#what is gender if not a farce

[eepyghost]

is there a scientific study linking watching ranboo for extended periods of time to questioning your gender

does ranboo turn the kids not cis. is this something they're known for.

[loop-deloo]

ok but yes remus is a soggy man. he’s a pathetic little loser i love it for him but fuck off with this nonsense abt sirius then being the man in the relationship or not saying that but having sirius then exhibit the typically manly traits. fuck off with equating the typically feminine roles with remus when you’re calling him pathetic. we’re not doing that shit anymore. remus will make the worst fucking inedible shit ever but he’s cooking every night. sirius is getting back from his job he’s obsessed with idc what it is. remus is taking the bins out late every time. he’s running to catch the bloody truck down the street every week. sometimes he misses it and they have stinky bins for another week. he drops the groceries he huffs bleach accidentally when he’s cleaning the bathroom he has a 9-5 it’s just a boring office job and he hates his job but he must work he gets self righteous he reads shit books he doesn’t enjoy he doesn’t know anything other than head n shoulders exists he pretends his feet aren’t blocks of ice even though his socks are wet he doesn’t know how to look after himself. fucking STOP with this bullshit and enforcing the goddamn heteronormative gender roles i’m done with it.

[lumalalu]

deleted that rb cause i read it again a little closer but u people r so obsessed with dictating what does and does not happen to trans men. all these stupid little rules.

[kyuuppi]

How they react when you're jealous

Ft. Wanderer (Scaramouche); Xiao; Zhongli; Childe; Venti; Albedo; Tighnari

(gender neutral reader but Childe refers to them as "princess"/"prince" once)

⭐ Wanderer

+ This man is actually insufferable, good-fucking-luck

+ He acts so smug 'cause of course you'd be jealous, he's revered and worshipped by the masses!! (he's not)

+ Will probably cockily tell you you'll just have to get used to it, he's a god afterall so it's expected that he'll have many loyal fans all vying for his attention—

+ It's all a farce

+ In reality, he's kind of in shock that you'd really be jealous over him, the useless puppet discarded by his own mother—but that's his unresolved insecurity and mommy issues talking

+ He'll keep up the façade and tease you for a while until he realizes you're genuinely upset—then he'll find some roundabout way to tell you that you have nothing to worry about, he only has eyes for you...of course he'll never directly admit that, though

"Hah, you're jealous? What a foolish human emotion—of course I'll be adored by thousands..."

The Wanderer cuts himself off as he takes in your tense form, brows furrowed and eyes looking anywhere but him as you quietly seethe. His chest clenches in that weird way it only seems to do when you're involved.

"Wait...don't tell me you're actually angry...?"

You don't show any signs you even heard his question and the Wanderer sighs dramatically, averting his own gaze to hide his reddening cheeks as he mumbles his next words.

"You have nothing to worry about, idiot...you're way above any of those other weaklings anyway."

⭐ Xiao

+ I'm sorry but he literally is incapable of understanding that you're jealous

+ Like...he can barely even process that you like him, let alone recognize the advances of another random human who is interested in him. The time he even spends with others is extremely limited unless you're involved so there aren't many chances for anyone to talk to him

+ If it's something like another adepti or half-adepti, like Ganyu, who he's been spending a lot more time with lately training, you might feel insecure by your own mortality, which Xiao can somewhat understand but still doesn't get the jealousy part

+ Tries his best to try to comfort you though, even if it means shyly asking Zhongli or Verr Goldet

+ Surprisingly ends up coming to the best solution—spending more time with you

You nearly jump out of your skin when you turn to find the figure of your boyfriend standing behind you on the balcony of Wangshu Inn. You're certain he wasn't there just five minutes ago.

"Huh? Shouldn't you be training Ganyu today...?" You ask, feeling slightly sick at the mention of the pretty half-adeptus girl. She was a sweetheart and a great friend but you can't help but to think about how much time she's been spending with Xiao. You're sure she doesn't have any ulterior motives but you can't help but to think about how much prettier and stronger she is compared to you. Surely Xiao sees it too...

"We agreed to take a break for today," Xiao immediately answers, slowly stepping forward until his cheat is nearly touching the back of your arm, so close you can smell the faint traces of his natural scent—something fresh and crisp like the mountain air.

"Instead...I want to spend some time with you—if you'll allow it." He says softly. You momentarily freeze, not used to Xiao initiating dates. Unperturbed, he continues speaking.

"I thought we could do that mortal activity you told me about before. I think it was called...a picnic?"

⭐ Zhongli

+ The god who has ruled over humans for over 2,000 years—of course he's familiar with such a common emotion like jealousy. Even if he himself has yet to experience it

+ He would never assume you were jealous unless you openly tell him about it

+ But then he's quick to assuage your worries and maybe even propose some sort of compromise that can satisfy you both

+ Spends a night absolutely spoiling you until you hardly remember you were ever jealous in the first place, if that's what you so desire

"Ah, it seems you may have misunderstood my relationship with the funeral director, I apologize if I caused you any discomfort," Zhongli tells you earnestly, gently holding your hands in his own, much larger ones and holding your gaze so intensely you find it impossible to look away.

"Now tell me, my dear, how may I settle your worries? Perhaps we should take some time away, just the two of us?"

⭐ Childe

+ Idk how you even got jealous in the first place cause this man is glued to your hip

+ Slightly flattered when he recognizes your signs of jealousy cause he just sees it as proof of how much you care about him

+ It may feel a bit demeaning at first but he will not take your jealousy seriously. He baby talks, pinches your cheeks, and teases you but will not show any genuine concern—not because he doesn't care about your feelings, but because he's so sure that he only has eyes for you that he thinks your jealously is completely unreasonable in the first place

+ As a big fan of PDA, he takes the advantage to be more touchy and affectionate with you in public under the guise of "showing everyone he's yours"

+ If anything, he's the one whose always jealous when another person takes so much as a second of your attention—but you don't need to know that

"Aww, is my prince/ss pouting now? Ahaha, don't look at me like that!" Childe effortlessly dodges the elbow you aim at his ribs after he pinches at the fat of your cheek for the third time today.

Not perturbed in the least, Childe sticks himself to your side and continues to grin down at you, uncaring of the strangers who glance at you two with strange looks as you make your way through the busy streets of Liyur Harbor.

"Here, how about I make it up to you and we go on a lunch date? My treat!"

⭐ Venti

+ Another one who doesn't take your concerns seriously

+ However, unlike most of the other men, it's pretty reasonable to be jealous with how Venti talks to everyone

+ He's naturally romantic and seems to possess no clear boundaries, leading to him saying things that could be construed as flirtatious without him even realizing it

+ When he's tipsy on dandelion wine, it's not unusual to see him belting out ballads and serenading anyone nearby willing to give him the time of day—though, in reality, his love songs are all actually written about you

"Oh, my windblume is feeling a bit jealous?"

You don't bother providing a response but Venti doesn't seem to need one.

"Ehehe, so cute," he coos, shamelessly wrapping his arms around you. Any feelings of jealousy you hold are quickly being replaced with embarrassment at how other patrons in the crowded bar frequently glance at you and your loud boyfriend.

"No worries, my love, this poor bard's heart only beats for you! I'll even prove it with this song I wrote..."

⭐ Albedo

+ It's Sucrose, isn't it?

+ They spend all those hours locked up in a small lab room in the depths of Dragonspine—its only natural that you'd feel suspicious right?

+ Wrong

+ When he's not with you, Albedo literally only thinks about his experiemnts or drawing. In fact, the times you and Albedo are together are really the only time anyone ever sees Albedo actually listen to someone outside of the Knights of Favonius and talk about things that aren't directly related to alchemy

+ As the so-called "chalk prince," it's not that uncommon for people to find him physically attractive and try their luck—but any deeper feelings usually vanish when they realize he has no interest in them. That and his blank stares can get rather unsettling...

+ If you do get jealous about Albedo being around anyone, it will eventually go away on its own as you realize this man is literally incapable of recognizing flirting

+ (Also, Sucrose is literally an angel and would never jeopardize your relationship. Like, she actively ships you guys together, pls—)

"...which is a particularly unique property for this chemical given it's electronegativity. In fact—oh, [Name], what are you doing here?"

You try very hard not to laugh at the relieved expression the woman Albedo was previously lecturing shoots you. She wastes no time slipping out of the lab while Albedo is distracted, his ocean deep eyes staring at you with a mix of surprise and quiet adoration.

"Ah, it's about lunch time and I don't have any commissions today so I thought we could go get something to eat together. Sorry if I'm disturbing you—"

"Not at all," Albedo interrupts, quickly putting away the glass vial he previously held and removing his latex gloves.

"A visit from you is never a disturbance," Albedo admits plainly, oblivious to the way his words make your chest squeeze.

"Now let's go. If we hurry, we might be able to make it to that place you like before they get crowded."

⭐ Tighnari

+ Lmao what are you jealous of, a flower?

+ This is another Science Man™️ who literally sees nothing but his work. Unless there's a rare sentient species of seductive mushrooms in Sumeru with it's sights set on fennec fox boys, you have nothing to worry about

+ Collei sees him as something akin to an older brother figure and Tighnari is too sassy for anyone else to get close unless they're interested in joining the forest watchers

+ If you tell him you're jealous, he's probably going to call you an idiot for even thinking he's interested in anyone else

Tighnari looks almost annoyed at your confession, glancing up from his journal only to shoot you a glare.

"Hah? Did you accidentally eat some hallucinogenic mushrooms again? I don't have enough time entertain things like that. What a ridiculous accusation."

Annoyance bubbles up inside you but, before you can act on it, Tighnari is already standing from his desk, striding over to you quickly to gently pull you along with him.

"Now come with me. I found an interesting flower on the outskirts of camp I think you'd like."

The proud grin highlighted by the sparkle in his eyes as he looks up at you quickly cuts off any protests you were going to make.

[monicahar]

“thanks for the flowers!”

“what flowers?”

in which they find out you receive a gift from someone that isn't them.

characters; wanderer, alhaitham, kaveh

; i keep seeing that damn tiktok 😐 gender neutral reader, fluff, crack,

WANDERER eyes you skeptically, suspicion being evident on his pale features as he scans your expression up and down. has he already caught on to your little prank?

“first of all, who in their right mind would court you? and with some sappy flowers as well?”

you return his unamused gaze, finding him very unfunny.

“you do know that you're dating me, right?”

“unfortunately.” he clicks his tongue, further leaning towards your face, brows still furrowed as if he's trying to decipher something, gazing at you with an unreadable expression that has your resolve crumbling. “is this another one of your antics to get a rise out of me? if so, it's not working.”

his lips break out into a grin upon watching your eyes widen. but your shock doesn't last long—him immediately seeing through your silly scheme isn't an unexpected outcome, funnily enough.

“you're too serious sometimes.” you pout at him whilst he scoffs, “just humor me. what would you actually do if i managed to receive flowers from another?”

“it's simple—you can't.” comes his swift and confident reply, offending you as you stare at him incredulously, weighing the implication of his words.

“you speak of me like i'm the most unattractive person in teyvat—what do you mean i can't?”

“you're an idiot. would i have really chosen you if you were unattractive in any way?” he crosses his arms before facing you completely, indigo hues staring directly into yours.

“i already eliminated all those who dare steal you from me.”

...?

you freeze on the spot, processing what you've just heard.

“...excuse me?”

“—just kidding. i'm no longer that type of person, hah.” he huffs out a derisive laugh, yet his humorous farce does not meet his eyes.

not finding any comfort in his supposed testament of it only being a joke, you opt to stare at him confusingly in return. weirdo.

ALHAITHAM, much like the wanderer, catches on to the prank immediately. whether it's intuition, scarily precise deduction or just the way you generally act weird when it comes to lying to his face—he still figured you out in the end like it's nothing.

but unlike the wanderer, he decides to humor you and play along. what a good boyfriend.

“...you mean you didn't give me the flowers?” you flutter your lashes at him, a horrible and terribly inefficient way to convince him that the whole thing with the flowers is actually real. alhaitham suddenly has the rare urge to laugh. since when did you act like this?

alhaitham shifts in his seat. “no. who do you think it's from?”

“hm.” you hum thoughtfully, bringing a finger to your chin as if in deep thought. the scribe briefly wonders how far you're willing to take this joke. but he digresses—the chances of him actually getting mad at you are akin to that of kaveh finally shutting up—

“maybe kaveh? he grew an interest in flowers recently, so i've heard. maybe he sent some as like a sign of friendship or something along those lines...there's no way it means something else, riiiiiight?”

alhaitham pauses his train of thought.

speak of the devil.

momentarily doubting his conclusion that you're just pulling a prank, he quietly glowers at you as if silently telling you to take back your words.

“what about him?”

you immediately cower upon the drop in his tone—raising your arms in defense when alhaitham moves to stalk closer to you. “i was joking! i didn't get any flowers from anyone and last time i conversed with kaveh was when i—”

“let's go.” he grabs the back of your collar and drags you along, a newfound heavy weight in his footsteps as an indescribable and uncomfortable feeling creeps up on his neck.

“i really was just joking, 'haitham! i was bored and i wanted to annoy you for a bit! i swear!”

even if it wasn't true, the thought of kaveh gifting you flowers without his knowledge—

alhaitham's expression subconsciously turns sour. quite unlucky that you couldn't witness the extremely scarce sight of jealousy on your boyfriend as you are comically dragged against your will behind him.

“the nearest flower shop is just around the corner. tell me if anything piques your interest.” he says in way that has no room for argument. he is getting you flowers now.

KAVEH falls for it, obviously. not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed outside his designated profession, you see.

“i don't remember buying any flowers...” he mutters to himself, the gears in his head turning. it's almost laughable when he finally pieces your words together, a look of disbelief painfully present on his faxe but by some miracle, you resisted the urge to burst out in giggles right then and there. “wait...i didn't send any!”

“is that so...then who would send me flowers other than you?” you edge him on, instigating at its finest, much poking a sleeping bear with a stick while you circle it tauntingly.

an actual enraged kaveh is something you've never seen before, just some tantrums and endless ranting about some clients and his roommate. you've always wanted to see it—just not directed at you, hopefully.

“that's...ah, people already know you're dating me though, so it can't be someone hitting on you. maybe it's just from a relative or—”

“really?” you tilt your head, feigning a bit of confusion. “then i suppose i should keep these red roses then. i'll ask tighnari how to keep them alive, i guess.”

“w-wait, wait—could you repeat that?”

“hm?” you face him, “i'll ask tighnari?”

“no, the one before that.”

“...i'll keep the red roses?” you had to hold yourself back from grinning ear to ear when his eyes widen.

it's not unexpected that someone versed in the beauty of art would recognize one of the most common flower's meaning. quite the handy trivia.

he immediately stands up, grabbing your hand in tow as you yelp in surprise at his abruptness.

“kaveh?!”

“those flowers mean love! like, actual romantic love! i'll burn it for you right now! where'd you put it!?” the intensity of his ruby gaze sends shudders down your spine.

“it's not like i reciprocate it—”

“still, no one other than me should be sending those...!” kaveh tightens his grip on your hands, “i don't like the idea of someone hitting on you. i can't let anyone attempt to take you away from me...”

you blink. “kaveh...”

“—that's why show it to me now! or i'll bite you!”

“okay, okay! jeez...”

now...how are you going to break the news to him that it was actually yellow roses, and most definitely not from an admirer?

the biggest hater of my work is myself. wtf am i writing bruh ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

[becquerel]

i do think there is a lot to say on why homestuck’s fanbase is (to put it bluntly) so transgender in such a specific and interesting way. and i think its mostly to do with homestuck’s treatment of femininity vs masculinity in a way that is not typically done

femininity is presented as both something to save the world (space players and echidna, working with frogs, maids/sylphs presented as The Most Feminine classes and about creation/healing, despite it being said later on class gendering doesn’t matter, because it was written to matter at the beginning), while also being vicious enough to cause longtime and horrifying pain (kanaya and jade wield chainsaws and shotguns. the peixes line being as they are. its implied female trolls are culturally thought to be more cruel/violent on alternia due to condy’s influence via flarp being “for girls” as tavros is told. vriska. aranea’s help hurting everyone she tries it on.)

masculinity in homestuck is... frankly not aggrandized at all. it’s a reverse from the norm. every hypermasculine character we may have had a chance to look at has it ripped away in the end. bro strider dies to a little girl’s dog. lord english is first presented as a hypermasculine musclebound giant, then we meet caliborn and see the farce for what it is, LE is a little boy wearing an adult man’s clothes and screaming for people to take him seriously. and we do. until we notice that the clothes don’t fit quite right, and everything falls apart. grandpa harley was never alive. equius is the most masculine presented of any of the players, and... well. we’ve all seen equius. dad egbert is the only genuine show of masculinity in a truly positive light for john - and by extension the reader - to look up to, and he’s based around loving his own so much he makes cakes daily and tries to bond with him in any way he can, albeit often in ways that don’t really work. 

i don’t know. i think homestuck’s use of gendering is a fascinating aspect of the story. i think it helped me with my own personal experience of gender and the different aspects people can see gender through :] its cool to me

[hayakawalove]

Politely asking for spoiled princess and suguru uwu you would do that saur much justice im shaking at the thought EEEE

🗿

CW: Fluff, Eating, Reader Just Gets Babied, Gender Neutral Reader

W/C: 1,332

“Happy birthday to you,” you wake with a melodic voice filling your ears.

When you open your eyes, the first thing you’re met with is the beauty that is Suguru Geto. His eyes are crinkled as he grins, tone soft as he sings. It fills your stomach with an emotion that’s a bit hard to place. Joy? Gratitude? No, something deeper.

Suguru finishes singing and places a soft kiss on your forehead. Warmth bursts across your skin, trailing across the planes of your face. Suguru loves you. He loves you. He loves you. It was palpable, felt in everything he did.

He’s looking down at you, his fingers adjusting a piece of your hair behind your ear. He smells sweet, like icing and yearly wishes. You think he was probably making your birthday cake, and your-

“I made breakfast, want me to bring it to you or do you want to eat on the couch?”

It’s a tender question, because you know he would offer to bring it to you regardless of it being your birthday. That’s just the kind of man Suguru was.

He loves to spoil, loves to baby, loves to love. It was a bit overbearing at first. Over time you’ve learned to lean into it. In fact, you may lean into it a bit too much. Especially during times like these.

“Will you carry me to the couch?” You bat your lashes, perfectly playing the part of a needy partner.

“What, no ‘please’?” He teases as he stands.

“Suguru, it’s my birthday!”

“Ahh, I suppose you’re right. Manners aren’t required on national holidays, huh?”

“No!”

He grins and pinches your cheek lovingly.

You think he gets off on your defiance more than you do. Freaky bastard.

Suguru spins on his heels to bring your breakfast to the living room while you nuzzle into the blankets. If the promise of food wasn’t imminent, you probably would be drifting back to bed. But it was Suguru’s cooking you were talking about. Not a chance in hell you’d miss that.

He comes back after setting the breakfast down by the couch. Suguru lifts you up, his strong arm holding the back of your knees while your head rests against his chest. It’s a short walk to the living room, with golden light filtering in through your windows. He sits on the couch with you draped across his lap.

You peek an eye open and see the tray full of goodies in front of you. French toast, fruit, and eggs to name a few. It looks wonderful. The aroma floats over to you and makes you stir against him, but you’re so damn comfortable.

“Have you gone back to bed already?” The tone is teasing and it goes straight to your heart.

You grumble and nudge his chest with your head.

“Don’t you want breakfast?” He asks.

“Feed it to me…” you whine as you look up at him.

Suguru lets out a loving sigh. He’s putting on a front as if he may be bothered, but it’s a farce and you know it.

“What am I going to do with you?” He chuckles, looking down to cut your French toast.

You relax in his hold, your body laying across his thighs as he tends to you. He gathers a piece drenched in syrup before holding it up on the fork, looking down at you.

“You have to sit up, I can’t have you choking on your birthday.”

You pout and nuzzle further into him before shuffling into a seated position. Suguru brings the fork next to you, nudging it against your lips. The stickiness spreads across your mouth, dusting your lips with sugar. You open up and grin when the food hits your tastebuds. So good. He never misses.

“You could have me choking on any other day?”

“Don’t be a brat, sweetheart.”

You bite your lip and look up to him. There’s pink growing on his cheeks, and you can’t tell if it’s due to the hard work he’s put in this morning, or if it’s from the sight of you needing his help.

He places another piece in your mouth before setting the fork down to grab the fruit. He’s holding a grape, plump and cold as he brings it up to your mouth. You wrap your lips around the grape and eat it, flicking your tongue against his thumb as you do so. It’s hard to make Suguru flustered, but every once in awhile you’re able to achieve the task. Like now.

Suguru clears his throat and continues to pamper you, feeding you as you drape yourself across his body.

Once you’re finished eating, or more aptly once Suguru’s finished feeding you, you let out a heavy sigh. Your stomach and your heart were full.

“What’s next on the agenda?” You ask, as if you’ve had an arduous day so far.

“You tell me.”

There were so many options. More than anything, you just wanted to spend the day with him.

You also wanted to be babied by him, but that was neither here nor there.

“Suguru, will you paint my nails and do my hair?”

He looks a bit ruffled at the request. He was ready to offer you the world on a silver platter, and you just wanted to have your nails painted?

“Sure, baby. What color?” He gets up and shuffles around to locate the polish, grabbing all of the supplies he needs.

“Black?”

“Birthday black it is.”

Suguru told you that sadly, you’d have to come to the kitchen table to get your nails painted. He told you that a couch full of paint wouldn’t be very good, and you were inclined to agree. Suguru sits across from you at the table, brush in hand as he maneuvers around your fingers. He treats them as if they’re precious, delicate pieces of art.

It’s a sight to see. Soft locks fall over his shoulders as he analyzes his work, you think he must be biting the inside of his cheek.

Once he’s done, you marvel at the results. Neat, because obviously it was. Your nails shine under the living room lights, honestly it looked so good you almost felt bad not paying for it. He’s watching you, his fist propped up under his chin as he smiles at your enthusiasm.

“It looks so good Suguru!”

“Thank you, I’m happy you like it.”

You take another moment to appreciate your nails before you look back towards him. There’s love in his gaze as he admires you, a soft smile resting on his face.

“Hair?” You ask, wanting to feel his hands on your scalp.

Suguru raises his brows, and looks up towards your eyes as if you brought him back to reality.

“Hair.” He responds, getting up from his seat to gather the supplies.

He works silently while you talk his ear off. At the beginning of your relationship, you were a bit worried you annoyed him with all your talking. But now you know that’s not the case. He loves when you talk. He loves to listen. It’s not really a surprise when his best friend is Gojo, king of loud mouths.

When he’s done, he holds a mirror up in front of you. Suguru was talented in everything he did. Your hair was perfect, no strand out of place. The sight brings a grin to your face as you whip around to face him. He’s standing behind you, brushing a hand against your hair as he looks down.

“Thank you!” You jump up from your seat and throw your arms around his steady figure.

Suguru coos and hugs you tightly, resting his head atop yours.

“Of course, darling.”

Once you’ve had your fill, although you could hug him for much longer if given the opportunity, you pull away. You beam up at him while he lovingly looks back.

“Was that all you wanted to do today?” He questions.

“We’re just getting started!” You respond.

(THANK YOU FOR SAYING I WOULD DO IT GOOD YOU’RE SO KIND. SUGURU LOVES YOU VERY MUCH. I KNOW HE DOES)

[hyenagurl]

youll know that feminism, actual feminism, is as deeply unpopular and thus as important as its ever been when you have people sniffing around Suspicious Women for thought crimes, the way hippie dudes in the 60s and 70s would badger and ostracize their fellow leftist women for being Frigid Prudes. real feminism is intrinsically anti-establishment and counter culture because the establishment and culture are misogynistic, if it were popular then its not doing its job. the fact that this liberal pro prostitution and post modern gender form of feminism is the most popular, and that any woman who speaks against it in the slightest is deplatformed, should clue even the biggest moron in on how this is all an antifeminist farce. what a waste of everyone’s fucking time!

[oswildin]

Loki x Partner!You Halloween Headcannons

A/N: Leans into grumpy x sunshine trope, fluff/humour/lighthearted/not to be taken seriously. Gender neutral.

Loki awoke to you being missing from bed, confused and rather disgruntled that he couldn’t get morning cuddles, before he remembered exactly why you were up before him…

31st October… It was Halloween.

You had been yapping all about it the previous day, and of course he listened, even if he didn’t quite understand why it was such a big deal.

“I thought you would love Halloween!” “Why?” “Because you’re-“ “I’m…?” “Well… y’know… you.” “I’ll try not to take offence.”

And as Loki arose, he began to hear the faint sound of music, a song he didn’t recognise but sounded festive (it was ‘this is Halloween’).

It was then he found you, in the kitchen, still in your pj’s humming and singing along to the song playing gleefully.

Sometimes he envied just how carefree you acted, but he also loved it. It… brought out a different side to him, subtle but definitely there. Not that he would admit that, of course.

“Must you play that racket at such an early hour?” “This is Halloween, Halloween, Halloween!” You continued to sing gleefully, grinning at him in amusement. “And here was me thinking it was Christmas.” He quipped dryly, making you roll your eyes before turning to reveal the ghost shaped pancakes you’d made for breakfast.

Loki had to hold back a small smile from tugging at his lips, it really was quite silly. But… adorable. And so, he raised a brow, looking down at them with a skeptical eye.

“You’re lucky I like you.”

After breakfast, you were very insistent that your typical yearly routine commenced, much to Loki’s dismay. It consisted of going to the supermarket and grabbing as many sweet treats and spooky confectionery as you could.

Of course, knowing Loki didn’t appreciate artificially sweet Midgardian treats, you told him you would allow him to pick his own selection of dried fruits and any other snacks he wanted.

“How thoughtful of you.” He teased wryly at your ‘allowance’. “Shut up, you know what I meant.” Of course he did, he just loved winding you up.

“You do realise this is all a farce? What began as a tradition of the souls of the dead returning to their homes has been turned into a commodity, another way for corporations to make money.” “I didn’t realise you were so concerned about the effects of capitalism.” “Well, I do unfortunately inhabit this planet as well, do I not? It affects me too.” “Loki, did you even pay for that bag of dried fruit?” “No. Why would I?” Of course you sighed, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose.

Loki loved teasing you, it was so easy.

Underneath it all, Loki was warmed that you wanted to share your enjoyment of the festivities with him. He loved seeing you excited about it, seeing your eyes light up at the silly decorations the mortals put outside their houses as you drove back home. Although, he did have to grab the steering wheel once or twice as you got distracted by some of them.

“I don’t understand why you mortals watch these ‘scary movies’.” “Why do you stab Thor as a prank?” “Because it’s funny.” “And?” “And because he deserves it.” “And…?” “And because it’s thrilling?” “Ding ding ding.”

“Also don’t you think saying he ‘deserves it’ is a little harsh?” “He’s a God, it basically equates to a paper cut.” “Paper cuts really hurt.” “I know.” He smirked.

It was when you began laughing at the rather gory scene on the TV that Loki raised a brow, slowly turning his head to look at you, watching you shove another handful of sweets into your mouth as if you were watching a children’s film.

“I do hope you’re not getting any ideas.” “What?” “That laugh of yours is almost maniacal.” That earned him a light slap on the arm. “I fear it’s too late.”

In your defence it was a very silly, cheesy, predictable scene. But that’s why you loved it.

Half way through the film, Loki conjured a blanket, putting it over you both as you continued to tuck into the sweets. He didn’t know how you could eat so many without being sick. It was… impressive.

Your pumpkins you’d carved earlier sat on the coffee table, the tea candles flames dancing within them both. You had carved yours into a classic spooky face and Loki had… simply stabbed one of his daggers into his and carved his own name. Yes, the dagger was still in the side of the pumpkin.

Loki now was deciding that he needed cuddles to make up for the lack of them that morning, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest.

There was a jumpscare, which managed to actually make the God of Mischief jump.

“Oh my god, did that get you?!” “No-“ “It did!” “No, I was simply… readjusting my position-“ “You jumped! Ha! Who knew you were jumpy, you always act like-“

It was then Loki swiftly decided he could not have his fearsome reputation tarnished by such slander. His hand moving from its place on your arm, sliding up to cover your mouth, silencing you. He smirked as you glared at him, although you couldn’t hide your own amusement.

“You were saying?”

As the night went on, the excitement of the day and the early start crept up on you, making you grow sleepy, especially being nestled against Loki, safe and warm in his embrace - somehow you were always warm in his arms despite his cooler skin. He just… made you feel warm. Just as you did him.

It didn’t take long for Loki to sense you had drifted off, feeling your breaths slow into peacefulness - which was quite the contradiction to the chaos unfolding on the TV screen. But, you had always been able to sleep around chaos… Finding some sense of peace in it, in him.

He readjusted the blanket around you, shifting himself to ensure you were comfortable.

Whilst Loki may have not been the most vocal when it came to his feelings, he showed it in other ways. The subtle ways, like this moment. He let himself smile softly at your sleeping form, before he let out a content breath, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

Maybe Halloween wasn’t so bad after all.

[paper-mario-wiki]

transfems can be women but you are not, you're an agp

(i actually blocked the original person who sent this and then resent it to myself on anon to keep the presentation fitting since i would like to share my perspective on this anyhow. here's what i would have said to this straw-man argument-haver if they weren't already blocked!)

TL;DR: you're wrong with both of the things you asserted in your statement. 1) i am not an AGP which is because 2) AGP's are exactly as much of a woman as i am.

what meaningful categorization could you put on someone to fit the description of "autogynophile" that precludes them from womanhood without inherently being contradictorily transphobic? "it turns them on to think about being vaginally penetrated" yeah i bet a lot of cishet woman fantasize about that too. "they only changed their identity because they like being a lady so much it helps them get off" okay? and? this is not a categorization which is inherently predatory, so who cares? gender is, irrevocably, an invention. it's a farce. it's nothing, we made it up, that's the whole point of agreeing that people can change it if they say they want to.

drawing a social line by the physical distinctions of "do they have penis or the other one" is as arbitrary as separating people by right handedness and left handedness or the eye color they were born with. the social expectations, behaviors, and woes are a consequence of the fact that everyone has been taught "this is just how it is, and it makes you different in every way, and this is how it's always been, and this is how it'll always be", same as the way people keep using fiat currencies (the US dollar for example), despite them being backed up by no singular tangible thing in any way that matters, aside from the word of the person who controls it.

and sometimes going along with that stuff is fine! i mean not the money, but the other one. the gender one. i like to be called a woman, while also knowing that "woman" is an invention. "pretty" is also an invention, and i love to be called that. "sonic the hedgehog" is an invention that people talk about using the same verbiage they use when describing real, tangible, breathing creatures, despite the fact that sonic the hedgehog exists conceptually and not physically (not including physical representations, which are not the same thing).

i think agp's are also women. if i could read someone's mind and they said "hi im a woman" but i knew they were thinking "im actually a man" i would still say "hello woman" because they might as well have given me their name for all the difference it makes in how we interact moving forward. if someone has no intention or probability to harm themselves or anyone else, i couldn't care less.

all that being said, you're wrong with both of the things you asserted in your statement. 1) i am not an AGP because 2) AGP are exactly as much of a woman as i am. it is a meaningless category coined by bigots and only given credibility by people with bigoted views.

[skrunksthatwunk]

sorry just watched all of lacey's games (thru rabbit hole at time of writing) and i wanna talk about laceys diner can we talk about lacey's diner? we're talking about it now

tl;dr lacey's games is about the presentation and consumption of girls.

cw suicide, csa, incest, cannibalism. if you've seen the series, you know. i only speak of them vaguely here though

in lacey's diner her livelihood depends on how well people like her food, how it looks, how it tastes, how quickly she gets it to them on time. if any of these things falter, they reject her and reinforce her desperation (trauma around failure and acceptance + threat of extreme poverty via the restaurant closing).

eating her food is accepting her, choosing to be with her in some way. lacey gets eaten in the prior episode so her stalker can be with her forever, out of an obsession with her (/her body) that leads him to destroy her to better possess and consume her (like her uncle). she can't be late serving them herself, because that's not good presentation—her inability to get food out on time is a reflection of her flaws, and a cause to reject her. she must be available for others, punctual. she can't put the wrong ingredients in—elements of herself, her life—she must exclude them entirely from the part they eat, the part she gives away. she keeps the part that is filled with the disgusting, ugly, painful things in her life, about her.

and when she gets fed up and feeds those raw, authentic parts of herself to them (out of spite, tired of trying her best to no avail, to give them a taste of their own medicine), she is punished, not allowed to serve anyone again bc it's too gross and dangerous. she is punished for lashing out, for not keeping it all bottled up, and in her helplessness, resigns herself to death.

as seen in rabbit hole, jay was too boyish to be consumed happily by the audience (the mothers in the emails), so she was killed off and effectively haunts lacey. if she is not presentable enough, she too will be destroyed and discarded. if she is too presentable, she will be consumed too completely. she has no control, no say (as we know from lacey's wardrobe), no agency outside of pretending she's in a sparkly dreamy world. and jay—who said she would rather die than wear makeup—is forced by lacey to wear makeup in death. she's fixing her by making her conform to the same gender standards she's strangled by, saying that if she was less boyish she wouldn't have died. again, femininity and conformity (and thus being pleasant to others, presenting oneself to be admired and consumed) is safe to lacey, something she must perform to survive. yet, of course, lacey is hurt immensely for her being a girl, for her being a woman, and for her trauma resulting from those events.

all her talk of being ugly when she's grieving, of almost crying in front of him (her uncle iirc), of needing to be pretty even for the people who abuse and hurt her... and how she wished the world was ugly and grotesque when jay died because that was how it felt, but it was just sunny and oblivious. she was the one standing out for being upset, and the world was pretending and consumable and she couldn't anymore. she had to scrape herself together though because what else is there? when her job and stability and life is at stake, how can she afford to be traumatized? to not pretend, even when she's alone? augh. ough. look i just like lacey. i want her to be ok

i don't know that lacey herself is supposed to have a linear, consistent story. i kind of think she's an avatar for like,, girlhood suffering and trauma, and the traumatized people who come from that (hence her dying in multiple ways and coming back). perhaps as rocio's way of warning or comforting girls who went through similar things to her, or to vent her own issues because the thought of making something that's such a farce, such a forced, gussied up version of what it's like to be a girl, bothers her. the audience comes to the website to consume lacey at her best, at her most presentable, and are instead met with the harsh reality of cockroaches and used condoms. and yet, the audience of lacey games the video series consumes her too, only they are seeking out her trauma, trying to invade her mind and pick it apart. we're all consuming what we want, whatever we find appetizing, of lacey. and for rocio, you get the sense that she is also a tool, a way for rocio to express her inner distress. in that, lacey is put through all this unfortunate shit by rocio to make her more presentable and consumable to her. we are all using lacey, we all see her and eat her and destroy her. and she comes back to us and her cage because the pain's comforting in its familiarity.

in short, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. 👍

[kulemiwrites]

Akira Nishikiyama | NSFW A-Z

Rating: 18+ SMUTTY CONTENT Character(s): (After the Turn) Akira Nishikiyama Warning: When I do these, they act sort of as my guidelines that I follow for when I am writing smut of the character in question. Obviously, these are headcanons but some of these headcanons are lore heavy- based on things I’ve come up with over the years. Privately or publicly. If something seems out of character or doesn’t make sense to you, that may be why! I hope you can try to enjoy it anyway. There will be mentions of casual sex as well as sex within a committed relationship. Akira can be detached and mean. Bear in mind that while gender neutral pronouns and terms of endearment are used, this was written with female anatomy in mind. 

Using the following NSFW HEADCANON GAME by fairy-tail-babes

Read on AO3!

Read the 'Before The Turn' version if you haven't already. (or read it after this one as aftercare LOL)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

At this point in his life, he’s at his most touch starved and emotionally unavailable. It’s a wicked combination and entirely self-inflicted. He’s not above bringing people to bed simply to relieve his pent up sexual frustration. He doesn’t even have to like the person as an individual, he just needs to be attracted to them enough to get whatever he’s built up out of his system. Once he’s done with them, he wants them out of his sight. He’ll point them to the nearest bathroom and send them on their way with a half-hearted mention of calling them some time. On the bright side (?), he’s not so cold with the person who manages to crack this newly hardened shell of his, though. He’s far more affectionate with the individual he’s got feelings for. He wants them as close to him as humanly possible after. Depending on his position, he might even take a while to pull out. He’d fully settle for going soft in them until he’s gotten his fill of their warm with plenty of greedy kisses in the meantime.  

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn’t really have much of a favorite part of himself around this point. He’s sort of just going through the motions every day. He looks in the mirror and he sees a man staring back at himself that looks like him but is still somehow so unfamiliar. Most of his vanity is a farce. Even if there was a part of himself he did enjoy more than others, the nagging thought that there’s still room for improvement would drown his positives. 

He likes a nice back. A “nice” back doesn’t always necessarily mean toned and slender– When he thinks of a partner with an attractive back, he imagines pretty, clear skin that looks downright erotic when it’s coated in sweat, sometimes back dimples and especially a nice, deep arch– bonus points if that arch leads his eyes to a gorgeous ass. He tends to prefer that meaningless hook-ups face away from him, so that’s how he came to develop this appreciation. Even when he’s with a serious romantic interest, he’ll slip into backshots at some point just so he can show their back some love– licking it, kissing it and digging his nails into it depending on how far gone he is.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He’s pretty much always using a condom. He’s even less open to the idea of an accidental pregnancy than he was in the past (which is saying a lot). Not only that, just because he’s brought someone to bed doesn’t mean he trusts them. There are two instances in which he’d forego protection: 1.) he has genuine intent to try and knock this person up, or 2.) he feels so strongly about them that it’s shaken him up and he’s lost all logic. He’d be acting off pure urge and instinct, reaching for protection would disrupt that. Having said all of that, he does tend to snatch his condom off anyway when he’s about to cum and jerk himself off because he’s a painter. He’ll ensure his partner’s back is painted beautifully by the time he’s done with them. If he can’t get to their back, no worries, he’ll just give them a facial. Clenching their cheeks, he will simply command “Open.” then challenge himself to see how much he can actually get to land in their mouth.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a nice polaroid camera and the best home video camera money can buy and while it wasn’t the original intent behind the purchase, they certainly have become useful in the bedroom. He likes to record his partner and go back to the polaroids or videos he’s collected when he misses them or is just horny. His favorite types of pictures to take are when he has them press their head against the bed, floor, etc and arch until their ass is nice and high after he’s coated them in cum.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

While he doesn’t have as much sex these days as he did a while back, he’s garnered enough experience to know how to show someone a good time if he wanted to. That’s just the key word: Want. Sometimes he cares so little about the enjoyment of the other person and more so about getting off that, all of his previous experience is sorta irrelevant. 

F = Favorite Position (Links to literal porn. Use your own discretion.)

His favorite positions generally include him taking his partner from behind. Obviously, doggystyle is a classic and one can never go wrong with that. He likes them face down, ass up– many times while pressing their face into the sheets/pillow or whatever surface he’s fucking them against. Sometimes, he’ll rail them from behind while holding a fist full of their hair. If he’s feeling a little lazy or maybe just wanting to relinquish control for a bit, he may put them in reverse-cowgirl or the hotseat. When he’s wanting something closer and more intimate with his partner, he’d spoon them if he can or maybe try the flatiron.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

It takes a special kind of person to get him to smile or laugh while he’s getting busy. He sort of zones in and shuts out everything except the hole he’s fucking. If his partner is able to bring him out of that, and get him to even crack a smile, let alone laugh– well, color him intrigued. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He doesn’t keep himself as maintained as he used to. He’s not particularly hair down there anyway. The hair just grows kinda long and thick. He trims every once in a while but unless it’s hot out, he doesn’t care to stay on top of upkeep. Perhaps if he was in a committed relationship, he’d try to trim more regularly? 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Deep down, he has an intense craving for intimacy and love but he doesn’t look to satisfy those desires with just anyone. He could fuck someone and barely look them in the eye during or after. He is rigid when a hookup touches him– stiff, and other than to push/pull or smack them around, he’s not doing much touching himself. When he’s caressing his partner's hair/face/body, whispering things to them (no matter how sweet or downright filthy), guiding their face to have them meet his eyes, practically begging them to say his name and melting into their touch, they’ll know for sure that he’s absolutely smitten with them. He hates that he becomes so weak when he’s in love but, he’d be telling a bold faced LIE if he said he doesn’t secretly revel in it.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Work stresses him beyond belief, life even more so and sometimes his mind gets so cloudy and his shoulders so tense that he needs some quick relief to put him at ease. He’ll do it when he’s wound up but also when he’s immensely horny and cannot be bothered to deal with another person. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks -also adding fetishes-)

Impact play- He’s got a habit of slapping and smacking his partners while he’s fucking them. Be it their face or body– sometimes he just gets the itch to light them up and listen to them whine. 

Partialism- As previously mentioned, a pretty back can really get him squirming in his seat. If his partner is wearing something that showcases theirs, he won’t be able to keep his hands off of them and would be about ready to pounce the moment they have some time alone.

Pussy worship- While he doesn’t put as much effort into pleasing every person he beds, his love for pussy hasn’t gone away. He still craves the taste, smell and feeling of a pretty pussy against his tongue and face. Tasting his partners always brought out a side of him that he decided he should be a bit more selective with who he shows that to.

JOI- Especially over the phone when he can’t get to his partner– getting to hear their voice and have them tell him what to do really gets him going. While he’s certainly a brat about it, he likes it when they’re kinda bossy and mean. 

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Wherever the pants fall, this is something that has not and may never change. While he’s quick to get a room somewhere to handle his business or call his lover to his place, it’s not above him to have a romp or two in his office. In fact, if the desire strikes mid-day, he may summon his partner to his office just to take them against his desk and then send them back on their way. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Confidence, especially when said confidence keeps them from buckling under him. Someone who refuses to allow him to intimidate them. Everyday, he’s walking around on a constant power trip. Men duck their heads to him when he simply walks into a room. Women avert their eyes. He’s nearly forgotten what it’s like to not be taken seriously and while it may tick him off initially, he’d still find it interesting. He’d want to know what it would take to crack them. Another thing would be someone who isn’t afraid to try and take control. He prefers to be in control of everything but someone who fights against that– some who can tame him? He’d buckle.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Humiliation is a no go. While he is intrigued by someone who can take the reins and make him follow their lead from time to time, he draws the line at being made to feel small. The thing about temporarily surrendering to someone is knowing that when he wants to be in charge again, he can and will. Deep, deep down, no matter how hard of a face he puts on, he’s still that young, insecure boy inside. He’s not into anything that triggers those feelings. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

If he’s single, he’s definitely receiving more than he’s giving which sucks. Like, sure, he enjoys the feel of a warm tongue swirling around the head of his dick but nothing will ever compare to the pleasure he feels while fisting his dick as he eats out his s/o. He’s not sure when he stopped doing it as often as he used to but he knows why he did. He often mourns the feeling of having a sloppy, wet cunt gliding across his face, thighs trembling against his cheeks and when he can’t take it anymore and the craving is too severe, he does know who he can call to get it out of his system. Once he’s in a relationship or even just kinda getting serious about someone, he’s reminded of why he preserves his talent. He becomes a noisy, weepy mess when he’s thrusting into his fist at the same pace that he uses to fuck his lover with his tongue. It’s not uncommon for him to call his s/o to his office just so that he can kneel beside the desk he’s sat them on and absolutely go to town on them. Sometimes getting to go home to drown his face in his darling’s sweet pussy is all that’s keeping him going. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Sometimes he’s so rough, one may feel they’re being hatefucked by him. So often, he’s full of pent up rage that he just has to fuck it out. He’s yanking hair, biting, digging his nails into skin, spanking as if he intends to bruise. That’s why he makes sure his partner knows what they’re getting themselves into before he fucks them. Even when he’s ‘making love’ to someone, there’s still a level of intensity that is fierce as it is sensuous. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Not only can a quickie be all he has time for, sometimes it’s really all he wants. If his partner is cool with foregoing the buildup and dropping their underwear at a moment’s notice, then consider them his perfect match. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s open to a lot of things so long as it doesn’t include knocking up a random or has the potential to damage the perception of the Nishikiyama family name. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

His stamina is still pretty high. He can last for about as long as he’d like to last so long as he’s not too pent up and the sexual tension between him and his partner isn’t extremely thick. He’s got to want to last, though. When nothing but the need to bust a nut is what’s driving him, he can be done in 10 minutes or less. Once is enough in general, but the right significant other can bring the insatiability right out of him. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He likes to incorporate toys from time to time. He has toys that he owns that he’d use on his partners if they’re open to it and then he also sends toys along with lingerie as gifts, wrapped all pretty and topped with a bow that he’d like to see or hear them use on themselves. Vibrators are fun, he’s more open to dildos than he used to be but his favorite things to play with are those he uses to explore his interest in impact play: floggers, riding crops…whips. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can certainly be a tease when he wants to be. His teasing borders on degradation given the right circumstances. He especially likes to tease when he’s treating his partner harshly and they’re lost with how much they’re enjoying. He loves to see it but his mouth would tell a different story. He’d tease them for enjoying being ragdolled and treated like a worthless fleshlight. He’d make them beg for more, or beg to cum, anything really. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

His volume is pretty moderate. He does a lot of grunting– moaning, when he’s really emotionally invested. He talks and he wants his partner to talk back to him. He’s urging them to tell him how he makes them feel, he wants to hear where his dick is, he’s commanding them to declare who they belong to and most importantly, he’s making them call his name. He’s probably at his most noisy when he’s performing oral. It’s the #1 surefire way to hear him moan like a bitch…It’s fascinating. It should be studied, truly.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

While he loves to see his partner dolled up in some sexy lingerie, something about them going out with no underwear turns him on beyond belief. Once, he took a girl to dinner and at some point during, she excused herself to the restroom. When she returned, she stuffed the panties she’d been wearing (the panties he’d bought for her) in his pocket. He had to spend the remainder of the dinner fighting the desire to dive beneath the table and between her legs to make her cry by riling him up like that. If he notices his partner has decided to forego underwear while they’re out and about, he won’t be able to keep his hands off of them. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s a bit over 4 ½ inches and girthy, with a tasteful upright curve from the center up. The shaft itself is a warm tan color but the head is bright pink. When he’s aroused, that pink appears more reddish. He may be on the smaller side but he knows exactly how to use it. He leaves his partners trembling after using that same 4 incher to abuse their g-spot. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He’s more stressed than he is horny. Many times he finds himself fucking with the intent to blow off some steam rather than because he was aroused. It often leaves him feeling empty. He notices that he feels genuinely more horny when he’s in a relationship and feels more fulfilled after sex with his s/o. Perhaps it’s because he allows himself to fully be in the moment that leaves him feeling recharged. He needs as much of that feeling as he can get.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s teetering toward being an insomniac, so sex doesn’t wipe him out like it used to. He could fuck for like 45 minutes, sweat out his pomade and still be up for hours after he’s cum. If he’s fallen asleep shortly after sex, it’s likely because he feels so at peace when he’s with that person that the thoughts that usually swirl and plague his mind are drowned out by the sound of their voice and/or breathing.

Please do not reupload/repost/rewrite but likes and a reblog go a long way! Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed this, you're welcome to check out more of my work! I have a masterlist to save you browse time!

[naboman]

Synopis: In which Chifuyu reunites with the one he shattered countless school years ago, seeking redemption, but perhaps it's just too late to apologize." Pairing: Chifuyu Matsuno + Fem!Reader. Genders: Angst, Drama and Tragedy, Farce. Content Warnings: mentions of tryte of suicide, bullying and autodepressed.

Chapter One: little liar

[Previous]

[Next]

He woke up in anguish, feeling something poke his arm like a pin. When he lifted his chin and pulled the book away from his face, he had the (un)pleasure of meeting the familiar, iconic figure. He clucked his tongue in protest. That girl had already become a pain in his ass, not to mention the fact that she didn't bother to bother him so often, it seemed like she had no idea who she was messing with.

And that made him too angry.

Was she a phony or was she just playing around?

"You again…" he hissed, annoyed.

He turned his face sideways, resting it on the school desk.

"The rep asked me to wake you up before I left," she explained, looking pleased, linking her arms to hold the box she was holding in front of her hips, "or you could get a warning."

"You've already woken me up, so get going," she hid her face under the book once more.

"We need to leave first, I'll deliver the key to the teachers' lounge," he warned.

Chifuyu took a deep breath, then got up from his chair.

"Why you don't leave me alone just one time? You are fucking boring, damn!"

He asked acidly.

"Oh, sorry," she replied genuinely, not noticing the blond's tone of voice, "I didn't think you'd feel this way, I could ask the teachers for another 10 minutes before we close the room, what do you think?"

"Fuck…" he woke up to the taste of sour memories.

This time she wasn't there to wake him up. And that left him alone with his own thoughts. He had the whole classroom to himself, and that scared him. Soon he would be swallowed up by the immensity that only accumulated in his mind.

Outside, the racing team was already putting things away, and he could see it when he stared at the window with a twinge of curiosity. But he wasn't there to keep an eye on other people's lives.

Matsuno finally got up from his chair, his body feeling heavier than usual - containing what he called 'anxiety' - and left, out of the room.

He felt he urgently needed some fresh air, blaming himself like this would only hurt him even more. After all, it was all right, he tried to apologize. If she didn't accept it, it was because it was meant to be. There was no point in blaming himself for what happened in the past. At least he could tell his inner self that he had tried and that it was enough, but he couldn't even convince himself when his altruism was severely drowned out by his wave of destructive thoughts.

Everyone makes mistakes, don't they? He thought.

Are you joking? Serious? Do you really believe that the past can be overcome with just a few words of fool afirmations? And his mind fights back.

He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, trying to wipe away the cold sweat that insisted on dripping. Try as he might, he still couldn't touch his own soul with the shallow words he spoke to himself.

He sighed loudly, trying to calm his heartbeat.

But he remembered [Name]'s broken arm as he passed in front of the infirmary, and immediately her image materialized completely in his consciousness.

He wondered if she was all right.

He shrugged, turning into the corridor. He bumped into someone as he was passing, and that made him completely disconnect from his own mind and return to the real world. What was worse, the corridor ended at the staircase, but luckily only the papers flew down the stairs, scattering completely on the cold floor to the touch.

Matsuno, who was still standing, bent down to see who he had knocked to the floor.

"Sorry, I just…" he was lost for words when he saw the girl's face.

It was as if he was reliving the worst moments of his life, live. Making the same stupid mistakes, however absent-mindedly, on automatic, they were still mistakes.

[Name] couldn't help but show her surprise, and even tensed up a little at the impact.

"I'm sorry…!" Chifuyu hurried to gather up the papers on the floor.

Without reacting, [Name] just watched as the blond walked down the stairs, quickly and dexterously putting everything together. Until he stopped in the middle of the steps, staring intently at a particular piece of paper. Too much attention for the girl's taste. And the next thing she knew, it was her medical report in the boy's hands.

She got up from the floor with the strength of a single arm, ran to the stairs and snatched the document out of his hands. He was unsettled. Somehow, Chifuyu thought he saw the look on her face become harsh, disappointed.

"Don't go around reading other people's stuff! "

"Oh, sorry… I only read the title, I swear!" he stammered.

It wasn't a lie, she read the document out of pure reflex. She hadn't imagined that among the school papers would be something so intimate and personal.

She ignored it, giving in.

"Thank you for your help…" She nodded, taking a deep breath, taking the papers from the blonde's hands without a hint of aggression this time "don't feel obliged to help me, I can look after myself, thank you. "

He silently watched her pick up the last few sheets from the floor as patiently as possible, then turned his back on her and - ironically - headed for the school infirmary.

Without much to do, he continued down the stairs. He was still puzzled and even a little worried about her arm. Or perhaps he was thinking of a way to redeem himself and see if the weight he was carrying would lessen. But he liked to imagine that he was far from it, that kind of intention would make him look like a wronged self-interest, and he hated looking like a victimizer.

He rummaged through the shoe cabinets, looking for the name of the stupidest human being on the face of the earth. Oh, and lo and behold, it was him!

As he put on his shoes, he allowed himself to relax and get away from his problems for a while, taking in the magnificent view of the landscape ahead.

The concrete that stretched to the school gates was the only thing separating the two sides from the low, gray grass, as the humidity took shape in the air and turned to frost. The sky, on the other hand, took on a much colder and drier hue, as if the whole atmosphere had entered into a soft consensus of choosing a melancholy color palette to finish fucking up Chifuyu's week.

He seriously thought that the universe might have taken his empathy and put it in the middle of that place where the sun doesn't shine. Because it wasn't possible! It was almost like having the distinct experience of living through a totally melodramatic and depressing story.

Now, where would the blessed viewers be who take pleasure in entertaining themselves with other people's misfortune? He thought. Rancorous. Deep down he just wanted someone to blame.

And that was discouraging. So, congratulations to the universe, for finishing destroying what was left of perseverance and self-esteem inside that empty shell called "Chifuyu".

Without further ado, he left the school.

Perhaps it would be good to talk to Takemichi. It wasn't as if he was going to put another plan into action, but he felt he needed to talk to someone or his head would explode like a squeezed lemon. And, frankly, Matsuno didn't want his brain to turn into lemonade.

No one would want to drink the citrus juice of a rotten lemon.

"You didn't show me your medical report," the older woman commented, as she quickly went through each sheet with attention, while the younger girl propped her body up on the stretcher, looking lost.

"I told you I'm fine," she lied, controlling the agitation of her restless eyes, with no fixed direction in which to look, "there's no need to worry. It was just a little mistake, I won't be like this for much longer."

"How many weeks have you had that cast on? "

"One month…"

"And those bruises? "

He pointed to the calloused fingers on the girl's hand, which she quickly tried to hide behind her back.

"I've just been practicing a lot."

She swallowed dryly.

"You're still playing? Even with that broken arm? "You can't do that! It's stupid and it'll hinder your recovery! "

"I haven't been taking part in the practical classes," she explained fearfully.

turning to face the nurse.

"I took part in the test, but I only watched," she explained fearfully, while the girl in the white coat just listened attentively, her arms crossed on the table, "and I've only been taking theory classes. So it's okay, I haven't broken any of the doctor's rules! "

"I'll trust you, [Name]" he soothed, seeing how elated the girl had become with just that little accusation "but I don't want to see you practicing, you know that's for your own good."

"I do… I do."

[wubwubnparmaham]

For centuries, my foremothers fought bravely and tirelessly to bring us to where we have gotten, to the mere concept of where we could be, and among the unfeeling and unjust men of this nation, my fellow women were adamant to tear it away, too. That hurts more than anything men could ever do.

I understand the exhaustion with the hyperpartisan debacle of this nation; with the feckless refusal for the Democratic party to live up to a single promise it ever makes. I understand the frustration and the pain that comes with picking the lesser of two evils.

But what I cannot understand is your complicity in the unthinkable. I will not let you look me in my eyes and justify your decision to choose the greater evil instead. May our eyes never meet again.

To these women, I want you to understand that you have voted against your interests, and the interests of your fellow sisters. I want you to understand that you, through the haze of the illusion of security, are not safe. Things can happen to you, assaults, miscarriages, gender discrimination, and so much more, and you will find no solace or support in this administration. When you, in all your jubilation at having secured the perfect Godly America, are the one in need of help, you will find closed doors. Because you handed unchecked power to the ones in the positions to slam them.

There will come a time, as it always does, that you will finally see the tenets of your religion are not represented in the values of the elite. And dare I say, are not represented in your own ideals of morality. The elite and their sweet whispers of properity as they are ever taking from you in the dark.

Now in the light. They are not your friends, they are certainly not your saviors, and you disgrace yourselves to call them your heroes.

Politics and religion do not and cannot blend, as the sin of greed and a lust for power are by no stretch the two most salient pillars that exalt the root of all evil, and they are inseparably embedded within American politics. You have handed the keys to a background organization, the Heritage Foundation, to use every flowery talking point under the sun to enact merciless oppression in the very name of that accurséd greed and power, and you have done it with a smile.

Every shred of this rhetoric has been sold to you through an exterior lens of altruism and holiness, and every part of it overlies the true nature of intent.

Found there in its stead is the underbelly of their crazed desire for ultimate power-acquisition, all for a select few with which you will never be included. You will never sit at their table. You will die beneath the indomitable height of it, and others in minority groups will die much quicker than you. That is the only thing you have ensured.

Let me be perfectly clear. Protecting the children is a farce, protecting the economy is a farce, protecting the sanctity of Christianity is most certainly a farce and protecting "Great American Values", undeniably rooted in white supremacy and male power, can only, in every way possible, be a farce. They know this, and they laugh at your misguided hope in them to uphold it. You, the jesters of their greatest source of entertainment.

And so I curse you. As you watch your marginalized loved ones suffer, know that you caused it. Know that you are eternally at odds with them as human beings regardless of what you tell yourself in your most defensive and sanctimonious moments. Know that you cannot love the sinner if you truly hate the sin in any meaningful way that paves any path for harmony, freedom, goodness or equality. Know that your love or acceptance of anything and anyone you voted to oppress is vapid and worthless, and know that I spit upon in disappointment and exhausted heartbreak.

Know that you have deeply and irrevocably hurt us, and you have hurt yourselves. You have given glory to those who would not share it with you, even for an ephemeral moment of time. You are protecting nothing, you have risked everything, and I am sick of you.

May it be too late for your own redemption when you finally realize what it is that you have done. I curse you with a thousand mirrors, reflecting and echoing your choices back to you for as long as you live, no matter what may come.

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 13: Before Facing Cazador

Chapter 13: Before Facing Cazador

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 3, Canon-typical violence, Astarion's coping mechanisms, Astarion's quest, cw: Astarion's trauma

WC: 2.1k words, 13/18 chapters

Summary: Set in Act 3, set prior to facing Cazador (part of the Pale Elf questline). Rogue!Tav and Astarion face some of the his past.

Ao3 | [Hug12][Hug14] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

Your mind is racing, your heart is pounding, and, to be quite honest, you don’t know how to deal with what your lover just said. Name me your new master. We will get our revenge, and you will all live again. The words buzz in your ears, their blatant, painful lie only known to your ears. You’re glad that everyone else remains blissfully asleep, lest they see this farce for themselves. But that does mean this is up to you– you can’t let him do this, not to himself and not to his siblings.

“Have you no heart, Astarion?” you ask, before his siblings can respond to the offer. “You’re asking them to die for you in this ritual.”

Astarion turns to you, a touch of annoyance on his face. “Don’t look at me like that,“ he says, his tone almost accusatory. “With the sweet little ‘disappointed I’m not getting cuddly Astarion’ pout. I can’t take it.”

You try to right your face, but you’re certain the pout is, in fact, present. The disappointment can’t leave your face, especially when you know that he can be better than this. That he’s been better than this. He needn’t feel chained to Cazador in any way, let alone taking his place in this profane ritual. “I don’t need cuddly Astarion right now, I just need you. The real Astarion.”

“I can’t be what you want to see in me,” he says, a desperate, pleading tone to his voice. You’re not sure how to respond to that, as his expression just about tears your heart in two. You want to say that you see him, a man who just wants to pave his own path, a man who has already overcome so much and can overcome so much more– but who are you to say that?

You don’t have the opportunity to respond, because his siblings interject. “‘Die’ in the ritual? Whatsoever are you speaking of? We are going to cheat undeath.” Aurelia says, self assuredly. 

Dropping your eyes from Astarion’s searing crimson gaze, you turn to her. “You’re slaughter-lambs,” you say, refusing to paint the picture any prettier. “Cazador needs your souls for the ritual.”

She doesn’t need to roll her eyes to express her disbelief, but she may as well have. “The master doesn’t need to lie to us,” she says patiently, as if you’re another pretty fool for her master. “He controls us, fully. Why go through the trouble of giving us hope.”

Leon speaks up, understanding dawning on him. “Because it’s more cruel. Shit. We’re doomed.” A moment of silence passes as he processes, but he’s surprisingly business-like as he continues, “Alright, what do you need from us? We’ll help you.”

You don’t get to enjoy the breakthrough though, as they begin to glow red with compulsion, their bodies struggling against some invisible force. It seems like no matter what you’ve managed to say, whatever warning you’ve been able to deliver, a vampire’s bidding will win out.

What follows is an intense few minutes of fighting, but between the two of you, Astarion’s kin don’t stand much of a chance– not even Shadowheart, the lightest sleeper of your party, stirs. It certainly helps that the vampire spawn are not aiming to kill, rather capture and stay alive. You can see clearly how careful Cazador is with his spawn, summoning them back the second they seem to be imperiled. 

Of course, this doesn’t mean your blades don’t find purchase, that blood now litters the floor of the Elfsong Tavern, and that your companions won’t have a plethora of questions in the morning. 

“What a mess,” Astarion says with his usual flippancy, as he shakes off some blood. “Well, at least you’ve met my family now.”

You entertain a brief thought about how this comment might normally be cute. Unfortunately your concern and a building fury take far greater precedence. “I can’t believe you tried lying to them,” you say, unable to hold back your rage any longer. “You would have them die for the Rite to happen?”

“What does it matter? There’s only six of them,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you, as if the equation is basic arithmetic, as if you weren’t just speaking to two of those six a moment ago, witnessing their struggles under Cazador’s thumb firsthand. “And they are vampire spawn.” The comment is added as an offhand comment, but there the answer is– he’s not valuing their lives any higher than his own. He only sees himself as the lucky sod who gets to take advantage of them. 

“You’re a spawn, Astarion,” you say, quietly. “Don’t you have any sympathy for the others in your exact situation?”

His tone changes to something angry, centuries of torment weighing each word. “No one ever looked out for me. No one ever said a kind word to me.” Then, realizing you’re right there with him, he softens, “You’re the only one. Other people don’t have a heart like you. You’re… you.” The shock in his voice tugs at you, as if he’s constantly surprised that you’re still there. He follows it bitterly with, “No one is like that.”

“There are others like me,” you say, a worry creeping in that he may be blind to the love of each and every one of your companions. But you’ve seen him. He talks and jokes with the others, but he never lets this side of him show, not fully. “They will care for you, if you let them.”

Astarion scoffs. “Don’t sell yourself so short.” When you don’t react to his compliment, he continues, “I’m doing this for you too, you know. To make sure that we’re both safe. Forever, for good.”

“I appreciate that,” you begin, treading lightly and aiming to understand his fears. But you can’t help it, sometimes you just want to flick his pointy little ears and jolt some sense into him. “I just want you to know that we can make it through this without completing this ritual, without sacrificing your siblings. We always figure something out, don’t we?”

“Oh, I know we do. Though it’s not always what I envision,” he says, a sigh escaping him. “I just want you to keep an open mind when we reach Cazador, love. That’s all I ask for.”

“Fine, but I only ask the same of you,” you say, pointing a stern finger at him.

He grimaces, but nods, a solemn look on his face. “Very well, as long as we deal with Cazador soon.”

“We can go in the morning,” you assure him. “As long as we finally manage to get some sleep. I swear this inn could do with some better locks.”

“My dear, I don’t think you’re allowed to critique any establishment’s security,” he laughs lightly, cleaning some blood off his hands and preparing to return to bed. “No one is safe from your lockpicks.”

You grin before joining him with soap and sponge. “Quite right. And between the two of us? Cazador can’t hide behind his palace walls for long.”

– 

As it turns out, getting into Cazador’s palace wasn’t the difficult part. Unlocking the inner door was actually quite trivial and his guard dogs fell easily. You don’t truly find yourself facing an impasse until you’ve made it to Cazador’s hideaway, the very depths of Szarr Palace. There, Astarion comes face-to-face with the truth of his last 200 years of life, the meaning behind the endless parade of lovers.

“He’s played us for such fools.” Astartion tilts his head down, an angry and dangerous look in his eyes. Seeing his glare, reading his posture, Karlach and Shadowheart move on ahead, leaving you a moment to yourselves. “Not just seven spawn to placate the devil. Seven spawn and seven thousand souls bound to them in blood. Everyone who ever trusted me to let down their guard… innocents, idiots, and the unlucky.”

“Not that it needs to be said,” you step forward softly, gauging his reaction as you do. “But you didn’t know.”

He doesn’t move, either toward you or away. Instead, he shakes his head, clearing it of the dark cobwebs that have begun to cloud it. “It doesn’t matter. I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual.”

“Or…” you begin, tentatively exploring his mood, probing gently. “You could choose to save them.” You take another step toward him, palms open.

“What’s the point? They’re as good as dead,” he says, frustrated. It feels like you’re losing him, the weight of his sins a suffocating burden he wasn’t accounting for. “I thought they were dead.”

“But they’re not,” you reach for one of his hands, only to find it limp and despondent in your own. You thumb over the back of it, aiming to infuse your own life, warmth into him. “They’re alive, your siblings are still alive, and you can give them all the chance you didn’t receive.”

“If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. They will be ravenous. They must die. Better they serve a purpose.” He sounds like he’s convincing himself more than you at this point, and you sense the barrier around him is cracking. Another few prods and you may break through.

Despite the pounding of your heart, the worries of pushing a broken man to a precipice he may not be ready for– you steel yourself for your next words. “We’ve narrowly missed each other so often. In another life, you’d have led me here,” you say, plaintive. “Not that pretty clearing in the forest.”

“Gods,” he breathes out in anguish. “I can’t say you’re wrong. I can only say I'm so glad we didn’t meet then. I don’t even want to think what would have happened to you…”

You’ve never been above challenging your lover’s sullen moods, facing his avoidances head on. So you stare him down fiercely when you say, “Don’t you avoid this, Astarion. Face it, like you must face them. You would have killed me.”

And just like that, something in him buckles. All of his blustering blown away in the stark reality of his previous life. “I would have killed you.” Astarion’s shoulders bow, his head turns away from you and it’s all you can do to hold back a fierce, rib-shattering embrace. 

Not yet, you think. You’re not done yet. “And?” you ask. “Would you kill me now?”

“Gods no,” he hisses. “I… I can’t even bring myself to think it.”

“Good, let that be a reminder to you: you’re not under Cazador’s control.” You release his hand to grab both of his shoulders, pinning him down with an intense look. “You choose for yourself, remember?”

Astarion nods at you wordlessly, and you know now’s the right moment. You pull him toward you by the shoulders, avoiding his armor as best you can to wrap him in a smothering hug. He reciprocates slowly, but firmly, his own arms wrapping around you, his hands coming to rest on your shoulder blades.

You hold the position for as long as you can, deeply breathing in the familiar scent of his hair and drowning out the stench of decay, blood, and mildew. It’s clear that neither of you want to let go this time– as though by holding each other you can keep in one piece. 

After some amount of time, you hear whispered in your ear, “Whatever might happen, I just want to say: Thank you.”

Finally drawing away from him, you take a moment to look at him somberly. His words sound so final, it scares you. Placing a single gloved hand on his cheek, you say, “You don’t need to thank me. I’m just here to remind you that you have choices.”

“I know.” He turns his nose toward your hand, placing a single kiss on it before continuing, “But does this real Astarion of yours know that?” You think back to your conversation with his siblings, just last night. It feels like a lifetime ago now.

However long ago it was, you need to make sure he understands what you meant. “Spawn, elf, whoever you think you are. You’re Astarion before any of that, and I just need you to know that.”

As he takes in your words, his face hardens, he turns away from your hand in a gentle rebuke. You’ve tried your best, but know his mind won't be swayed by you, not now. “Maybe I don’t know who that is. Maybe that man doesn’t exist, never existed outside these palace walls.” He steps away, and a part of you leaves with him. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”

You nod tersely– the only way out is through now– and you follow him deeper into the bowels of Cazador's lair.

[hismercytomyjustice]

!IWTV 2.07 Spoilers Below!

TW for racism, racial violence, and everything already in the episode.

These are mostly just my thoughts on Claudia and Louis and the role of age/gender/race in the trial.

The writers and actors and everyone went for the THROAT with this episode and I am HERE FOR IT.

First and foremost, this is a public lynching. Played out for an almost completely white audience. The CLOSE UPS on the mostly white audience as Claudia’s charges are read…

The farce of a trial. They didn't need to go to all this trouble to kill Claudia, Louis, and Madeline. They CHOSE to. They made it a SPECTACLE, as was often done during lynchings.

Louis referring to himself and Claudia as props instead of characters. Because the audience and the vampire "court" would have to see them as PEOPLE to consider them characters.

Lestat warping the narrative to make himself out to be the victim for a good chunk of the trial and immediately being believed and sympathized with because this poor white man has a sad.

The only defendant shown any sympathy or empathy during the trial being the sole white person, and a white woman no less. Madeleine is treated like a poor naive soul who could never have known what “horrible monsters” she was in league with. BUT SHE KNEW. She heard all about Lestat and why Claudia didn't want her to have his blood. She watched Claudia kill three people in front of her without breaking a sweat. To SAVE her.

Moreover, Madeleine is the only one they offer absolution to. Yes, she hasn’t committed any “vampire crimes,” but she’s once again given the benefit of the doubt as a white woman. She’s perceived as inherently innocent and worthy of salvation. The implication being she’s just one more person that’s been swept up in the schemes of these “villains”. While Claudia and Louis are treated as irredeemable and inherently evil. Lestat confessed to breaking the same laws they’re on trial for, but he also receives a white “get out of jail free” card.

The way Claudia, for all intents and purposes, a 14 year old Black CHILD is portrayed as a monster in addition to a “child seductress” of sorts. The implication being she bent two fully grown men to her will. WE know Claudia is technically an adult inside (and that's how she sees herself), but the projection of maturity on a non-white child to justify violence and victimization against said child is excellently and devastatingly done.

The further “justification” of Lestat’s actions because he has his maker’s/father’s temper. Yet another excuse often bandied about by abusers. Like they "can’t help themselves". Obviously the cycle of abuse is a very real thing, I don’t mean to diminish that. But seeing him actually take a moment to be like “oh, no wait, I chose to do those things, that was actually all me” was a nice touch. Doesn’t absolve him of ANYTHING he did, but at least he finally acknowledges the role he played.

Claudia, the “youngest” of the group being the only one who fights against the compulsion to defend herself. We’re told over and over again through the series she’s unstable, too emotional, etc because she was turned as a teenage girl. And yet she is the only person there with an OUNCE of maturity. AND SHE SHOULDN’T HAVE TO BE. 

She’s only that way because she became parentified while trying to save Louis from himself and from Lestat. Even now, knowing they’re all about to die in a horrific fashion, she can’t turn off the part of her that cares about Louis. That doesn’t want to see him reenter the cycle of abuse, even in his last moments. She was his protector then and now while Louis is trapped in his own head.

Louis should be the one protecting HER. She is his daughter/little sister. He is older than her. He's been a vampire longer than her. He’s the one who got her turned in the first place. Not to diminish everything he’s going through as an abuse victim among other things, but she desperately needed him and once again he couldn’t/wouldn't/didn't step up for her.

Claudia saying “Can I cry and say that I’m sorry too?” Directly calling out the weaponization of white tears. The audience is willing to sympathize with a grown white man but not with his CHILD victim. Once again a Black child (in the physical sense) being held to higher standards than a grown white man who “just couldn’t help himself.” The audience laughs at Claudia’s pain while simultaneously sympathizing with her abuser.

Despite Claudia taking Paris by storm as Baby Lulu, not a single fan of hers steps forward in her defense. Santiago even acknowledges there are fans of her show in the audience! Because she’s not their beloved Baby Lulu anymore. She’s no longer performing for the entertainment and comfort of a white audience. Because she isn’t a person to them. Great post here about how the Baby Lulu play is a minstrel performance too btw.

We’re told again and again throughout the show that Claudia was too young to be changed, too volatile and therefore doomed to go mad and perish. But she’s the sanest and strongest of the three on trial. She fights back against an entire coven trying to break her mind. She walks of her own volition even with her ruined Achilles tendons. If everything they claimed was true, we sure as hell aren’t seeing any indication of that now. Claudia has proven her mental fortitude time and time again despite misery after misery inflicted on her in her undead life.

But no one in the audience and none of the vampire “justices” will ever acknowledge this truth. Because she’s a child when it’s convenient to their narrative (playing Baby Lulu and her standing in the coven), but she’s suddenly an adult the instant she advocates for herself and is now fully accountable for her “crimes.” They refuse to admit the Claudia before them now is the one and only real Claudia.

Even at the very end, Claudia tries to protect Madeleine from the sun. She holds her. She shields her with her body. She does what NO ONE has ever done for her. What Louis SHOULD HAVE DONE FOR HER. We know the pain she suffers is agonizing. We’ve seen Louis and Madeleine’s go through it. Yet she stands there head high, holding her love, and singing the song she hated so much to the lynch mob. Because no one there is ever going to think of that song in its original context again. Instead, it’s her final act of defiance, her last chance to declare her autonomy and insist she will never be what they tried to make her.

The death scene is such a stark contrast to her first death when Louis is pleading with Lestat to save her. She was catatonic then, but here she is so devastatingly vibrant and ALIVE. And it makes it hurt so much more to see that taken from her along with her life.

Claudia is such an amazing character in this show. Bailey Bass and Delainey Hayles are such phenomenal actors. I am DEVASTATED we have reached the end of Claudia's story and this is her legacy, but at the same time I will NEVER forget this episode or their extremely nuanced performances. Do I hope they'll find a way to reincorporate Claudia into the story? Absolutely. I'd love to see more. But at the same time, if this is how she had to go, I'm glad they centered the narrative so strongly around her.