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starlitmelanin · 2 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩ྀི birthday blues; t.alexander-arnold

pairing - trent x varsity!fem!reader

word count - 2.9k

warnings - none

summary - you’re stressed out about trent’s birthday, because what on earth do you get a man who already has everything?

it's not like you can just roll up with a box of chocolates and call it a day. this man's used to the best of the best, and while he's never made you feel like you weren't enough or didn't fit into his world, the reality is you're still a varsity student, still trying to stretch your monthly budget to cover textbooks, takeout, and the occasional night out with your girls.

and trent? well, trent can have anything he wants, whenever he wants. you've watched him casually browse designer websites like he's scrolling through twitter, picking out shoes that cost more than your rent with a kind of nonchalance that makes your head spin.

so, no, a simple birthday card from the campus bookstore isn't going to cut it. this is your first birthday together as a couple — you've got to make it special.

but how?

like, you've been lying in bed for hours now, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly through shopping websites, pinterest, and even resorting to typing "what to get your rich boyfriend for his birthday" into google. nothing is helping. in fact, everything's making it worse. because even though you've got a list of ideas in your notes app, none of them seem to match up to the weight of what you feel this gift should be.

"babe, you don't have to go all out," trent had said during a conversation you had with him earlier in the week, flashing you that pretty smile that somehow makes everything feel like it'll be fine. "whatever you get me, i'm gonna love it. i'm just happy to spend the day with you."

but that's the thing, though. you want to go all out. he deserves it. even if he's not asking for it, you know he would never say anything if you just showed up with something basic—but it would eat away at you. you'd remember it every year.

so, yeah, no pressure or anything. just your sanity slowly slipping away as the days inch closer to his birthday and you still have no clue what to do.

your friends have been no help either. a bunch of suggestions that are either way too expensive or feel way too impersonal. "just get him something sentimental," one of them had said, but you're not even sure what counts as sentimental when you've only been dating for a few months.

like, are you supposed to pull some dramatic pinterest diy project out of nowhere? is that your lane now? because you're not crafty. you're not about to break out the arts and crafts just to end up frustrated and glue-stained.

you're definitely overthinking this, and you know it, but you can't stop. you keep picturing the day itself. like, what if you get him something and he likes it but doesn't love it? what if he's too polite to say it but deep down, he's thinking, "wow, she really couldn't put more effort into this?"

it doesn't help that every time you bring up his birthday, trent just brushes it off like it's no big deal. "it's just another day," he says, shrugging, but you know it's more than that. his birthday is a big deal to you because he's a big deal to you.

you can't let this flop.

days are passing by faster than you'd like, and you still haven't made any progress. now it's the weekend before his birthday, and you're sitting on the floor of your apartment, surrounded by discarded ideas. you've gone from designer cologne (too basic) to a surprise trip (too expensive) to planning a cute dinner night in (too... ordinary?).

it's gotten to the point where you're spiralling. full-on stress mode. you're overthinking everything, imagining how disappointed he might be, how awkward the whole thing could feel, and for what? he hasn't said anything that makes you think he's expecting something grand, but it's like your brain is running on a loop, replaying worst-case scenarios.

you're deep in your thoughts when your phone buzzes. it's trent. a simple text.

trent: wanna come over?

you sigh, conflicted. on one hand, you'd love to see him and spend the day wrapped up in each other like you usually do, but on the other hand, you feel like you should be using every spare second to figure this gift thing out. but it's trent, and maybe seeing him will take your mind off the stress for a bit. so, you grab your keys and head out.

when you get to his place, trent's already waiting for you at the door, looking casual as ever in sweats and a hoodie. he greets you with a grin that immediately makes some of the tension in your shoulders ease up. you can't help but smile back, even though the stress is still simmering in the back of your mind.

he pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head as he mumbles, "missed you."

"you saw me yesterday," you laugh softly, burying your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne. it's the same cologne you thought about getting him for his birthday, but now that you're here with him, it feels too safe, too... expected.

"still missed you," he murmurs, pulling back slightly to look at you. "you okay?"

God, how does he always know?

"yeah," you lie, but it's not convincing. trent raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but he doesn't press. instead, he just leads you inside, hand slipping into yours like it always does.

you spend the afternoon curled up on the couch, watching some random show neither of you are really paying attention to. trent's arm is draped over your shoulders, his fingers occasionally brushing against your arm, but your mind keeps drifting. keeps thinking about the damn gift.

it's not until he asks, "you sure you're alright?" that you realise you've been quiet for too long.

you glance up at him, debating whether or not to just tell him. you don't want to admit how stressed you've been about something that probably seems insignificant to him. but trent's looking at you with that soft, patient expression, and before you know it, the words are tumbling out.

"it's just... your birthday," you mumble, picking at the hem of your shirt, avoiding his gaze. "i wanna get you something special, but i don't know what to get you. you have everything already."

there's a pause, and for a moment, you worry you've said too much. but then you hear him laugh. not in a mean way, but in that gentle, amused way he does when you've overcomplicated something in your head.

"babe," he says softly, cupping your chin and turning your face so you're looking at him. "you don't have to stress over that. i don't need anything fancy or expensive. i just wanna spend time with you."

you feel your chest tighten a little because, logically, you know he's right. but still... it's his first birthday with you. it feels like it should be more.

"i know," you mumble, eyes flicking away from his. "but i just want it to be perfect."

"it will be," he promises, leaning down to steal a kiss. "because you'll be there."

and maybe that's all that matters, but still...

—

the next couple of days are a blur.

classes, assignments, and late-night scrolling sessions trying to figure out the perfect present. you've moved past the point of practicality. now, you're grasping at straws. googling things like "unique gifts for the man who has everything" and getting absolutely nowhere. your notes app is full of crossed-out ideas, your stress level rising with each passing day.

by the time thursday rolls around, you're a full-on wreck. trent's birthday is next monday, and the thought of showing up with something underwhelming—or worse, empty-handed—has you on edge. you've always been the type to put pressure on yourself, to want everything to be just right, especially when it comes to people you care about. and trent? well, trent's at the top of that list now, no question.

it randomly hits you at 2:19 in the morning, that spark of inspiration you were so desperate for, the puzzle pieces of your chaotic brain finally starting to click into place. and as you brush your teeth before class a few hours later, you replay the idea in your mind.

you obviously still need to work out the details, but at least you have direction now. no more over-the-top ideas. nothing that screams, "i tried too hard." instead, you're going for something more personal, something that shows trent how much you've been paying attention to the small things.

because, really, that's what this relationship has been about for you—finding beauty in the details. sure, trent's life is loud and flashy, but what you've learned in the past few months is that it's the quiet moments, the ones where it's just the two of you, that really matter.

like the nights where you read him your biochem thesis because you want a second opinion (and, bless him, he never understands a thing). or the mornings where you wake up tangled in his sheets, 15 minutes late for whatever morning class you have. or the late-night talks where he opens up in ways you know he doesn't do with most people.

that's what you want to capture. that's what his birthday should reflect.

the rest of the week passes in a blur, a whirlwind of classes, your part-time job, and late-night planning sessions. every free moment you get, you're jotting down notes, sketching ideas, making phone calls, and somehow managing to keep all of this hidden from trent. it's not easy—he's nosy as hell, always asking what you're up to, but you've gotten good at playing it off, keeping him in the dark just enough to maintain the element of surprise.

you've already set everything in motion. well, mostly. there are still a few loose ends to tie up, but it's all coming together in a way that feels right.

on the morning of his birthday, you both settle on a time that works—right after your last class and after he's done with training. by the time he gets to your place that evening, you're all giddy, eyes beaming as you open the door for him.

and he's instantly on you, arms smoothly slipping around your waist, pulling you to him just as you close the door. he leans down, pressing his lips to your exposed shoulder — gentle, lingering kisses, his breath warm against your skin. "hi, baby."

"trent..." you murmur, trying to sound disapproving because you can almost guess where this is going, but failing miserably. it comes out softer than you intended, more like an invitation than a scolding.

he hums against your skin, his lips brushing the curve of your neck now, his hands tightening just a bit on your waist, pressing your back to his front. "hmm?"

his lips move to your jawline next, and you reach back with one hand, tangling your fingers in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. he takes the hint, pressing more kisses along the side of your face now, trailing up to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

"so pretty," trent turns you around slowly, his hands still on your waist, guiding you until you're facing him. his eyes are dark, a little playful, but there's something else there too—something softer, deeper.

you barely have time to register that look before his lips are on yours, soft and sweet. it's not hurried or frantic, but there's an urgency to it, and you kiss him back just as passionately, your hands clutching his shirt, your body leaning into his. it's instinctual now, the way your whole being responds to him.

when you finally pull back, both of you breathing a little heavier, trent rests his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. there's a lazy smile on his lips, the kind that makes your heart do a little flip in your chest.

"wait, you're distracting me," you laugh quietly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. "i have a surprise for you."

he smiles, his lips brushing against your forehead now. "yeah?"

you nod, grinning as you lead him over to the living room, where you've set everything up. on the coffee table, there's a small collection of items: a few handwritten letters, a disposable camera, and a small, leather-bound journal.

trent raises an eyebrow, glancing between you and the table, clearly intrigued but not sure what to expect.

"so, i know you don't need anything," you start, your voice suddenly a little shaky as you sit down beside him. "and i didn't wanna get you something you could just buy yourself. so... i thought about what would mean the most to you. and, well... this is what i came up with."

you hand him the journal first, feeling a knot of nerves tighten in your stomach as he unties the string and carefully opens it.

the pages are filled with handwritten notes, photos, and little mementos from your time together so far. it's not just a scrapbook or a diary; it's a love letter. every page is a piece of your relationship — the silly inside jokes, the photos of the two of you at your favourite café, the pressed flowers from the first bouquet he ever gave you, the ticket stubs from the movie you saw on your second date. it's a collection of memories, a reminder of how far you've come in such a short time.

it's quiet for a while, the only sound being the soft rustle of paper as he turns the pages. you watch him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction, but his face is unreadable.

finally, he reaches the last page—a note you wrote, a few simple words; happy birthday, trent. thank you for being you. thank you for seeing me. i love you.

he's quiet for a moment, his eyes scanning the words, thumb tracing over the ink. when he finally looks up, there's this... softness in his eyes, a depth of emotion you don't always see from him.

"this is perfect," he sets the journal aside and pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple. "thank you, baby."

you feel a wave of relief wash over you, but you're not done yet. next, you hand him the disposable camera.

"i know you're used to having a million pictures taken of you all the time, but... i thought it might be nice to have something just for us. we can take pictures whenever, wherever. and at the end of the roll, we'll get them developed and see what moments we've captured."

trent turns the camera over in his hands, a warm, appreciative smile gracing his lips. "this is... yeah, this is really thoughtful. i didn't expect this."

and finally, you hand him the letters. "these are from the people closest to you. i asked them to write you something personal, something that shows how much you mean to them."

he looks up at you, his eyes soft, a mix of gratitude and something deeper reflecting in them. "you really went all out for this, didn't you?"

you shrug, feeling a little shy now that everything's out in the open. "i just wanted you to feel appreciated. i didn't want to get you something that didn't mean anything."

trent's quiet for a moment, just looking at you, and then he sets everything aside and pulls you into his arms, holding you close.

"you're amazing," he says, his voice all soft and thick with emotion. "seriously. this is the best gift i've ever had."

you feel the tension drain from your body as you bury your face in his chest, a smile spreading across your lips because, yeah. all the stress, all the overthinking, it was worth it.

"i love you," trent pulls back slightly, his hand cupping your cheek as he looks down at you. "more than i even know how to say."

your heart stutters at that. you've both danced around the words for a while now, neither of you wanting to rush into saying them, but hearing him say it now, in this moment, feels right.

"i love you too," you whisper, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as you pull him closer, your lips meeting in a soft, lingering kiss.

when you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours again, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. "best birthday i've had," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your cheek, and you laugh softly, your heart full.

"i'm glad," you say, smiling as you snuggle closer to him, his arms wrapping around you like a safety net. "but it's not over yet."

he raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "oh? what else do you have planned?"

you grin, leaning back just enough to meet his gaze. "i figured we'd spend the rest of the night doing... whatever you want."

trent chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "whatever i want, huh?"

"yep," you nod, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. "you're the birthday boy, after all."

"careful," he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "i might hold you to that."

and he does hold you to it.

all night long.

#⋆⁺₊✧ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧 #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x black reader #trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold fluff

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fraugwinska · 6 months ago

Note

Hey! Me again!

Could I get an Alastor x Female reader where she tells him she's pregnant, he's so stunned he thinks it a joke until she shows him the positive on the test and it shocks him to the core but after the initial shock he's overjoyed.

My dear jezebel <3 Thank you for being so patient! I took a few liberties from the ask, I really hope you don't mind! After a lot of rewrites and edits - I'm finally happy to share it with you! Thank you for the ask, my dearest! TW:Sickness&death-Light smut-Minors DNI-5.2k words

Autumn had always been your favorite season.

The most colorful of the four; from your bed you could always see various shades of red, orange, green and yellow, all mixed together to create a vibrant, warm impressionistic painting. Just looking at the bright shades outside had always made you smile.

There was also this peaceful ambiance around autumn that you could feel but not quite understand. Something so profound and yet ephemeral in a way.

"Should I close the window before I go?", Alice asked you, a sad smile on her face. Your favorite hospice nurse had spent her last shift before her holiday almost exclusively with you - somehow you both knew there wasn't much time left. The sickness that ate away at your body was unforgiving - you knew it was simply a matter of days now, and even that was generous. Alice must've sensed it, too.

"No, no.", you replied with a warm smile. "Leave it open. The night nurse can close it later."

Alice nodded, said her goodbyes and gave you a kiss on the head before exiting the room, carefully closing the heavy wooden door with a thud of painful finality. Breathing had become painful lately, but despite the sting you inhaled deeply, just to burn the smell of bristle leafs and warm wood into your memory. Right next to the memory of him.

Alastor.

Summoning him hadn't been easy, especially since you were bedridden and almost constantly monitored. Not only did you have to take special care of choosing the right night to be left unsupervised - you had to bribe Alice and make her believe it was her own idea to give you a few hours to be on your own, which you claimed to need desperately. The internet had been your biggest friend in the weeks before, preparing - you had used the time you had at your disposal to research on shady websites and occult forums who to summon, how to do the ritual and, in case he said no, which bargain to offer. And you chose Alastor.

It was the name that spoke to you the most - Unusual. Mature. Vintage. Mysterious. Powerful and yet gentle, in it's own way. 'Mans defender'. 'Avenger'. The more you read about him on dubious servers and obscure wiki's, the more you were sure it should be him. Still able to use your hands back then, in the chosen night you managed to follow all of the instructions perfectly, even while bound to your bed. When the living shadow appeared out of nowhere, twisting and contorting into the shape of a tall, handsome, dapper dressed demon, the tiny handheld radio you had in your hands slid from your weakened grip and your heart skipped a beat. As he stepped nearer, the perceived humanity of his appearance disappeared before your eyes - long, black fingers ending in red talons, small antlers sitting in between fluffy crimson-colored ears, razor-sharp teeth and blood-red irises shining with curiosity. He stopped just a foot away in front of your bed. As he began to talk, to introduce himself - as though being summoned by gravely sick human women were the norm - you stopped him with a raise of your hand, the action draining your already weakened body and mind.

"I know who you are. Alastor, the Radio Demon."

"My reputation precedes me, then!", he chimed, his voice pointed, melodic and so enchantingly and contradictorily full of life. His whole posture, his devious smile and the way his eyes glinted in the dim moonlight made it very clear that he was a dangerous creature, and yet, you felt strangely at ease.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this summoning, my dear?"

You swallowed hard, knowing full well that if you wanted him to accept your deal, you needed to choose your words carefully.

"I... I am dying."

Alastor's grin twitched, but he said nothing, only tilted his head and waited for you to continue, hands folded behind his back.

"I've been sick my whole life, I...", you felt the need to explain, so that your offer wouldn't sound so... well, pitiful.

"Ever since I was born, I have been bound first to my crib, then to a bed, the hospital and now this hospice. I have never been allowed or even able to go to school, or make friends, or just... do things that children ought to do. Even though my life was always going to be short lived."

You could feel tears forming in your eyes, but blinked them away - you didn't want to cry in front of him, you felt pathetic as you were already. "I missed out on every milestone, every first experience a girl should have. First trip to a park, first day at school, first friend, first kiss, first... everything. And I'll miss out on so many more. I just want to have one normal thing, one 'first' before I die. One memory of a real and happy experience. Of something good."

"And what, pray tell, would that be?", he asked, a brow raised, his smile growing wider. He could probably hear the beating of your heart as you took a deep breath. This was it. Now or never.

"I want to lose my virginity."

The silence following your calmly stated confession was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. It took a while for Alastor to say something.

"Oh my, you really don't mince words, do you, darling?"

You shook your head.

"I have no time to waste. Every second counts."

"Believe me, little one, I'm quite... flattered that you'd go through the trouble of a summoning ritual for this... let's call it: venture. But... why me? Aren't there any men up here you would rather be with?"

"Have you looked at me?", you laughed bitterly. "I'm a sick, dying 20-something in a hospice bed. No man would ever so much as touch me. If I'd even get to meet anyone, since I can't get out of this bed anymore without a nurse. I have nothing to offer a partner anymore. No beauty, no future, not even money. I have only my soul. Please."

The last word came out as a whisper. Alastor's eyes glowed red in the growing darkness, his grin ever-present. He seemed to consider it for a moment, the sound of humming static the only sound in the room and you feared he might reject you.

"If I were to agree, would you truly be willing to pay the price for it? Your soul, darling, is a very precious thing. Do you know the implications of it's loss?"

You nodded.

"Yes. You can have it. It's not worth anything anyway."

Alastor stepped forward, his eyes locked with yours. He didn't sit down on the bed, instead he stood right beside you, bending over until his face was just inches from yours, the back of his hand lightly brushing your fringe out of your face. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of blood and something earthy, like wet soil or moss. He smelled like a forest in autumn.

"It is worth quite a bit, actually. More than you can imagine, I'd wager.", his voice was quiet, almost unfiltered and utterly beautiful. "But I can see you are dead set on it - Pardon the wordplay."

His sharp claw pressed into your skin, eliciting a gasp. He followed the curve of your cheek to your chin, lifting it to better access the side of your neck, just under your jaw. Your skin broke out in goosebumps because for the first time in your life, you felt a touch that was not clinical, not meant to treat you or wastefully bide you more time. This touch was gentle and purposeful. Sensual, maybe. A soft sigh escaped you against your will.

Alastor let out a hum that was not entirely unhappy, before bringing his face dangerously close to yours. You could feel the ends of his fluffy hair tickling your face, the tip of his nose lightly brushing against your skin.

"A happy memory, you say. One satisfying experience in return for your soul. I am certainly not usually known for my kindness, dear.", he muttered against the skin of your cheek, before turning towards your lips. So close. Your heart was beating as loud and as fast as it could, making you dizzy. "But I think we have ourselves a deal."

The golden hour has passed, turning bright orange light into fading blue to black. And the air was turning colder. The memory of that night was the only thing you thought about as you slowly felt death approaching.

The way his lips felt against your mouth, his tongue and the sweet taste he left on your lips that still lingered whenever you ran yours across them, recalling the sensation just once more. He had been gentle, patient, always asking and never assuming or forceful. He made sure you were comfortable before exploring you, careful in the places he touched, mindful in tasting you, praising you for the sounds you made. He allowed you to do your share of exploring, too, and although he wasn't human you found his body still wonderfully, beautifully male, no matter his thin, soft taupe fur and his many, shimmering scars. The memory of the moment when he had finally filled you, tender and slow, was as much sweet pain as it was blissful pleasure, and you found solace in his warmth and the steady, rhythmic pace of him moving inside you as you spilled his name, over and over again until he spent himself inside you, bodies deeply connected. It was hard for you to believe that all of it had been actually true, and not just one big fever dream your dying mind had cooked up to send you off gently when Alice woke you from your sleep later that night, wondering aloud why you didn't turn off the little, handheld radio on the floor that was still playing soft jazz music.

But the little, red and blue marks on your collarbones and the one red-and-black strand of hair you had found on your pillow were telltale signs that everything had been indeed real, and you made sure every detail was etched into your heart, into your body and into your skin. It was, and would remain forever, the happiest moment of your entire life.

'I hope my soul is worth enough...' you thought as the coldness finally embraced you, tears running freely down your cheeks now, but the smile on your face was wide and warm, and the last thing you heard before falling into your final sleep was the gentle hum of a breeze that brought in the smell of earth and rain and leaves.

Alastor had no need for sleep. He usually didn't spend his nights sitting in his favorite chair, motionless, listening to music. He was far too busy, too full of life and plans and energy to sit around and just wait for morning. And yet, there he was, sitting and brooding for the last month, every night, his ears tuned in on the low, static-y noise coming from the old-fashioned radio he was holding. A radio eerily similar to hers.

'How did it come to this?', he wondered for the thousandth time, like a broken record. 'Why did I do it?'

He couldn't fathom the reason for his actions that night, why he had given in to the strange, frivolous request of the frail young woman. Why he had agreed to take her virginity, of all things, in exchange for her soul. Granted, she wasn't the first to offer him that, not by far. But usually, the soul was the last thing a sinner offered, after a great many things of lesser value had been already offered and declined in return. It was, in essence, the most desperate measure, taken only by those who had nothing else to lose.

And yet, she had promised him her soul in the very beginning, treating it not as a valuable bargaining chip, but as an expendable object. A thing without use or worth. He didn't know what had intrigued him so much that night. She had been sickly and fragile, her skin almost translucent in the pale light, and yet there was a spark in her eye. Determination, maybe. Her voice had been strong, if quiet, and her smile, although sad, was still familiarly bright. The way she spoke and her body language had made it clear that she had been not as much afraid of him, despite her frail and vulnerable position, as she had been anxious about his response. She was clearly clever and resolute, despite her lack of personal experience. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to follow through the summoning ritual.

"I have nothing to offer a partner anymore. No beauty, no future, no money. O only have my soul. Please."

He couldn't remember a single instance where someone had begged him with the simple word please and he gave into it. And yet, he had accepted her plea - The whole of her soul, in exchange for a meager, single moment of ridiculous passion. The mere thought had repulsed him before: Body on body, blunt thumps of fleshes, debauched obscenities... it was something that had never held his interest. He felt like it was something unrefined and animalistic, something he had always regarded as unnecessary and obsolete. Until then.

Her body had responded so eagerly, so sensitive, so ready to his touches. It had been clear she hadn't lied about her virginity, and yet her eagerness, her fearlessness had surprised him. Acting solely based on instinct and the morals he was brought up with, no real experience of his own himself, he had tried to be as careful and gentle as he could, and somehow, her inexperience had made it... easier. She was not expecting anything in terms of skill, and thus he had to guide her through the process, allowing him to set the pace and giving him ample time to react to her reactions. Sweet gasps, subtle tremors, faint flushes - all of which had told him how she had felt, what had been pleasurable and what had been uncomfortable. He had been able to take his time and make sure she enjoyed herself. It had been fascinating and even... pleasurable for him, too.

Despite the obvious pain, she had kept her eyes open, watching his face intently as they connected. He had felt the warmth and the tension around him, and her little, breathy gasps had been such pleasant sounds that when she had finally found her release, it had triggered his own, foreign as it had been. She had sighed his name in pure bliss, and in that moment he had felt as powerful and as satisfied as the night he had gained his title as Radio Demon.

And when the deed had been done, the girl had smiled so serenely, he was sure he had rarely ever seen anything that could rival her in beauty.

Alastor shifted uncomfortably at that thought, trying to will away the memory and the sensation that the mere thought of her smile invoked.

It had taken a few minutes, but eventually he had collected himself and put his clothes back on. Her eyes had followed him, the spark back in them and even brighter than before, her smile not faltering even when her tired lids had drooped down, slowly lulling her to sleep. Alastor had stood there, in the small, plain hospice room, watching her for a while, a strange feeling in his chest. The deal hadn't been solidified by a handshake, her soul not yet firmly bound to him and the contract void if not officially sealed, but he couldn't bring himself to wake her. Something had stopped him.

The memory of her face, pale and beautiful, smiling so peacefully even in her slumber, made the corners of his lips twitch. She would've made a magnificent addition to his collection of souls. And yet, and yet... He had decided then and there that her soul would find its way to him, eventually. But not through the proposed deal. So, he had left, the exchange unfulfilled, the pact broken, turning on the small radio she had let slip onto the floor just as he heard her caretaker returning to check on her.

'Oh, how the mighty have fallen.', he mused bitterly, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"Alastor?"

Charlie's voice was a mix of concern and curiosity, muffled by the thick, wooden door of his room. She sounded worried, probably wondering why he had excused himself from the hotel's interactions more and more for the past weeks. He was about to ignore her, not in the mood to talk to anyone, especially not her, persistent thing that she was, but when her soft knock followed her call, his smile widened tightly and his eyes flashed red.

"Charlie, dear, I'm afraid I'm not available at the moment.", he called out, his tone a bit sharper than usual.

"Sorry, but...", the princess sounded hesitant, and he could hear her shuffle awkwardly outside. "It's just... There is someone in the lobby, wanting to speak to you. It seems... important."

He got up from his chair with an annoyed sigh and switched off the radio, straightened his clothes and smoothed out his hair and bow tie with one swipe. Whatever business matter was brought forward, Alastor didn't feel like discussing it. The smile he wore was razor sharp and dark, a result of his annoyance and brooding mood, and yet he couldn't bring himself to feign his cheery personality just quite yet. Maybe this mystery visitor would be a suitable punching bag to let off some of that steam.

When Alastor finally opened the door and walked down to the lobby next to a flustered looking Charlie, his breath hitched involuntarily and he froze mid-stride. Charlie stumbled at the sudden lack of motion next to her, the deafening static sound and the chime-like tuning of a radio startling her so much she flinched away from him.

"H-Hey Al!?", she called in shock, "Are you okay?"

He didn't move, didn't even react - his attention was solely focused on the figure standing at the front-desk, who, just a moment ago, had talked to Husker before turning around upon hearing him.

Hell kept her skin white and almost translucent in it's spite, but granted her soft, shimmering silvery fur in it's mercy. Her frame wasn't thin and frail anymore, she looked plush and healthy, soft curves where there had been nothing more than skin and bone before. Keeping almost all of her human features intact, the small, round ears protruding from her hair, the pink-tipped nose and the long and slender tail were definitely characteristics of a dormouse, their ends almost silver and soft-looking. Her eyes were of the same gentle color that he remembered, and when her lips spread into a sad, tender smile his breath was stolen away completely.

It was the same smile. The very one he hadn't been able to purge from his mind, and most likely never would.

"Alastor."

The sound of her voice, quiet and melodic as it had been weeks before, felt like an invisible touch that pulled the air out of him. Not enough to suffocate him, but he was still reeling none the less.

"So you finally succumbed, it seems..."

His usual bravado was absent, his voice lacked it's sharp, jovial tone, sounding more like he was actually talking. Charlie could do little more but watch with widened eyes, seemingly unable to fathom the scene right in front of her.

"What are you talking about, Alastor? How do you know...", the princess spoke carefully and uncertain, her eyes wandering from one demon to another, but she was quickly interrupted, not by him, but by...

"It's a long story better told another time, Miss Charlie.", she said with a genuine smile on her face, still not able to take her eyes off Alastor. She took a few tentative steps towards him, careful, but certain in her movement, a confidence about her that hadn't been there before. Her head tilted in an enigmatic way and she spoke again, this time solely directed at him.

"I'm truly sorry to impose. But I was hoping we could talk... privately."

Alastor nodded mutely, not able to think clearly, before taking a deep breath and straightening his back to tower over her once again. Husk seemed to notice his shift in composure, raising a brow when he passed him by on his way back behind the bar, noticing the strangely satisfied looking smile on Alastor's face that was as unnerving and frightening as always, but with a different tint that even Husk must've trouble placing guessing by the suspicious look that fell over the cat's face.

"Of course, my dear, my office will suffice. If you'll excuse us, Charlotte? We'll be only a short while."

He didn't wait for her response but took his guest by her arm and guided her past an astonished Husk and clearly confused Charlie, leading the girl down the hall and to his office, the air between them thick with something undefinable, and neither of them dared to speak until the heavy mahogany door fell shut, effectively cutting off all outside interference.

Her cheeks were flushed when she stepped closer towards him. The tips of his claws brushed against her fringe, following the curve of her soft ear, across the back of her delicate neck to pluck a strand of her hair, pulling it towards him and running the silky fiber between two fingers and over the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his lips with a deep, pleased inhale.

She looked up at him, her smile shy but hopeful.

"You remember me.", she said with a chuckle, her voice a bit higher, her ears twitching and her tail swaying behind her, showing her emotions all too easily. Alastor nodded, not letting go of her hair just yet.

"How could I not, dear. It's not common for me to leave a contract unsettled, you know."

"I had a feeling that might've been the case, since it took me so long to find you.", she said quietly. "So, my soul..."

"... is still yours, yes."

She wasn't looking at him, directly. Her gaze went over his suit, to his hands and cane, then back to the floor.

"Why?", she asked, a hint of confusion and hurt in her voice, her silken hair slipping from his fingers.

"Why didn't you claim it? You had every right, after all. I offered, you agreed and..."

Alastor didn't speak, couldn't speak. The answer was right on the tip of his tongue, and yet he wasn't sure if he wanted to share it. It felt... strange, and foreign, and not quite comfortable. But it was undeniably true, now - with her in front of him - clearer than any time in the last weeks in his chair, each night, in front of the fireplace.

He wanted her. Not just her soul. Her. So, he settled on silence and a half-truth, instead.

"It wasn't the right time, dear."

Her face turned to him, her eyes searching his. He felt exposed, like her eyes were piercing him.

"And now...?"

"That remains to be seen. Why are you here?", he countered, stepping back to put a more comfortable distance between them.

"I came to see you, because..." She swallowed hard, and Alastor watched her throat, the soft swell of her breasts under her modest blouse, the slight rise of her belly. "When I arrived in hell, I felt... weird. I thought it was because of all the changes, this new body and... generally being here. But it didn't go away, this.... feeling. I made friends with a lovely imp couple, they took me in after I fell. The wife, Millie, took me to a doctor because she got worried when I couldn't stop throwing up..."

Her face grew hot, a flush spreading across her cheeks, her ears folding back against her head.

"Alastor, I'm pregnant."

A loud bang rang through the hallway as Alastor dropped his cane and a deafening feedback noise filled the room. For the first time in what must have been decades, his face betrayed him completely, the smile ripping at the sewn edges as it dropped violently. He felt dizzy and his head was spinning.

"Impossible.", he breathed, the word almost getting stuck in his throat. The very notion was ridiculous, unheard of - clearly that must be a crude joke. Alastor started to laugh, though sounding not as amused and booming as he would've hoped, but more hysterical than anything else.

She stayed silent, looking at him with sad, but serious and almost pleading eyes as the truthfulness of her confession began to sink in and his laughter slowly died. He took a tentative step forward, a million questions running through his head, the sheer amount overwhelming his usually so precise mind.

"So, a month ago, it...", he stopped, feeling the corners of his mouth pull wider.

"...yes. The doctor told me there are only a handful similar cases like this known since hell was created... The circumstances are 'too specific' and it normally takes a vast amount of intimate interactions' between a hellbound sinner and a living, fertile human he said... Seems like you knocked me up with one round, buster." She wrung her hands, her smile forced and unsure. "Listen, Alastor... I know it sounds impossible. I mean, I couldn't believe it at first when he told me so I understand you can't, too... but I don't expect anything, I really don't. I just... I wanted to see you again, and-and you deserve to know, and..."

"Darling, hush.", Alastor interrupted, a sense of clarity taking hold of his chaotic mind. He had never felt a desire for a family, not in his lifetime nor in his death. Partners were liabilities and a distraction, relationships nuisances if they strayed beyond the borders of business or at the very most friendly aquaintances. He had no need for things like these in the past, looking down on people desperate to seek out partners, claiming to be lonely when in truth they were just weak or simply starving for a touch of the 'opposite sex' to make up for their own inadequacy.

Now, faced with the reality of fatherhood in a matter of minutes and the prospect of his life being bound to another - one who, undoubtedly, bore his child, no less - Alastor would be lying if he had claimed a part of him didn't absolutely reel at the prospect. A responsibility greater than his own had just fallen into his lap - a vulnerability he never asked for and certainly didn't expect.

But.

A part of him would come into the world, no matter whether it would look human, or demonic like him, or whatever strange combination of them both: This child would be proof of him. Him, not anyone else. There would be a person dependent on him for guidance and protection, a legacy he would be allowed to leave, a lineage that could one day claim that he, Alastor, had been the founding cause. His legacy. His blood and his seed had created another being against all rules and logic, an offspring, maybe a girl, maybe it would resemble him, or her, or even... his mother.

Despite the incredulity and the sheer panic the revelation brought, the longer he looked at the tiny dormouse in front of him, the more he realized how similar her traits were to his own mother's. Soft, but determined. Sad, but brave. Young but aged.

No, this hadn't been just some fleeting fling - Alastor had to believe in fate, given what she told him. There had been a reason why he didn't seal the deal that night. Why he had agreed to her request so easily. The more Alastor thought about the potential of a shared offspring, along with a loyal partner on his side, about the what-ifs and could-bes, the more appealing and pleasant the future appeared. She was carrying a being he created, one that had his essence – All the more stronger his grin widened, stretching so far it caused his cheeks to ache, but his blooming glee knew no bounds. He saw, to his own surprise, not a weakness or vulnerability.

But his greatest achievement.

With a laugh, this time sincere and booming and loud instead of hysterical, he picked her up on her waist, knocking the air out of her in a gasp, and swung her around several times.

"O-oh! Oh my goodness!", she stuttered, eyes wide and brows furrowed. "Alastor, calm down!"

"Oh, no no no, I simply can't! Dear, do you have any idea what a marvel you have wrought!?", he exclaimed in delight, setting her back down and bringing both hands up to her cheeks. "We've created a magnificent abomination!"

Her head shook as she chuckled, still nervous but with an edge of relief in her voice. "That's certainly one way of saying it. But... are... are you saying that... you are okay with it? That you..."

"What, dear?", he cooed, her big eyes shining hopefully as her ears twitched curiously. His chest swelled with affection, and he gently squeezed her cheeks between his hands.

"Does a daddy on your side scare you, darling?"

"N-No-oh."

The title invoked a peculiar reaction, and he made a mental note to use it again soon enough, as her cheeks flushed in a dusty rose. Alastor felt an unfamiliar and somehow primal pleasure at the sight of it, a surge of happiness in his chest, the warmth of it nearly too much. He pulled her face against his, smothering her with a kiss. He wasn't familiar with such embraces, but she felt like she was specifically molded to fit perfectly into him, her ears flicking with every beat of her racing heart.

There were tears welling in her beautiful eyes, and as he kissed her cheeks and brushed them away with his thumbs. Oh yes, Alastor was filled with a new kind of giddy excitement.

"Come on, dear, let's not waste time to spread the good news!", he exclaimed, unable to reign his euphoric mood, and before she could comment on his actions, he reached out and lifted her over his shoulder in one fluid movement, ignoring her startled squawk. The look of utter bewilderment on her face almost made him break out into more laughter, but he was already out the door, ready to take his child's mother, who was, without a doubt in his mind, bound to him forever with a force much stronger than any deal he could've made, downstairs to tell the news to his fellow friends, who would have no choice but to learn what a truly dangerous deal looked like.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #charlie morningstar #hazbin husk #habin hotel #soft alastor #hazzbin pregnancy #quickfic

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this-is-a-name-dont-worry · 9 months ago

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things that seemed reoccurring this update:

- Meat

- peas

- jelly

- Hibernation

- Eddie's absence

- Acting out a script (Sally mumbling asking if it's her cue and Howdy changing the script of the narrator in Homewarming storybook, characters general interactions with the narrator, different moments in the video, like the Sally and Frank ad break or the song a barely silent night, where the two literally fight over who get to sing, Sally mentions she wrote the lyrics, and Frank says she already has a song. yeah all of these are easy to see as meta goofs in the original material, but it's the fact there's so much of it this update) (of course all this wrap up with the end of the video where Eddie and Frank are obviously acting off script)

- Being alone (Eddie not having any news of anyone and not even seeing anyone outside (which is interesting as the story says that Sally was up in a tree near his home and saw him fret over having nothing to do), Wally saying it's so quiet during Homewarming and it's just he and Home for a while (potentially the show putting out a christmas special and then being on break? can a show do that?), and in the normal website material, the end of "An ode to hibernation", Frank saying "Where all that's left is me", the "me" being a "...me?")

- Welcome Home being used to sell stuff (cigarettes, medicine, eggnog, cereals, and the cookbook lists ingredients that are a specific brand)

(I'm putting under read more my rambling thoughts so you can just reblog the list without having to see them)

so I can't really make sense yet of all the food stuff. Maybe there are cultural elements/expressions I don't know that explains it? But I still find it very interesting how fucking unhinged that cookbook is yet the commercial and the website treat it normally. The cookbook is overall extremely interesting, because some of the recipes seem to actually be written by the characters; Barnaby who only presents you weird hot dog dressings with pictures but no recipe (and all jokes), Frank who lists not just the ingredients but also the material, and overexplain each steps (at least overexplain compared to the other recipes. it's actually interesting to know why you do x or y), and Julie who turns her recipe into a game at the end, and felt a bit harder to follow? anyway.

The cookbook, the Homewarming tradition of hanging a ham in the tree, Santy Claus being said sometimes instead of Santa, the ham for Santa? Once again, the christmas commercials being so casual about some of the weird stuff it says and presents? This almost feels like an alien who only has a blurry grasp of Christmas and what humans enjoy made the cookbook and the live commercial.

Sometimes, Welcome Home feels like it never actually aired and produced things, but we're making it retroactively exist. Something is making it exist. Like a retcon of the universe, "What do you mean you never heard of Welcome Home? No, of course it always existed and was very popular, look at all this old material we find!"

So maybe whatever is making it exist doesn't fully get humans and accidentally creates things that are weird to prove its existence. Like a cookbook that tells you a single pea in a buttered plate is a classic meal, or that of course you give Santa ham on Homewarming! (tbh almost getting an AI weirdness feel)

But in total contrary, in its story, Welcome Home also feels like it always existed, but got somehow completely wiped from people's mind, as something caused its sudden stop, and its characters gained consciousness of what they are and their world. As an existential dread fell on them one after the other, slowly realizing something isn't right. As Eddie felt anxiety and nervousness over no one being there or contacting him, to then having the story acts lightheartedly about it, the narrator saying things have been solved but he doesn't feel it, and suddenly Home is staring at him.

Both "It never existed but the universe is being retcon into it existing" and "it existed but something terrible happened that erased it from peoples mind" seem plausible. If two theories contradict each other, that means there's a third one that needs to be found.

Maybe it existed. Maybe it truly was popular, but something corrupted it, leading to its disappearance. A disappearance so big it stopped to exist. And now the thing that corrupted it is trying to crawl back, make it exist again, but it's making it come back completely off.

Anyway.

Also, I think the show may have been on hold during the Holiday season, "hibernating", and the character who got some self awareness realized that something was off. They're alone because there's nothing new, so no one is there bringing life to the neighborhood.

#welcome home #anyway there is an existential nightmare going on that's for sure #also at one point writing my rambling I thought about metaphor for capitalism #the show gains succes and so there's a push to make money out of it. capitalism is corrupting it until it goes in shambles.#now a few decades later banking on nostalgia to make profit is what big things do #bringing back the thing from your childhood to show it again but it's off because what brought it back is not love for the thing #it's being brought back because of capitalism. the thing that corrupted it in the first place is trying to bring it back.#sorry i still ramble in the tags :x

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killedpink · 1 year ago

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한 지성 | a special appearance.

🎧 masterlist !?

📷 synopsis: your very much pined over friend and coworker, jisung, discovers your cam show. luckily for you, all he wants in the world is to be featured on your show as your first guest.

📖 word count: 6.3K

�� contains: camming reader, unprotected sex, filmmaking, coworker setting, friends to lovers, afab reader, mutual pining, i mention jisung's eyes a lot here let's not acknowledge it please, slight fingering, oral sex, deepthroating, hair pulling, dirty talk, marking, thigh riding, cum consumption, creampie

when you started your camming business, you didn't expect it to grow in popularity. the website you used just barely scratched top three biggest sites each year, but somehow you still raked in millions of views across your platform. the pay wasn't too bad, either — it was enough to cover the expenses of living and then some, which is especially good once you take into account that camming is only a side hustle. you'd get on once a week at best, keep your identity private and in exchange be generously tipped. not a bad set-up, right?

until one day where your coworker (the only one in your workplace who you think about in detail during your sessions) grows awkward around you, which is even more heartbreaking considering you have good chemistry together. so, you approach him when you finally catch him alone when you're both doing overtime, and you politely demand answers out of his round, plump pink lips. jisung flushed ten different shades of red before his features settle into an anxiousness. "i found your cam show." his voice is quiet, his brown eyes avoid eye contact, his lips uttered the words quickly and with much restraint in his throat. your own brain had stopped working, a million questions in your head and yet you couldn't make sense of one, and instead of asking him a simple, "what?" you were too stunned to properly engage.

jisung cleared his throat, looking up at you with those big, brown, tragically round eyes of his, "i watched your show." his voice was much clearer, still low in sound and barely resisting the urge to mutter it as if it were a curse. although being undeniably embarrassed, you weren't ashamed nor upset with him. "so.. do you not wanna hang out with me anymore?" you felt your voice falter, catching on your emotions.

"what? no! no, not at all!" jisung all but exploded, eyes widening and enunciating every syllable, "i'm sorry, i really am. i just felt a bit awkward because you didn't know and i didn't even realise it was you until it ended — i only figured out it was you from your voice — i swear i am not a creep."

to lighten the mood, you lean into his bubble and mutter into his ear, "how was i?" and the proximity allows you to hear how his breath hitches and how the apples of his cheeks redden as he chuckles.

the both of you finish work and clock out together, and you cant help but notice how jisung hangs around his car, his eyes on you the entire time. "hey, listen, i could give you a ride home if you're up for it?" it's evident in his voice that he's not entirely ready for you to leave his company, and it's always a pleasure to spend time with him. when he starts driving to your residence it's like his brain is on autopilot: he doesn't ask for directions and he doesn't even ask you to clarify where he's going, despite only driving to your home a handful of times. he's attentive — you'll give him that. the palm of jisung's hand rests comfortably on your thigh, his warmth reaching your bare skin as your skirt rides up to make room for his hand, cupping the flesh of your thigh and affectionately squeezing it every so often, usually when you shifted in your seat to satiate the throbbing between your legs.

throughout the car ride, jisung makes little effort to engage in conversation with you. he barely looks at you, his gaze completely fixed onto the roads even when the car had stopped at a traffic light. it worries you — and you start to consider the possibility that he lied about being okay with your side business, or worse; he lied about your relationship still being the same, if there was any relationship left, that is. with a heavy heart and your mind screaming at you to not go through with your idea, you place the palm of your hand above his, completely enveloping his warmth. he's soft, his skin a tanned bronze and easy to caress: and you almost fall into that trap.

"you can tell me, if it's weird for you." you didn't want to hear how little jisung thought of you, but deep down, you knew he had the right to stay away from you if he felt that was best. you just hoped he didn't feel that way.

the first sign you get from him is a sigh, light and airy and the bridging the space between the both of you to his thoughts. "i know we're just coworkers, but, i really like you." jisung cleared his throat, your gaze catching his brown eyes for a moment. but, in that brief period of time, his dark, sharp, soft eyes — paradoxical, yes, — enchant you and whisper every nothing directly into your aching heart.

"and, if you're up for it, i wanted to.." he paused, trying to choose the right words as he drummed his fingers on the wheel, "to.. try it?" he looked at you for validation. "try what?" you turned to the side to watch him properly. as the car started moving again, it took jisung longer to find the words in his throat. "to be on your show."

you knew he pulled onto your driveway, you knew the comforts of your home were waiting for you, and you especially knew this was new territory that you weren't at all sure of how to navigate. regardless, you knew the thrumming in your chest was your heart beginning to flutter and you begin to grow addicted to the way jisung looks at you — it all ends in his eyes. life, death, rebirth, it's all the same to you when those round, furiously tormenting brown eyes stare at you as if you hung the stars from your mouth and let them slip from your tongue like honey. he's pure and he's rare and you fear you could shatter him with this dormant side of your life. but how enthralling that would be? to discover each other and touch him where your hands could never reach?

your fingers weave their way between jisung's, "okay. if you want to, i do, too." his eyebrows rise up in surprise and his pink lips part slightly. "i didn't expect you to answer so soon," you didn't expect to have an answer for him so soon, yet you found the words brimming the inside of your lips just as easily as you could think them.

you shrugged, "do you know when you'd want to..?" you trailed off, assuming jisung could fill in the blank, while he leaned closer to you and unbuckled your seatbelt, his hand deserting your thigh to unbuckle it and the other holding onto the buckle to avoid it colliding with you. from this position, you're taller than jisung, his head bowed down slightly, still momentarily focused on the seatbelt, and when he looks up at you, his lashes thick and his eyes round. the mesmerising, tragic witchery of his dark, onyx-like eyes haunt you so perfectly that you're unable to look away, hypnotised by the dusk night gleaming in his soft, doe eyes.

"how about now?" he murmured, and you're taken aback by his sudden forwardness. "now?" you echo, his dark hair following his head as he nods. "what's stopping us? what better time than now?" you hear the edge of desperation in his voice; he wants you as bad as you crave him, you're sure of it. his voice is low and rasp and slightly breathy, his words setting something ablaze deep within you and his smoky voice does little to quell the ashes igniting in the cage of your hips, and suddenly, all you can feel is that heat searing into your gut until it aches. your eyes flutter closed and you lean into jisung, his soft lips kissing your jaw; starting out timidly, but each press into your skin leaves him hungrier to taste you. his plump lips kiss your neck and he kisses the gasps that both start and end in your throat; he kisses them through your skin and you're sure he can feel when you swallow nervously.

your hands creep up into his hair before you can stop yourself, and like desperate, exploding stars, your eyes are immediately focused onto his, losing yourself into them as if you see something cosmically different each time. "you want to come inside, or stay in your car the whole time?" you tease, your lips curling into a pleased smile once you see jisung grin, his smile heart shaped and like every other part of him: hypnotic. "you know how to keep someone's attention," he muses, unbuckling his own seatbelt and turning away from you.

after a bit of ground-laying, and a short rehearsal which didn't even go all the way (which jisung insisted be done even more than you), the livestream is finally started.

people swarm into the show almost immediately, the comments moving so fast you can barely make out any coherent words behind your sex-blurred eyes. the tips are insanely generous — and you hadn't even gotten to any action yet. your audience hadn't seen you with a guest before, and despite you teasing it, you had never really intended to ask someone to join you.

all they get of you on their screen is your semi-naked body, your face obscured. jisung sits behind you on the bed, your back pressed firmly to his chest, in his lap. his hands slowly caress your sides, and your body is warmer than usual when he slips his hands into your inner thighs. the camera captures his soft fingers slipping into your underwear in high definition, the screen projecting a brightness your sensual lighting fails to — illuminating the way your knees want to connect like magnets as jisung's breath fans across the mouth-shaped circles of saliva on your neck.

you're pretty sure your soul levitates out of your body when he hums in your ear, his pink lips pressing kisses into your neck that you didn't realise you had been craving — and jisung scratched that itch just right. it was hypnotic and torturous at the same time. your hand fumbled for his, your fingernails digging into his tanned skin to anchor yourself before you reach delirium. and while jisung's index and middle finger circle your swelling clit under the fabric of your underwear, you realise with little to no effort that he touches you in a way you've never felt before. it leaves you carnally sinking into his swoon-worthy, tan build, the same way flesh knits together over a fatal wound.

he is your religion, and this feeling only intensifies as your back arches and your head lolls onto his shoulder the same way the brick of a cathedral is laid in an arch of brick. the most your frenzied audience gets of this is your chest trembling for breath and your hips rising and falling as jisung pulls his fingers away from your sex, glistening with his efforts and roping together in sticky strings.

you pull yourself off of his lap with shaking, trembling legs, and you stumble out of your panties as if you were drunk. maybe you were. you make eye contact with jisung, his brown eyes wide and lovely and deep inside of them you find the lover has replaced the coworker. his cheeks are beginning to flush and his lips start to swell, and he gives you a furiously charming smile that doubles as a smirk when you squint. the audience picks up on this chemistry, despite a large portion of it not being captured on camera.

crawling back onto the soft surface of the bed, you kiss and nip at jisung's neck, dragging your warm tongue over his collarbone. "take these off, ji," you whisper into his ear, careful to not let your viewers hear his name, your teeth grazing the shell of his ear as your hand groped the growing erection under his jeans. with the proximity, you heard the whimper jisung tried to swallow, his pinkish lips parted and his adam's apple bobbing.

you get comfortable in between jisung's bare legs, your hands resting atop his thighs, your nails grazing the exposed skin absentmindedly. the feeling of it melts the iron ball of anxiety in his gut, leaving only the torturous, blazing fire resting in his abdomen. jisung watched you with wide, long-lashed eyes, curiosity and that intoxicating lust-filled look shone down on you like a blessing. claim me, his eyes said, while the peverted grin on his face said temptress.

excitement burned between your legs, chaining you and influencing you. all your reserve was shredding away, your mind foggy and your body yearning, and weeping. you sank into his lap like a priest at a sermon, all devotion and no defiance. carefully, you introduced his cock to the velvety heat of your mouth, your hands guiding the weight of his cock to sit above your wet tongue. slow and experimentally, you sucked and licked his leaking head, just enough to get a taste of his rich, salty precum. it was enough to wet his cock and you slipped more of him into your mouth, greedily chocking down each morsel of jisung's cock. jisung fought to strangle down a single, pornographic whining mewl that sounded so unbelievably filthy that you couldn't help but smile onto his length. it must have looked obscene, or animalistic: your lips in a puffy wet ring around jisung's cock, your half-lidded gaze and your hands sprawled out onto the inside of his thighs and grabbing pathetically at the base of his cock.

all of your fantasies are given to your audience for just a moment. you hollowed out your cheeks and nuzzled his cock further into your warm mouth until his hard, velvety head prodded at your throat and just barely obscured your breath. jisung's sob died with his own breath, his hips rolling into your mouth and his cock twitching. your legs twisted like a sunflower facing the sun in an attempt to stimulate your own sex.

cautiously, you try a few slow bobs on his tastefully sweet length, his precum mixed with your drool coated his entire cock, and clung to your lips like webs. it was sticky and warm and it got between your hands and his base. you found a slow rhythm, tracing the veins on the underside of jisung's cock with your tongue, despite wanting so desperately to feel them somewhere else. you're almost certain that the microphone can pick up the filthy sounds of liquid sloshing around in your mouth and throat. you can hear it echo in your own head as your tongue traces his tip in circular motions. jisung's eyes squeeze shut, and his hands creep into your hair and appreciatively stroke your hair.

the pop of your mouth slipping off of jisung's aching cock almost bounced off of the walls. "i love doing this for you." your voice was low, not daring to let it venture past the bubble you and jisung have created around you. the image of him above you, his doe-eyed look spoke to you as if you were both lips to lips. his heart shaped lips were parted, half from mind-numbing pleasure, and the other from the soul soothing feeling of emotional intimacy. softly, your lips pucker and gently kiss jisung's swollen tip, softly insisting it be drenched in your love.

like the calm waves of the september sea, your hand falls into a pleasing rhythm which strokes jisung's cock so attentively that he revels in it, and in his mind he's sure he's going to re-watch this video over and over, until the entire feat is committed to memory. you rise and let jisung bring you into a kiss; your swollen lips glide over each other smoothly, pressing together with bruising mouths and bitten hearts, yearning for the other. jisung slides and scrapes his palms up your back as you kiss, soaking up every inch of your vulnerable, naked skin that he's allowed. you feel the smirk jisung makes through the kiss, and you realise he's taunting your viewers. he's telling them — daring them to touch you the way he can.

jisung kissed you so intensely that you can't even remember when he unclasped your bra, opening you up fully and laying you out like a delicacy made to be ravaged and worshipped all at the same time. when your clothes are nothing but a memory, jisung uses his teeth to appreciatively roll your top lip that was caught between both of his lips before pulling you off of his mouth.

you're grateful for this; you couldn't muster the inner strength to part from him yourself, but yet you couldn't even stomach being away from his cock for so long. you dipped back down eagerly to whirl your warm tongue around his heavy, leaking head. the corruption, the depravity for jisung always starts with the mouth, the tongue — the sheer, unfiltered wanting that leaves you so desperate that nothing else but him could even begin to be satisfactory.

he sunk down into you, swaying into your warmth and your efficiency. jisung worked his nimble fingers into your mussed hair, groping handfuls and tugging at the crown of your head. he pulled so tautly that it made your head burn, and burn it did; as well as ache. but it and everything else went unnoticed when compared to jisung's mouth watering cock rolling and gliding into your wet mouth. "y'look so pretty, angel, so pretty like this, fuck..."

dear god that's good. that's perfect, you realise. your free hand finds his in a daze, and yours clings onto jisung's so tightly that you feel his hard, unmoving knuckles press firmly into the soft, wavering pads of your fingers. you choke down the rest of jisung's cock in appreciation, your sex slicked lips slotted perfectly against his hilt, sealing and suckling him so that he was even closer to becoming undone by your mouth that evidently wanted nothing more than to be full with his rich, intoxicating taste. you traced the seam of his head, the natural crease in his velvet smooth tip where his body rewarded your efforts, sucking and savouring the taste of him.

jisung had already given himself up to the pleasure — he had already surrendered himself to you. his pelvis seared into your mouth, and jisung cried, a smooth and guttural noise that left goosebumps on your skin and your cunt aching. jisung rocked into you desperately, chasing the unfathomable pleasure you threw yourself into making for him. the sheer neediness of the act set another wave of lust and heat and dazed love to run its course through your naked body, still snug between jisung's legs.

the pull to jisung was buried deep within your skin which seared at his sounds, the heavy gravity of his soul called to you so intensely that you have no choice but to believe there is no heaven waiting in the clouds; there is no paradiso that dante could ever write that could ever make you a worshipper of his work – for your paradiso, your paradise is here: tucked deep away from the world and instead melted and nursed by jisung. you had no choice but to let his praise fall to your ears and his hands grasp at every inch of you he can find with his doe eyes squeezed shut so tightly that it's almost as if he manages to caress your skin in the dark.

you knew jisung was close. you could see it on his face. the way his brows furrowed and his slightly curved nose scrunched up with his boyish smile, all pink and heart shaped. with determination, you relaxed your achingly sore jaw and pushed forward; you fully leaned into jisung’s lap, your nose dug bluntly into the tan skin atop his abs. you were met with two things: the burning intensity of chocking on a mouth-watering cock, and the soundless cry that sprang out from jisung as if he were a stray coil. somehow, his cries and groans and praises were harmonious, unlike his hands. one scrambled to grip your hair even tighter; as if his fingers would never untangle and he accepted his fate, his digits pushing and pulling your head as if you’d miraculously fuse together. while the hand that you held onto clung to you so tightly you could almost feel the pressure of the bones in your hand being pressed taut to themselves. all jisung could comprehend was the hot, impossibly soft, smooth pulse of your throat — it completely surrounded his sensitive, spent cock, swollen and leaking and twitching as it untangled itself and gave its all to you.

every inch of jisung’s pretty, swollen cock stuffed your throat so intensely it left you utterly crazed. you were half sure, that from the sheer stretch your body had to do to accommodate him, that the shape of his cock would be carved into your throat; you could feel every inch, vein and splutter of cum pulse and fade into your throat so deliciously that you’re unsure who is enjoying this more: you or jisung.

you were lost in the rich, salty taste of him. you were swallowed whole by the scent of his sweat mixing with his cologne — cedar wood, and cinnamon, and rosemary, and a note of sweetness perfectly crafted to leave you lost and shivering from the mere suggestion of his presence. but by far, the most rewarding part of devoting the best part of half an hour to sucking jisung off was most definitely his mouth. in true jisung han fashion, he was loud and didn’t know how – or when – to shut up. he purred and whined and gasped, filthily and innocently at the same time — he was a walking paradox. you felt the vibration of his voice through touching him. his eyes, solid and teary, looked at you, cock still stuffed in your mouth, cheeks hollowed and red and your lips in a puffed ring around his base, drool and cum spilling out from the corners of your mouth, and he looked at you with no emotion short of lovesick.

his taste conquered you, and yet something in you wanted more. you couldn't rest. you were so mindless — jisung sung your praises so tirelessly that it left you star-struck, a devoted believer of whatever profound subtleties hid between his pink, pillowy lips. amongst the general mind-whiting pleasure and delectable sounds that seemed to blur your surroundings, your chat was overflowing with comments. you're not sure that the donations in the corner have ever ceased coming.

it was with great difficulty, that you were able to pull yourself off of jisung's spent cock. your surroundings slipped back into place as you did so, your mind untangling itself and your lungs burning with every short, desperate breath you took.

long, thick ropes of jisung’s cum and your drool clung to your mouth, stretching thinner as the distance from his throbbing cock and your sore mouth grew. crudely, it snapped and fell between you, smearing and leaving a semi-opaque memento on jisung’s tasteful length.

you hadn’t planned to go all the way with him. for your first session with a guest, all the way felt like too much. but your chat and the tips begged for it — you had never seen such large numbers on a live video of yours before. you wouldn’t object to fully fucking jisung, either. he was enigmatic in his movements, melodic in his noises and dutiful in the way he touched you. the entirety of the night you spent with him so far was very much like a religious experience: clouds parting, sun shining and angels singing.

you settled on his thigh, both of your legs straddling one of his and unsubtly grinding your bare, aching slit up the length of his muscular, well-carved thigh. jisung’s tanned hands wrapped around your waist, pinky fingers following the swells of your hips, and giving you that much needed stability to fall onto a rhythmic pace that only made you more obsessive over fully fucking jisung on camera. because even if you never get to do this again, you’re sure you would be able to feel the same way he makes you feel by watching the video again. you’re sure jisung’s touch would haunt you in ways no-one could ever fathom, or dream about. because if it feels that good kissing him until your head grows fuzzy, and if it feels that good sucking him off until your lungs burn, it must look even better — and you cannot imagine how it would look if jisung pinned your wrists and fucked you so terribly deep into your mattress that it felt as if he were using his hips to carve you into the bedding.

you wanted to immortalise this exchange. because dear god you might never have this opportunity again.

you kiss — and truly kiss. lips part and teeth clash, scalding tongue meets scalding tongue. your mouths trace each other’s and you feel as if you have become one elaborate person. jisung touches you exactly where you need to be touched without even thinking it, and you moan when he does. it’s both remarkably intimate and terrifying. remarkable, because no-one has ever came close to making you feel this way; terribly because you’re certain no-one can ever make you feel like this again.

your body yearns for him in unfathomable ways, terribly and deeply. you notice that jisung has a way — a talent, even, of simultaneously melting and setting ablaze every part of you. it is maddening and addictive at the same time. jisung put your roaming, explorative hands atop his shoulders, letting you anchor yourself onto him. your fingernails dug into his shoulder blades; your hands wanted to claw themselves into the muscle of jisung's tanned, broad shoulders. you wanted to pry him open and read all his secrets.

you feel jisung's wet cock press against the outside of your thigh, tender and persistent. your sex aches with the weight of an unshed orgasm — all consuming and begging to be released. your body leans into jisung's, your mouth finding the shell of his red flushed ear, your eyes catching on the way he grinned sinfully and leaned his body closer to yours. your teeth graze jisung's skin, your wet tongue prods his jawline, and your mouth scatters all over his neck, leaving no inch of his skin un-worshiped.

his lap is slick with your arousal, your hips rocking yourself onto the hard muscle of his thigh until the movement becomes automatic. your eyes gloss over you and jisung on the camera; his hands are mean in the way that they hold you. it's mean and possessive and his fingers are sure to leave bruises on your dirtily loved skin as he presses you into him as if he wants you to break.

from the proximity, you hear jisung's voice catch on a moan each time your hip bumps his swollen cock, his tip flushed a painful looking hue of pink and his length twitching and thrusting desperately just in case he manages to slide his cock over your sticky skin again. your forehead rests on his wide, steady shoulders and your fingers bury themselves into the curve of his bicep. your lips part to make way for your teeth, which dig into his soft, tan skin. your voice sinks into his body and your fervent mouth finds its home marking jisung's skin with your vicious, possessive love. your face is buried into the warm curve of jisung's neck and you hear how his husky sighs die in his thick throat, his heart shaped adam's apple betraying his otherwise impressive efforts of keeping his cool.

you're almost shocked at jisung. he walks around with an angelic presence, his innocent doe eyes and soft, cherub face is the picture of perfection. he's all softness, curves and sweet smiles. who knew he had a deep, piercing craving to be loved viciously and unforgettably?

your mouth releases jisung's sweat prickled skin with a pop, "no more," you gasp, the cage of your hips burning with filth and obscenity, your cunt still unclaimed by him and sobbing at that fact. "need you so fucking bad.." you let your teeth affectionately nip at his bruising skin. you let your voice fall quieter, "ji.. c'mon." you urge him, your hand falling to his cock and you push your palm against the underside of his sensitive cock, barely rubbing and yet applying so much pressure against his sweet spot that you feel his cock twitch as his hips thrust into your hand to chase your touch, infecting him with your pining for him.

before he gets the chance to flood your hand with his cum, you jerk your hand away and finally let the pads of your fingers sink into the slick, puffiness that is your neglected sex, your touch immediately onto your swollen clit. this time, jisung doesn't try hiding his sounds.

"fuck!" he draws out, almost growling in frustration, his eyes glaring at you. half-lidded and lust blown, brows furrowed and an unbelieving smirk all matched together on his face. all of it made you swoon. you are wicked, his poetically brown eyes say. jisung's groan replays itself in your mind, echoing and fuelling the desperate need for an orgasm in your body further.

jisung's hand finds a firm, cruel grip on your hip. they dig past the flesh and sit adjacent to your hipbone, guiding you off of his thigh while his other hand readies his cock, his hand wrapped around his base as he saws his searing head up and down your slick, ignored sex; it yanked a whine out of your throat when it caught on your puffed, tender clit.

jisung truly makes you suffer at his pretty hands. he lets you claw at his toned, muscular back — and he lets you sob and writhe in his lap, eager to sit on his cockmeat.

you needed his brutish grip on you to leave a bruise; you needed his touch to linger on your skin and you needed him to haunt you, in body and soul. you let his grip shape you into what he needs and you pray he can feel the agonising lust that gnaws through your skin, too.

the sight of his mean, thick cock torturing your raw sex looks better from above. you pity your audience: for all they see is a fixed angle. no video could ever do the feeling of han jisung's leaking cock deciding its invasion of your dripping, lustrously burning sex justice.

the room spins as you realise your positions have changed. your cheek is planted on the bed, head turned to the side to spot where jisung is via the camera. he looms over you, and it sends a genuine shiver down your spine. the most you can see of him; and by proxy, your audience, is a hard-edged jawline and scalding muscle that makes him look legendary. you're sure some wayward poet has written about him. jisung mirrors everything they stand for: strength, mystery and hypnotically good looks.

one of his hands wraps around your ankle, folding your leg in on itself, while the other prods at your wet, warm cunt. your head is dizzy as your sex flutters around his gentle touch — the pads of his fingers collect the slick pooling at your entrance and smear your slit, dragging it down until his fingers brush against your clit. you jerk at the sensation, cooling air on your searingly warm, throbbing cunt. jisung's middle finger finally, finally aides some relief to the white hot pain of neglect that burrows deep within your gut. experimentally, he lets his finger sink deeper into your sex until you feel the knuckles of his index and ring fingers prod at both sides of your cunt.

you struggle to catch your breath as you grow accustomed to the ascending feeling of having some part of jisung as close as you crave it. you tremble and sob into the mattress when he slips his finger out of you and into his mouth, it's audibly vulgar and he's audibly enjoying it. your fingers curl into the sheets and you let out a needy, impatient whine to urge him to touch you once more.

it's surprising when you feel jisung cup the curve of your ass and the swell of your hip in one greedy handful, and slides you onto his hard, delicious cock that soaks up every feeling of loneliness and neglect that was once nestled deep within your sex. the moan that spills out of you pours into the air, your lungs already taking a breathless gulp of air as you cry and wriggle under jisung's grip, your back arching in a desperate attempt to meet his cruelly slow pace. his touch burns into your skin that it's almost archaic. it sends you into a furore of passion, and even sex-mad you think jisung to be lovely. even as he beds you, and rolls his hips deliciously into the globe of your ass and brushes his cock head against your silky warm sex, you still swoon over the way he coos praise at you and lets breathless sighs flutter out from his heart shaped, pink lips.

slowly but surely, like a newborn calf gaining its balance, jisung sheds his coyness. he fucks you, truly fucks you, your arms pinned by him and therefore unable to escape him, and the force of his thrusts scratches that itch inside of you just right. the camera captures your body following the momentum of his thrusts and the way jisung's head tilts back, his throat exposed and his cock quickly gaining both speed and force to bully itself inside of your cunt, sculpting his hips against your skin. you want him to touch you until his palms burn, you want to be tangled and pressed against him so tightly that you cannot remember the feeling of want.

the rippling squeeze of you around him is too good to be real, jisung decides. he's sure he has made you up in a dream. his hand dips under your shoulders to hoist you up, your back arched and your head, like his, tilted back. "y'fuck me so well," you mutter out, your voice raspy from the never-ending onslaught of whimpers and moans and cries. "gonna come, ji." you grin, eyes fluttering closed and lips parting, brows furrowing as you lose yourself in the heavenly sensations jisung generously bestows upon you.

jisung, so mesmerised by the show you've put on for him, cups the dip of your back, nestles his face in the side of your neck and just loses it. his cock is so deep inside of your cunt that you're sure you can never be un-loved by him. the donations and comments flood in, making the need, the chase: the rush to finish come faster and faster. knowing thousands of people were mesmerised by you and jisung that it made his ego swell — and his thrusts adapt to an even more frenzied, brutal pace. you're unsure how you're able to keep up with his energy. jisung's libido is truly all consuming; he had your breasts bouncing and your moans stuttering with each dig of his swollen tip into your hot, drooling cunt.

your sweat tacked skin sticks to jisung: even your bodies were in agreement when your minds thought you wanted to fade into each other. and yet, you were each other's to tame. no part of you was free from jisung. he had claimed every inch of you, body and soul, you were bewitched by him.

you crumble onto him, your vision so blurred you can barely make out the fuzzy sight of the camera repeating the view of jisung fucking you. regardless, it shakes and trembles from the force used by jisung to fuck himself into your sex. the hot, wet silk of your cunt clamps around jisung in quick, frantic bursts of energy, and you sob through your entire orgasm. jisung kisses the edge of your jaw and strokes your side, all the while maintaining his brutally needy pace that made a mess of the both of you, your cum oozing out of him in episodes, and settling in a ring around the base of jisung's cock.

neither of you are sure this feeling can be achieved on earth, and as jisung's thighs finally tense and his hips stutter and a searing heat spreads throughout his body, you're sure you hear his body weep i love you, i love you, i love you, over and over until jisung's chest heaves with breath and your ears stop ringing.

as the both of you regain yourselves in waves, you realise the camera is still recording. you dutifully thank everyone for the tips, comments and for tuning in, and quickly end the session without a second thought.

jisung's eyes search yours for confirmation, and when you nod, his lips morph into a shy grin, his cheeks rosy and his skin shiny from his efforts. both of his hands cup your cheeks, his warmth seeps into your hazy, obsessive mind through the palms of his hands, and with as much tenderness one would summon to cradle a tiny, flushed baby, jisung presses his soft, soft lips onto yours.

with a hum of approval, he parts, and you're once more face to face with his big, round brown eyes, that holds everything your soul yearns for. "i have a free day next thursday. part two? we could spend the whole day planning..."

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megamindsecretlair · 28 days ago

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BOOK UPDATE 11/1/24

Yall 🥲 can I be cocky real quick and yall won't judge me 👀

I've been spending the past week editing my book, getting the inconsistencies out as best as I could. (Like when I described Jasper in a green plaid shirt and it somehow turned into a navy thermal in the same scene 🤣🤣🤣🤣)

And im well and truly done. Its out of my hands. I don't know what else i can do/say to improve on it. Yall i was in here tooting my own mf horn 🥳🥳 i was getting my own self bothered writing some of the 😮‍💨 scenes. Like I wrote that? I snapped like that? Who am I trynma show out for but myself like 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Here's a sneak-sneak chuz I love yall 👀

“Do I get to play in this pussy whenever I want?” He asked.

Her belly flipped. Her mouth dropped open. “Yesss,” she moaned.

“Do I get to keep you?” He asked. He licked his lips and she felt the torturous glides of his tongue on her.

“Forever,” she said.

“Forever,” he said.

👀👀👀

And I realized that yes, writing is fn scary. Posting that writing - let alone publishing it - is downright frightening. But you also gotta have a level of "fuck it, I did that shit" attitude about it. My advice will always be to write what YOU want to see. What turns YOU on. If you have fun, then we having fun boo 😗

Okay, im done being cocky. Chuz its truly because of all of you who've been with me on this writing journey. Who commented and reblogged and told me that I can weave some words around to unlock some knowledge bout themselves 😏😏

You let me be cocky. You gassed me up to believe in myself to make my dream come true. I will be publishing under a pen name, mostly for marketing reasons. The name I chose doesn't have many search results so I won't get lost in the noise. Unlike my real name 😒

Im also hard at work on my website. I want yall to have fun when you visit it. And that vibe is not easy to achieve when you're an over-anxious indecisive person 🫠

Special shoutout to @darqchilddaydreamz and @westside-rot who sent me an ask game that inspired the story of Zora and Jasper and encouraged my silly story to become something. That was the universe stepping up for me.

All this to say is thank you, thank you, a million times thank YOU. I hope you fall in love with Zora and Jasper like I did.

This is where the hard part comes in. Reviews are a must to get any kind of traction with the book. I only ask for a fair and honest review when the book comes out on Goodreads because to be absolutely 💯, I got bills to pay. And I've been skipping out on overtime to get this book done, ya feel me? 😩

I also may or may not have plotted out 5 other books that are all separate stories. One of them may even be a vampire novel. One of them is deff based on Mr. Black. But idkidkidk. Lemme see how this book does first 👀🫣

#Megaminds updates #book update #with these words update #megamind be writing #megamind bout to be exposed 👁👄👁#megamind bout to be perceived #my high brain cant compute #megaminds zooted hours #im done yall #i didnt chicken out #i did that #i made my own self bothered in the last chapter #whewww #gonna be dreaming about that scene for a while

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therabbitthatpostthings · 9 months ago

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Okay let's talk about Reality in Welcome Home.

YES THIS IS JUST ME RAMBLING AGAIN BUT I SWEAR I HAVE A POINT TO MAKE. This is more of my collecting my thoughts and trying to make sense of what we have right now.

TLDR: The reality of Welcome Home is separated by the "fourth wall" that the characters are not aware of except for few.

So ever since the first update after the website launched I have been wondering about where the reality shift lies in Welcome Home. How can this be a haunted puppet show with no notable names for actors, production crew, puppeteers, etc. I was basically trying to figure out if this was Hello Puppets or My Friendly Neighbourhood kind of situation. Especially after Sally's Halloween Story, it came ever more clear that they are not fully aware of the fact that people are filming them.

This past update has somewhat solidified what I think is happening. The Welcome Home Puppet show exist in it's own version of reality literally separated by the fourth wall. The neighbours are completely unaware that they are puppets, being filmed, etc. The idea that a magic narrator can talk to them is normal (as it is in many children's cartoons, the Narrator from The Powerpuff Girls and The Storyteller from Into the Woods comes to mind). This really all comes together for me alongside the theory that some of the neighbours are self-aware. I'm not gonna argue who is and who isn't but I don believe the Neighbours featured in promotional material that directly speaks to the viewers or anything outside the show are aware.

(Note: It would be a big stretch to say the things like the TV and radio apprenticed were staged or faked by the Welcome Home Crew)

I think the ones most aware are Wally, Barnaby, Frank and Howdy. Everyone else is rather slowly becoming aware or going through the motions like Eddie. Wally and Barnaby are self-explanatory, they are closest to Home and the Narrator(s). Frank by the way of the Bug Theory and the fact that he "breaks script" to comfort Eddie. Howdy is because I cannot think of a way that he would participate in those commercials without knowing somehow. If Home really is antagonistic towards the Neighbours, I can believe they would act in line. Also during Eddie's panic attack, he doesn't move ever after expresses him desire to leave, because he can't move. He's a puppet. It's worth noting that everyone else has a puppeteer accept Wally and Home. Wally has a handler and Home's eyes are the only thing on it that can move via a crank on the side of it not showing to the camera.

I believe the cartoon reality is the one that the puppets see and why in all of Wally's answer videos we see it in IRL footage. He is not blind to what the show is doing. Eddie's panic attack shows up that what they see and we see are very different. This isn't like a foolproof way of thinking because it leaves a lot of holes but most of those holes have to do with things I believe will be answered later. Like:

What exactly is Home and the power Home has over the Neighbours?

Why did the show shut down?

The benefactor sending the packages

Why is Wally the one that remains? Where are the others?

Why were we able to see what Eddie and Wally sees outside of the reality they exist in?

etc.

Thats last point is still up in the air for me because that easier could of been a storyteller point but the fact that Welcome Home narrator and logo pops up at the end of the Homewarming Special alludes that everything Eddie went through we saw. Or at least it was filmed and probably cut out of the official broadcast.

I don't have any answers. What we do know now is that the show shut down, someone is still present and sending packages to the WHRP and Playfellow. This mysterious black goop has the power to influence those in contact with it, even causing loss of time. The WHRP went through an investigation internally and in the website. W is a part of the website and actively doing their own investigation after "supposedly" making contact with Wally in the post-halloween/pre-March 9th update (which you can see btw on the Wayback Machine). Wally, regardless if he is the one sending the packages, is using them to communicate. He wants someone to find him because he KNOWS we are watching and we are looking for him.

Personally I believe Home or whatever entity is controlling it, is sending the packages and trying to control others. I think Wally is a by product of all this and is trying to find his way out by any means necessary. I will never let my "Wally did nothing wrong" propaganda go.

This all btw does nothing to answer the mystery on the website. I have no idea how this reality breaking allowed Wally yo infiltrate the website. The fact that his eyes are no longer visible on the page means he's not here watching us (for now). Also the "You" character description is missing. As far as the Bug theory goes, I still believe that is Frank trying to give us more insight on what happened/happening. Same goes for W, who we know is human since they described the same events of the phone ringing and hearing Wally that the curator did. I don't believe this is Wally vs the Neighbours. I think this is the neighbours being physically or metaphorically trapped while not able to reach Wally they can reach this website and are doing the same as Wally, reaching out to us. I still believe Home/Entity has some control over them and is connected to who is sending the packages and infecting the WHRP and Playfellow. W is also apart of WHRP but has taken notice to everything going around and is choosing to document their findings since the WHRP is starting to run a tighter ship after the last slip up of W (probably) contacting Wally.

Hopefully this made sense to you guys...

#welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home puppet show #clownillustrations #partycoffin #welcome home eddie #Eddie dear #frank frankly #welcome home frank #welcome home barnaby #welcome home wally #wally darling #welcome home w #welcome home theory

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ak319 · 3 months ago

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Yan G!P Princess x fem reader

(Warnings: Possessive, stalker, betrayal, )

Your name in the story is Deniz

Part I

(Your POV)

"But Clara what we can do is ---with the help of the Mayor perhaps negotiate with them. I think they would agree, I mean that family loves doing charity don't they?"

"Yup, they do, Leo. But not behind the scenes. When the camera is off, they are just another ordinary, rich, money-hungry family." My boss Clara sighed for the umpteenth time and took her glasses off. I sat quietly on the sofa listening to their banter for the past ten minutes.

Our organisation, Redwood High Social Work was now facing what seemed like a dead end regarding the 1 acre of land that was designated to be made into a proper field for sports, not only for Redwood but for Knights High which was affiliated to Redwood and was a school for Special Ed. They really deserve that ground. Every kid deserves a good sport and imagine the numerous events we can have in the field. But somehow everything isn't so easy. We received an email last night which was apparently from the palace! Like THE PALACE! We thought that it was a prank but in the morning the Mayor's secretary sent us one clarifying that yes, it was from the palace. And what it stated was that and I quote

''....the field itself isn't the issue but the forest behind it is the property of the Royal family. God forbid none of us would want anyone harmed if there happens to be any hunting activity taking place. Keeping this in mind, it is therefore requested that your honourable organization reconsider its plans and if any compensation is desired, contact the number XXXX...."

"Just read this posh ass shit. I cannot believe the Mayor ditched us like that." Clara snarled flailing her arms once more making Leo rub his temples. I noticed a few gray hairs on the back of his head. Poor guy really be getting old early due to Clara.

"He didn't ditch us Clara. He did what any person would do, listen to the higher-ups. DUH?!"

"Higher ups?! Seriously Leo? Where were these higher-ups when we officially signed ownership documents and paid for the fucking land levelling equipment?! Do you think they gonna refund me? NO! Even if they do it will be half of the amount. Those were the school's funds LEO! The principal will get chewed on by the parents and in both schools! God....I don't---I can't just wrap my fucking mind around this whole scenario. That forest is literally at the edge of the field. The fences have been already built around 2 years ago. There are no reports of any animal attacks. And it's not like we are not going to monitor our children. Do we look stupid to them?! And I swear Leo and Deniz...they don't own that forest. I checked it a million times. Nobody goes there but oh now they do? Kiss my ass! "

I took a deep breath and put down my laptop down on the table before walking over to her desk.

"Maybe, Leo is right. We can only sort this out via a meeting."

"Meeting with who Deniz? I see only one solution. That is to sue them. Imma sue them, Imma sue the mayor too. Like where is he now? Huh? Did he just use us as some campaign pawns? Did you see his fucking website? WE ARE THERE! BUT NOW LOOK WE DON'T HAVE THE FUCKING GROUND. Imma sue his ass." She ran her hand through her curly black locks in anger. I definitely can understand what she is going through. Frustration. Anger. Sadness. But we all need to think instead of rant.

"I did see it, Clara. But you need to calm down. We need to come up with something solid. And suing the royal family? Can we even do that?" I looked at Leo who shrugged.

"See? We are not making any sense right now. What is done is done. So, I was thinking like---we can use the power of media as well. Why don't I call in Alfie and get your words on the front page tomorrow? He is looking for some hot tips as well these days." Alfie was Clara's cousin and a pretty seasoned journalist too.

"Get my words on what exactly?. We need to-" She breathed in for once before continuing "We need to have a chat with both of these parties first, Deniz. Go and keep reaching the Mayor's office. We will get rid of him first. Leo, go inform Knights about this fuckery but feed them some words of hope as well like 'we are working on it and it will be sorted', gotcha? Also, ask them to keep it to themselves. I don't want any parent drama."

"I already sent e-mails to the Mayor's office. Also what about Ma'am Layla?" I referred to our school's principal.

"I'll explain this to her myself." With that, everybody got to work. Honestly never thought that a degree in Science in Policy could lead to such a problematic job. I thought everything was going to be cookies and rainbows. But meh. People ruin everything. And I mean some assholes and I know exactly who this might be. But I need to be calm and focused right now.

Anyway, why is the Mayor even siding with the Royals --- since when are they interfering in the government?. Just as I was thinking this I got a notification on my phone. YES! An email from Emilia, Mayor Alex's secretary.

It said that Carla is invited to a meeting tomorrow. Mhm. This is good news then. Better go tell her.

════∘◦❁◦∘════

Fast forward to tomorrow, we were heading to the Mayor's abode. Not his office. His home. Which was odd. It was only me, as I was the assistant to the project manager, and Carla herself, the project manager/organization head, and the driver.

"So don't worry about the talking I'll-"

"You will handle it. I know. Just don't use the word sue ten times in a row and we will be good."

"Deniz, come on. Everybody loses their marbles sometimes. Didn't you once break everything in your room just because your food order was cancelled due to rain or something like that?" She whispered to me about my meltdown. My eyes widened in embarrassment, making her laugh.

"I assume you the most humble Carla, never experienced the emotion "hanger". And guess what--I had my movie ready to be played and my pad changed. " I whispered the last part to her as well. "So yeah, my cosy time was ruined. I would wage a war for that."

"Pft. Imagine you being a Queen. You would wage war everyday then."

"Damn right." Although her words brought an uncomfortable feeling and bitter thoughts in my mind making me shiver but I remained composed.

We bantered and went through some points before finally reaching our destination. I said some prayers as I got out of the car wishing that everything goes smoothly and this gets sorted out today. Glancing over at Carla's blank look as she scanned the front door, I could tell she was hoping the same.

Soon the Mayor greeted us in his formal attire and led us to his veranda where someone else was present too. An old man but his poise screamed of experience and wisdom. His eyes seemed to smile when we entered but the rest of his face was stoic. He was introduced to us as Richard, the queen's butler of some sorts. Just great.

The discussion started and it was revealed by "MR. RICHARD" that,

"As a matter of fact that forest is a part of royal treasury but since this---trifle has started, the King has with open heart decided to hand it to your organization, but..."

All of three of us leaned and waited for the next words out of his mouth. God , he spoke so slow.

"only when Princess Kade returns back from Harvard." My heart dropped.

"And why is that?" Carla's blurted out, in favor of mine and Alex's curiosity.

"Because it is accorded in her name. Her property , her signatures." He spoke looking directly at Carla.

Alex sighed, "Well, this is still a good start. When will she be back?"

"In a month or so, sir. But don't worry, the field will be handed to you as soon as she arrives. She doesn't hesitate when it comes to her duties," Richard eyed me and I held his gaze as fiercely as I could.

That was the moment when my doubts were confirmed and hardened. I know exactly who is behind this and why. But for now, I think Carla's smile means a call for celebration.

════∘◦❁◦∘════

(Your POV)

I stepped into my apartment and took a long shower which I had been desiring all day. But at the back of my mind I had a feeling that my feelings of anger and frustration instead of subsiding were about to explode more and that is what happened when I sat down on my sofa with my phone. A call from an unknown number. I picked it up but didn't say anything waiting for the other side to speak.

"Hello? Deniz?"

"Fuck you, Kade! FUCK YOU AND YOUR FAMILY! YOU RICH SNOBBY BASTARD! YOU CREEP! WHY CAN'T YOU LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! You have dug your claws EVERYWHERE HAVEN'T YOU!? How low can you go? Huh?! PATHETIC!"

"Listen, please. I beg you to listen. If you are so keen to figure out that I did it, why don't you see WHY I did it?! Even these curses that you oh so charmingly bestowed upon me right now, you wouldn't do it Deniz if I hadn't done something, because you don't consider me even worthy of your hate Deniz. And here I am, begging for an ounce of affection-

"I didn't ask you to beg!" Her words don't ever miss a chance to rile me up. Why can't this delusional woman just leave me alone?

"You study at Harvard for God's sake yet you cannot--decipher the meaning of a simple word called NO. Why can't you accept-

"I WON'T ACCEPT IT! EVER!. BECAUSE IT'S BASELESS! Absolutely baseless! I refuse to accept it because I know deep down you don't mean-" She took a deep breath before continuing and I could also hear the sound of wind in the background. Almost as if something was hitting a hard surface and I instantly remembered. 'Yeah of course how did I forget she is using a fucking payphone ever since I blocked all her numbers.' How did I even manage to make her go to these lengths? Should I even blame myself? My therapist said no. Yeah. No Deniz, this isn't your fault. Don't you dare take it upon yourself for the crazy stunts of this bastard princess. Should I blame that whole match? That day, that event, that night?

It happened when I was in high school, part of the girl's cricket team in Southampton. After a match against another school and my striking performance as an outclass bowler, being responsible for taking out 3, star batswomen of the rival team, a girl from the audience approached me. Tall, reeking of elegance and mystery. My team captain, Reece whom I was standing beside at the time with some other teammates seemed to know the Princess as we would come to know later on. They both met through mutual acquaintances at a basketball match and were now very close friends. One thing to mention is that I had a thing for Reece due to her caring, charming and dominating presence on the field. I mean come on, she was quite a looker too with her sharp features and those green calculating eyes, her height, and golden brown hair which she kept mostly in a man bun. I always felt shy for no reason when we all would work out in the school gym and she would always come to scold my posture or cause my already pounding heart to nearly blast out of my chest helping me with her muscled arms and hands. LIKE WOMAN SORRY IF I AIN'T AS BUILT AS YOU! I wanted to scream "Hey! Stop treating me as a baby or if am weaker" But man come on, deep down I loved her care and touch. Can you blame my ass? Anyway, I digress. Back to that "After Match Moment".

Reece introduced her as a longtime childhood buddy and kept her background mostly vague and we were already exhausted after the match so didn't pay any heed anyway but mostly all of the team recognized her as the princess of the fucking land that we were standing on. Even though I was drenched in sweat and overwhelmed by the crowd — mostly parents and teachers and now a fucking princess standing in front, I still noticed Kade's lingering gaze on me. At the time, it was somewhat off-putting, but I decided to let it go. Little did I know how I would be drawn into such a heartless game, not only by Kade but also by Reece. I had trusted Reece as a mentor and a friend, and I even harboured a special affection for her that I never disclosed to anyone or dared to confess to her. Reece was the type of person who had many admirers, and my own insecurities made me feel like I could never compete. She could have anyone she wanted, so I focused on my studies and cricket instead.

After the meeting with Kade, Reece initiated plans for an outing which was very rare for her to do so. It was something Hana did, our wicketkeeper as she was the cheery one, the sunshine and the glue of the team. Others didn't seem to notice Reece's sudden change in demeanour, but I did as whenever we went to Reece's house or somewhere out, she seemed to avoid me in a way that is difficult to describe. Like she would be talking to me but not looking at me?. Also, Kade seemed to always show up and eventually became part of our friend group. Thank God she wouldn't stare at me as she did that night but still lingered around me. I always felt strange when we played cricket in front of her and even with her. She always was eager to ball herself when I used to bat and Reece let her do it first , every time. Kade once fixed my posture when I was batting. Like, excuse me?? I am a professional here. I know how to bat. Are you fucking kidding me?! I wanted to smash the bat on her head. Everyone except Reece thought that it was condescending for her to do that. And the fact that she touched me while doing it.

Bruh.

I too lost my shit at that time and did tell her politely that I know how to bat to which she apologised with a smile and backed off.

Reece straight up once "little sister zoned me" in front of everyone at her cabin during a BBQ and both she and Kade laughed as if it was the funniest shit they ever heard.

What shocked me most was Reece's behaviour few days after that. She really took the role of 'big sister' too seriously. She paid extra attention to me as if babying me and often I would find goodie bags in my locker or doorstep after practices and matches. I was...honestly just fed up. Like what fucking drugs are you on , Captain? First, you ignore me and then--this? Calling me and making me your sister? Giving me gifts? Like it took me so much to bury my feelings about her and she is "platonically love-bombing" me?

One day I had enough and texted her respectfully that I don't want all of this attention and I just wanted to be treated like a teammate as before. And asked her if she---likes me by any chance and she is doing all this to impress me. (Which is the one I hoped at that time of my youth and dumbassery that she would agree with and confess her feelings) Fate had other plans and hell broke loose when she rang me and informed me.

'Look, it's me giving you all that stuff but I ain't the one buying 'em', Dizzy. It's Kade, well she likes you and um--so ever since she told me about her crush on you, she sends me these to give em to you- and Dizzy---I can't say no to my friend ....who is also royalty. You should try to understand. She really really likes you. Trust me. She's a bit--aloof when it comes to expressing it. Especially since it's you." She chuckled lightly. "Honestly, you here made a princess scared of you, be proud of yourself...cuz Kade ain't easy to intimidate.."

That was when my whole world collapsed. So all of this ---bullshit--confusion--and- God...

After that, I confronted Kade face to face as Reece called her to school one day. She remained steadfast and pleaded to give her a chance but I was deep in anger and felt played. Not to forget the fact that dating a fucking royalty was not the thing I was even imagining at that point at 17 years old. Informing your parents you are dating a princess.....nah.

After that, I focused on my studies and game not talking to Reece other than when I had to about the match. I stopped hanging out with her. I hated her. She didn't care anyway as I would later find out from another teammate that Reece looked at me as not her sister but SISTER-IN-FUCKING-LAW! LIKE WOMAN?! During my absence and one of their "Chill Nights", Kade had made it clear to her in front of other teammates that Reece would be her best woman at OUR WEDDING!? Do you get the level of craziness?! THESE TWO WERE MANIACS! Thank God, I graduated somehow and Kade hadn't appeared in my life after the argument with her and neither did her gifts. I also broke off contact with Reece's ass and even rarely talked with other players but they were honestly more supportive and understood my side. However, Kade and Reece's sis-romance was off the charts. Just go marry each other, weirdos.

Fast forward to a few years and voila, Kade is back and more persistent than ever. Even Reece messaged me on instagram that I should get hitched with her as it's better for my future for which I retorted.

'Um, focus on your life, Reece. Heard you've got a league coming up' Yes, she is a national player now. FML. That was my dream too but I am grateful I ain't because she would be playing alongside me. Eugh!

'Also I can make decisions for myself and I don't appreciate people trying to coax me into anything I don't want to do, you know that very well. Match against the Kent Lionesses, 30 sept, 2013? Yes, didn't wanna do a spin, didn't do it and gave u a good 4 wickets. While Tanya was forcing me to do fast bowl. So please, get the fantasy of me being your BFF's wife out of your head.'

She indeed was unhappy but left me on seen after saying you are missing out on a great woman and a great life.

Right. Fuck you too.

Still fast forward to now and Kade is still looking for ways to connect with me and re-enter my life or trying to RUIN the one I have by creating such circumstances which all link back to her. I have blocked so many numbers of her that now she uses payphones.

I need a break.

Back to reality. Oh , she still is rambling.

"Kade?"

The line goes silent. Good, now is my time.

"Bye." And I cut the call and powered off my phone. I immediately sent a text via laptop to Carla that I needed a prolonged leave as I was leaving for my (homeland/town). The perks of having a nice boss is that she agreed and didn't even pry much and soon I booked a flight and got ready to pack.

My mind however kept swirling with other notions. For example, what will happen if I say yes to Kade? What If I just never come back and consult all of this bullshit from the start with my family and come up with a plan to start an undercover life.

My body is so exhausted by the memories and anxiety that i just collapse on the bed and make a mental note to think over this during the flight.

➺Part II

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Guys, I wanted to make it clear that I just don't like using (Y/N) in stories as I just hate typing it so I will be mostly naming you, the readers ♡. Yes you , my little family of 10 😭. I would like to know your opinion. Do hang around for further parts. Kade Emsworth's side coming up soon. )

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puppygirl-panopticon · 2 months ago

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So im browsing a costune sight for fun at work (cause im bored out of my mind) and i get dome kinda morbid facination with how many different ways they have tried to do "sexy cop" on the same website, but heres the thing. It displays the costumes in a way where you will have pages and pages of like, yassified white women in costumes followed by one just DUDE like a normal guy just standing there look at this

This is just one of many examples ive procured for you today, please enjoy the rest under the cut followed by perhaps some commentary

Okay so heres this

Now another thing im a very big fan of is the way they name things "mystery dude" in particular really fucking gets me

This kinda shit is everywhere just, girls in basically nothing and then a guy dressed up as juse like a movie character or a genaric manly figure see below

(Also there is an example of one of the many many cop costumes, which i have a fucking beef with they all look the same until they dont and then you end up with THIS)

WHAT IS HAOPENING HERE WHAT IS THAT LITTLE HAT WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT IS IT I DONT UNDERSTAND

WHAT IS IT

I dont understand, moving on to a personal favorite

Now this.

This i thought about leading with but its honestly so special to me i had to hide it down here.there is so much to talk about

A. The puzzler

When i was in highschool, i once thrw together a costume for a party in about 20 minutes and it was basically something like this except i was wearing a button up shirt and short shorts and an enormous tie and i called myself "the questioner" basically this is nothing like that but i wanted to talk about how i made a free costume that i think was funnier and better then this one which was somehow retailing for

$111.95

At some point.

I dont have anything else i think i got it out of my system

Next we have the ninja pictures

I like these because i have two of them

And i like to imagine that they are body guards flanking these two beautiful women

I cant fit anymore pictures in this post so consider urself spared from further harrassment

Thanks for coming to my ted talk

#halloween #costumes #shitty costumes #puppy speaks #arf arf awwrf

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worrynoodle · 3 months ago

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Special Interests are extremely important to neurodivergent people. Engaging with your special interests has 'neuro-protective' qualities that help your brain regulate. (www.josselynC.com - demystifying the DSM for autism)

[Source]

For me, since GO2 came out, it has been my special interest. It has become central to my identity and I'm sure I am not the only one who feels that way (this is the autism website after all) and a lot of us are unimaginably shaken by the news. It feels like losing a part of ourselves.

We also tend to have very high empathy and sense of injustice. So different aspects of how our brains work are at war with one another. On one hand, my special interest feels like it's slipping away, on the other, people have been harmed in such a horrific manner. And on another, I don't want cast/crew to lose their jobs. The big name actors might not suffer from it but what about all the supporting workers?

It just isn't fair to put people down for trying to keep hold of something that makes the world bearable make sense.

And to be fucking clear because I've seen some of the shit that gets commented: no this isn't using autism as some excuse to justify XYZ. I'm trying to get you to open your hearts for a moment. No, I am not putting myself/others above the victims that isn't what this post is about. Not everything is black and white, I'm trying to explain why some of us really care and value Good Omens more than it just "being a TV show"

Yall are all for autism awareness until it's something that may not make sense to you.

My point is to leave people alone. If you don't want to see their content, for whatever reason, you can just block them. Don't try to shit on someone's joy if they've somehow found it. And for the love of god don't send FUCKING DEATH THREATS TO PEOPLE?? You talk all high and mighty and you do something like that?? Fuck you.

To everyone else, have a wonderful day and please take care of that brain and body of yours 🤎💫

#neil gaiman #tw neil gaiman #good omens #good omens fandom #autistic #undiagnosed autistic #autism special interest #aziraphale #crowley #goodomens

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alyrch99 · 6 months ago

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I think it's fundamentally this:

If you're not a trans women (or transfeminine) I don't care about literally anything you think about eggs, or transmisogyny, or what a TERF is, or what "radical feminism" in the context of transness means and whether or not you think it can be recouped with a trans-inclusive mode of thought or identity, or literally any of this other shit. This means you, he/they obsessively browsing the transmisogyny tag to disagree with people, I block yall wherever I find you but there's always more. Actually it's not even a tag, because this website restricts #transmisogyny, though for some reason not transandrophobia or transmisandry gee I wonder why that is with your opposition supposedly being so similar to ours in scope.

Anyway you're not part of a fucking community with me. You simply aren't. Learn what actual solidarity is (hint: it isn't screaming "where's your solidarity, we should work together!!" Whenever anyone mentions how you're in fact also part of an oppressive group to her) or never try to talk for or with me again. Actually preferably don't do that anyway. Also your gender isn't special or somehow better than trans womanhood, it's not more transgressive, think for a moment about why trans women don't tend to have (don't tend to *get* to have) these "more complex" gender identities - it's because we aren't allowed to, we aren't given the leeway.

This probably won't get any traction, no one gives a fuck what I say on here, but if it does? If you're TME keep your fucking mouth shut in my notes.

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sickofthis666 · 4 months ago

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Man, I miss when tumblr wasn’t the "t4t" website. Now we only got girld*ck jokes and trans rights are the only social issue that's worth mentionning, apparently. It's obvious if only by seeing the amount of posts, pinned posts, and bios with the mention "terfs/transphobes dni".

As an afterthought, some may add racists, ableists and/or homophobics to their little list. Sexism doesn't even appear.

Reading users bios, it's like everyone on this website is trans now - see also, reblogs of people's own post years later with the mention "im a girl now :3" - even though statistically, they're... what? 2% of the population?

Meanwhile somehow half of said population doesn't deserve to fight for their rights. BLM vanished but fear not, TLM is there. Online feminism peaked in 2016 with "the future is female" and #MeToo ended with a lot of calling out by victims but very little consequences for the abusers.

Your brain won't explode if you campaign for more than one cause at a time, I promise.

Old sexism was "your biology determines your behavior". New sexism is "your behavior determines your biology". Same result. Same harmful stereotypes. Some things are meant to harm, no matter how much you want to reclaim them or have fun sounding quirky by using insults/politically incorrect language. No, calling yourself a slut doesn't change from a man calling you that, because the very definition of that word is harmful. An insult doesn't stop being an insult because you enjoy it or because you decided to interpret it in a way that fits you, like religious leaders interprets scripture in a way that fits their interest.

We were supposed to get rid of the idea that women enjoying sex like men do is shameful, bad, disgusting, unnatural. We were supposed to make it neutral, just the way men get to have it, but nooo, you guys wanted to be quirky, rules breakers, special. Somehow you're convinced that doing the complete opposite of what society commonly deems acceptable automatically makes you cool, Good, right, and better than the others. It doesn't! It's not a dichotomy! Same thing with whore. Calling a man that moves his hands when he talks or has a high pitch or exaggerated manners "effeminate" makes you a misogynist and a homophobe, actually.

P*rn doesn't automatically becomes Good and healthy just because society frowns down upon it. Degrading women became a trend. God forbids you kinkshame, but somehow mocking vanilla sex is great, actually. Obviously vanilla must be Bad since it's the opposite of porn, and we all decided at some point that porn was Good. Can’t find f/m erotica on this website that doesn't include at least One sentence specifying how the woman is degraded/seen like a toy/less than human by the man. It's Very Important.

The solution to "women shouldn't have to wear make up to be considered seriously/human" wasn’t "women like their cage actually", it was destroying the cage or put the men in it with us. Cause that is the definition of gender equality. Treating men and women the same regardless of gender.

Hijab will never be feminist as long as men don't wear it too. It's the difference of treatment, simply because of gender, that is sexism/misogyny. The intention of the wearer doesn't matter - the result does.

"Taking your husband's last name isn’t sexist because *I* would be honored to do it" affirmed a woman to me - Since when does sexism mean "mentality/behavior/outfit/etc that all women as a mindhive dislike"? Oh wait - it doesnt - never did; it means difference of treatment between genders, overwhelmingly balanced in favor of men. The day men don't see taking your wife's last name as emasculating, degrading, insulting, belittling, diminishing, disgracing, shameful; the day they take their wife's last name spontaneously, almost systematically, the way women do; the day merely suggesting the idea to them isn’t preposterous;

the day women don't see taking your husband's name, as honorable, normal, the bare minimum, the day women stop taking their husband's name almost systematically, because it's an evidence in their eyes; the day women are not pushed to take their husband's name because it makes administration's work easier, because it's the only way for them to prove that they're related to their children - when i was a little kid, school staff once refused to let me leave with my mom at the end of the day simply because, since she hadn't taken my father's name, obviously she couldnt possibly be my legitimate mother; that "incident" lead to her renounciating her own name; before that, she hadn't entertained the thought; - the day french civil service stops differentiating between Nom d'��pouse (wife name) and Nom de jeune fille (maiden name), making marriage an event so decisive in a woman's life that it changes her status; whereas men are born, live and die with only one name, their own, and no one else's.

That day only, we'll be able to affirm that this part of society/culture/custom is not sexist anymore.

In favor of men, not because I hate men, or because women need someone to blame, or because men are inherently evil, but in favor of men because men have been ruling society for thousands of years. Our kings are men. Our presidents are men. Our Prime Ministers are men. Our religious leaders are men. Our CEOs are men. Billionaires are men. The most powerful and/or rich on this earth are men. And people in power, in a logical conclusion, decides measures that will favor themselves over others.

Feminity isn’t real. Masculinity isn’t real. Just like the economy, or borders, it's something humans made up. And yet it would never cross your mind to romanticize or fantasize about those concepts.

Boomers' sexism says "if you're a woman, you must act feminine." Gen Z's sexism says "If you're feminine, you must be a woman."

Feminism says "You'll always be a woman no matter what - but so what? You can do whatever you want."

This website is full of selfrighteous, full of themselves assholes who pretends to be Better than everyone else because they're sooo tolerent, sooo inclusive, they condemn nazis and terfs - but mostly terfs. Terfs never commited murders, contrary to neonazis/white supremacists/incels, but that is but a detail my friend - vigorously, they boycott JKR absolutely - but not their favorite rapist male artists/authors/actors/singers -, they have the moral High Ground. Yet the second they smell an Enemy, someone who doesn't adopt 100% of their causes, verbatim, no holds barred! Anything goes! Death threats, rape threats, stalking, doxxing, going after family members... calling The Other, the Villain - of course they're the villain, since I am the Good Guy and they're against Me! - names, a loser, ugly, fat, a virgin, who can’t get laid/p*ssy. Yes I said Asexuals were a part of the community, what does this have to do with anything? Death and rape threats are okay if they come from My mouth!

#radical feminism #men vs women #radfem please interact #radfem safe #rambling into the void #radical feminist safe #feminism #radical feminists do interact #sexism #ranting #rant post #personal rant #rant #misogyny #tumblr culture #just watched a fascist from Fascist Channel TV argue that neo feminism contradicts themselves when they don't support trans women -#and i snapped

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