#which I KNOW come from being raised in a cult

[that-satireguy]

100% disagree. You're a cishet white man? Cool. I'm a brown trans guy who was raised in a misogynistic cult.

Do you know how easy it is.

For people to fall into cults?

Doesn't matter who they are, or whether the cult likes them or not. Frankly, if the cult just say 'you look tired/lonely... just come to ONE of our meetings. You can rest for a little... no need to think. We like you, we'll take care of you.' And then the meeting has all the wonderful nice little joyful parts, with lots of dopamine rushes for the tired/stressed/lonely person.

And they come back. Of course they do. Thats how its designed. Cults don't go for 40 year olds with stable social circles, happy lives and a nice middle class job. They'll go for depressed mid life crisis people, isolated young men, (new parents interestingly), often young women coming out of abusive relationships, and now with the internet teenagers.

'EVERYONE IN THE GYM CLASS GETS TO DO LAPS NOW.'

Its interesting that you bring this up because there have been hundreds of studies that this is a bad way to get through to people. In fact this is PROVEN to create anger, resentment, and isolation from about age 4-5 onwards. This is a full proof way to get people to leave the gym class, and when they can't (because in this case the gym class is just 'white people') they'll go into the arms of another teacher

'You are a group, and responsible for each other. If you don't want to run laps, make sure no one in the group does something stupid.'- this is collective punishment, and especially in situations where yk, not every white guy knows each other(?) And there are other inconsistencies like economic class and age which makes it very difficult to police each others actions and btw, the larger the group, the less effective this principle becomes.

'In that I hear a desperate fear to drown out the uncertainty of the rich tapestry of a varied human experience with an opiate-like acceptance.'-

Yes. Thats it pretty much. Thats what humans want, you want that dopamine to keep flowing in your head. What you're missing here is though, is that your upbringing and social situation plays a role in this. Your resistance, and even derision to this concept, comes from it not being a consistent facet in your life. This usually happens after isolation and intense feelings of hopelessness. When you don't have people to give you the dopamine and human connection you need... this will happen. Theres no 2 ways about it, it will happen. That is when you get therapy. And before the analysis, before the improvement and work, a therapist will listen. listen and tell you that your feelings are ok, and only after that, will you work on them.

'ou don't have to think too hard about it, as long as that warm blanket of surity hits as they smile'- yeah thats how conditioning and love bombing works.

'Man up.'- dumbest advice i've ever heard. genuinely. when has this ever worked for anyone. 'I'm struggling' 'Just don't'.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[langernameohnebedeutung]

there's a lot of valid takes on why Gen Z is becoming radicalised at the rate they are - all that misinformation, tiktok, red pill, the pandemic - all have good points. But I think another factor is that even politically, their sense of normalcy is entirely different to the one of prior generations. The spiral of the last 15 years, the way the Overton window has moved, the change of style and tone in political discourse, the normalisation of anti-democratic ideas, the obsession with people's private lives, the topics that are front and centre during elections these days, the changing concept of the respect and dignity expected in a public office (god I sound like a boomer) - all of that was shocking to us.

the three generations of my family, all born and raised in VERY different time periods from one another, we've all just been equally shocked and horrified again and again these last 15 years - not just by what is happening but how it is happening and by what is possible and how easy it is to make a total mockery of the democracy and the rule of law. For all of us, that was a feeling of realising that something we implicitly trusted in to the point that it didn't need talking about ... just falling away. Or proving to always have been an illusion to begin with. To someone who grows up right now, this safety and security has NEVER existed.

But for these kids - the window of their life where they start becoming politically and culturally aware basically coincides with this downward spiral and I think that makes many of them blind or numb to it. I think for many of them, that's just their understanding of how things naturally progress and politics works. That the way previous generations evaluate the current situation - this framework of intentional manipulation and misinformation and radicalisation - is just fair and acceptable behaviour and that of course politicians manipulate the discourse to get what they want and of course it is normal to tell brazen lies and spread panic if that gets you what you want and if you're loyal to the party, you parrot those lines whether you really believe in them or not. (And let's be honest with ourselves - the seed to that has always been there)

And others, who I imagine intellectually know that things are going downhill, are really stuck in this extremely mind-numbing fatalist mindset (climate change is gonna kill us all anyway, haha) which makes you hopeless and desperate. And being hopeless and desperate also makes you vulnerable to all kinds of manipulation and radicalisation - because the offer you a perspective. Or meaning.

If you think about the trad-wife and redpill stuff or generally christian nationalism but also any movement that instrumentalises history with ideological narratives, you notice that their narratives place periods of stability way back in time in periods that match aspects of their idelogy e.g. their fetishisation of the 1950s. Then they come up with some horrible bad evil enemy that destroyed that paradise and created the 'degenerate' misery we live in now. Authoritarians and ideologues and cults have always done this. It's part of constructing the mutual enemy.

Beause this way, they can create their illusion of this kind of mythical, unreachable utopia (the past) that fascists love and attach all kinds of conditions to reaching that - with no pressure for them to ever actually deliver: women staying at home, racial segregation, christian hegemony, eugenics, absolute exclusion of gay and trans identities etc. This doesn't just have the benefit of pushing their politics on a confused youth (though that's a big benefit) - it also helps them hide from young people that these last 15 years, they literally created the chaos that these kids are living in. They sowed this situation and right now, with the radicalisation of the youth, they are reaping the rewards.

And the thing is, we can blame the Tiktok or whatever but I also think it is important that we let younger people know and feel that what's happening right now - is just not normal and not sustainable.

And yes, we need to let go of the naive illusion that "the kid are going to save the world". We should never have had that. But I also don't think a radical heel-turn vilifying all of Gen Z is going to help anyone or do justice to the situation.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Interesting. Don’t necessarily think I’m autistic but I have more going on than just ADHD and I’m not sure what that is.

[third-doctor]

I feel like I'm going insane. That episode read to me as a lot more tragic than other people are reading it. Yeah they were racist and rich and spoiled and awful but they were just kids. They were all just kids. Lindy was absolutely terrified throughout the whole thing and clinging desperately to what she knew, which was terrible. They could've had the chance to learn and become better but they chose to go die and it's infuriating and tragic because nobody deserves that. Nobody deserves to be eaten by slugs or die of exposure in the woods. Nobody deserves to suffer like that. But they chose it rather than let the Doctor help them because they'd rather stay in their rich white supremacist bubble and he just wants to help and there's nothing he can do.

Maybe it's because one of my core beliefs is that nobody deserves death and suffering. Nobody. Even the worst person on earth can learn from their mistakes and come back and change and everyone deserves that chance. There's no such thing as too late. But they're never going to get that chance because they actively rejected it and to me that's still very, very sad.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fic idea: Keep the God Kid Busy!

So the JL are messing around with magical artifacts that shouldn't be. Well, it's more like they stopped a considerable cult that was running around killing people across multiple countries, which made it hard to pin them down. Thankfully, they finally gather all of their ritual stuff and are now placing it in the storage on the watchtower to study and safeguard.

Someone accidentally activates something- I'm thinking Booster gold or maybe plastic man?-by touching it with a hand bleeding from a paper cut. They didn't think it was going to affect anything, but suddently the large slap of stone with unknown writing starts glowing glowing then its starts leaking oozing green goo and everyone panics. They call in Batman assuming he know what to do.

And he does.

He calls John Constantine who looks at the slab with a confused frown. It's not that he can't read it, but rather it's confusing to read.

""I'm here to protect but only if you text," John reads out loud. When the others give him looks, he raises his hands. "Word by word, I swear. But this is thousands of years old. Older than Göbekli Tepe, so I don't understand why this being knows the word text."

"Could they have meant text as in a ancient writing?" Batman asks.

"Not with the cellphone next to it" and now that Constantine points it out, the hieroglyph next to the writting, does look like a old cellphone- not a flip phone but a early design of blackberry.

"What is the slab of stone doing?"

"Summoning a Ancient" Constantine says

Wonder woman freezes "A God!? It's getting a God"

The ooze raises turning into a swirling portal right above the ground. A few of heros feel a odd sense of danger and comfort coming from it. Constantine sighs rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah and he's almost here. So we should think of what to say instead of oops it was a accident"

And just like that Danny Phantom, High King of the Dead, is standing above the stone looking around wide

The ooze raises turning into a swirling portal right above the ground. A few of heros feel a odd sense of danger and comfort coming from it. Constantine sighs rubbing his eyes.

And just like that, Danny Phantom, High King of the Dead, is standing above the stone, looking around with comprehensive eye

"Omg, is the world ending?! The Justice League summoned me cause the world is ending, right?! I'm ready! I'm so ready! LETS DO THIS"

It seems Danny Phantom is also a really excitable being. It's a bit unnerving how it reminds them of Klarion the Witch Boy

The justice league, in order to avoid offending the highest god just make up a random emergency at Constantine recommention because higher beings do not like being called for no reason.

They call in the rest of the league to keep up the lie in a controlled environment and soon are taking him across the world helping with "disasters."

Danny is meanwhile fanboying out because it's the JUSTICE LEAGUE. They called him! He was helping BATMAN :D!

He takes a selfie with the big bat in the background and texts it to Tucker and Sam, throwing peace sign.

His friends respond with lots of excited emojis.

[luxaofhesperides]

Accidental Bride Sacrifice ; requested by @starlightcat04!

Danny has long since gotten used to the feel of summonings. They don’t happen often, but sometimes the right components are put together to force him into answering, and he’d have to go as the new Ghost King.

Which no one told him was a thing! He hadn’t protested too much about the whole Ghost King deal when they finally told him about it after he graduated high school. It gave him a good excuse to ditch life in the living realm and not worry about college or a career, and let him really embrace his ghost side. 

The summonings are a problem, though. They always feel staticky and bad, like a dumpster that just got struck by lightning. The taste of iron on his tongue, a clear sign of blood being spilled, lets him know that it would be one of end the world for us summonings, because some people can’t put in the effort to do it themselves, apparently. 

But this time, the summoning feels different.

Danny pauses, eyes going unfocused in the middle of his conversation with Jazz. He had been looking forward to spending the week with her, now that she’s on winter break, but his luck is as bad as always.

“I’m being summoned,” he tells her, cutting off her rant about a transphobic professor she had. 

“Oh, no. Do you need me to do anything? Should I go with you to beat up whoever it is that’s summoning you?”

Danny tilts his head to the side, considering. The taste of blood is noticeably absent. In fact, this summoning pull doesn’t make him feel sick at all. It makes him feel warm, as if he’s just been wrapped in a hug.

“No,” he says. “I think I’m good. This one feels different.”

“A good different?” Jazz asks, worry clear in her voice.

“Yeah. A good different. I’ll come back soon, okay?”

“Alright. Be careful, Danny.” Jazz pulls him into a quick hug, then steps back to watch as Danny stops fighting the pull of the summoning and disappears into a swirling white rings that flashes into existence behind him, blinding her for a moment, and is gone when she manages to blink the spots out of her vision. 

For a minute, Danny drifts in a void of stillness, traveling through the realms as the summoning draws him closer to the correct realm. And then he’s rising out of the ground in a dark building made of concrete, candles of green flame scattered all over the place.

“Great One!” someone in a hooded cloak cries, raising his arms in jubilation. “Our calls have been answered!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” a mechanical voice yells from farther back. When Danny looks past the cultists’ heads, he spots a man in a red hood and leather jacket chained to a pole, along with a bunch of other people in strange costumes tied up, desperately trying to free themselves. 

“Silence!” The leader of the cult, or who Danny assumes is the leader, snaps at the hooded man and gestures to the people off to his left. They force another costumed person forward, this one in yellow armor. He can see the blood running down their face from beneath their helmet and from their nose, dark lines of blood cutting through their brown skin. 

The cultists throw the armored person forward, forcing them to kneel. Then they bow to Danny and step back.

“Great One,” the leader says, voice unpleasantly reverent and grating, “Welcome to the mortal realms. We offer you this sacrifice to feed your strength. He will make a fine general for your undead army in your crusade to rid this world of its filth.”

The people in the back begin shouting all together, panicked voices overlapping, and Danny is left staring down at the cultists in shock.

The summoning had felt so nice. What the hell was this? He did not sign up for another ‘end of days’ insane cult. He just wanted to be hugged. 

His silence makes the cultists nervous. They begin to shift uneasily, whispering to each other, and the leader clears his throat, then pulls a large crystal dagger out of his cloak. “We shall prove our devotion to you through an offering of a hero’s blood!”

And then he moves towards the sacrifice and Danny snaps out of his shock to yell, “Wait!”

The entire room freezes. Even the costumed people in the back go still. 

Danny winces, then tries to smother his power, make himself more palatable to the humans of this dimension. “Wait,” he says again, and he sounds closer to human now. If he could, he would drop his ghost form entirely, but he knows better than to endanger himself like that. “What, exactly, did you summon me here for?”

The cult leader stares at him for a moment. “To… To rid the world of filth and allow your loyal followers to spread word of your power. You will be worshiped again, Great One, and serve as a reminder to man that Death shall always prevail.”

“Okay, I get that, but I was talking more along the lines of the summoning. What ritual did you use? What specifically were the summoning requirements?”

Normally, he’d be able to figure it out himself, but these cultists didn’t use a summoning circle. So they did something else, something less visible and therefore harder to figure out, in order to bring him here.

A woman standing off to the side speaks up, stepping forward hesitantly. “I had pieced together a few summoning spells from this book to bring you here. You had to accept our chosen sacrifice to your side in order for the summoning to work.”

“Hold up that book for me, please?”

She does, and Danny flies down to grab it from her hands. “Point out which lines you used,” he says, already reading a few of the words written down. It’s definitely ghostspeak written down, which should be near impossible for living humans to translate without being skilled in magic.

“Ah, these ones.” She points to each line, reading them out for him, and Danny starts understand what, exactly, went wrong.

“Is there a problem, Great One?”

Danny returns the book then floats over to the sacrifice and picks him up. The costumed people make alarmed noises, but quietly quiet down again when all Danny does is move him away from the cultists.

“Okay,” he says, “So. The lines you used to summon me were not translated properly. What you interpreted as ‘accepted to stay by the king’s side in loyalty and strength’ is not meant to be, like, him being part of my undead army or whatever. It’s a royal marriage vow.”

“They married us?” the sacrifice shouts, disbelieving. The cult leader buries his face in his hands and sighs.

“My deepest apologies, Great One. We meant no offense. We simply wanted to aid in your destruction of this depraved world.”

Danny scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not gonna fly with me. I do not do the biding of random people, especially those who are ready to murder innocent people for no reason. Frighty, if you would.” He snaps his fingers, calling up Fright Knight who always enjoys getting to torment the people who summon Danny for murderous reasons.

Fright Knight appears in a swirl of darkness and screams. Shadows swallow the room, and when they recede, no cultists remain.

“Thanks, Frighty. Have fun with them. I need to figure out all… this.”

Fright Knight bows to him, then disappears. Danny lets out a breath, then floats down lower to be eye level with the sacrifice. “Hey,” he says gently, with a smile, “I’m so sorry they did this to you. I’m Danny. What’s your name?”

“Du— Uh, Signal,” the sacrifice says, sounding rather dazed. 

“Signal,” Danny repeats. “Like… a traffic signal?”

“No. I mean, maybe? But it is Signal. That’s my hero name, not my real name.”

“Oh, you’re a hero!” His getup makes more sense now. Danny checks him over for any signs of injuries. So far, only his head and nose seem to be injured, but his wrists are tightly bound behind his back. Carefully, Danny calls upon his ice and shapes it into a sharp knife, then cuts through the zipties.

He helps Signal up to his feet, floating by his shoulder. “All good?”

“Yeah, man, all good. Let me just get the others free.”

“Oh, I can do it!” Danny flies over to the other costumed people, who must also be heroes. All it takes is one link in the chain being frozen and broken for the entire thing to go lax, allowing them to free themselves. Hooded guy spares Danny a single glance, then hurries over to Signal to check on him. The other three, a man with a blue bird across his chest, a blond girl with a yellow bat outline on her chest, and a guy with bandoliers and a golden bird emblem, all watch him warily as he floats back towards the center of the room.

“So,” the blue bird man says, “If they summoned you with a marriage vow, and you accepted, does that mean you’re planning to steal Signal away from us?” He’s smiling, but it’s not a nice smile.

“No! I had no idea they did this! I am so sorry you all got caught up in this. You most of all, Signal.”

Signal shrugs, nudging hood guy away from him. “Nah, man, it’s all good. This is definitely the better outcome.”

“I don’t know, being married off isn’t really a good thing.”

“Hey, at least they married me off to a decent guy.”

“You don’t know that,” Danny says, “What if I’m secretly evil?”

“If you were secretly evil, you’d be destroying the world right now. I think you’re fine.”

The blond girl waves at him, demanding his attention. “Quick question! They were calling you ‘Great One’. Are you a god or something?”

“Not really? I’m the Ghost King. So I’m a ghost who rules over other ghosts and also a majority of the Infinite Realms.”

She nods as if this is all totally normal for her, then shoots Signal a grin. “Congrats on bagging a king! Not the worst way to spend a night, right?”

“Can you break the marriage?” blue bird man asks, the lines of his shoulders tense.

Danny awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, not looking any of them in the eye. “I honestly don’t know. I can look for a way! But I genuinely have no clue. This was unexpected.”

“But you accepted.”

“I didn’t know what I expected! It just felt like a hug, and I wanted a hug! I thought I was being summoned for something nice for once!” Danny curls up, bringing his knees up to his chest, and hides his pout behind his hands. He knows he’s being childish, but he can’t help but be upset that he couldn’t have this one good experience from being Ghost King. 

It’s always responsibilities and death cult summonings and fighting ghosts who don’t think he should be king. Sure there have been some good things, but they’re comparatively few when looking at all the other stress and pain that comes with the crown. Sue him for wanting to have a nice night for once. Hell, at this point, he’d take being summoned to help with some kid’s homework, because at least then he could have a quiet night helping someone.

“Hey, man, can you come down here?” Signal asks. 

He wants to stay out of reach, hiding himself away for a bit longer, but Signal is his new, surprise, accidental husband, so Danny lowers himself to the ground and peeks through his fingers to look at him.

He tenses when Signal hugs him, soft and warm and comforting. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s going on, and then he’s melting into Signal’s embrace, dropping his hands to wrap them around Signal’s back.

Distantly, he can hear the other heroes talking quietly amongst themselves. He blocks out the sound as much as he can, determined to enjoy this hug while it lasts.

Which is… fairly long. Signal makes no moves to end the hug, so Danny closes his eyes to really savor the moment. 

“So,” Signal murmurs into his ear, “As newlyweds, how about we get to know each other a bit better before we start working on fixing all this?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s ditch these guys and take some time to ourselves.”

“I promise I’ll get this fixed,” he says, just to make sure Signal knows. “Genuinely, I am so sorry to have married you through an old Realms vow when you had no say in it.”

“Hey, if it lands me a very nice, very attractive king, then I don’t mind at all. I could have done without the murderous cultists, though.”

Danny huffs out a small laugh. “Oh, for sure. Thanks for being so cool about this. Want me to fly us out of here?”

“Yes please,” Signal says. Danny smiles and tightens his grip on Signal, then lifts them both up. “I’ll see y’all later! Have fun with the rest of your patrols!” he calls out to the other heroes, who start shouting at him.

Danny flies them right out the roof before the other heroes figure out a way to kick his ass. The city they’re in is smoggy and dark, tall buildings rising up into the cloudy sky, and police sirens ring through the air. There’s no where that looks like a particularly nice spot to land for a conversation, so he asks Signal where he’d like to go and follows his directions from there.

They end up phasing through a building, then into the floor, which leaves them in what Signal calls The Hatch. 

Danny takes a quick moment to freak out over being in a hero’s secret hide out, the composes himself and finally pulls away from Signal.

“So,” he starts, looking around The Hatch and taking in the giant computer, the workstation, the motorcycle farther down the way, “What did you—Woah!” Danny spins around, slamming a hand over his eyes the instant he realizes that Signal is taking off his helmet, leaving his face bare.

It’s not like he’d know who Signal is anyways, being from a different dimension, but it’s the principle of the matter.

Signal laughs when he sees Danny’s attempt to keep from looking at him. A warm hand wraps around his wrist and gently pulls it away. “It’s okay, Danny, you can look,” he says. “It would be pretty weird if my own husband didn’t know my face.”

Slowly, giving Signal to change his mind, Danny opens his eyes. He moves his gaze up, going from Signal’s armor to his face, his very cute face and his warm brown eyes, and Danny stares for a moment. 

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Signal says, fondness coloring his voice. “My name’s Duke. Are all Ghost Kings as cute as you?”

“Duke,” Danny repeats. “Hi. Um, no. The last one really sucked, actually, which is why I fought him. He was so bad the Infinite Realms didn’t want him anymore, so though I technically didn’t beat him in single combat, it was enough for the Infinite Realms to kick him out and get me on the throne.”

“Man, I can not wait to hear more of your stories. Think we got time for that while we search for a way to undo that marriage vow?”

Taking his chance, Danny says, “Sure! It’s a date.”

He’s awarded by Duke’s bright smile and idly wonders how long he can keep them married. Hopefully long enough for them to get into a real relationship where he can propose properly. And then he can get Jazz’s blessing too—

“Oh shit,” Danny realizes. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell my sister or she’s going to actually kill me.”

Duke winces. “And I should probably tell the others before Spoiler makes a mess of things… B is not going to be happy with me.”

They share a despairing look, already dreading the amount of scoldings they’re both going to get. He’s not looking forward to it.

“...Put it off until tomorrow?”

Duke nods. “Yeah. That’s a tomorrow problem. For now, how about a late dinner?”

“Sounds perfect.”

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:28」 — k.soonyoung

» seventeen menu | hoshi menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ weretiger!Soonyoung × fem!Reader wc: 3.3k summary: Normally during his heat, Soonyoung stays as far away from his girlfriend as he can for fear of scaring her away but he can’t help himself when she comes by to drop some soup off seeing as he told her he’s sick. genres/themes/au: smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: food consumption, cat anatomy; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: sorry for skipping two days in a row. I will be tacking those on at the end of Kinktober just like the others I missed so don’t worry. Jisung’s I just lost track of time and Christian’s fell on game day and I didn’t even realize it. I’ll get them done and added to the end of Kinktober, I promise lol anyway, here is our resident cult leader, Soonie and his tiger agenda. Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), heat cycles, rough sex, unprotected sex (just don’t do this. Use protection lol), non-human genitalia (like yunho, Soon’s got a barbed d!ck because cat. Don’t like it, don’t read it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idc), scent marking (f receiving), biting (f receiving), use of pet names (hers: baby, kitten, beautiful, etc.; his: babe, Soonie, baby, etc.), I think i got all of them but let me know if I missed any! kinks: heat cycles + rough sex dialogue prompt: ❛❛ You heard me. Take. It. Off. Now. ❜❜

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“Kwon Soonyoung, I know you're home! Let me in, damn it!”

Soonyoung raised his head as he sat with his back against the door. He'd lost track of how long he'd been sitting there while you stood outside his apartment door, knocking, ringing the bell, demanding to be let in. He'd lost track of how many times he'd almost given.

Almost.

It's not that he didn't want to see you, he did. He wanted to see you more than anything, but he knew if he let you into his apartment, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from jumping you. Especially now that he could smell you.

It was always a rough time for him when he went into heat. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't just female animals that went into heat, males also went into heat too and as a weretiger, Soonyoung was no exception. He'd spent most of his formative years dealing with it on his own and for a long time, he avoided being intimate with anyone because of the weird physiological changes to his body.

Unlike many werecreatures, Soonyoung's curse was a generational one and he was not bitten or scratched. His was passed from father to son and inherited by blood. The changes lay dormant until a boy started to go through puberty. By the time he was 18, Soonyoung had gone through just under two hundred and thirty full moon transformations.

And now, at twenty eight years of age, he'd been through over three hundred and fifty transformations. His heat always came the week leading up to the full moon. He was always consumed with an insatiable need to fuck something and he was very good at holding himself back.

Until you came along.

The sweet, caring, and unsuspecting girl who lived across the courtyard from him in the same apartment as him but on the other side of the complex. From his balcony, Soonyoung could see your balcony and the windows that looked into your apartment. 

You kept an assortment of potted plants on your balcony and had installed some sort of netting or mesh to sort of close in the area which made sense because as soon as it went up, he saw an orange tabby cat lounging at the top of a cat tree.

Know you liked cats gave Soonyoung the drive to talk to you the next time he saw you in the courtyard with what he thought was little success but his poorly executed joke still managed to make you laugh and get him your number.

From then on, he was hooked and the moment you invited him over for dinner, he was a goner. One date turned into two and then three and soon, he had the privilege of calling you his girlfriend.

You both maintained separate spaces in the building and he found it kind of cute, his girlfriend living across the courtyard from him. Your cats, which he learned there were actually two, were the sweetest creatures on earth and absolutely adored him. The girl, a white one with orange markings and long fur, was named Pad Thai and the boy, the short hair orange tabby, was named Cheezit. 

Soonyoung had taken to calling them his children and joked with his friends that you had full custody and he got visitations. It was a joke you took in stride and accepted fully, sending silly videos of the cats pretending to use your phone and making silly voices for them, speaking to their dad. It often made his day all that much brighter when he couldn’t come visit you.

Soonyoung had yet to tell you about his condition, only mentioning that he wasn’t like most guys, urging that he wasn’t just saying that and that it was a thousand percent true. He just hadn’t found the right time to tell you exactly how different he was. How does one even go about telling their partner that they’re a weretiger?

It was a conversation Soonyoung knew needed to happen but it just hadn’t yet. Which is why he was stuck in this situation now with you pounding on the door to be let in.

Soonyoung had started telling you that his once a month disappearance was just him coming down with something. He started with the usual excuses, the flu, the cold, stomach flu, even covid but he was starting to run out of excuses. He also hated using illness as an excuse because your immediate response was to offer to bring him medicine and food, usually in the form of soup, stew, or broth. He always gave the same excuse for not opening the door.

He didn’t want to get you sick.

At first, you took it as your boyfriend being cautious and caring but soon, you started to get suspicious and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up the charade much longer. He was going to have to come clean and tell you the truth much sooner rather than later.

A conversation he had been dreading ever since asking you to be his girlfriend.

The wood behind him shook as another series of loud knocks rang out, no doubt you beating your fist against the door. “Kwon Soonyoung!” you shouted. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, as if it might make you leave faster. He felt awful. He hated ignoring you but in his mind, it was for the best when he was in heat. He couldn’t risk scaring you off and losing you.

Another series of knocks shook the door, which was surprising given your somewhat smaller stature. For one so little, you sure were strong. And loud. “Kwon Soonyoung! If you do not open this door right now, we are done!” 

Soonyoung’s eyes opened quickly and he turned his head to look back at the door. ‘She wouldn’t…’ he thought to himself. “I mean it, Soonyoung! If you don’t open this door, consider us through!” Something in your tone made him scramble up to his feet, hastily pulling at the locks separating you from him. He could tell you weren’t kidding.

He kept the chain on, opening the door only a few inches as he looked out into the hall at you. He held his breath as he took in your frame. You’d showered recently, he could smell the scent of your shampoo and body wash, mixing with your natural scent and making his cock twitch in his pants.

On your face was a furious expression and his heart sank immediately. If he had cat ears, this is where they would flatten back against his head in fear. You were terrifying when you were mad. He’d never been on the receiving end of your anger before nor had he really seen it in action.

“H-hey,” he stammered. His eyes dipped down to see the thermos in your hand that no doubt held a homemade soup, stew, or broth of some kind but he couldn’t be sure with how tightly the lid was screwed on nor with how overpowering your scent was.

“Don’t you hey me,” you said, your eyes narrowing at him. “Open the door and let me in.” Soonyoung grimaced. He wanted more than anything to let you in but he knew if he did, there was no telling how he’d react to having you so close when he was aching, burning, to be touched. It wasn’t a good idea on many levels.

“I don’t wanna get you sick,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. You scoffed, placing a hand on your hip and looking every bit the sassy girlfriend he knew and loved. “Don’t try that bullshit with me,” you snapped. “I know you aren’t sick,” you added. Soonyoung’s eyes widened as he looked up from the thermos in your hand to meet your hardened gaze. “Wh-what?” he breathed. 

“I spoke to Jihoon,” you started to explain. “He told me the truth.” Soonyoung’s stomach sank as the realization that his best friend had outed him to you. ‘Well fuck,’ he thought. It looked like he was going to have to have a talk with Jihoon.

“So let me in. We need to talk.” Soonyoung sighed and closed the door, undoing the chain before pulling the door open for you to enter his apartment. He shut the door behind you and prepared for the storm.

You didn’t unload on him immediately, instead sliding your shoes off and walking towards the kitchen where you set the thermos down. He followed, hands tucked in his pockets as he watched you move around his kitchen, pulling out a bowl and a spoon from their resting places.

You placed the bowl down next to the thermos and unscrewed the lid silently, pouring out a very hearty looking stew. It smelled amazing, the scent of meat, herbs, and potatoes invading his senses. “Jihoon said you aren’t exactly sick. Just that during this time, you don’t feel well,” you said as you finished pouring the hot stew into the bowl, setting the thermos down and pushing the bowl towards your boyfriend, holding out the spoon.

Soonyoung glanced at the spoon and the bowl before looking at you. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” you said leaning over the counter. Soonyoung’s eyes dipped down to your chest, the curve of your breast visible down your shirt from where he stood. “You’re going to take the damn spoon and eat while I talk. Sound good?” 

Soonyoung nodded, moving to sit at the kitchen island and grabbing the spoon from your hand. The moment your skin met, electricity and heat spread throughout his body, the urge to pounce on you from across the counter trying to take the reins but he managed to push it down and simply started eating.

You watched him take a few bites before speaking.

“I know you’re a weretiger,” you said softly, drawing his attention as he looked up at you, his mouth full of bits of beef and potatoes. “Jihoon told me everything. I will admit I’m a little shocked you didn’t tell me all of this but I can’t imagine it’s an easy subject to bring up so I’ll give you a pass there,” you explained. “That being said, I wish you would have just told me the truth. Did you think I would judge you? Did you think I would leave or break up with you?” 

Soonyoung swallowed the food in his mouth before speaking. “I didn’t know what to expect, actually,” he answered truthfully. “I was less scared about you finding out about me being a weretiger and more scared that I—” he hesitated, looking down at his bowl of food. You followed his gaze. “Finish eating,” you told him. “I have more to say anyway.

By the time Soonyoung had finished his bowl of stew and ate another at your insistence, you were sitting on the couch, Soonyoung resting over your legs as he hugged around your waist, his face buried in your stomach, a deep rumbling emanating from his chest as he purred happily. You stroked his hair, massaging his scalp with your finger tips.

“This is nice,” you said softly as you combed your fingers through his hair. “Mhm,” Soonyoung hummed. Silence fell over the two of you for a few minutes before you couldn’t stop yourself from asking a question that was at the forefront of your mind.

“Soonie,” you said softly, gently tugging at his hair. “Hmm?” he asked, not lifting his head or opening his eyes. “Can I ask you what you meant earlier about being scared?” You felt him stiffen under your touch before he finally lifted his head, looking up at you. “Wh-what about it?” he asked.

You brushed his hair back from his forehead, cupping his cheek at the same time. “What are you scared of, babe?” Soonyoung took a deep breath before pulling himself up to sit. “I’m scared of frightening you,” he finally answered, glancing at your hand before reaching over to take it in his.

“Of frightening me? How would you frighten me?” you asked, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. Soonyoung looked down at your joined hands before speaking. “You know how when we’re intimate?” he asked softly, not looking up as you nodded. “Yes,” you replied, a small smile on your lips. “Well, when the week of the full moon approaches, I start to… change,” he continued.

“My body starts to change.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as your smile spread. “Is this about your heat?” you asked nonchalantly. Soonyoung’s eyes widened as his gaze snapped up to meet yours. “Y-you know about that?” he asked incredulously. You nodded, your smile only growing. “You think I’m going to learn that my boyfriend is a weretiger and not look up what all of that entails? I know everything, baby. Your heat, your transformation cycle, all of it. I also know your curse is familial and not transferred by bites or scratches. Jihoon told me that part though,” you said, reaching up to brush his hair back again.

“And I already know what happens to your cock, so there’s no need to explain that to me.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widened comically. “I learned that on my own by reading. Jihoon did not inform me of that part,” you added, reaching up to bop the end of his nose with the tip of your finger. “I know all about the sexual changes, the heat cycle, the penile spines, copulation, all of it. I know everything.”

Soonyoung wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed, alarmed, or relieved. He felt a mixture of all three as he sat there on his couch with you. “Do you also know about the insatiable urge I have to be buried inside you whenever you’re around?” he asked, noticing how your eyes widened slightly. “No,” you answered softly before a smirk started to form.

“But now I do.”

Soonyoung could feel heat creeping up his neck towards his face at the same time heat settled in the pit of his stomach. A new smell invaded his nostrils. The smell of arousal but it wasn’t his own. He glanced down quickly before looking back up. “Can you smell me?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, the smirk still present on your face. He nodded slowly, holding your gaze.

You leaned back against the arm of the couch, spreading your legs slightly. Soonyoung’s eyes fluttered shut as the scent hit him stronger. He could feel his cock painfully hard in his pants. “Baby,” Soonyoung said softly as a shiver ran up his spine, that insatiable need to bury his cock inside your warm cunt starting to take over. “If you don’t stop me,” he continued, opening his eyes to meet your gaze.

“I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll…” he trailed off as your hands moved, sliding down your body. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” he said, swallowing thickly as his eyes followed your hands. “Maybe that’s what I want,” you said softly. “Maybe I want you to pounce on me.”

Soonyoung turned his head, averting his gaze as he tried to steady his erratic breathing. He felt the couch move and then your hand under his chin, turning his head to face you. “Don’t look away from me,” you said in a low voice. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Soonyoung whispered, reaching up to cup your cheek. “I promise you won’t,” you replied, leaning into his touch.

“I want you to let it take control. You need this,” you continued, taking one of his hands and guiding it between your thighs, pressing his fingers against your cloth covered crotch. “Pin me down, Soonie. Fuck me like I know you want to.”

Soonyoung let out a sound between a moan and a growl as he closed the distance,  the hand on your cheek sliding to the back of your neck to pull you into a bruising kiss, his tongue immediately sliding into your mouth. You moaned as he pushed you back onto the couch, pinning you down with his weight alone. 

You could feel his erection in his pants press against you, rutting slightly. “I don’t think I can wait,” he murmured against your lips, hands moving to pull at your shorts. “Then don’t,” you urged as he pulled back, fingers working to undo the tie of your shorts. He made quick work of them, pulling them and your panties off. “Shirt off,” he grumbled as he pulled his own off.

You watched him instead as he undid his pants. He glanced up at you. “What’re you doing?” he asked, his hands stilling. “I’m watching you,” you replied. “He glanced down at your shirt. “Shirt. Off,” he repeated. “What?” you asked, feigning ignorance. “You heard me,” Soonyoung growled as he stared you down. “Take. It. Off. Now.” 

You let out a giggle before complying, pulling your shirt off as he resumed undoing his pants and pushing them down, kicking them off before leaning over you, lips kissing a path up your chest to your neck. “Turn over,” he whispered in your ear.

You did as he asked, rolling over onto your stomach as he leaned over your back. You felt him rub his cheek against your shoulder. “What are you doing?” you asked with a chuckle. “Marking you,” he replied simply. “Don’t worry about it,” he added as he grabbed one of the pillows and guided you to lift your hips, placing the pillow under you.

With your hips raised, he guided the head of his cock to your slit, gathering your arousal on the tip before starting to push into you with a guttural moan. You gasped as he stretched you, the spines on his cock creating a rough but not entirely unpleasant texture as he bottomed out.

“Oh shit,” you gasped as he pulled back, the spikes raking your walls slightly. He thrusted into you harshly and you cried out. Soonyoung leaned over your back, covering your mouth with his hand. “The neighbors will complain, kitten,” he whispered in your ear. “You have to be quiet.”

He gave you another harsh thrust, slamming into you roughly as he set a brutal and unrelenting pace. “Is it too much?” he asked breathlessly. You shook your head, biting into your bottom lip to keep from screaming out in pleasure. You couldn’t hold back when you felt his teeth sink into your shoulder. “Fuck, sorry baby,” he panted as he pounded into you.

“S’okay,” you gasped, walls spasming around him as he send you hurtling towards your orgasm which hit you, the strength making your legs shake as he continued to fuck you through it. “Are you okay?” he groaned as your cunt continued to flutter around his cock. You nodded in response. “Y-yes,” you gasped. “I’m – ah! – M’fine — oh god, Soonyoung!”

A second orgasm washed over you and still he kept thrusting, not showing any signs of slowing down. You knew by the end of it you were going to be a bruised, panting, sticky mess but you couldn’t be bothered to care now that he wasn’t holding back and showing you a new side to him you’d never experienced. As he sent you toppling over the edge of your third orgasm, he finally came without warning as he sank his teeth into your shoulder again as his load exploded inside you, painting your walls in his sticky white essence.

“Fuck!” he growled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Sorry,” he murmured, pressing wet kissing against your skin. “Didn’t mean to yell in your ear.” You merely chuckled as you shook your head. “It’s fine, babe,” you replied. “Was I too rough?” he asked suddenly and again you answered with a shake of your head. “No,” you answered. “That was great. In fact,” you said as you lifted your head.

“I’m coming over more often to help with your heat if it means you’ll fuck me like that.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[rip-quizilla]

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 8

Pairing: Eddie Munson X fem!Reader

Summary: "We were friends for a long time... and then we weren't."

Word Count: 4.3 K

Divider was created by @hellfire--cult ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

New Years Eve, 1983

There was always so much noise at Granny’s house.

People were everywhere. In the kitchen, in the bedrooms, in the den, even outside in the cold. There was no escaping from the noise no matter where one went in this house.

So why, then, as you sat on Granny’s little gossip bench staring at her pale yellow phone, did you feel completely suffocated by its silence?

“Are you expecting a call?” 

Startled, you looked up at your grandmother and answered, “Yes… maybe…” you looked down at your lap, feeling utterly childish as you tumbled through your sentence. “He didn’t say when he would call, exactly. Just said that he would.”

Granny watched you with understanding, nodding her head as if you were making complete sense and not ignoring what an entire week of silence from that phone must mean. 

“Well dear,” Granny said softly, “the way I see it, you have two options.” 

You listened intently, worrying the telephone cord between your fingers as you had been for who knew how long by now. 

“-Ether you risk missing that call- which I’m sure any sorry soul who waits a week to call a girl as pretty as my granddaughter would understand- and spend some time with your family,” you didn’t miss the knowing smile she gave you or the raise of one near translucent gray eyebrow. “-or you can sit by the phone for the rest of your time here letting some boy take over your entire holiday.”

You cringed, looking back at the phone for one more longing second before smiling at your granny as you stood from the chair. 

“Need any help in the kitchen, Gran?” 

She grinned, hooking your arm with her own as the two of you made your way to the already crowded kitchen to find something to occupy your mind other than some boy. 

However, you still chanced a look over your shoulder at the telephone before it disappeared from your sight. Eddie said he would call. It’s been a week, why hasn’t he called? 

He said he would call.

Eddie was staring at the phone too.

He’d been staring at it ever since Robin had told him what happened with Alan. Been staring on Christmas Day, been staring every day after that, stared at it on New Years Eve when he wondered if he’d ever get to claim your New Year’s kiss one day. Fantasized, more like. He knew it wasn’t a possibility now. 

He’d already made up his mind, and that was why he wouldn’t touch the phone.

For the best, he told himself. It’s for the best. 

The radio silence continued for far longer than you’d thought it would. 

Eddie knew when you were coming home- you’d told him that he could see you as soon as you got home the Friday after New Years’. He’d said the two of you could make up for the lost holiday time over the weekend before school began. 

But there was no call from Eddie. And even though you knew he was in the wrong, there was a part of you that was laughing at yourself for being so naive that you’d expected this to actually happen. Dating Eddie Munson… who were you kidding? He didn’t even want you wearing his jacket around school; for a moment you had thought that he may feel the same way about you as you felt about him, but even if that were true he wasn’t about to let the whole of Hawkins know that. Now, you weren’t even worth a phone call.

You shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up.

These were the thoughts that plagued you as you crossed the frigid parking lot of Hawkins High on the first day of the spring semester. It felt strange to drive yourself to school again… it had been almost a year since you’d done that, since your usual ride was a 1971 Chevy Astro. You couldn’t help searching the lot for that very brown and yellow van, and weren’t sure if it was relief or disappointment you felt when it was nowhere to be seen.

You didn’t see him in Latin class. Or History. Or Pre-Cal. You were beginning to think he’d just cut school for the day when you walked into the cafeteria and saw him sitting at his normal spot, head of the table as always. 

Your face started to get hot, palms sweating and heart racing- you thought about sitting at a different table since he obviously didn’t want to see you. Let yourself down easy, let the memory of him fade from your life, let him have his way. 

But then he saw you. 

For a split second, he looked as ghost-white as you felt. The next second, he was smiling and laughing at something one of the guys was saying. 

As if you weren’t even there. As if the elephant- the mammoth- in the room wasn’t even there. 

Maybe… maybe everything was fine? Maybe he had simply forgotten that he’d said he would call? What if you had remembered the conversation you’d had wrong, and it was you who was supposed to call him, and he was only avoiding you because he’d thought you were mad at him. 

A thousand possibilities were running through your head as you made your way to the lunch table, setting your things down and sitting in your usual spot beside Eddie. 

You received a couple of greetings from the guys, but not from him. That wasn’t good.

Your heart was racing; you must have done something, said something. There was some kind of misunderstanding, but you would work it out. You just had to extend an olive branch. 

Nudging Eddie’s elbow with your own got his attention, but not how you’d wanted. Instead, he flinched away as if you’d burned him. Flinched. His eyes were wide, surprised and slightly skittish as he looked at you for the first time since you’d sat down. 

Why is he so jumpy? You thought, What did I do?

“How- ahem,” your voice was surprisingly hoarse, and it dawned on you that you’d hardly spoken since you’d told your parents goodbye that morning. “-how was your break?”

He stared at you for a moment, blinked, then donned a mask of indifference as he turned his attention back to his meager lunch of pretzels and a Slim Jim and shrugged. “Good.” 

His voice was light, airy. Noncommittal and monosyllabic. The tone of voice someone used when speaking to a person they’d rather not be speaking to. You’d heard that tone from him before, but never directed at you. 

“You…” you stuttered the end of that word, struggling to make up your mind about which words would follow it. “...you said you would call, Eddie…”

If you’d thought his face was white before, you knew it was now. You noticed his chest heaving underneath his layers of jackets, and for a split second you wondered if maybe everything would be okay after all. Maybe you were just in your head, and this was all some big mistake, that everything was fine and you were just being dramatic. 

“Yeah, I…” Eddie gulped, and suddenly he was indifferent again, aloof and uncaring. “...I was busy. Sorry.” 

Nothing about this made sense. Not a single thing about this interaction made any damn sense. Eddie was never aloof with you. Never uncaring. 

“You were busy?” You repeated, and the edge in your words must have been stronger than you’d intended because the conversations around you were starting to taper off into silence in favor of listening in on the quarrel at the head of their table. 

Eddie narrowed his eyes on you, annoyed. “Yeah, I had a busy week, I already said I’m sorry.” 

“So busy you didn’t have time for even one phone call?” you whispered, keeping your voice down. You were upset, but giving the boys a show wasn’t on your agenda. “Eddie, I… we… I had a good time before we left, I thought it…” you were feeling so many emotions right now, a cocktail of embarrassment, anger, frustration, everything but sureness of yourself was swirling in a cyclone behind your eyes, and Eddie saw all of it in only one glance. It’s why he looked away and searched desperately for something else to train his gaze on. 

“...Eddie, I thought we-”

His eyes refused to meet your own, but his tone was biting when he interrupted your whispered plea with a bitter mumble. “It was one date, you’re acting like we’re married or something. Don’t be so dramatic about it.” Then he bit down on a pretzel, breaking it in half with a single crunch. 

You felt like you’d been slapped across the face. “I…I- you…” What were you trying to say? What could you say? Nothing came to mind. You didn’t have words for what you were feeling, and your brain was already moving a mile a minute. You’d thought things would be different now, but not like this. Not worse. That one date hadn’t just made things weird, it had apparently caused irreparable damage to your friendship. It was too late to take anything back. You couldn’t go back to normal after this. You didn’t want normal after this. Not when you knew what what could have been felt like, and especially not now that you knew he wanted absolutely nothing to do with what could have been. Nothing to do with you.

The thoughts were swirling, and the cyclone was growing louder and more dangerous. Suddenly your eyesight was blurry, and something wet was falling down the slope of your cheek, and your heart felt as if it was clawing its way up your throat. So up you stood, snatching your unopened lunchbox from the table and crashing through the exit door. You didn’t care that it was freezing out and that you had nothing but your cable-knit red sweater for warmth, you ran anyway. You ran until you reached the black cherry tree, collapsing against its steady bark as you finally let the tears fall. 

Your heart finally found freedom from your throat when a sob wrenched its way out of you, shaking your shoulders with a violent gasp. How did this happen? How had you gone from being completely and totally sure of where you stood with him one week, and weeping over him the next? You had whiplash, you felt like you were dreaming. This wasn’t your Eddie; he was acting like a different person, why? What had you done to upset him like this?

You heard footsteps crunch across the dry, dew-frozen grass behind you, and you didn’t need to look to see who it was. You also didn’t want this particular person to see your tears; they would only serve as proof that he was right about you being too dramatic. You stared daggers into the trunk of your tree and tried to sound as unfeeling as he had. 

“I want to sit out here today.” you said, cursing the hiccup that escaped you in between sentences. “You can go back inside.” 

Eddie just stood there, silently. He didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t in his nature- being hateful. Being mean. It killed him to do this, to know he was even capable of hurting you. Yet here he was, doing it anyway.

“Okay.” he mumbled, “If you’re sure.” 

Every fiber of his being was fighting him. No rational part of him wanted to go along with this twisted plan that the darkest part of him had created- the side of him that knew deep down that he never deserved your friendship in the first place. The side of him that knew if he stayed on the path he’d been on until last week, you would get hurt again- people like Alan would make sure of it. He would drag you down, he would hold you back, and you would stand by him taking hit after hit for him all the while like the perfect angel you were. 

Simply put, he hadn’t done a damn thing to deserve you, and you didn’t deserve the shit that came with having anything to do with Eddie Munson. So here he was- righting the balance. 

He turned to walk away from you, leaving you shivering and sobbing in the cold, and just when he didn’t think he could feel like any more of an asshole, he heard your soft quavering voice from over his shoulder and his heart just about shattered.

“What did I do wrong, Eddie?”

He was glad his back was turned, or else you would have seen his expression crumple for a moment before he regained his composure. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” 

He had to make it hurt. He had to be brutal, he had to be heartless. If you thought there was a way to talk this out, you’d take it, and he’d be weak enough to let you. Then all of this would be for nothing.

He had to hurt you now; it was the only way he could make sure he never hurt you again. 

“I mean, come on. You’ve had a crush on me from day one, if I’d wanted anything serious I would have acted on it before now.” Eddie was facing you now, but he couldn’t look at you. His eyes were staring at his Reeboks with such intensity, he wondered if he might burn a hole through his toes. “I only asked you out because I felt bad for you. You were so desperate for attention… I mean, we had some fun, yeah, but that was all it was. Girls like you are just too easy to be anything serious.”

He saw your head snap up out of his periphery, and despite his better judgment, he lifted his gaze to get a better look.

Your eyes were red and wild, tear stained cheeks grayish from your makeup and upper lip slick from what your sniffles couldn’t quite catch. 

“Girls like me?” You repeated; he felt a chill run down his spine at the tone of your voice, and he knew it wasn’t due to the cold. It was low, eerily quiet and foreboding. He couldn’t help but feel like he may have gone too far, but it was too late to take it back now. 

“Well since you’re an expert on girls like me, Eddie Munson, let me tell you a thing or two about boys like you.” The tears were still flowing down your face, but the look in your eyes was anything but sad. He’d seen that look on everyone important in his life but you up until now. 

Disappointment. 

“Boys like you,” you said, “are liars. Because the way I see it, either you’re lying to yourself and to me right now, or you’ve been lying to me every day since we met and you’ve finally decided to show your true colors.”

You hiccupped through a breath, stifling a sob as your composure threatened to crinkle in on itself. 

“I can’t reconcile that the person I’ve known this whole time and the person you’re being right now are the same guy! I don’t know if you’ve always been this way and pretended you weren’t or if you’re lying right now for some reason that you aren’t telling me… But Eddie, you’re a liar either way.” 

You saw right through him; he’d almost hoped that you would. He couldn’t do anything about it, though- he wouldn’t deny nor confirm, because if he spoke he might break. He just stood there, eyes lowered to the ground like a scolded child.

You marched toward him, and his heart felt as though he’d put it behind bars. He’d silenced it, shoved it in a cell and locked the door. Even when you were standing within arms reach, he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. “I know when I’m not wanted, and I’m not going to fight for something that means so little to you that you’re willing to throw it away without even telling me why.”

You reached down to pick up the lunchbox you’d dropped during the onslaught of your sobbing, and caught his eye contact on the way back up. You held it menacingly and without question as to who held the authority to break it and who didn’t. “You want to let this lie? Fine. I’ll let it lie. It can lie right under a gravestone for all I care.” You shook your head slightly, face crumpling into bitter disappointment. “Bye.”

Then you walked right past him, and he did nothing. 

He didn’t chase you. He didn’t argue, he didn’t fess up about how all of this is an act meant to convince you not to spend another minute associating yourself with the likes of him. He didn’t even say ‘bye’ back. He stared at the ground and prayed to whatever god was listening that it would swallow him whole. 

It was surreal how quickly a routine could change when necessary. 

One day, Eddie was an integral part of your life. He was the reason you were excited to go to school every day. He was the source and recipient of nearly every smile you gave. 

The next day, he was gone. His presence in your life had disappeared into thin air, and while there was a part of you that had started out hoping that Eddie would come back to you with apologies and explanations, that part was never satisfied. 

It was like the last year had never happened. Eddie hung out with his Hellfire friends and you hung out with Robin. You gravitated back into your old social circles and never overlapped.

You had explained everything to Robin immediately, reeling when she told you what she’d divulged to Eddie about the incident with Alan and wondering if somehow, that had something to do with Eddie’s sudden shift in behavior. But in the end, it didn’t matter- he’d dropped you this quickly, and no reason could justify that to you. You wanted nothing to do with someone who didn’t care enough to try harder to keep you.

Winter subsided to spring, and when the time came to think about college you set your sights on schools as far away as possible- Hawkins might have been your home, but there were so many pockets of your small town that reminded you of Eddie. The lake, Benny’s, the Starcourt mall… so many places were haunted by memories of him, preserved like flowers that had begun to mold because they hadn’t been pressed quite right. 

You passed your exams in the spring easily. Despite your better judgment, you worried about Eddie doing the same without you to help him study, and that worry proved it wasn’t in vain when you heard down the grapevine that he had failed enough of his core classes that he wouldn’t be graduating with the rest of you. Funny, you thought, how you had spent so much time helping him figure out his learning style only for him to forget all of it the moment you were gone. 

If you could have seen through Eddie’s eyes, however, you would have known that he remembered everything. Painfully so. He wished he could forget, that way he might not feel so guilty when deciding not to try anymore. At a certain point, graduating just didn’t feel like something he deserved anymore.

And graduation came and went without him. You moved out to New York for college at the end of the summer, and Eddie stayed in Hawkins. You remembered hearing a rumor that he planned on dropping out. You tried not to feel responsible. 

You resolved to remember your friendship with Eddie Munson as a strong, but short lived connection. You told yourself that’s all it was ever meant to be- a powerful connection with an expiration date. With time, the pain would begin to numb and you would learn to forget about him. 

All it would take was time. 

~ 10 Years Later ~

“Okay, how about this- I take the monstera, but you get to keep all of the succulents.”

You sighed, keeping your new wireless telephone wedged between your shoulder and your ear as you worked your way through unloading the dishes from your dishwasher. It was a quaint, compact appliance designed to fit perfectly in one-butt-at-a-time kitchens such as the one in your New York City apartment. 

“Kate,” you started, wondering if she was ever going to drop this or if you were going to have to force her to take all of the plants with her when she moved out. “You have always been the one that takes care of these damn plants. You know me- am I ever going to remember to water these things?”

Her voice was quiet for a moment before you heard her defeated “...No.”

“Correct.” you confirmed, nodding sagely as you lined thrifted mismatched water glasses into a cupboard. “Do you want a single one of your precious babies to die while in my care, Kate?”

“But maybe you’ll decide you want to take care of them because they make the apartment so pretty!”

“I will not! You know that I will not, and that is why you are taking all of the plants.”

You snorted when you heard her disgruntled sigh garbled through the phone. “Don’t you want at least one of them? They brighten up the place so much, and I’m sure your new roomie would appreciate the extra oxygen it would bring-”

“-Then he can bring his own plants.” you countered, drying off your hands after unloading the last dish. 

“I still can’t believe I’m moving out…” Kate’s voice took on that nostalgic, mirror-glazed tone that you’d heard so many times this month already. It broke you down a bit- always did. You and Kate had lived in this little apartment together for the last five years. You’d seen each other through college graduations, new jobs, good dates, bad dates- and now, new living situations. 

“Kate,” you warned, “if you were going to talk yourself out of moving, it would have been a lot more convenient before you signed a lease across town and I found a new roommate.” You let yourself fall into the worn out corduroy sofa under a window where your cat, Icarus, liked to perch on the sill and soak up the sun. You reached up to scratch between his ears absentmindedly. “He’s on his way here now, so it’ll be pretty awkward if I have to tell him to get lost.”

“You’re sure this guy isn’t some weirdo?” Kate sounded concerned, which was typical of her. While she may be two years younger than you, she still worried about you like a doting big sister. “You haven’t even met him, and he’s already moving in.” 

“Well if he is,” you said, gazing at the door to what used to be Kate’s bedroom. “Then I just don’t resign the lease with him. He’s only subletting until the end of the summer anyway, so there’s nothing binding that’s keeping him here. And besides, he’s friends with one of Cathy’s brothers’ girlfriends.”

You could practically hear Kate rolling her eyes through the phone. “Right, he’s basically family at that point.”

A knock at the door caught your attention, Dun-dun-dudun-dun… dun-dun.

“Well he’s here now, so if you don’t hear from me by tonight you’ll know he’s an ax murderer.” 

“Not funny!”

You chuckled, finding it very funny. “Love you!”

“Love you too. Seriously, call me tonight!” 

You hung the phone up on its wall mount as you made your way to the door. You were curious who this mystery roommate was. When your coworker had heard you talking about how Kate was taking a job that would relocate her across town, she’d raved about this person who she’d met at a Christmas party back home who would be moving to New York and needed a place to stay. She went on and on about how he was the nicest guy, easygoing and down to earth- you’d initially wondered why Cathy wasn’t inviting him to move in with her before you remembered that she was married. 

You plastered on a welcoming smile as you turned the knob of your front door and swung it open.

You saw the eyes first. They still looked the same, sweet chocolate brown eyes framed in lashes that a Covergirl would envy. You noticed traces of eyeliner around the edges- that was new- but the eyes were the same.

The hair… there was so much more of it now. It was longer, it was shinier… it fell over his shoulders in waves and matched the scruff that dusted his cheeks and jawline. You saw light glint off an earring somewhere in all that hair. 

Your eyes zeroed in on the bats before you could focus on any of the other tattoos that now littered his arms. They were more faded now, patchy and fuzzed at the edges. Yours didn’t look too different- it looked pretty much the same, minus the bluish tint that his had taken on from too much sun exposure. 

He dressed a little differently; seemed taller too- but it was him. There was no mistaking those eyes.

On one side of your doorway, you stood in complete and utter silence. On the other side, a ghost stood in equal silence with a suitcase in one hand, a beaten guitar case in the other, and a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. 

The irony of it was funny, really. The person who had shut you out all those years ago, standing at your door, waiting to be let in. 

It just had to be you, you thought bitterly, didn’t it, Eddie?

It had to be you.

Part 9

Taglist: @rustboxstarr, @josephquinnsfreckles, @rozxartaki, @sheneedsrocknroll92, @melodymishahiddlestan , @stylesxmunson , @fishwithtitz , @elvendria , @carrotbunnies21 , @the-unforgivenn , @munson-blurbs , @writinginthetwilight , @ghost-proofbaby , @hellfire--cult , @nix-rose , @chaoticgood-munson , @3rd-conchord , @aphrogeneias , @definitionwanderlust , @aheadfullofsteverogers , @artsymaddie , @mopeymopeymouse , @alwaysbeenfamous

[fanfic-obsessed]

Secret Brothers

I have been thinking about a Demon Twins DCxDP crossover, specifically one where absolutely everybody is confused.  Also Ra’s is the Asshole. 

Let’s take a walk.

Damian and Dante(Danny) were twins, raised together, trained together, and loved each other deeply. Talia, though not the best of parents by most measures, does love her children.  The twins are raised as assassins and were extremely effective when teamed together. So effective that Ra’s Al Ghul decided that together they were a threat. He decides that Damian is the preferred twin and heir.

At age nine, almost exactly, Ra’s sends Dante out with another Assassin, who has orders to kill Dante.  The results of this attempt leaves Dante wandering around Northern Arizona to be found by the Fentons (who were on a road trip), with head trauma that means that the only thing Dante remembers is that his name starts with DAN. Talia and Damian believe that Dante was murdered and his body stolen by parties unknown and decide to hunt down Dante’s murderer.  Ra’s, believing Dante dead, allows it for several weeks before deciding that he did not want his daughter and his heir obsessed with an inconsequential spare. So he has a strong magical spell cast on anyone who would have known Dante in the league, hiding and disguising their memories. 

Eight years pass, Damian and Danny are 17. Damian has been living with Bruce since he was 10 and still does not remember he has a twin. Talia still does not remember that she had two sons. 

Dante, now Danny,  still has no clear memories from before he was found by the Fentons. Even the accident with the portal did not bring back those memories.  By the time we start, he has already come out to his parents about being Phantom (in admittedly the most traumatizing way for the Fenton parents as possible-He, Tucker, and Sam sat them down and showed them the full raw security tapes of the accident before telling them anything. Jack and Maddie may be oblivious and obsessive but they are very intelligent. They realized almost immediately what it meant that their portal opened with Danny inside, even before he was spit out a blackened corpse who healed into Phantom). 

This is a good Fenton Parents, who not only took the half ghost realization well but also immediately became a bit obsessed with not only lab safety, as one of their inventions had killed one of their children, but also with understanding ghost culture. They also immediately started manufacturing weapons for ghosts to use against the GIW(The Fentons are 100%, ride or die, enthusiastic at all times and in this one the moment they realize that there were people hurting Danny…they were ready to rip the GIW apart molecule by molecule).  Phantom has also connected with the Justice League, joined the Justice League Dark, who were able to get the Anti Ecto Acts reversed. The Justice League as a whole knows that Phantom is a half ghost, half human King of the Infinite Realms whose civilian name is Danny Fenton but Batman, nor any of his kids, has not had the opportunity to meet Danny out of uniform, as it were.  Batman and Red Hood know and Trust Phantom, as he has also helped with the Pit Rage (The Lazarus Pits are corrupted Ectoplasm for the win).

Which brings us to our start. 

It’s a pretty basic premise. A Cult (14 people present) decides to summon the Ghost King for power.  When Danny was first crowned he set his summoning, but really didn’t want it to be an open season on summonings. So one of his ‘ingredients’ is a drop of family blood (not specifying if it had to be those he considered family, or blood family) with provisions in place so that Danny would be able to tell if it was being forcibly taken or not through the summoning spell. The cult captures the Batfam and uses Damian’s blood to summon the Ghost King. Who arrives, a little confused. 

He’s even more confused when he sees Batman and Co tied up. Ghost King Phantom peers at Batman, not even paying any attention to the cultist. “Did you call?”

Batman grunts a no and jerks his head to the cultist.

Phantom redirects his focus back to the head Cultist who starts to do a grand speech about glorious power. Phantom interrupts him to ask “How did you get my summoning?”

The Head Cultist lights up with pride, “I have a spell that was able to transcribe your summoning, we used another to make sure we got the right ingredients.”

After a little bit of back and forth the Cultist admit that none of them actually understand the language that they used to summon Ghost King Phantom, nor do they know why they needed the ingredients they did.  Ghost King Phantom pinches the bridge of his nose as he laments that cultists have gotten so damned stupid. Phantom asks each cultist what they hoped to get out of this: 1-13 said they wanted power (in reality the head cultist had a hyperfixation on using the spells he used to transcribe the summoning and gather the ingredients and wanted to see what would happen), number 14 was paid to be there; Number 14 was also a little pissed that the people paying her were not doing basic research so that they knew who or what they were summoning. The Cult thought 14 would be an auspicious number. 

Phantom, now curious, takes a brief interlude (after restraining the other 13) to get more information on 14. She was given $200,000 to be part of the circle. She had a magically binding agreement saying that her soul was not to be offered as payment, that there would be a 5 year moratorium on destroying any planet she happened to be on, and that she could not be targeted directly or indirectly by the cult after they gained power. She was also a former Pre Law Student with an interest in contract law. 

Phantom recruits her for Justice League Dark, even going as far as calling Zatanna down to take her back to the Watchtower.  After she was gone he turned back to still tied up Batfam to apologize. He went to say that Constantine had agreed to go to therapy if they could find a way to fix his Contract/Soul issues, of which there were so many (some of the pieces of his soul had been sold multiple times, other were sold as a larger piece then resold by Constantine in smaller pieces while the contracts for the larger pieces were still active, a half dozen of the ‘your soul belongs to me after death’ type contracts had defaulted on the demon's side before they defaulted on Constantine’s side, one piece of Constantine’s soul-in theory a downpayment on a contract- may or may not have been straight up stolen, then sold by a metaphysical fence three dimensions over and might be in the soul equivalent of The British Art Museum) and that Phantoms sister has been eagerly waiting to study Constantine psyche under a microscope. So a Pre Law student with an interest in contract law was too good a find to pass up. 

After untying the Bat fam, Phantom turns to Batman and says that Phantom really does need to figure out how the idiot cultists managed to summon him, so he needed the cultists for a bit to go over what exactly they did and said but after that they could be arrested.  One of the remaining cultists, not the head cultist, objected to being sent to prison. Without missing a beat Phantom shrugged and said he could throw anyone who objected into a hell dimension for a while, clarifying a while could be anywhere from three days to the heat death of the universe. 

The cultists were more cooperative after that. 

Red Robin suggested that the Bats stay too, since it was also in their best interest to figure out how Damian managed to be an ingredient in Phantom’s summoning.  

Phantom goes over every step of the preparation, the spell to know the ingredients, the spell to transcribe the summoning, and the words themselves all the while sighing every so often in irritation at the downward spiral of cultists in general. 

Despite a cacophony of errors including but not limited to:

 -Mixing the ingredients for the ‘paint’, which the instructions specifically said to mix on site and only as needed, early and storing it in one of the cultists bedrooms (Phantom:...you know that mix is highly hallucinogenic, right?/Cultist: Is that why I’ve been followed by a pink bunny for the last three days?/ Phantom<sighing>:Yes, that is why you have been followed by a pink bunny for the last three days) 

-Adding additional runes to the summoning circle, specifically the runes for sacrificing someone (Cultists: The picture of all the other circles had those rune, we figured it was a typo/ Phantom: it wasn’t)

-Inverting one of the added runes, which switched the party receiving the power and the party being sacrificed (Phantom: Because of those runes, I am able to eat all your souls for the purpose of powering Batman and his entourage/Batman:Please don’t, they all give me enough headaches without getting powers/Phantom:looks like you are all in luck.)

Despite these errors the summoning actually worked exactly as intended. So Robin makes the suggestion that they must have some sort of blood relation.  Phantom shrugs and says that he always thought he was an orphan. One of the birds goes “Thought?”. Phantom smiles sheepishly and says that his sister thinks that Phantom escaped from a cult, but that he has no memories prior to being found by his parents at age 9. He also wonders how closely related he would have to be to someone to show up as family.

An offer is made to go to the Batcave and check with a DNA test to see how closely related they are, which Phantom accepts. On the way there Spoiler asks how one gets a Half Ghost. 

Phantom, who is very blase about Death having a near Danny experience, says: Well, you take a 14 year old idiot, yours truly, put him in what he thought was a non working portal to the realm of the dead, add in an accident that caused him to hit the on button that was inexplicably on the inside. And I do mean inexplicably, to this day my parents still don’t know why they put the on button there. It turns out having a portal to the dead open on top of and through you has some really weird side effects.   

This is a slightly worrying answer but frankly masked heroes/vigilantes don’t have a great grasp on normal anyway and Phantom assures them that his parents got much better about lab safety afterwards.  This dovetails into a very casual discussion between everyone about what everyone thought was the most painful way to die and which kind of events sucked the most to live through. 

They get back to the Batcave and Phantom transforms back into Danny (to get the most accurate comparison. Phantom's blood is mainly ectoplasm which would mess with the DNA test, Danny’s blood still has ectoplasm but much less).  Everyone stares at Danny, before Nightwing makes a joke about Robin and Danny sharing a face.  

At the minor cajoling of Nightwing, supported by Agent A, the Bat Fam unmasks. Danny blinks at them and says to Damian ‘Hey, we do share a face.’

They start the blood test. Everyone is taking bets on how close they are related and from what side. This is all still very casual, very much an air of ‘what a weird coincidence’. 

The blood test comes back twins. Everyone looks at the test, then back at Danny and Damian, then back at the test. Without needing any discussion Bruce runs the test again, despite the fact that the visual clues do indicate it was correct the first time.  It still says Twins. 

Damian is both baffled and a little offended. He did not know he had a twin out there. In theory, if Danny left the League at 9 Damian should have some memories of him. Most of the Bat fam thinks this is another case of Talia being a lying asshole.  Cass peers at both Danny and Damian, and signs that something feels strange about the lack of memory (Oracle puts forth the idea that it’s possible they were raised apart in the league. Damian is sure his mother would have told him if he had a twin).  At some point magical memory manipulation is brought up and they contact Zatanna (masks having been put back on, though Danny remains in human form), who comes down gushing about the 14th cultist, whose name was Rachel, who was already plowing through Constantine contracts and already found a clause that would let Constantine reclaim one of the shards of his soul.  

Zatanna is able to find the spell that hid the memories of Danny in Damian's mind.  She warns that it looks like it affected more than Damian and breaking it would remove it from everyone who was affected. Damian looked for Danny’s permission first (as they did not know who or why the spell was cast- it could have been for Danny’s protection). Danny gave the ok and Zatanna removed the spell. She left quickly so that the Bats and birds would feel comfortable showing their identities again.

The effect was immediate. Damian went pale and teary eyed (due to the spell he was never able to process the ‘death’ of his brother, basically the trauma spent the last eight years festering under the spell) and whispered ‘Dante?’ before lunging to pull his twin close. Jason was a little dazed (he had a few memories of seeing the demon twins together, at a distance). Danny, whose amnesia was not because of the spell, was unaffected but still hugged Damian, who was now clutching at his brother and crying. 

Far away Talia sat straight up from a sound sleep. Her mind flooded with memories of her precious second son. The son who was murdered and has remained unavenged for 8 years. She quickly made arrangements to head toward New Jersey, she would stop and see Damian and invite him on a hunt. 

It becomes clear quickly that Danny would be staying in the manor for at least the night, Damian did not want to let go of him.  He calls his parents and gives them a brief rundown of the situation (was summoned by weird cultist, found blood family-a twin brother and a father, twin brother was bespelled to forget he had a brother and breaking the spell had made him clingy, would be staying in Gotham for a bit). 

His parents run through a Jazz created set of call and response code phrases to make sure that Danny, and now his brother, were not being held by the cult they presume Danny escaped from. After Danny gives the all clear phrases, Maddie asks to speak with his Biological Father.   

Danny hands the phone over to Bruce, where Maddie cheerfully tells him that He and his entire family would be bringing Danny back to Amity Park on Sunday (it was a Thursday, but it was also summer so Danny could stay for a few days) and staying for dinner, that Maddie, Jack, and Jazz all had some concerns about Danny’s condition when he had been found, that any of Danny’s siblings (making it clear that this also included anyone Damian considered a sibling) were now one of her children as well and if Bruce was or became a threat to any of her children Maddie would kill him, and should Bruce pass her vibe check they could discuss shared custody of the children.  Then, without changing tone, asks how many she should be expecting for dinner on Sunday. 

Bruce answers and hands the phone back to Danny, reminding himself that he had gone toe to toe with actual Gods, he should not be intimidated by a cheerful voice on a phone. He is also trying not to think about the fact that he had acquired yet another child he had not known about. Not to mention running through everything that Phantom had ever told him and trying to stave off several retroactive panic attacks.

It takes a bit but they get Damian calmed enough that they are able to get everyone upstairs, where Danny ends up sharing with Damian (who is still working through eight years of trauma and panics if Danny is not right there). 

On Friday, Talia gets in contact with Damian about hunting Dante’s murderer down. Once Damian assures Danny that Talia was not his murderer (as he could now remember them hunting for Dante’s murderer and their combined grief) and did love him, Danny was willing to meet with Talia.  The Bat fam insist on going with the twins to meet with their biological mother. 

Talia takes Danny being there about the same as Damian did.  Not even Bruce had ever seen her cry before.  She, in her own way, practically begged to be allowed to stay in Gotham with her sons for a bit. Bruce agreed and arranged that she would also go with them to Amity Park to meet Danny’s family. It also takes Talia about 45 second of thought, now that she is not blinded by rage and grief,  to realize that the only person who could have arranged Dante’s murder would have been her Father, and that he was probably the one responsible for their magical memory loss as well.  Tim might have his issues with Talia, but he actually hated Ra’s more; they started scheming together to help Talia and Damian express their displeasure over his actions.

I do want to note, Danny does not start getting memories of being Dante. Those memories are gone as a result of head injury and trauma. While both Talia and Damian would prefer if Danny remembered them, they are so pleased that he is actually alive, as it were, that they are not pushing him.   

When they bring Danny back to Amity Park that Sunday, Jack and Maddie greet all of the ‘kids’ (Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Cass, Duke, Steph, Barbara) with specialized weapons, non lethal but will knock out a human quickly  and customized to each child's preferred weapon, hugs, and the family Fudge recipe (which they also give to Alfred) for each of them. Plus gear to prevent being overshadowed and an offer to upgrade all of their current armor and gear.  Talia and Maddie, after a quiet heart to heart, got along frighteningly well (there is a brief discussion about Ra’s and Maddie increasingly creative threats). Jack gets in loud, delighted conversations with each of his new children, somehow finding a special interest for each of them to ask questions about.  Damian is able to step away from Danny for a bit to get into a discussion with Sam, in which everyone decides that they did NOT actually hear the two of them planning some kind of eco terrorism campaign that would end with Lex Luthor broken and crying on the ground.  Tucker and Barbara are enthusiastically talking about hacking while Tucker promises to introduce her and Tim to Technus, who would be a huge fan. Jazz is chomping at the bit to put together psyche profiles for each of them so she can be the best sibling possible. 

At some point Vlad comes in (he had mellowed out once he, Jack, and Maddie got together. It turns out he had been pining for both of them but convinced himself it was only Maddie) and booms that he needs to come meet his brother Bruce. Vlad, knowing exactly how Jack can be, sighs a little and asks how long Bruce Wayne has been his brother. Jack responds cheerfully since he brought Danny back and they realized he was Danny Biological father (Maddie had not asked Bruces name nor any identifying information during her threatening phone call. Jazz despaired).

I think it would be very funny, after the trope of Batman/Bruces Adoption thing, that the entire bat fam is forcibly but cheerfully adopted by the small mid western family, their close friends, and a very haunted town.

[quasi-normalcy]

I know that this is the "Turning social problems into matters of individual virtue" website, but here's one change that you can make to yourself as an individual that I honestly think will have beneficial collective effects:

Stop Thinking You're Better Than Other People.

Do I mean that you should go through life thinking that you're the lowliest and most wretched scum who's ever lived? No. I mean that there exists no meaningful criterion by which one human being can be said to be absolutely 'better' than another. And even if there was, you don't know enough about other people's circumstances and interior thoughts to meaningfully judge them in these absolute terms. So don't even try! It's a futile endeavour.

"But what about fascists? Surely I'm better than them!"

Okay, so let me preface this by saying that fascists are dangerous, they're misguided, their acts and intentions are evil, and they need to be stopped, including through physical violence. But you're not better than them. I know that this is a difficult pill to swallow; I myself used to pat myself used to pat myself on the back because, well, at least I wouldn't have been a Nazi. But you know what? If the circumstances were right, I could have been. We all could have been, just as we all could have joined a cult at some point.

Looking at myself, for example: there was never any serious possibility that I could have been swept up into the alt-right movement. Why? Because I'm transgender, and I was raised to be a socialist. How easy it is to *not* become a fascist when you're one of their scapegoats! How much harder it would be to avoid if you're one of the people they flatter and groom, if you're raised by people who are sympathetic to fascist ideals, if you grow up in a community where such ideals are common! The fact that fascist movements can seemingly emerge amongst every nation and people--including those who have historically been victims of fascism--confirms this. What if I had lived a hundred years later, at a time when transgenderism was a complete non-issue, and they'd moved on to some new scapegoat? What if they had approached me on my absolute worst day and told me that all of my problems were caused by moochers and parasites, and that I could fight back and claim my birth right by joining them? Can I really say that I wouldn't? Can anyone?

But even beyond that, what is a fascist but the ultimate example of someone who needs to feel superior to others? What is scapegoating but the act of selecting an entire group of people and declaring them to be inferior to you? And if you just refuse to believe these things; if you refuse to accept the premise that some people are better than others, and call it out whenever it comes up; then you're cutting these movements off at knees! The ideological force of fascism comes from imagining humanity as a strict hierarchy, with the master race on top and the degenerates on the bottom. Simply refuse to believe in such a hierarchy! Refuse to even entertain it!

"But then how can I feel self-esteem? How can I feel that I matter and have value?"

You have value just by existing as a person! But if that's not enough for you, then try this: instead of trying to increase your sense of self-worth by finding people to feel superior to, increase it by being of value to others. Help them! Make their lives better! Contribute to society! Not even in a way that you can (necessarily) put a dollar value on, but in any way you can! Create art! Plant a pollinator garden! Tell a joke! Make someone happy! If nothing else, you can at least give someone love, and I guarantee you that that will be of value to them. The universe is so vast and we're all so small that any value we can ever have will only ever be to each other. And surely it beats spending your life trying to be king of the microbes.

[enkidusbi]

can i read your thesis i wanna know about how mesopotamians kept their loved ones close. i feel like there might be something about roots or foundations or grounding, connecting the family to the home & people to place both physically and metaphorically. gravesites are powerful powerful place connections and im really curious about what we know about a culture whose gravesites and homes were one and the same. i imagine they were pretty comfortable with death

so it's not online yet because i want to publish it first in a journal BUT i can tell you a bit about it. this is gonna be specifically about the old babylonian period (19-15th centuries BCE) because that's what my thesis is on, but with some changes it's pretty much applicable throughout mesopotamian history

so the basic thought behind burial under the houses is that the dead don't cease to part of the family. ancestor cult is an important aspect of mesopotamian culture and domestic religion. the netherworld is not a nice place, it's dark and dusty and all the spirits have for food is dust. but if you feed your ancestors (this is a ritual called the kispum which consists of food offering, libation and the calling of their names. it's a regular ritual that some sources say was done monthly, and others say it was during the yearly festival of the dead in the month of the god dumuzi/tammuz) then they'll have things to eat and drink in the afterlife! and if you are a spirit, the more descendants you have, the more your well-being is ensured! it's a symbiotic relationship. if your ancestors are satisified, they can help you out with things and act as sort of benevolent protective spirits over the household and the family, and also welcome you in the netherworld when you die. but spirits who were not properly buried or aren't given the proper offerings can wander, come back to haunt you and cause harm. if you would like to know more about this, i recommend dina katz's book, the image of the netherworld in the sumerian sources, an amazing read. the point is, the dead are part of the family, they have their metaphorical place in the family structure and a physical place in the home

people in the notes mentioned that moving probably was difficult. and it definitely was. some of the people buried in these houses were in underground tombs, built from burnt clay bricks, and some others were just in graves dug into the earthen floor, all around the houses. now these brick tombs are often found completely empty, no skeletons, nothing. which means that the family took them when they moved away. probably because they were in some way the most important ancestors, maybe the main lineage of the family? this part is not really clear because these bones are missing, they took them, we don't know anything about them. however, in ur, there are two examples of just the skull being buried and i think that means that family moved to this house from somewhere else and brought the skulls of their ancestors along and re-buried them. it's a very rare find though

from an anthropological perspective, the phyisical proximity of the graves in the same place where the living slept, ate, worked, raised children, etc, was a kind of constant reminder. of their shared ancestors, of their shared identitiy as a family and as a larger clan or kinship group. from a psychological point of view, it was a strategy of coping with grief

important to note also, that this was not practiced by every family. there are houses with no graves at all or just one or two graves, certainly not the whole household. this means that most likely there existed also cemeteries, burial grounds outside the cities. to my knowledge, no cemetary like this has been found yet. but it would be insanely interesting to see what they were like and how the people buried there were different from the people buried in the houses at the same time!

in the end, let me give you a quote from the myth of erra and išum (translated by karel van der toorn in the book mesopotamian magic). this is what a man says about his house:

"These are my living quarters, I have personally made them and will have my peace within them, and when fate has carried me off, I will sleep therein."

i said i can't write a poem about this. and i don't have to, because they already did and it's beautiful

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 8 ]

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I forgot to mention this in an earlier post, but I sincerely believe the human Alastor had a size kink. There, I said it. Also, this story initially has 15 chapters. I might cut it down to 13, depending on your opinions of the next part I post. WE HAVE OFFICIALLY RETURNED TO THE SMUT PORTION OF THE BOOK YAY ;)

WARNINGS: [ MDNI ] + [ NSFW ] + [ SMUT ] + [ BLOOD AND GORE ] + [ DESCRIPTION OF A MURDER ]

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"Alastor!…" you purred into the crook of his neck, face flushed deep shades of red, and your breaths coming short. His were controlled in contrast, smooth against the shell of your ear as he held you down harder, bruising your soft hips without a care as to how you'd feel seeing the imprints he left later, but you wouldn't have him treat you any other way.

It's what you came to him for more often than not, paying a special visit to his beloved station on the premise of delivering your hardworking husband lunch -or dinner if it happened to be a day he stayed late, and not a soul in the building suspected you had any other motives besides that.

Alastor never turned your visits down. He expected them frequently and became increasingly addicted to having you locked in a room with him for a mere forty minutes or less just for the treat you never failed to gift him.

The basket of food you brought always ended up untouched, completely forgotten the second he slammed the studio door shut behind you and locked it for good measure.

Today was no different than those instances.

You came waltzing into the building, dressed as lovely as ever, and politely greeting every employee who recognized you. A few never failed to give you generous compliments, plainly buttering their boss's wife for high praise and often hoping to get you to conversate about him.

Alastor was methodically mysterious, divulging nothing about himself to anyone outside his immediate circle, which intrigued many outsiders.

Knowing this, you avoided long, invasive conversations with passing bystanders, heading straight to the station building's top floor with a coy smile hidden under the brim of a fashionable hat.

You found Alastor in the same room each time, a designated space for him and him alone. It was a large recording studio, complete with any and every equipment a radio host might need, including an area for rest.

The area was a simple, separated from the recording table he always sat at, but highly particular in arrangement. He only resided there on your visits, enjoying the lush velvet-backed sofa, red chestnut wood coffee table, and expansive floor rug out of pure selfishness for your undivided attention.

You'd knock on the heavy lead door, listening for his signature sign-off phrase into the mic, then the sharp click of his leather shoes as he stalked to the door, and then a crisp clack of the lock being undone. Alastor peers down at you over his glasses, an unforgettable lustful look in his eyes as you raise your head to showcase a ginger smile and big bright eyes. You try not to giggle, seeing him visibly stiffen when you stare at him innocently, testing how long he'll last before dragging you into the room with him.

He holds out for a mere ten seconds a record in your book- before snatching you out of the hall with a quickness that almost makes you trip over your own feet. Alastor anticipates your clumsiness without batting an eye, gently razing you off the floor with one arm before turning and kicking the door shut. "Al!.." you laugh in slight disbelief as he locks the door without a word, spinning on his heel towards his personal lounge area.

You spot the proud grin on his face soon enough, blushing hard as he sets you down on the sofa with ease. "You're late, ma chere," he drawls, eyes lowering to the basket you set in the middle of the table, a habit of routine. You frown a little, setting your hat next to it, letting your curled hair fall freely before giving him an apologetic smile.

"The twins went down for a nap a little later than usual, honey. You'll forgive me this once, yes?.." your lashes flutter, a slight pout on your lips drawing his attention, and the practiced expression renders his scolding useless.

It was no secret to you that your motherly side affected Alastor. If anything, he made it evident by the apparent increase in his appetite for you. Ever since your heart-to-heart months ago, he hadn't been able to keep his hands off you.

You feared at the rate he was going, you'd be pregnant again sooner rather than later.

It wasn't an outcome you would complain about if it did occur, but it was a worrying prospect nonetheless.

Alastor eyed you for a moment longer, eyes on fire, as you patted the empty spot next to him for him to sit. "Let's not waste the time we have left. I've missed you dearly, Al. It's really not fair you stay away so long…" The twinge of sadness in your tone wasn't at all practiced. It was an evident emphasis on the truth and one he couldn't ignore.

He sat down at your request, gaze softening as you grinned at him cheekily, reaching over to cup his face and kiss him tenderly, but as you tried to pull back and speak, he held your chin to keep you close. "Missed me? I'm not sure I believe that, sweetheart.." he peered at your lips, swiping his thumb over the bottom one and quickly pushing it into your mouth without warning. You flinched a bit, not expecting him to be so direct, but slowly coming to enjoy it as your body relaxed and your tongue began to swirl his intruding digit.

Alastor pushed further, allowing you to suck as much as you pleased while his fingers held your chin up, drool dripping beginning to drip down your chin as a result. Your eyes slid shut in bliss, your body warming with desire, and your mind going blank as he pressed his thumb down on your tongue. His grave laughter tickled your ears, the eerie drag of its deepness reeling you in, hypnotizing you with little effort.

"Come to me, my little doe," Alastor beckoned you with a satisfied huff, slipping his thumb from your warm mouth and leaning back into the sofa to fully relax as you fell onto his lap. Your dress shifted high, leaving little to his imagination and showcasing the lace stockings and matching garters you had on.

One look at your thighs in such thin fabric made his eye twitch out of amusement.

You smiled sheepishly as he inhaled sharply through his nose, his head rearing back and a tight smile on his face. "What'd I tell you about doing this, ma chere?" His question was rhetorical, nearly a guttural growl you'd grown to love, especially when his accent peaked with it, "Mmm, I dunno. Must've slipped my mind…." You cocked your head at him, dawning a curious expression as he chuckled wryly, "I see…" he mutters more to himself than you, head lifting slowly and his hands finding the strap of your garters at the same time.

"Tell me, darling…" he inches in closer, admitting a thinly veiled threat as your eyes lock with his and your hands scratch at the fabric of his dress pants. "…am I going to have to rip every single one of these to shreds for you to remember not to wear them around me?" You jolt when he emphasizes his words by snapping the band of your garters against your skin. Hard.

"N-no sir!.." you whine, hips rolling down on his crotch for much-needed friction, and what little relief it brings only lasts for a second before his hands halt you with a grip on your waist.

"Mmm, I don't think so, little doe. You want to be touched badly, so give me a reason." Alastor drank in your desperate expression, adrenaline rushing his veins when tears welled up in your pretty eyes and a defeated whimper left your panting mouth. “Whatever you want…I’ll do it…” you give in without a fight, nails digging into his thighs as his eyes lit up with triumph.

"Such an obedient little thing today, aren't we? Maybe you have missed me…" he snickered, glancing down at your covered thighs again before voicing his request. "Strip. And I'll see if you are worth my time today. Go on.."

He nudged you off his lap with one lift of his knee, careful not to make you fall back on the table as he did so, and once you stood up steadily, he rested back on the couch. You took him in then, the slight wave of his curls beginning to fall over his eyes from the heat of the room, his skin a deeper caramel from the springtime sun that'd been shining on New Orleans, and those swirling hazel irises glinting just for you.

If the devil ever came topside, you were sure he'd have a bone to pick with Alastor based on his looks alone.

Alastor also studied you, maintaining his patience as you reached behind to unzip your dress, but he shook his head at the action. You stopped, eyeing him curiously, "What-"

"Start lower," he instructed nonchalantly, gaze lowering on your body as he took his glasses off and set his teeth on the end of them. You wanted to crumble right then, seeing his pearly whites nip at the metal, stare deathly cold, and his jaw clenched in anticipation.

"Fine.." you mumble, perching yourself on the coffee table's edge to obediently strip your stockings off first. Alastor watched intently, un-afraid to smile more expansive as the thin fabric slipped off your smooth skin, never looking away as you moved on to the garters. The hem of your dress had no purpose left, merely a thin wall between your core and his hungry stare. You tried not to get shy as you snapped the second strap off your thigh, tossing it at him playfully, but as per usual, Alastor caught it with ease.

"Don't be a brat, ma chere.." he mused, a warning you barely headed while standing to your feet again to slip your dress off. You threw that clothing at him next, knowing he'd catch it, and giggled triumphantly when he did. Your joy was cut short as he pulled your bare body back onto his lap after tossing the dress across the room.

A shiver touched you as the fine linens he wore brushed against your skin, calm and somewhat soothing. The only thing more distracting than him being fully clothed was the evident rock-hard tent your cunt was forced to press down on.

Alastor groaned quietly as you rolled your hips down gently, sighing out his name loudly in gratitude before wrapping your arms around his neck. "Wasn't lying when I said I missed you.." you whimpered against his lips, chasing them for a kiss he refused to give until you pressed onto his crotch again.

"Still don't believe you," he grunted, stubborn as ever, and you smiled into the next heated kiss. Dragging the messy exchange out intended to render his argumentative tongue useless, and your goal seemed to be reached as you parted moments later. A thin string of saliva connected your lips, breaking as you gave a kitten lick at the corner of his mouth. Alastor cursed quietly at the shameless gesture, finding his resolve again when you threw a bold smirk his way.

"Believe me now, Monsieur Hartifelt," your French cadence earned an unconscious jolt of his hips, an almost uncanny natural reaction he couldn't help hearing you taunt him most subtly. “I've had enough of that mouth of yours, darlin'." The shreds of his polished persona vanished entirely at the words, his glasses tossed to the side, and the now free hand coming to grasp your jaw as the other reached to unbuckle his belt.

You blush heavily as he keeps your face near his, not allowing you to watch as he removes his painfully hard cock from the confines of his pants. It throbs against your mound, twitching when you moan quietly from the sensation, proudly desperate for it.

Desperate for him.

Alastor observed the gentle plead in your expression, merely smirking back at you and lifting an expectant brow. "Manners, ma chere…" His implication made you restless, willing to do anything he asked to get what you wanted, so you did as he told.

"Please…fuck me. Please…" you whispered, embarrassed beyond comprehension but very pleased with yourself nonetheless as Alastor slid his length between your folds for its slick before resting his tip right at your entrance. You raised your hips just right, finally able to glance down as Alastor shifted his hold on your face to your waist, using the new grip to slide you down on his cock with ease.

Your mouth hung open in awe as he slipped inside your gummy walls, a stinging stretch lingering with every inch he forced you to take, "Slow…Alastor…please slow down…" you croaked softly in his ear, shaking violently in his grip as he ignored you and continued to ease himself into you at his own pace.

"You can take it…Darling, you've done it before," he groaned rather loudly, hooking an arm around your waist, bearing your cunt onto him with tender force. Your stomach flipped as he hit your womb spot-on, brushing your sweet spot at the very same time, but the precise strike was followed by a harsher one, which left you restless for more.

"Al-Alastor!…" you barely shrieked in delight, slumping forward into his broad torso as he bounced you up and down his length. "Not so loud, dear," he scolded you absentmindedly, kissing the corner of your mouth as it gaped open to let out obscene noises. "Sorry.." you whimpered, mind a blur with every rut of his hips and nerves on fire as his cock delved in and out of your drooling slit.

"No need to apologize, ma chere… if the whole world must hear you scream, I'd rather they hear my name…" Alastor rambled on with an edge to his voice, eyes sliding closed while your hands coursed through his dark curls for a sense of comfort as he pounded into you.

Butterflies swirled in your stomach with his every thrust, multiplying whenever he groaned and never ceasing as the sparks of pleasure built under your skin. You tugged the strands of his hair, face rose red, eyes bright and watery, and spit sliding from your open mouth as he leaned his head back to get a good view of you…

"My darling wife…does it feel that good, hm? You can't even speak, sweetheart. That's fine…you look and sound just as lovely even without your wits…" he flashed a coy smirk, admiring the slight roll of your eyes as he gave a mainly driven thrust to your cunt.

Your walls instinctively contacted, begging for another aggressive strike, and Alastor obliged as a grateful groan slipped from his chest. "Atta girl… can't get enough, can you?" He laughs in your ear, breath hitching as his cock twitches for a nearing release and the knot in your core spiraling tighter at the feeling.

You nod frantically, moans reaching a higher octave, scarcely muffled by his skin as you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Alastor…wanna come… ’m gonna- mmm…” you reached a hand to claw at his back, all your strength leaving your body as it reacted to his without your direct control. He let your hips move without his assistance, content with you matching the pace he set and on the verge of blanking out himself the closer you brought him.

Alastor planted his feet firmly, hands on your waist, frame tense as you leaned back a bit, resting your hands on his knees for support as you rode him of your own volition.

He smiled at the glint of your ruby-encrusted wedding band, fit snugly on your ring finger, an explicit claim of your existence. A claim you had on him as well.

It wasn't common for you to have this much control during sex, not for this long either, so you took the opportunity with an eagerness he found endearing. The view you got of your dear husband was something truly divine, a near fucked out expression on his usually cheery face, hazel eyes now a dark amber, hair too messy to be considered an honest mistake on your part, and his focus pinned to you.

The cockiest smirk inched its way onto his lips when he noticed you staring; your time to have the upper hand was promptly cut short as he jolted suddenly, the forceful shift causing your hands to slip and be pinned behind your back by one of his.

You didn't dare to argue as he stared into your dazed glare, having nothing to do but sit there and be at his complete mercy. It was worth it, coating his cock with your slick, your thighs trembling from the jabs of pleasure he inflicted and the utterly brutal precision he used to bruise your cervix until a delirious cry tumbled from your mouth.

All of it… you happily endure just to be close to him.

Your high hit like a tidal wave, unforgiving and driven further by his continuous thrusts upwards into your cunt. "Al…Alastor, please, I've had….en-"You gave up trying to speak, out of breath, as you slumped forward into his chest, basking in the overstimulation he caused. The fever of his pace faltered then, body giving way to its urges as your walls continually suffocated him.

Thick strings of cum covered your walls, gently filling you to the brim, and neatly stuffed inside until he softened enough to move away.

Alastor chuckled as you whined defiantly, feeling him pull out so briskly. "A little longer," you plead, showing him practiced puppy dog eyes, hoping to get extra attention, but he simply placed a chaste kiss on your glistening forehead. "My break is nearly over, darling. I'll have to be on air soon, and I would like to enjoy the food you made beforehand."

You sighed dramatically, ignoring the lazy smile he threw your way as he straightened himself out and searched for his glasses. You found them before he did, smiling wide as he watched you prick them from the couch and place them on his face, "Next time, I won't bring you lunch then." Your empty threat amused him but did nothing to change his mind.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, mademoiselle. Then a bite to eat before you head home, yes?"

"Well, if you insist," You stood, playfully rolling your eyes as he followed suit, towering over you and planting a kiss on your nose as a silent apology.

"Smile, darling. You're never fully dressed without one."

————- ————— ———— ————

“You are a lifesaver, Rosie,” you thank the grinning blonde as she gathers her belongings from the front door’s side table, ready to make her way back home from an afternoon of watching over Adonis and Antionette while you were out running errands -or rather paying Alastor a much-deserved visit at work. You swallowed thickly, remembering exactly what conspired between you and your husband less than thirty minutes after you arrived at the station. Luckily, your cheeks didn't heat up, and your expression remained fixed as Rosie piped up after slipping her day gloves on.

“Oh, it's no problem, dear! They are my god niece and nephew, after all, and I could never say no to you or Al..” she giggled softly as you smiled shyly, still unable to be discreet about your adoration for the older man even if she'd mentioned his name. Indeed, you had eyes for no one else, but he and Rosie could hardly blame you for it.

“Besides,” she smirked, reaching for the door as you stared at her curiously, “…I’m sure you both enjoy the rare quality time together more often now that the twins are so lively..” Her emphasis on ‘quality time’ stuns you for a moment, the blush you'd successfully surpassed now blooming on your face, “Well…I suppose it is nice to see him without interruptions.”

She laughed softly, seeing your flustered reaction morph into gentle offensiveness. You could beat her teasing, but you must still justify your obsession with Alastor.

“Mmm, I would assume so, dear. Now, I'll be on my way and as always phone me if you need my help, oui?” Rosie chimed, waiting for you to nod in understanding before she waltzed out the door and began her walk back to her own home. You watched from the entry window as she crossed the lush front garden lawn, turning to wave at you one last time before passing through the gate and disappearing around the corner.

You sat there for a moment longer, profoundly thinking about the events of your day, mainly reminiscing on the time you spent with Alastor only an hour ago. The intimacy that so easily turned into having a quiet conversational lunch with him in his studio. It brought a smile to your face, your love for him, making the world feel light under your feet, and the hard times you thought would never end becoming a distant memory.

Your thoughts were halted as familiar crying sounded from upstairs, a normal noise you expected to hear so late in the evening and one you happily went towards. As you entered their nursery, the twins were wide awake, a lovely, cozy room Alastor had meticulously designed himself. You had some say in the decor, but most of the work was done by him, which meant there was a shelf full of classical books, a radio set on the highest ledge, and a few handmade dolls his mother had gifted you occupying the other empty spots on the lower shelves. Other gifts you revived from the guests at Rosie’s party were neatly stacked in one corner of the room. A rocking chair faced the windows that let in the soft breeze and warm sunlight, their business situated right next to it, and a wardrobe full of clothes placed on the adjacent wall.

Alastor had taken his time with the room, putting in the effort for his children that you suspected his father had lacked for him when he was a child. Your husband would never admit such a dedication out loud, very guarded about the subject of his father even if he were long dead, but you never pried at the matter. You'd allow him to talk about it whenever he was ready, simply appreciative of his commitment to the twins and generally pleased with his strive to be a better father than his own.

“Are my loves already awake?” you cooed at the whining infants, leaning over their bassinets to admire them up close. Adonis took on Alastors features without a doubt. Not a soul could say that wasn't his son, and his mother had proudly proclaimed her grandson to be her son's spitting image any time the comparison was made.

Antionette, on the other hand, favored you the most. Alastor was taken with her from the start, bonding with the smaller version of you almost instantly. She always seemed content in her father’s arms, staring at him like the sun, moon, and stars rolled up into one man. She took on not only your features but also your love for Alastor.

They were your darlings, the combination of you and Alastor that kept your heart light.

You took another eminent to admire them before starting their evening routine. A quick feeding, changing, and playtime, all while listening to Alastor’s nightly broadcast through the nursery’s radio. For an hour, his voice blanketed the room, cutting in and out between records of newly released jazz, which was all the more comforting for you.

It wasn’t long before the twins doxed back to sleep, their father’s voice carrying the gentle static, making it easier for them to drift off. You hummed to the following melody aired as you put each infant to bed, placing a chaste kiss on their heads before switching off the radio and wandering back downstairs.

Alastor would be home soon, and you had a few tasks to finish before dinner time rolled around…

The house was aglow with shades of orange and purple light, the setting sun casting a claiming tint over each room you migrated to, completing mundane adjustments as the clock ticked on.

You were nearly finished organizing the desk in his study when a quick rap of knocking sounded from the front door. You glanced at the fireplace clock, noting it was 8 in the evening, which was far too late for any visitor you might’ve been expecting. “Who could it be at this hour?..” you mumbled, leaving Alastor’s now clean study to find out who exactly was at your front door.

The knocking started again as you waltzed closer to open it, almost offensively loud this time, and you grimaced at the potential of such noise waking the twins from their sleep.

You unlocked the door and opened it swiftly, holding back a glare as the culprit came into your view, but the restraint you had momentarily slipped seeing a familiar face staring back at you.

Oh…..

You didn’t care to see her, especially outside of the binds of social events, but here she was at your doorstep.

“Catherine Lafayette…”

The brunette grinned as you murmured her name, obnoxiously sweet persona shining through her bothersome high-pitched greeting.

“Long time no see, Y/n! Can’t believe I finally caught you at home!..”

You were tempted to roll your eyes at her, well aware she was the neighborhood's resident overbearing HOA president, wife of the police chief, and your childhood annoyance.

Her father had been a long-time partner with your own, so you were forced to have elongated play dates with her and the brat of a little sister that trailed her heels. You would’ve loved to have a nice word for her, but from the start of your acquaintance, she was a raging bully, entitled, and morbidly unaware of her debilitating company.

You managed to avoid her after marrying Alastor and moving into the neighborhood, only having to endure her loud mouth on occasion at public events, and for a year, that seemed to suffice.

Unfortunately, Catherine had a knack for sticking her nose where it did not belong, and it just so happened that she lodged it in your business.

“It has been a while. Is there something you need at this late hour? A cup of sugar or a pint of milk-“

You politely offered everyday items of exchange, wanting to get her out of your face as soon as humanely possible, but she merely giggled loudly and threw her hands up in dismissal.

“Oh, no, hun! I came over to give you the Garrison Gala invitations in person! You know it’s coming up real soon!” She reached into her clutch purse, taking her pick of freshly sealed cardstock envelopes before holding two out for you to take.

You stared at her outstretched hand, not believing that was the only reason she’d stopped by, “That’s sweet of you, Catherine, but don’t we usually get those in our mail?..” She seemed slightly taken aback by your blunt observation, used to hearing your soft-spoken voice complying with others rather than questioning them, but you weren’t the girls she’d tormented in the past.

You’d changed…and it was brazenly obvious.

Catherine’s smile shifted to a closed smirk, bright red lipstick forming a thin line as you eyed her up and down, “Me and Von thought it’d be a nice change to hand them out in person this year. He thinks it’ll excite more people about donating to the city’s cause this year..”

You didn’t believe a word out of her mouth, not fond of her husband either, who your father had once offered your hand to during Alastor’s absence from Louisiana. Thankfully, Von never got the chance to have your hand in marriage; Alastor promptly swooped in to slip a ring on your finger quicker than he could blink, so Von settled for Catherine.

You knew she harbored a little more hatred for you because of that fact but would never admit it out loud, too proud of being the police chief's wife and too stubborn to concede that you were her husband's original pick.

With a small smile of triumph, you plucked the invitations from her hand, ready to thank and bid her goodbye, but she cut in right before you could.

“Mind if I stay for a minute. I’ve been running around the neighborhood all day, and you are my last stop. I’ve been wanting to catch up with you for a while now..” she grinned, appropriately smug, as her explanation gave you no room for refusal, and you wished to god that simply slamming the door in her face would make her disappear for good.

However, that would be rude, and in a town like New Orleans, being crude to another -especially if you were a significant idol's partner- did not bode well for public perception. You were sure she’d rant to anyone who listened that you’d refused to host her.

So, you reluctantly nodded with a stiff smile, agreeing to suffer her company for a bit longer. “Why don’t you come on in then? I just finished making a pot of hot chocolate…”

Catherine hummed, clearly pleased with herself as you led the way inside the house, having to remind yourself that slamming the door shut might wake the twins but dreaming of doing it out of anger, seeing the slight woman eye your home's interior.

As if she had an authority on your taste in home design…

God, Alastor, please come home soon so I can get rid of this harping bitch…

————— —————— —————- ————

Catherine's short visit was anything but…

When you led her into the dining room, she was already rambling about some rumor she had picked up from another housewife down the street. You tried to seem interested or at least flattered to have her talking your ear off with nonsense, but as she grabbed on while sitting at the table, you couldn't wait for her to get to the point.

You were starting to wish Rosie had stayed a bit longer. She surely would've put her foot down with Catherine, who is famously not a fan of her, and she would have been a better boundary setter, too. Unfortunately, as always, you were too lovely and could only nod with an empty smile as the woman ranted.

She hadn't changed once since your childhood together, speaking highly of herself only, bragging about nearly everything, and topping all her vanity off with the guise of a pleasant personality. It was tiring to see and even more exhausting to listen to.

After the longest two minutes of your life, you cut into her following sentence to avoid another five full of slanderous gossip. “Why don't I go pour us a cup of hot chocolate? All this talking can make us women very thirsty.”

Your covered insult hit a nerve for Catherine, her red lips pulling into a proper grin as you stood to do just as you said. You had intended to hear an answer from her, content to listen to her clear her throat in gratefulness or iteration…you aren't entirely sure of her intention, having walked into the kitchen already when she did speak back up.

“How are the twins doin'? I hear it was a tough feat for you to have em…”

Your eye twitched as you turned from the table, agitated that she asked something so personal but unable to muster the energy to avoid answering it.

The truth was it did take a toll on you physically and mentally. You’d never want to go through it again….not shortly anyway.

You highly doubted Alastor would want another child so soon, either.

However, expressing any of your negative thoughts to Catherine would only turn into her spouting the information to every other homemaker in town, so you settled on telling her a white lie. At the same time, you prepared the cups of sweet melted chocolate.

“It…was certainly an experience. I’ve always wanted children of my own, and I’m glad to have them. Alastor is a wonderful father, too…”

You said the last partly quietly, smiling softly at the memory of Alastor playing with your children whenever he had free time. Still, your reminder was cut short as Catherine’s snotty laughter sounded from the dining room.

You stopped what you were doing, perplexed and a little angry.

Had she found something you said funny?..

“I’m sorry….was something I said amusing?..” Catherine stopped laughing as your soft voice carried from the kitchen, a little sharper than usual and a hint of annoyance.

She smirked wide, finally satisfied with your state, “Oh, no, honey. I can’t imagine all of yours being any good with children. He was always strange when we were kids, and I could’ve sworn Von caught him beating another boy half to death just for speaking about his skin…He is a mixed breed, so I never understood why he got offended by someone pointing it out…”

Her careless description of Alastor had you fuming immediately and instantaneous anger rushing your veins like liquid fire. Still, you swallowed the vile words you wanted to spit out and continued to listen to her.

“Ya know, that reminds me…Von did mention a suspicion he had about your husband recently. Something to do with the Bayou Butcher….”

Catherine grinned, hearing you stop all movement in the kitchen, feeling proud of herself for startling you and eager to pry some helpful information from you on behalf of her unsuspecting husband.

The pace of your heart slowed drastically as her statement hung in the air. Nonexistent bells began to ring in your head as the world seemed to tilt on its side, and your chest felt stuffed with anxiety.

She knew- no…her husband knew something…was on to Alastor…which could only mean….

You blinked slowly, feeling eerily calm as the realization dawned on you, but the need to panic was so far away you’d failed to touch it.

“Oh? Why would Von ever think that? Alastor is always at the station and is a kind, sweet, and hardworking man. I find it hard to believe he’d even hurt a fly..” your tone was almost too light, too carefree, but you kept a calm demeanor while finishing up the cups of hot chocolate.

Catherine grimaced where she sat, rolling her eyes at your attempt to act unbothered, “You and I both know your husbands’ always had a few screws loose, Y/n. Even your father knew, so don’t act so clueless, dear. I’m only trying to give you a heads up before push comes to shove…” She held back a snicker at her insincerity, holding nothing but a grudge against you and your oh-so-perfect life with Alastor…

One she wished to have with Von but couldn’t since his obsession with work and justice ranked higher than loving her.

You had a doting husband who balanced life well and cared for you, your children, and his career.

You had endless avenues of income, a good background, an even better public perception, and a well-educated mindset that you could easily use to get any profession available.

You had it all, and the first chance she’d get to strip it all away from you, she vowed to take it.

Holding the information regarding Alastor’s name possibly being involved with cannibalistic murder cases was a perfect opportunity to do so.

You smiled, finding it funny that Catherine could be so bold, underestimate you, and try again to bully you into her shadow…ten years later and in your home of all places.

“I suppose you’re right, Catherine…” You grinned, re-entering the dining room with lively steps, setting her cup down, then your own, but hesitated to take your seat as she sipped her drink with a pleased hum.

“Aren’t you gonna join me,” she peered up at you expectantly, confident that you’d comply with her every demand, but you shook your head with a slightly surprised expression. “Oh, do forgive me. I forgot to plate the fresh beignets for us. I’ll be right back..”

You waltzed out of the room, ignoring the eye roll she gave you in response and completely disregarding the platter of freshly baked pastries set on your kitchen counter to open up the knife drawer instead.

Alastor…forgive me…

You felt a tear fall down your cheek as the sturdy black handle slid into your hand, cold but light as a feather. Your senses felt elevated, your heart a steady drum despite the fear clouding your thoughts, and yet the calm you felt was bordering natural as you turned to pick up the plate of beignets swiftly.

The warmth of the plate was comforting, a feeling you focused on as you glided back into the dining room with a kind smile plastered on your face. Catherine gave a fabricated smile of gratitude as you neared her, ready to grab a sweet treat. You set the platter in front of her from the side, but as she reached for one, you fisted a hand in her as tightly as possible.

Before the woman had a chance to tell in surprise or spout out another offensive remark, you revealed the knife behind your back, letting it glint in the dining room’s chandelier light right before her terrified eyes and quickly lowering it to slit her throat in one swift drag of your hand.

Catherine gulped; a horrendous sound of blood clogging her airway filled your ears, and the sight of it pooling from the wound she had caused was equally horrific.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to be afraid or even muster an ounce of guilt or despair.

All you felt was relief, joy, and a twinge of happiness seeing the life leave her eyes.

A smile graced your face as she finally went limp, head hanging low in your hand as you dropped the blood-stained knife onto the red tablecloth runner.

“You know it’s rude to make a mess at a host’s dinner table, Catherine…and threaten my family too..” Your grip on her head loosened, letting the body part slump.

You sighed, seeing her lifeless body folded over your freshly waxed dinner table, her blood beginning to trickle off its sides and onto the art deco-style tiled floor.

Thank god it was tile…

After a moment of silence, your mind drifted back to reality, packed to the brim with an array of emotions, but none as the guilt you felt now seeing the mess you’d made.

You’d never wanted to hurt anything or anyone in your life…

Let alone kill someone…

Yet, you had done just that to protect your family…to protect Alastor.

It felt…good.

Right even, but the guilt ate away at you as more of Catherine’s blood pooled on the floor.

Alastor…forgive me, please…

Your heart rate quickened at the thought of him seeing what you’d done, how he’d react to your gruesome actions, and what he’d have to say about it.

You knew him to be a killer, but him seeing you as one?…

That…felt terrifying to imagine…

It felt worse that your guilt stemmed from the possibility of Alastor finding you standing over a dead body with blood on your hands rather than feeling bad about killing her…

You glanced at Catherine, trying to feel remorseful but only able to think one thing.

The bitch had it coming…

Ding Dong Ding…

The clock’s chiming startled you out of your daze, signaling the time had drifted to 9 in the evening, which left you thirty minutes before Alastor arrived home.

“Fuck…”

You whispered, feeling a bit rushed as you peeled Catherine’s body off the table, gently laying it on the ground to attempt pulling it towards the basement through the kitchen.

Her weight had doubled without oxygen in her body, and you groaned in defeat when you could only drag her two feet from the table.

How in the world does he do things like this so effortlessly?…

With a sigh, you gave up on the task, sinking to your knees beside the body with a frown. You tried to think of other alternatives, quick fixes to the enormous problem, but your mind couldn’t compute any suitable solution.

Not one that could be done by the time Alastor unlocked the front door…

“Click”

xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxx

Von = Human Vox … I know he's from a different time, but in this story, he will be one of the main antagonists…sue me.

TAGS ❤️: @rapturenyx @michi-keinz @shealizxx @nissrinina @destinyisastar @bubblegumheartsy @sailorsmouth @aestheticgals-blog @rameisa @ellesette @gasiacos @marvelgirl123 @dinosaur-crime-scene @mo-0-o

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

[sublimetragedychopshop]

I’m a sucker for pretty yan x monster darling. Like this person is thought to be the PERSONIFICATION of beauty. Nations come to catch a glimpse of them. They most likely have a cult dedicated to them too which would explain why anyone that makes them unhappy is “punished” (humiliated, tortured and cast out). They probably know the power they hold too! Or maybe they don’t!

Beauty! Yan that could fall in love with LITERALLY any one in the WHOLE world. Only for them to skip the whole way home and write in their diary, about their big fat crush on MONSTER! Darling. Hearts and hearts and hearts. Combinations of mixed names that has both of yours together. (They probably had to lurk around a lot to find out your name, people like to call you mean names which took them a while) a full entire chapter of BABY NAMES! Detailed descriptions of their lewdest fantasies, enough to make even a nymph blush. They already seemed to have gone through 20 diaries since they met you. Its okay! They have enough money to buy more, and usually people offer to by their stuff for them.

Monster! Reader who is described, by others as a “big, mean, ugly thing”. Really you were quite good looking for your species (if you said so yourself, and asked the Yan) you are too big to fit inside a normal house, almost 5” feet bigger than the tallest man in the world. Your body is built like a fucking mountain, strength to the GODS. Though people may not like you, your strength does get you a lot of jobs so that you can earn money.

I don’t have enough brain juice to describe how you met this protected beauty, but you got them hooked! Really, it is kind of funny. Most likely monster reader doesn’t even want to associate themselves with them. It only brings trouble. And death. They’ve seen it and don’t wanna be near them. And we’ll as much as pretty! Yan wants to be around you, they know that if they do people might harm you (they already get sad and depressed if you get hurt on the job) so they have to stalk you from a yard away. Kinda hard when the whole town had their eyes on you. I can imagine the only way they would stalk you is if you live in a house in your own little isolated part of the woods. They know the trail by heart and even come inside when your away. They caress your trinkets and self made goods, admire every single one of your decorations, lay on your oversized bed that is the biggest and comfiest thing they’ve felt and seen. Your scent clouding their senses that they can’t help but masturbate on your bed. It tips them over the edge. And they don’t even try to hide it. Thinking that you don’t even notice it (you do, your senses higher than a humans) and just go on with their little role play in their head. Thinking to themselves as if they were your lovely little spouse that waits home for you everyday. They clean and wash all your clothes (they want to cook but the sizes of the ingredients are way too big for their small arms).

Really they are the perfect spouse for you! Being raised to perfection they would be the perfect spouse for anyone! Too bad they’ll get rid of anyone who gets in the way of their happily ever after…

(I might edit or add more later honestly I’ve just been wanting to post this for a while)

[amongussexgif]

Howdy folks. I’ve said I’d make a rant about this for a while. It’s time.

Let’s start with the basics. Mesopomatia is the earliest known human civilization. Humans existed before them, but this was the first “city”. They also made the first writing. This rant also kinda covers Sumerian tuff, because the two groups had a bit of a merging.

You know what transgenderism is. You’re on tumblr dot com. Chances are you are a transgenderist yourself

Transphobes often say that transgenderism is a “new concept” and that “nobody was trans 20 years ago”. For the record, you don’t have to go as far back as Mesopotamia. There’s Greece, Egypt, Hawaii, and tons of others I fail to remember. But yeah, we date back to The First City.

The First People believed in many gods, one of which you’ve likely heard of. Today’s subject: Inanna/Ishtar, The Queen of Heaven (I’ll be calling her Inanna, as it’s her original name). She was the goddess of Sex, War, and Justice. The most notable things she was believed to do were changing people’s genders and being an absolute queen. Like fr she slayed-

Anyways, the “transgender power” as I’m gonna call it because it's funny, is well documented in poetry fragments, with the direct quote “To turn a man into a woman and a woman into a man are yours, Inanna.” This was written by Enheduanna, Inanna’s High Priestess from Ur (Ur is a city).

Speaking of Inanna’s Priests and Priestesses, they were actually known for their androgyny. Poems and Dedications to Inanna often included them, with the direct depiction of the goddess transfer-ify-ing them. It’s unknown if these and the Gala are the same priests, so I’ll add a little space and talk about them for a bit.

The Gala were priestesses for Inanna created by the god Enki (who is really fuckign cool for non-trans reasons (might talk about him sometime)) to sing for her. Mourning Rites previously sung by women got taken over by the Gala, and as men joined, they adopted ALL societal roles and expectations of women, switching to female names and singing in the Sumerian eme-sal dialect, which was reserved for women trying to render the speech of female gods. The Gala looked after the sick and poor, and were highly respected by the rest of the Mesopotamian peoples.

Time to talk about the Pilipili! They were a group of cultic performers who worshiped Inanna, with the name coming from a person named Pilipili. They were raised as a woman (according to Mesopotamia’s gender roles), and were blessed by Inanna and given the name Pilipili. Inanna gave them a spear, an item associated very heavily with masculinity “as if she were a man” and they are only referred to as “The Transformed Pilipili” from that point on. “Spear'' is also thought to have phallic meaning here, which is even more directly saying that Inanna trans’ed Pilipili’s gender.

How about we move beyond the cult on Inanna now? A statue (or technically statuette but honestly whatever) found in the city of Mari depicts a singing woman. But wait! The name of the depicted person is “Ur-Nanshe”, a masculine name! This might mean nothing, but honestly, you’d assume transgenderism too if you met a woman named Steven. The statue has a soft face with traces of makeup, and it’s got tiddies!

A statue in the British museum (which for the record should not be in there. give it back) has a label translated as “Hermaphrodite of Inanna”. Hermaphrodite has a different meaning now, which a different translator, Cheryl Morgan, recognized, stating that “person-man-woman” would be more accurate. We don’t know specifics about their gender, but clearly this was a person outside of the gender binary who was not only significant enough to have a statue of them made, but also assumedly well-liked!

So, to summarize, Ancient Mesopotamia viewed genderqueer individuals as:

often blessed by the Queen of Heaven

transgender-ify-ed by said Queen of Heaven

well respected enough to be priests

said cult of trans priests was also said to be made by another god in devotion to Inanna

significant and well-liked enough to have statues of them

sounds like we should take some notes from our ancestors, huh?

[absolutehomosexuals]

The Infamous "Durge Is a Man" Essay

I - INTRODUCTION

There's one simple question that led us to developing this theory: "would Bhaal want a female heir?"

Bhaal created Durge to be his ideal successor: the hand who would've reaped death in the world, conquering it in His name.

Every detail we get about Durge's lore is tied to this objective, the entire purpose of Bhaal's creation.

The cult is obviously shown to us as patriarchal, which is hinted at from the sole fact they worship a male deity: the argument may come off as silly at first, since one could argue Gods do not understand nor care for the concepts of gender.

It would be a valid counterpoint, if it wasn't for the fact Bhaal used to be a human, having navigated the world as a fully grown man before he eventually became a God.

If we believe he created Durge in his ideal image, it seems much more intuitive for his offspring to be male.

II - THE MATTER OF SUCCESSION

We must note that Bhaal's plans heavily rely (as we can read in Durge's "diary" tab) on reproduction ; e.g "siring lots of Bhaalspawn".

This alone isn't coded as one sex or the other but, if we think of it in terms of convenience, a female heir wouldn't be your first choice for the task: women can only gestate one child per year and conceive in very specific windows of time within their cycle, while men can potentially impregnate countless women in the same time span and not suffer any physical disadvantages during gestation.

We should also consider women tend to develop a bond with their newborn and the latter needs to rely on them for survival during the first few months of their life, while a man:

1. has no such obligations from a social point view (especially in a medieval context, where bastard children were the norm)

2. isn't strictly needed by the child for survival, biologically speaking.

I doubt Bhaal was expecting his heir to keep track of her cycle, gestate for nine months with all the drawbacks that come with it, give birth risking death and spend the following months caring for a newborn – all of this, on repeat for years if not centuries.

"But he's a God, he could potentially speed up the process!"

Technically true, but why would he go through such trouble, if he could craft his ideal child as a male and avoid complications?

The game itself seems to agree with this theory, since you get the "Bhaal's stallion" line regardless of your Durge's gender, in one of the bad endings.

We could also consider the idea that reproduction = power, "spreeding the seed", to be a typically patriarchal concept.

Bhaal himself isn't fond of the idea of raising children, as he let Durge be raised by an adoptive family – a "regular" one no less, meaning he didn't even concern himself with choosing one.

III - IN-UNIVERSE MYSOGINY

There are many aspects of the religion that seem to glorify manhood, and for its leader to be a woman (by Bhaal's choice, no less) seems inconsistent.

Let's think of the infamous blessing granted to Bhaal's favourites, the Ecstasy of Murder, which basically consists in a pseudo prostatic orgasm.

Then we consider the presence of predominantly-male sexual crimes, both coming from Durge and other important figures within the cult.

We cannot deny necrophilia, for functional reasons, is extremely uncommon amongst women: necrophilic acts are typically carried out by penetrating a dead body, as it's almost the only pleasurable act you can perform on a corpse ; Durge being a known necrophiliac pre-lobotomy could be one of the many hints the character is meant to be read as male.

Not to mention the horrendous way in which Bhaalist female characters are treated in-universe, between Sarevok sexually abusing his daughter (and this concept being treated as completely normal by the narrative, as far as we know of) and Orin being constantly belittled.

We never hear of any male cultists undergoing the same treatment, meaning abusing women is the norm amongst Bhaal's faithful – yet again, a telltale sign of a patriarchal religion.

"But Orin isn't mistreated because of her sex, she's mistreated because she's not the true heir!"

Orin is, indeed, not Bhaal's biological daughter: she's related to Him by blood, but as Durge himself says, her blood is "diluted".

However, while he acknowledges she's not his biological sister, he still addresses her as such in multiple sources, meaning the cult leader himself doesn't care about her actual origins.

She's constantly portrayed as someone who gets talked down to, cast aside and her beliefs are harshly criticized both by Durge and others influential members such as Sarevok.

For Larian to choose a woman to fill this role could have been accidental, but we must admit the symbolism is quite clear.

Orin interprets murder as a form of art, while her Bhaalist peers frequently accuse of her misunderstanding her own faith, considering her too immature to lead the flock.

She's the only Bhaalist female character we're shown as remarkable, and she's coincidentally used as an example of someone the cult does not respect ; she's even biologically related to Bhaal and yet, she had to seize power by force.

IV - ROMANTIC SUBTEXTS

Another interesting matter are the characters commonly paired with Durge in fanworks: Durgetash and Durgestarion are the most popular romantic pairings according to ao3, and we cannot blame the fandom for catching up on the subtext.

Durge's "admiration" (as he calls it himself) towards Gortash is viewed as controversial and arises suspicion in-universe, to the point he feels the need to apologize to his Father and repent for an implicit sin.

While it would be scandalous to fraternize with Gortash even in a platonic matter – he's practically the leader of the rival cult –, the emphasis put on justifying their interactions has been interpreted by fans as romantic subtext.

The letter in which Durge addresses the issue is titled "Letter for Forgiveness", despite Gortash only being mentioned at the beginning, while the rest of the letter focuses on different topics entirely.

Right after expressing guilt for the way he views Gortash, Durge proceeds to repeat Bhaal's plan and promises to follow it, stressing that he would have made his Father proud regardless.

The letter overall comes off as an attempt to justify being attracted to Gortash and reassuring Bhaal that it wouldn't come in the way of their plans, as it would pose an enormous threat otherwise.

Durge being attracted to Gortash – if we choose to interpret him as a man – would come with a handful of important challenges: first of all, sympathizing with the 'enemy', implying Durge could abandon the idea of betraying him or even allow Gortash to do the same to him.

Second of all, being capable of such vulnerability that would come in the way of being a sentient weapon: a killing machine isn't supposed to feel pity, let alone experience something as foolish as forbidden love.

And thirdly, for Bhaal's heir to prefer the company of men is simply a disgrace, as it would come in the way of reproduction and possibly undermine his public image.

While all of this may have not been meant as a homosexual allegory, the fact you can find the Letter for Forgiveness on Durge's corpse if you play as Tav, still comes off as "bringing a secret to the grave".

Not to mention the note at the end of the letter, written by another cultist, reading: "Ha! Orin was right about her sibling." which is clearly a jab at what we mentioned above.

When you go to confront Orin in Act III (as Durge) about the fact she has been following you around town, she replies: "The little lordling has been whispering in your ears? He always knew how to tumble and twist your mind matter, leaving you knotted in his chords."

The matter of Durge's attraction to Gortash is seen as something silly and shameful at the same time: it's an open secret cult members dare to joke about, because they find it ridiculous.

If a hypothetical female heir of Bhaal had the slightest possibility of reproducing with the Chosen of Bane, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't find it as humorous – they find it hilarious because it's taboo, a powerful demigod developing a "school crush" on a male ally.

We should also talk about some of the in-game implications about Gortash, such as being someone who possibly "slept his way to the top": managing to charm and daze a much more powerful man on purpose sounds surprisingly in-character.

What we find even more interesting are the implications that come with Durgestarion, a pairing the writers are openly fond of.

We know both characters were characterized by the same writer, the latter going out of his way to include personalized romance interactions between the two: unlike other characters, romancing Astarion as Durge gives the player access to tons of new dialogue lines and greetings, sometimes making for a completely new experience compared to romancing him with a regular Tav.

Some hints may point to Durge being the "canonical" romance for Astarion, as many fans have speculated ; while one may disagree with that sentiment, we must admit it's not far fetched.

If we consider all of Astarion's canonical past relationships (meaning, the few ones he actually deems important and genuine) were with men, and the emphasis put on Durge's "admiration" towards Gortash + the incessant pressure Bhaal puts on him to reproduce, the thought of these characters romancing each other in an alternative timeline actually sounds liberating.

Some Durge-specific lines Astarion says during his romance arc seem to be aimed at a male character, rather than sounding gender neutral: the first example that comes to mind is "Are you alright now, or is today a 'I will wed you with a delicate veil of blood blooming over your white curls' kind of day?"

Astarion sarcastically references Durge "wedding him", thus putting the player in a stereotipical "groom" role from the start, with the veil resembling the one brides typically wear during the cerimony.

If we consider all other aspects mentioned in this theory, the line reads as somewhat... male-coded.

If we want to be truly insane about this theory – and of course, we do – , we could even add a "gay allegory" element to the equation.

A vampire and the spawn of an evil deity, excluded members of society who'd usually feel a compulsion to hide, are implied to fall in love by the narrative.

V - ACTING CHOICES

Finally, we come to the voice actor: while a specific actor was chosen to play the character and is regarded as the iconic Durge VA, Larian didn't concern themselves with choosing a female voice actor to include the possibility of a female Durge, which is why we can only hear his intro in Neil Roberts' voice.

VI - CONCLUSION

With all of this taken into account, a female Durge seems to be an after-thought, if not directly a fantasy or a headcanon that the game gives you the possibility to play out.

The original narrative, as we can see, best accomodates a male character.

[wolfiesmoon]

Making exceptions

Baji x fem!reader

yikes i need copium AND LOTS OF IT (reminds me of a certain long-haired cult leader, or something)

Here's to a good tokyo rev fic debut🙇‍♀️🥂

Warnings: delinquent style™ hurt/comfort to fluff and lots of swearing (but that's on brand for tr anyways)

"Where the hell were you?! I was-" Baji practically broke down the rooftop door, pausing when he noticed your red, cried out face.

You quickly looked away even though you knew he already saw your tears. You've been avoiding him all day, knowing that he'll realise something is up with you straight away if you talked to him.

You thought you finally got him off your trail by sneaking onto the rooftop to cry it out but somehow he saw you leaving.

"Who do I need to kill?" The ominous tone of that question both completely surprised you yet felt completely on-brand for him.

"Don't... go beating up people... please..." you forced out, trying to overpower your hiccups.

"That's not what I was asking. Who the fuck do I need to kill?"

You flinched a little. "I know *hic* you wouldn't..." you knew the basic gist of Toman. That isn't what they do. You wiped your tear-stained cheeks, finally looking up at him. He looked livid, or atleast it looked like an angry face with your blurred vision.

He sighed. "Just tell me."

You can't possibly do that, because the person who made you cry is him. You see, you are hopelessly in love with Baji Keisuke. But the only thing he seems even remotely interested in is his gang. Which is fine, but it really does get to you sometimes.

You've tried everything to stop crushing on him but unfortunately for you, your stubborn heart refuses to let up.

"It's me..." you lied, making up some excuse of failing a test you studied really hard for.

"Did you really think I'd fall for that, idiot?"

You figured. He's too smart for his own good sometimes. It always takes you by surprise, considering his abysmal grades. Definitely not book smart. Or maybe his gang activities just keep him too busy to consider picking up a book.

You looked away again and heard the sound of him sitting down next to you.

"You seriously piss me off when you don't tell me what's wrong. You're lucky you're a girl, or I would beat your ass when you do that."

You laughed somewhat dryly, wiping away the tears on your cheeks. "Lucky me..."

A short silence followed, only interrupted by your ocassinal hiccups and sniffles.

"Are you gonna tell me or do I have to break my 'no-hitting-women' rule?" You could feel his eyes on you. You don't want an innocent person to recieve a beating and saying it's your own problem clearly didn't work, so your only option is....

"Listen... this isn't the best situation to say I'm about to say, but hear me out." You looked up, staring at the bright blue sky. Your vision was starting to clear up.

You didn't see it, but he raised an eyebrow in question.

"I like you. No, I'm in love with you." It simultaneously felt like there was a weight lifted off your shoulders and that ten more were placed on top. You're just desperate to ruin your friendship with him, aren't you?

"I knew that! Why the fuck are you crying over me...?" His words brought your still slightly red, glassy eyes to his, and a sentence jumbled in your throat, coming out as a strange groan.

"You k-knew?! This whole time?!" You tried again, clenching your shirt in your hand.

"You were making it pretty fucking obvious. Even Chifuyu noticed you acting weird." Baji still looked angry, this time at you, but you had a feeling he was very relieved deep down.

"Then... why didn't you say anything?" You held your hand against your forehead in embarrasment. Were you really being that obvious?

"I was waiting for you to confess, did you expect me to casually say 'it's real obvious you're crushing on me' one day?" He raised a brow, moving a part of his hair away from his eyes.

"Fair enough..." the fact he waited for you to confess on your own accord sparked a certain feeling in your chest. Speaking of confessions...

"So, uhh, what's your answer...?" you're not sure why you're even asking. He's made it clear multiple times he isn't interested in girls and relationships.

It is the entire reason you've been on the verge of tears all day.

"Why the hell not. I've been looking for new thrills lately anyways." Your eyes widened, taking a few seconds to properly process his words. You must have looked spaced out of your mind at that moment.

He said it non-chalantly, like he couldn't care less if it was you or another girl but somehow you knew that wasn't the case. You knew he was glad that it's you.

"Well, I'll be damned." You were honestly in too much shock to properly react to the fact he just agreed to be your boyfriend.

He smiled at you widely, showcasing his sharp teeth. "What's up with that reaction? You want me to beat your ass?"

"I'm happy! Trust me, I'm happy!" You yelled out as if you were scared but you knew he didn't mean it.

Does this mean you'll be the primary target if Baji gets into trouble with another gang and they decide to take revenge? How will your life change now? Will your parents approve of a boyfriend like him? Somehow, you never really thought about things like that until that moment.

...Hmmm, maybe the danger is worth it.