dont)

If we can't talk about the ones who don't pass then you kinda can just sweep away the idea we don't face discrimination or danger and that's getting us killed actually.

None of us have said we can all never really pass any who say they can't are usually speaking on their own experiences. Because you want us all to pass so bad you don't care that we don't, and that it gets us backlash and hurt.

Also, if you ever read this, kiss my black ass and go reevaluate what makes you think you should speak on experiences that aint yours as if you're the one with the Hard Cold Facts.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

okay so I know this is early so feel free to ignore me but hear me out on this kinktober prompt

11th Doctor x reader x River Song where the Doctor and River have their full attention on the reader

body worship, maybe bondage, maybe ownership?, lots of praise and maybe multiple orgasms (you know their inhuman stamina could let them go all night)

anyway, sorry again for sending in early I just saw your post and got super excited because you're one of my fav writers!! Have a lovely rest of September and on! 💖💞

you are so sweet, thank you so much!! I actually really appreciate you sending this in early because I had more time to finish it 🥰 (even if this is a little late whoops) thanks for the request and I hope you have a great October 💕💝

Kinktober 2024 Day 8: Eleventh Doctor and River Song worshiping and giving all their attention to a gn reader

Warnings: smut/nsfw content, body worship, slight bondage, ownership kink, hickeys, soft doms Eleven and River, sub reader, praise kink, overstimulation/multiple orgasms (more implied than anything else), penetration (not said whether it's vaginal or anal as the reader is gn), they/them pronouns used in a gender neutral way in reference to the reader

"Just look at you, darling. You're absolutely gorgeous," the Doctor murmured next to your ear as River gently restrained your wrists, tying them with a silk fabric that was soft against your skin and wouldn't leave too big of a mark. Anyone else and you would've been worried about how tight the knots were, but you trusted her enough to know she'd be able to get you out of it if she really needed to.

"There you are, sweetie." She gave your wrists a light pat once she'd finished tying them up, a proud smile on her face as she sat back to admire her handiwork. "Oh, my. You're positively riveting. Like a pretty little present for us to unwrap."

You could feel your face heat up some at her words. They never did fail to make you feel flustered, no matter how long you'd been with the two of them or how often they declared their love for you.

"Look at how well they're behaving," the Doctor commented while brushing his hand across your torso, from your chest to your stomach. The action made you shiver in delight. "We haven't even started yet, and they're already doing so well."

"They're also looking a bit flustered, I might add," River said in amusement, one of her hands sneaking down to the spot between your legs while you were distracted by the Doctor's touch.

It felt so good, having their hands on you. It felt even better when River slipped her fingers inside you, just deep enough for you to feel it while still leaving you with the aching feeling of wanting more.

"Y- You're teasing me," you lightly accused, unable to stop the gasp you let out next when River moved her fingers deeper inside you.

She let out a soft chuckle. "Sorry, sweetie. I can't resist," she apologized while not looking sorry in the slightest.

The Doctor, on the other hand, had leaned down next to you, pressing a series of kisses all along your neck. "You're so amazing, darling, did you know that?" His voice was low and affectionate, another shiver going down your spine when he spoke. "Such a good little thing for us. You always make us so proud."

It was hard not to let out a moan at his words, especially when River started to thrust her fingers in and out of you at a quicker pace. You were started to feel dizzy from their attention, your eyes fluttering shut as you became lightheaded.

"Ah, ah, darling, keep your eyes on us." The Doctor gave you a playful tap on the nose, a soft grin on his face when you opened your eyes again. "I know it's tempting to want to shut them, but just try to keep them open for now."

You nodded your head in understanding, wanting to be good for them. "Yes, sir. I'll keep my eyes open for you."

"That's a good dear," River purred while gazing down upon where you laid back on the bed, her fingers seeming to move antagonizingly slow. You could hardly take the suspense that was being built by the two of them.

"River, don't tease them too much," the Doctor lightly chastised his wife while tracing his fingertips along the many contours of your body. "They look as if they're about to explode."

"Oh, alright. I suppose I can make them cum a little bit early," she relented with a playful sigh, giving you a cheeky smirk. "After all, it won't be the only time we'll get to ruin you tonight."

"W- What do you mean-?" Your words were quickly cut off by a sudden moan that was pulled from you by her fingers moving at a quicker pace, curling deep inside you as they nudged that extra sensitive spot you could never seem to reach whenever you were alone.

"Spoilers, sweetie. Telling you now would just give away all the fun, and that wouldn't be fair."

You couldn't protest her teasing even if you wanted to, far too focused on the warm fire in your belly that was starting to burn brighter and hotter each time the tips of her fingers nudged against the sensitive place hidden deep within you. It was getting hard for you to think, let alone speak.

"That's it, darling, c'mon," she gently coaxed as your arousal grew stronger from both her fingers and her voice. It certainly didn't help that the Doctor was now placing kisses all over the bare skin of your chest at the same time, as if he was fighting for your attention.

Everything was starting to become too much all at once, which is why it didn't surprise you when you felt a sudden intense wave of arousal wash over you like a tsunami full of pleasure. Your back arched, your toes curled, and if your hands had been free from the lace restaints your fingers definitely would've been clutching at the bedsheets as grounding method.

It took you a moment afterwards to be able to catch your breath and pay full attention to your surroundings again. You had no doubt that River's promise of this not being the only time you'd be ruined tonight was one she fully intended to keep, which is why you didn't allow yourself to relax again fully after. You knew you had to stay alert for whatever was going to happen next.

A slight whimper escaped from you when you felt her removing her fingers from you, not missing how she "accidentally" brushed her thumb over your still sensitive sex in the process. "You did so well for the first round, sweetie. We're very proud of you."

You could only let out a quiet whine in response, not able to find it in you to speak again just yet. Instead, you were more focused on the Doctor's hands as they traced the curves of your body.

"Is it my turn now?" He asked with excitement while turning to River, who simply chuckled at her husband's sense of childlike joy.

"Yes, dear. It's now your turn to get to play with them."

His face lit up at her words of confirmation, looking even more excited than before. He reached for where your wrists were still bound over your head and used them to gently pull you into aw sitting position, moving so that he was behind you. You heard him unzipping his pants, which sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "Don't worry, darling. I won't be as rough as she was," he reassured in a soft tone, to which River simply chuckled at.

It took a bit of shifting around (and help from River, as you couldn't really do much moving from how tired your muscles still were from your earlier orgasm) but eventually you were positioned in his lap properly. You let out a low groan when you felt his tip nudging at your entrance, which was already throbbing with pleasure. River gently held onto your bound wrists as his cock sunk deep inside you, filling you up even more than her fingers had done previously.

Every touch was like a jolt of electricity that traveled from the top of your body to the bottom, one that especially affected where you'd already been pleasured before. Luckily for you, the Doctor wasn't nearly as teasing as River was and had decided to take a much slower pace.

You allowed your eyes to flutter shut like they had before, content to embrace the more relaxing pace of his hips moving up against yours as he gently thrusted inside you. Until you felt someone's teeth nip at the side of your neck, that is.

Your eyes automatically shot open to see the smirking face of River staring back at you. If there was one thing she really loved doing, it was keeping you on your toes.

"You're supposed to be keeping your eyes open for us, sweetie," she purred, her hands reaching out to brush along your body as she spoke, which trembled underneath her touch. "And you want to be good for us, don't you?"

Obediently, you nodded your head in response. Rather than speaking, she chose to move closer, your body now being sandwiched between the two of them, not that you minded much. She started to kiss along your neck, her teeth once again meeting your skin when she began to bite and suck at the otherwise unmarked flesh there, as if she was set on making it well known to whoever you came across that you were already taken for.

That combined with how the Doctor had started to quicken his pace of thrusting up into you let you know you were going to be in for a long night. But you didn't care, because you were theirs, and you always loved whenever they took the time to prove it to you.

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[swiss-mrs]

Can you write a second chance a love with SY. He and reader were exes and tension has built up where he can’t help but kiss you and profess that he still misses you. Thanks!

Second Chances

Captain Syverson x GN!Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Mentions of Failed (Military) Relationships, Mentions of Fighting/Regretted Words Exchanged, Slight Sexism/Toxic Masculinity/Trad Views, Self-Doubt, Slight Depression, Sy is Able to Lift Reader, Angst with Happy Ending (As Requested)

Reader/Unnamed OC Description: No Physical Descriptions, No Mentions of Race, Height, Weight, Ethnicity, Etc., Age is 25+, Sy is 35+, No Use of Y/N, Only You/Your Pronouns, Mentioned as “darling" and "beautiful", otherwise gender neutral.

Life is… fine. Wake up. Go to work. Come back home to your apartment. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. There wasn't really anything to complain about, but there was a notable loss. The only thing is now you're just used to it.

In the beginning, it was always the little things, someone passing with a similar cologne, a specific food brand at the grocery store, a familiar street you no longer pass by as often. Eventually, the watery eyes tamed to a pang in your chest. Now, it's all just numbness. Even with friends, your smile makes appearances again, but the happiness doesn't quite reach your eyes the way it used to. It's been so long, they just stopped mentioning it, but you still notice the occasional pity look.

It's a crazy thing to think about how you've lived more of your life without him than you have with him, but that doesn't lessen the effect.

You'd survived your childhood, your teenage years, and early twenty-something without him. After meeting the most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on, you'd be foolish not to reciprocate his advances. Though you shortly had your skepticism after finding out his occupation, he was quick to assure you he was no quick trip, and ultimately, you caved.

And he for sure had you, for years in fact. He had you completely believing every one of his ‘I love you's and ‘forever's, yet here you are, missing the way he'd fill up the space in your life.

You'd had a life before him, a decently fulfilling, single life until he showed up and screwed that all up. He wasn't necessarily your first ‘love’, but he was definitely your first ‘true love’. And, now, you were feeling the effects of that loss.

The first thing that hit you after your split with Sy was anger, pure reactivity to how everything ended. How dare he call you ‘too much’. How dare he try to pull the whole ‘you signed up for this’ bullshit. He had the audacity to make every problem your problem. Fuck him for making your ‘forever’ just another failed military love that should've known better.

You were soon to block him, not wanting to hear any of his ‘I'm sorry's or ‘can we talk's. You'd already talked, talked a little too much. You were done. ‘Let it die’ was your mantra for months. He ruined you, had you looking in the mirror different. You couldn't talk to anyone, express yourself, ask for help, be vulnerable without seeing it as annoying, dramatic, ‘too much’. Maybe, it was just you?

You took it upon yourself to change, distance yourself, drift away. Was it just you? No one made a comment about how they suddenly heard from you less. Were you really too much?

For a long while, you wished he'd cheated, abused, something, anything to make you hate him. Could you really hate him for it? You didn't work out. That's not his fault. He didn't understand you, and a couple of rude words weren't nearly enough to hate him. He was ultimately a good guy. He was never unfaithful, never would even dare to think of laying a hand on you, but when it was all said and done, he was a bit neglectful. But, how much of that was him, and how much of it was his job? Oftentimes, it was hard to distinguish. Too often was it an excuse.

Did he love you? sure. Could he have loved more? yes. Too often did it feel like he was one-sided. You were there for him, not the other way around. You are his, not the other way around. You needed him, not the other way around. And to have that shoved back in your face when you brought it up was not the right reaction. He shouldn't feel like an animal cornered when you brought up a concern, something he did that hurt you, but he did. A valid point shouldn't be shot down or argued with counterpoint, but it was. Now, you can only second guess yourself, and that shouldn't be how it is, but it is.

You loved too hard, that will haunt you. He loved too little, and that will forever haunt him.

He hated himself. You were everything he ever prayed for, a beautiful partner with a beautiful smile and a beautiful soul, someone he could have forever. He didn't realize that the thought of ‘having someone’ was wrong of him. He was selfish. You never did anything but show him your heart, your mind, and he blew it up in your face. He destroyed something, someone so beautiful. A day hasn't passed that he wasn't filled with regret. He couldn't even smile or laugh anymore. He became scary.

He'd lost the one piece of true happiness in his life, and it was his fault.

He craved you. He needed you, but he was too late. Why couldn't he have realized what he had sooner? Appreciate you like you deserve. Love you like you deserve. He knows he has it in him, but he just couldn't. fucking. see. it. He wants to kick his own ass for it. He desperately wants to turn back time, go back with the mindset he has now, or at least beat it into his past self.

He'd gotten too damn comfortable being in the military. Vulnerability is weakness. Why would he use his words? Why think about anything, decode? Feelings are best buried. He's a man's-man, and a man only needs to protect and provide

He believed that ideology never gave him issues until you. You challenged that ideal. You asked him for his thoughts, his feelings. You wanted to know. You cared. It annoyed him. Why the fuck would he care? Sure he had thoughts and feelings somewhere, but he pushed them down. Why bring them back up? You surely had too much time on your hands to be concerned with what he was thinking. You wanted connection. He knows that now, but what is that going to do for him now?

He immediately felt the effects of your absence. He was deployed when you left your shared home. He watched you leave on the security camera, car packed to the brim. Sure, he had felt a type of way about it then, but then he was only apologizing for the sake of it. He was just another man in the wrong. Apologize to your upset partner, make up, and move on, but oh, was it so much more different now.

He was filed to the brim with remorse. Even then, he had visions of your shared future, retiring or climbing ranks to settle in one place, building a family, a home, preferably on a large, secluded plot of land. How he looks on with different eyes at that ‘future’ now. He never truly believed in all that ‘grass is greener’ ‘know what you have ‘til it's gone’ B.S. until he'd lost you. He gets it now.

It wasn't until that switch was flipped for him to realize you blocked him, excommunicated. He was gone so much that he never got a chance to build any sort of relationship with your friends. It irritates him now that he is probably known as just the shitty military ex. The closest thing he has to you is a friend of a friend of his who is a friend of a friend of yours. At first, he'd rather die than try to reach out to you that way, but now, there was no line, no bridge he wouldn't cross to just get one more moment with you.

He'd been stewing on it for the last year and a half. You'd moved and blocked him. It seemed utterly hopeless to reconnect, but something came up recently that has him itching again.

He's been promoted. A good job, good position, and in one place. It was perfect. The start of your ‘forever’ together. The only thing missing is you. Friend of a friend² be damned. He had to fix this, and just his luck to find you. Just your luck to be found.

It took several minutes for you to lay eyes on him, but he spotted you immediately. The second you walked through the door of your new favorite café, he saw you. He couldn't believe it. He originally pulled himself into this place because it simply reminded him of you. It had you written all over it. He felt closer to you here. He wouldn't have guessed you would just walk in like this. His eyes followed you as you stood in line and ordered.

He noticed you glance around the café briefly and still not spot him seated at a back table facing the exit. His heart raced, seeing your eyes wander before going to your phone. He knew that look, though. You were only fidgeting with it, trying to make yourself look busy to avoid any social awkwardness. It made him grin as he stared longingly. There were some things that didn't change.

It had been a whole two years since you last saw Sy, about eight months since you stopped seeing him in every stranger. You weren't going to back track now, so you stared down blankly at your phone to keep yourself from staring at the familiar looking guy in the corner. He was missing a thick beard and a shaved head, but with a quick glance, he looked an awful lot like heartbreak.

Sy knew he was on borrowed time, the chances of you sitting alone in any kind of restaurant was slim to none, and considering you weren't looking for seating meant you were grabbing and going. He had to think of something and fast.

His body was standing, and his feet were moving before his mind could catch up. It wasn't until he was about two feet away that he stopped and started panicking. You noticed the man standing in your peripheral, but you kept your head down to avoid any awkward eye contact. That was until your name fell from his lips, causing you to look up from your phone.

“Sy?” Your eyes widened and your brows furrowed together. Your heart immediately started blasting in your ears. You couldn't breathe. You'd thought about running into him again, about all you wanted to say to him, telling him off? apologizing? But that was before your move, before you forced him out of your mind. Now, you were face to face with your anxiety and dreaded nightmare. Your name was muffled from his mouth and to your ears the second time.

“Hi. How have you been?” He wanted to punch himself in the face for how casual that came out, but he quite honestly couldn't think of anything better to say without falling over his own words. He awaited a response from you, but you only stared like a deer in headlights.

You genuinely couldn't hear a word coming out of his mouth. Was he talking? He had to have been. His mouth was moving, but it was like his voice was muffled. Something you assume was your name came out again before your name was called a bit louder by a different voice behind you.

You whip your head around to find a perky barista with a drink in hand, looking in your direction. You scurry over to her and take your drink with a curt thank you, as polite as you can muster in this moment. Without even a second glance, you're making a rushed escape for the exit. Your name is called again, but you're tunnel visioned on the door out.

Sy's stomach tightens and drops at the sight of your flee, but again his body is in full control at this point. He's utterly in shock. He didn't know what to expect, but this was his chance. All he knew is that he couldn't let you leave, not again, so this time, he chased after you.

As soon as you're out the door, he's right behind you, having to catch the door from slamming on him. He calls out for you again, but you don't stop, so he keeps running.

It's once you're passed the café windows that he finally catches up. He reaches to grab for your arm but quickly changes his mind to just step in front of you instead. “Wait! Please, darlin’, wa-”

“Don't call me that.” He's taken aback by the sudden words but retracts nonetheless.

“Please. Wait.” It was at this point that you both have fallen silent that you get a good look at him. His hair has grown out of its ‘tactical buzzcut’ and into a pretty generic cut that was redeemed by the dark curls atop his head. His beard was now trimmed down to only some scruff and a mustache. It was an odd combination of seeing him with more and less hair than usual, but he was just as handsome as ever, unfortunately.

The pause between you both was long. Though it should be awkward, it was also strangely comfortable or rather empty. Being in each other's presence again was like putting on an old hoodie. It was cathartic and familiar, but the memories, the history, was hard to get passed. Your name falls from his lips again, a lot softer and barely there. Your eyes were trained on his face, unable to look away. His were downcast.

“I… I….” His eyes close as he takes a deep breath in an attempt to gain some composure. His bottom lip juts out a bit as his mouth tightens into a little frown. “Please, I need to talk with you.” He opens his eyes, encapsulating your gaze in his.

The sight of his eyes outside of your memory is enough to empty your brain of any thought, so you remain silent. But he needs an answer from you, so he waits.

“What is there to talk about?” You say. He can tell by the look in your eyes that you built walls that weren't there before, and it shakes him to his core. He did that.

“A lot.” He sighs, huffing out a singular humorless laugh through his nose. His face briefly quirks like it wants to give a smile to match the short laugh, but the overwhelming weight of the situation at hand just won't allow for it.

You stare up at him for a few beats of silence, both of your chests tight with anxiety. You've never seen him so close to breaking down. He's never seen you so blank. Neither of you really knows what to do, but eventually, your eyes fall from his face before you walk passed him.

Sy freezes. The world around him simultaneously crumbles and halts. His breathing completely stills. You don't get five steps away before you turn back and call after him, “You want to talk. I'm not giving you another chance to do so.” You say, expecting him to follow you. As soon as the realization hits, he moves with haste. He's beside you walking before you're even done turning back around.

It was a good two blocks before Sy spoke up. “How have you been?” He tries again, looking over to you as you walk.

“Fine.” You answer curtly. It makes Sy frown again. It's the kind of ‘fine’ you'd give a stranger, and he hates that that's what you've become. He feels a bit shut down but continues. This is his chance.

“Well, that's, um, good to hear.” He states, but the end of the sentence inflicts an upward tone, almost into a question.

“I wasn't for a long time, but now, I'm fine.” You add, and it's the hardest punch in the gut Sy has ever received. His jaw clenched as he nodded. He swallows, trying to carefully choose his words, knowing how much each one counts.

“Darlin-” He cuts himself off by correcting it to your name. He sighs again, “Please, genuinely hear me when I express how sorry I am.”

“I'm sure you are.” He glosses over your response, continuing.

“Look, I know I've said it before, but, in all honesty, I didn't-” He cuts himself off again, making sure he words it correctly.

“Didn't mean it?” You finished, a bit annoyed.

“No.” He's quick to correct, “I meant it.” He says, determined, “I knew that I had made you upset, and I knew to apologize for it, but I didn't really know the meaning behind it.” He admits. “I didn't understand.” He confirms what you already know. “I was foolish. Stuck in an old way.” He pauses with another frown. “I didn't understand why you wanted to dig into me. I didn't understand that you were only trying to connect with me, really connect. I got defensive. ” He looks up from the ground to your eyes with a sad, guilty look, like he's confessing. “I was stupid and didn't believe in sharing every part of me with you.” He slows his pace, forcing you to match until you're stopped in front of him.

You're facing each other as he continues with his confession. “I thought doing so would make me less of a man, but I understand now.” He gives you a quick, little, sad smile before it disappears into a guilty frown. “I understand that it was an integral part of strengthening our bond, our love. You'd show me every part of you in return for me doing the same, and we'd accept each other, every part.” He gives another sad smile that breaks your heart all over again. He looks down shamefully with a hard look on his face, “I understand now.”

You look at him with a sad pout. Half of you wants to give him a piece of your mind. Two years!? It took all that time to just now fucking realize what you were asking of him!? But the other half didn't know how to feel. What is he trying to do? Redeem himself? What.

“So that's it? You just wanted to give me an actual apology?” He can see that your walls are still up. He fixes his jaw.

“Yes, but,” He starts. He knew that you weren't going to just fall into his arms, but he still hoped it would be that easy to just pick up where you left off. He sighs with his eyes closed, this time shakily, nervous. It confuses you as you've never seen the Captain Syverson nervous. “I've been…” He stops short, pausing. Jesus, you never thought you'd see the day this immovable mountain of a man revert to the demeanor of a reprehensible child. “I know we can't pick up where we left off, and I kind of don't want to,” He tries again, this time getting a confused and slightly offended expression from you, “but can we, maybe, start over?” He looks at you with the most hopeful, pitiful puppy eyes you've ever seen, another thing you never thought you'd see from him.

The air forcefully leaves your lungs as all the progress you've made through the years to try and make yourself impenetrable leaves with it. Your chest tightens as you try to will the upcoming tears away. It's your turn to let out a humorless laugh. You shake your head, looking off into the distance, “You really hurt me, Sy.” You look back at him with the most heartbreaking expression. He nearly looks close to tears at the sight. “I'm too much. I'm needy. I expect too much.”

“No, no, no.” He stops you, stepping closer only to get you retreating from him. Your step back drives the heartbreak further into his chest. He shakes his head in utter disagreement, a disgusted grimace on his features. “You're not. You're. not. I was foolish and childish, and I was not ready for you.”

“But you're ready now?” You interject in disbelief.

“Yes,” He states firmly without hesitation. He steps up again. This time, your body visibly tenses, but you don't move away. “I'm more than ready. I need you.” He takes another smaller, gentler step forward. “I hate that it took you leaving for me to see that, but I do.”

“Sy-”

“Please. Please. Don't say it's too late. Don't say we can't try again. Please, just one more chance.” He looks down abruptly like a private who just got caught looking at a superior officer. He's begging. He knows how he hurt you and your trust. Like a dog showing its belly, he's trying to show you his submission. Ultimately, it's in your hands, but he's determined.

You stare at him while trying to decipher the mess in your mind. “Sy.” You say a bit more calmly. His demeanor doesn't change. You sigh, “How do I know you wouldn't just fall back into old habits? What if, even after all this, you just repeat the same closed book bullshit? What's different?” You try to find his eyes, but they remain downcast as he stays still.

“I've been promoted.” He states a bit detached, purely stating fact, anything you want from him. “I'd no longer be in the field, no longer deployed. I'd be in one place.” He purses his lips into another right frown. “It's the start of what we used to talk about.” He says, words laced with hope and nostalgia. “Remember?” He tests, voice as soft as silk. Your eyes sadden even more, looking down with a miniscule nod. “I can settle down. Stop putting myself in the line of fire every day. I'd come home to you every night, wake up with you every mornin’.” His eyes soften as they peer up at you through his dark eyelashes. “Get that dream house.” He raises his brows with soft eyes and a sigh of a grin.

“Sy.” He quickly follows with your name before you continue. The gentle way your name rolls off his tongue makes your heart race at a concerning rate. “I,” you sigh, “I can't just run back to you after all this time.” You scoff out a sad laugh.

“So, let's just start with a date.” He tries again softly, melting your heart in your chest. “No pressure, no expectations, just one do-over.” His eyes flutter softly as his eyes return to their submissive downcast. “A reintroduction to the people we've become. A second first date.” He concludes. You can't help but let out a soft giggle despite trying to hold yourself together. Though it's sad, Sy has never heard a more beautiful sound. His chest swells with hope.

It takes time for you to make up your mind, and he gives it to you. Your everything was already screaming at you to say yes, but you couldn't let him know that, so you took your time. “Okay.” You cave. Sy's brows shoot up, and his face breaks out into a huge, mouth agape smile. The image of pure, overjoyed surprise.

He can't help himself but close the distance between you and scoop you in his arms, twirling you around, with a victorious laugh. The shock of it all and contagious joy causes you to let out a small giggle. He looks up at you in his arms and drops you down enough to plant a kiss on your lips. Though quick, the kiss was filled with nothing but longing and love.

As if realizing what's happened, he's quick to gently set you back down and take a step back, returning to the same distance you were at prior. He is a bit awkward with his hands before setting them on his hips. He still has a bright smile on his face, “I,” he huffs, “You have no idea how you've just made me the happiest man to ever exist.” He tries to just quickly move passed what just happened. “So, could I, maybe, get your number?” He says, trying his best to contain his joy.

You laugh, admittedly a little awkward. “It's the same one.” You fidget, “I can, uh, I'll unblock you, as long as you have the same number as well, I mean.” You stumble. He nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, it's the same one.” He sighs, content. His eyes are filled with admiration and adoration, like you hung the moon and stars single handedly. It was everything you ever wanted from him to see his love within him.

You quickly pull your phone out and unblock his number on the spot. “There.” You shoot him a quick text. Even after all this time, his tagname never changed in your phone. You hear his phone ding moments later, and he pulls it out with an even brighter smile and a sigh of relief. He never thought he'd see your name pop up in his notifications again. Once again, it's always the little things that are missed.

“Are you free this weekend? Friday night, maybe?” He asks. You give him a small smile and a nod. “Great! Great, I'll- I'll pick you up? We can get dinner after work and…start over.” He sighs. He's both a little sad and over the moon. He wants nothing more than to do a quick catch-up and just start pouring his love into you, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. You give another small smile.

“I can't wait.” You say. He nods curtly. “You can tell me all about your new job.” His face brightens at you, showing interest in him again. He steps forward to stand beside you, holding out his elbow.

“Let me walk you to your car.” You breathe out a small chuckle before hooking your hand in his elbow, taking back to the café parking lot. Just a few paces in, Sy leans in closer to you to whisper in a low tone, “I know we're going to go slow, but I just want to say… I missed you.” You look into his deep blue eyes before looking down at his mustached lips.

“I've missed you too.” You whisper back with a small smile.

The remainder of the work week, Sy was notably different, even getting some teasing comments from coworkers. Your friends tried tearing into you, asking why you suddenly looked like the life returned in you, but you kept your lips sealed. You were taking things one step at a time with Sy.

The most anyone got was “I have a date.”

____

I hope you liked it! Thank you so much for the request, Anon! I hope I did it justice. (sorry it took so long. I've been a bit under the weather😅)

Masterlist

Swisslist (General Taglist): @rosecentury @solacedthistest

[ashen-char]

out here

ship: amber freeman (scream) x gender neutral reader

warnings: slight mentions of sex, nudity, drinking, blood (but nothing nsfw)

summary: amber can get you to do anything. but camping with her friends? ...yes, she can get you to do even that.

word count: 1000+

Woodsboro, California. Named for the dense forest along the outskirts of town. The woods are a popular hang-out spot for the local teenagers, who like to camp or throw parties. You wake up tangled in Amber's arms after a night of drinking and swapping ghost stories around the campfire with her friends. Rays of sunlight trickle through the thin nylon of the shitty tent you two bought on the way here.

Her friends, namely the twins Mindy and Chad, had hyped everyone up to celebrate finally graduating. Wes, always a big survival planner, had texted the group a list of essentials the night before. Bear spray, flashlights, sleeping bags, enough clothes to last two days, actual food. No one listened, of course, and instead Amber had teased him for being such a killjoy.

At first, you had resisted this little spontaneous weekend getaway. You were busy, and plus you were always more of an indoors person. All the camping trips you remembered growing up made you think about sore legs from too much walking, views that weren't worth it, and mosquito bites.

But Amber had a way of getting to you. She had winked, pressing against you, looking up at you with those big brown eyes. Whispering promises of sharing a tent together and the things you could get up to when you're all alone. So now you're in the middle of the woods, dealing with bugs and no Wi-Fi and shitty signal. Yay.

"Amber. You're, ugh," you groan, trying (and failing) to extricate yourself from her grip. She's stronger than she looks. When your arms protest the sudden movement, you give up, melting into her hold. "You're suffocating me."

"Yeah, but you like it," Amber tells you. She nuzzles into your neck, not even a little bit sorry. You can feel her smug smile against your skin, that wide grin of hers when she knows she's getting her way.

After some grumbling and weak protests otherwise, the two of you end up in a play wrestle. You don't try that hard, knowing that if you ever actually exert yourself to pushing Amber away she'd get even more excited. She likes this game. Too much, probably. The almost-violence, the thrill of playing rough with someone you care about. The danger. With how often Amber gets her way, sometimes it's nice to pretend that you won't just give it to her. But you both know how this always goes. You don't actually want to hurt her, and Amber wants more, more, more. She nips your neck hard enough to bleed.

It ends up with Amber on top of you, straddling your waist. Her hands encircle your wrists, pinning you to the sleeping bag. Her eyes sparkle as she stares down at you. Maybe you shouldn't find this so sexy. But the early morning sunlight hits illuminates Amber from behind and it makes her shine. She's still naked from last night, her pale skin marked with bruises from sleeping on the hard ground. Among the other activities you two got up to last night. Her hair is sticking up from tossing and turning, and the sleeping bag is bunched up around her waist. Now that's a view that's worth it. Amber looks like an angel. A sinister one who's celebrating winning by playing dirty, but an angel nonetheless.

"I could buck you off," you warn.

"Yeah, right." She knows you wouldn't. There's a look in her eye practically asking for you to try.

You assess the pros and cons. In truth, you're too hungover and tired from last night to try. And you can breathe again since Amber isn't crushing your windpipe with her arm around you. "...Fine. You win this time, Freeman."

Amber leans down into your warmth until you're pressed together again. "Damn right I do, babe," she mutters into your chest. A kiss there, at your collarbone, then a few more up towards the hickeys she left along your throat. You think you even feel her kissing at the bite she gave you. An apology for playing so rough? "Now shut up and cuddle me."

So now you're snuggled up with your violent cutie of a girlfriend, your arms loose around her waist. When she complains, you tighten your grip. Amber craves attention from you like she craves air.

Not too long passes before you hear the others outside. They're already getting up, unlike you two, getting breakfast together. Everyone besides Wes only brought booze and snacks, so you aren't surprised when you hear Chad annoying him. "Wes, come on," you hear Chad say, "you know you brought all that to share! What kinda friend lets his buddies starve to death, huh?"

"This is why everyone should actually use my checklists. I don't send them as a joke-" Whatever. You drown them out, instead focusing on the girl in your arms. Her eyes are closed, so there's some chance you're waking her up again. 

"Your friends are annoying," you say to Amber. It's a fond observation though. They've all grown on you since you and Amber got together. With how tight-knit they are, you've had to hang out with them pretty often. They're all so different from each other and yet they're so close. Different interests, clashing personalities. Hell, if it weren't for the occasional horror movie marathons, you wouldn't think that they'd get along at all. "I don't know how you even deal with them."

"They're my best friends. And they have been since I was a kid, basically," Amber replies, her voice low so they don't hear her defending them. Everyone but Tara - and now you - haven't heard her like this. Sweet, caring. Loyal. She might be snarky with her friends, but deep down she loves each of them in her own way. "They can be annoying, yeah," she concedes, "but they matter to me."

Before you can crack a joke about how Amber must enjoy annoying since she's dating you, she snuggles closer. The two of you listen to the rest of her friends chattering away outside. Liv tells her boyfriend to stop annoying Wes, and Tara asks for breakfast in a less entitled way. Wes gives in, obviously, because Chad was right and he brought enough food for everyone on purpose.

"Plus, they're your friends now too, babe," Amber says.

With one last deep kiss before you two should get up, you sigh in contentment. Her lips are just that good. Fine. You can admit that camping isn't that bad. Camping with her, at least. Maybe it's fine to always let Amber win.