#And if you aren't a demon you *certainly* don't know about the drama with the Charishmiore and the Gh'knalkik

[tswwwit]

Consorts/concubines/wife turning out to be backstabbers being really common in the demonic world, especially the ones higher in the social ladder, and some demons expecting dipper to be a traitor/backstabber. So demons that had a grudge against bill tried to communicate with Dipper that they're on his side for the betrayal, and dipper who is just starting to learn demonic writing doesn't understand all the subtext and metaphors.

Random Demon:"yes.. With someone so close to bill on our side, our plan will be complete!"

Dipper trying to decipher who is this guy that keeps sending him these cryptic letters and what does he mean by saying "To kill a no leg lizard with fangs is to make a trap with big mouth bird beak and the anger of mice thousands":

Very true! Lovers and partners turning out to be backstabbers is likely pretty common in the demon realm. And idioms and cultural references are super confusing, if you don't have the reference point!

Dipper's left reading about his opportunity to "Be the Urk'lagash of toe tickling' and immediately being

[cripplecharacters]

Does Your Scarred Character Have to Hate Themself?

[large text: Does Your Scarred Character Have to Hate Themself?]

(TLDR: no. literally no.)

A frequent topic that shows up around facial differences is the self-hatred, self-disgust, self-insert-negative-emotion that we must surely experience. I want to ask* writers without FDs - why? Why do you feel about us in such a way that that's the most common way of depicting us?

*- rhetorical question. I promise I know the answers, but I'm not sure if writers do.

It's frankly worrying to me. Is it really that common to assume that disabled people have this internal, never-ending hatred for themselves? The overwhelming majority of us don't. We hate inaccessibility, when people stare, or some symptoms when they get in the way, or how expensive being disabled is, but I find the concept of us being so completely disturbed by our own disabilities extremely strange. It’s “tragedy porn” intersecting “most basic ableism”.

“But trauma!”

[large text: “But trauma!”]

Trauma of what! People with facial differences don't have some sort of default trauma that we come with like it’s a factory setting. We are a group of people with tens of thousands of stories and experiences!

“Trauma of experiencing ableism/disfiguremisia” - that's better, at least this means something. If you're writing a story about this, please get a sensitivity reader with a facial difference. You can assume how we feel all you want, but in my experience these assumptions are often bizarre and unrealistic. Or just end up writing the same “disability so sad” sob story that everyone has seen a billion times. If you want to write about disfiguremisia, you need to understand the nuance and have more than just the basic level knowledge (which 99% of people don’t have either). If you can’t do that, don’t write about it. Simple as that.

“Trauma of the accident” - thankfully, the accident is an event and a facial difference is a disability. If you want to connect these two like they're one and the same, you're almost surely going to demonize disability. People with traumatic spinal cord injuries, acquired amputees, people with TBI, people with acquired facial differences - we participate in our communities, we have hobbies, we date, we play with our dogs. Disability isn't a death sentence. Media who make it feel like it is certainly don't help people who do suddenly become disabled, don't you think?

Here's a post by @blindbeta about blind characters becoming blind through trauma that’s better made than anything I could hope to write here. I heavily recommend giving it a read.

And, I can't stress this enough - most of us didn't have “the accident”, most of us are born like this! "Traumatic scars" isn't the only facial difference that exists, far from it, it's only one of thousands. It's 99% of our representation and "representation". If you want to make a character with FD - please consider that we aren't a monolith. Just like not all physical disabilities are "wheelchair user with paralysis", not all facial differences are "traumatic scar with somehow no nerve damage".

The overrepresentation of it is incredibly telling, and sometimes - or very frequently - feels like the writer doesn’t actually even want to deal with us. They want to use our disability as a way to cheap drama, moral metaphors, tragic backstories. Not to represent us as living people who are much more similar to you than you apparently think.

Now, I do have enough awareness to know that that's a big part of the appeal. “Horrific Thing #2456 happens” and boom, instant drama! Of course, it's a reasonable response that they would hide their disability for years, avoid talking about it in any way, and magically change their personality to be mean and reclusive, or at least be constantly soooo sad about how much it sucks to be disabled, right?

Do I really need to say that having your character becoming disabled be the worst thing ever is ableism 101? We have been talking about this for so long at this point. Writing about the process of adapting to a specific disability is better left to people who have actual experience in it.

To give an example that will hopefully resonate more with Tumblr users, I will use the fact that I'm also gay. It's not perfect by any means but probably much more familiar territory.

Imagine, let's say, a character. He's gay. The story he's in is supposedly progressive, certainly not trying to be homophobic. The character has experienced an incident, maybe an act of aggression or a hate crime, that happened because he’s gay, which was traumatic. Happens IRL, sure. So of course the character starts hating being gay. He talks about how gross and disgusting it is, he never lets anyone know that he could be “one of them”, certainly not take a stance against homophobia. You can't mention him without mentioning the accident, they're seemingly fused together. No gay love, joy, even basic happiness, he would actually choose to be straight in a heartbeat if given the option to and complains that he can't. This is shown as a neutral, obvious thing that a gay man would do, no one comments on it. He stays like this the whole time, unless there’s a plot twist in the last 10 pages where the world is now magically perfect ("we fixed discrimination, yay!"). This is the only LGBT character in the story.

Keep in mind that there are people similar to this in real life, living with extreme internalized homophobia.

Is this, in your opinion, realistic and thoughtful representation? How does it feel when written by a cishet writer, versus a gay writer who is recalling his experiences? Do you think that it's reasonable for the majority of media representation to be like this, or very close to it? How would it affect younger gay people who might already be uncomfortable with being queer? Are gay men the target audience, or are they not even considered as a group of people who read books? Is this helping or damaging the general public's idea of how it is to be gay? Why or why not?

The Masterpiece

[large text: The Masterpiece]

From 13 to 19 of May, we are celebrating Face Equality week (what a coincidence!). It’s important to me in general - and I wish it was more important to abled people, but I digress - especially its theme for this year.

“My Face is a Masterpiece”

Great statement, it represents the community well, I do enjoy how bold it is. Very cool stuff, I love the work our advocates are doing!

But why do I bring this up?

Well, to very non-subtly show that we aren’t a self-hating group of people. We are a community, a community saying “our faces are beautiful, look!”, we are saying “treat us equally, and do it now!”. Our activism isn’t about self-disgust. It’s about fighting your-disgust. 

Why can’t writers keep up? Why are you still stuck decades behind?

Is this the only reason I bring it up?

The Call to Celebration

[large text: The Call to Celebration]

FEI, the org behind organizing it, asks a very simple question (emphasis mine):

“Why do we so often see stories about facial difference as a ‘tragedy’, when they should be about triumph?” “Calling all artists, allies, creatives, galleries.  You can rewrite the story to bring about #FaceEquality and celebrate the unique artistry found in every face. Your participation this #FaceEqualityWeek will help to tell the real story, that there is a masterpiece in every face.”

Here. We are calling for you to stop. Directly from the biggest international advocacy alliance group that's out there. If you create, this is for you.

The last argument to not have your character with a facial difference hate themselves? Because we don’t want this. We are tired and frustrated. For me personally, I’m also offended by this kind of assumption. We aren’t tragedies or cheap entertainment for abled people to pity or be horrified by. We are people, and if you can’t internalize that, you have no reason to write about us.

For once, celebrate us. Happy Face Equality Week!

mod Sasza

[marley-manson]

Could you expand on your dislike for the Raphael!Crowley headcanon? I'm fairly certain I know why but your meta posts are always so thoughtful and articulate and I would love to hear your thoughts on the topic

Thank you, I really appreciate it! And fwiw I always enjoy reading your thoughts as well!

And yeah I'm happy to! I mean first I should say that I don't actually like, hate-hate it in fanfic, it's not like an instant back-button for me if it comes up, and I feel like I've seen one or two fics after season 1 where I thought it was fine and it didn't take me out of the story.

But yeah in general I just don't like Crowley being special lol. I like the book vibe where Crowley and Aziraphale are just two... not quite nobodies, given their roles in Eden and the spy allegory of the present day, but certainly not particularly powerful or impressive demon/angels. Crowley and Aziraphale's "superpowers," such as they are, are just their adaptability thanks to living on Earth so long. That's what defines them compared to the rest of Hell and Heaven and sets them apart as uniquely capable of giving a fuck and doing something about the apocalypse. Eg Hastur and Ligur are explicitly more powerful than Crowley, but Crowley escapes them by the skin of his teeth because he's able to break convention by weaponizing holy water, and he's familiar with technology, and more capable of thinking on his feet in general.

I like that all their uniqueness comes from living on Earth with humanity. It resonates with the thematic core of the story, it's fun, and it's interesting. Crowley now being able to perform super impressive miracles and casually resurrect people (something presumably not every angel can do since Aziraphale can't resurrect Edinburgh girl) and read heaven's secret files and potentially stop time in season 1 because he's a former archangel diminishes that vibe to me.

Another con of Raphael!Crowley as a headcanon is that a lot of the time, ime, it feels similar to lost scion of royalty headcanons in other fandoms in an unpleasant way - the way that kind of leans into the idea of someone being inherently superior and worth more by birth (or creation I guess in an angel's case lol). I don't think this is necessarily inherent to the headcanon, or an aspect I think Gaiman will definitely emphasize, but there is that worry lol, especially considering how gary stu-ish Crowley felt to me this season.

Like, why is him being a former archangel meaningful or significant at all? Why does the headcanon exist? What makes Raphael!Crowley different enough from Random Angel #2398!Crowley that it's even brought up as a character detail or plot point that excites people? And I'm not implying that there are no valid reasons (eg exploring why a high ranking angel specifically would fall, or to add some drama for Aziraphale if he finds out and it matters to him, or to add drama between Crowley and the other archangels, etc), but quite often the vibe I get from this headcanon is that Crowley's just inherently more interesting and cool if he used to be a high ranking angel instead of some rando, which is a vibe that puts me off.

Ultimately I just tend to prefer mundane origins to surprise significant origins, and stories about average people (at least in their own context, as angels or w/e) moulded by life who make interesting plot-driving choices rather than inherently unique and special people. And Crowley being Raphael doesn't necessarily make him special, but it does lean in that direction, especially if it's treated as a surprise significant reveal and yk, a source of superpowers.

And to be fair I actually have been thinking about directions this concept could go in season 3 that wouldn't annoy me, and one is to emphasize that archangels aren't inherently special at all and it's an arbitrary designation, and Crowley doesn't give a shit and anyone who does (like other archangels or w/e) is going to be painted as naive and silly and too into hierarchies.

And/or, yk, emphasize that "Anthony Crowley" is emphatically NOT Raphael, regardless of who God created him as. Choose your own destiny. All that jazz. Especially if the Metatron is offering him angelhood again I could see former identity and status being brought into play and held up as extra significant by the antagonists and treated as something to be shut down and dismissed by the narrative, which I would enjoy.

So yeah, at the end of the day I just prefer Crowley as just some guy who happened to get the Earth Agent assignment, rather than the mysterious only fallen archangel.

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Bedeviled | Chapter 9: The Higher the Wall...

Pairing: demon!jungkook x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, drama, angst, horror

WC: 4.5k

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, anxiety, brief mention of blood and injuries, cruelty, frightening depictions of Hell and things in it, terror, fear, name-calling, summoning of a demon (don't be dumb), TENSION🥴, i think that's all if there's anything i missed pls kindly let me know

Previous ML

JK's eyes shift back and forth on the ground as he walks, one rock catching his attention before another steals it away a second later. 

You're following silently behind him, have been for the past few minutes as he leads you to the foot of the mountain just ahead. 

When you look up, you see a door in the mountain that you hadn't noticed there a while ago. The closer you get the easier it becomes to see. It's a bit trippy, so you don't look at it for very long. 

Not a minute later, you're both standing silently in front of it, neither of you making a move to open it.

The door is made of splintery wood and looks extremely old; a rusted knob practically hanging on with all its strength at this point.

"Is there some kind of trick or is it just a door?" You ask, a hint of jest in your tone. 

This time, when he doesn't answer, you realize that it's not out of annoyance or spite, but the fact that he's staring so intently at nothing that he didn't even hear you. 

He suddenly snaps out of it and looks at you, "Did you say something?"

You point at the door, "Can I just open it?"

The demon looks where you're pointing, "Oh...Oh, yeah, it's just a door."

You both stand there for a second, once again no one making a move to reach for the handle. 

He looks at you again and you stare back. 

"Why aren't you opening it?" He finally snaps. 

"Why aren't you?" You counter. 

"Because I'm not your fucking butler."

"Well I don't trust you."

"Well maybe you should start learning to trust me a little-"

You laugh, "On what grounds? All you do is continue to provide evidence on why I shouldn't trust you."

The stare down lasts another few seconds, then you sigh and walk over to the door. 

"You're not a butler but you're sure as heck a princess," you mutter, grabbing the handle. 

He's about to snap back with an equally clever comeback, but the next moment makes the words die in his throat.

JK jumps out of his skin when you suddenly shriek and start convulsing like you're being electrocuted, hand frozen on the handle.

Without thinking, he reaches over to grab your hand and pull it off the doorknob. 

You start laughing, no longer playing up the dramatics. 

He steps back and looks at you, confusion furrowing his brows, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. 

"Got you," You cackle, watching the rage seep into his features as he realizes your joke. 

"Idiot," he shoves your hand away from him as you laugh.

"The look on your face was priceless!" You hunch over from laughter as he stands there and stares at you, far from amused and equally confused and disgusted at the enigma in front of him.

"Whatever, human," he scoffs in disgust and opens the door, not bothering to hold it open for you as he walks in and lets go of the handle. 

You slip in quickly before it shuts, "You know it's kind of rude to call me that."

"What?"

"You always call me 'human' or 'mortal' and it's quite offensive. Those certainly aren't my name."

He stops and looks at you. 

You glance around the tunnel you just walked into, noticing a deep reddish orange glow filling the space. The rock walls themselves seem to shine with a fiery light from the inside out. 

When you look back at him you see annoyance written all over his face. 

"Ok, what's your name then?" He says slowly, hip cocking to the side as he puts a hand there and stares at you. 

"Oh, that's even more rude. How can a demon ask for someone's name so casually? You really have no manners, do you?" You stare back at him, face completely serious even as he doesn't say a word. 

JK grits his teeth, then pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and gnaws on it while he analyzes your face. 

"What should I call you then?" His voice remains calm even as the irritation builds.

"Mmm, good question. Anything works, just don't be so rude," you swat dismissively.

"You truly are a piece of fucking work," He grits out. 

You start walking ahead without acknowledging his comment, turning around to look back at him for a second to see if he's coming. 

The demon doesn't move as he stares at you. 

Tangled hair frames your exhausted face, bruises decorating your neck and continuing down your arms and legs, clothes nearly in tatters, and your feet still wrapped in strips of cloth that are so caked with mud and old dried blood that it can't possibly be comfortable. 

That's not what catches his attention though. 

It's the smile on your face as you meet his eyes. 

"You coming?" You ask when he doesn't move for a full thirty seconds. 

You can see him physically snap out of whatever trance he was in. He blinks, then his permanent look of disgust returns and he shoulders past you and snaps, "There are a lot of things I could call you. You're lucky I haven't decided to use those."

Stumbling when he shoves you to the side to get through, you bump into the wall.

A gasp of pain leaves you when you feel a burn on the arm that hit the rock. 

"Ah," You hiss, automatically grabbing nearing the injury. 

He stops and turns to see you wincing as you look at a small welt that's appeared on your forearm. 

"What is it this time?" He growls. 

You look at him and he's suddenly hyper aware of the fact that your previous smile is now completely gone. 

He doesn't care.

"You pushed me into the wall."

"No, I didn't."

"You did."

"You're the one that can't even keep your fucking balance, stop trying to blame me for you being a klutz!" 

The look on your face at his words makes him groan internally. 

You are going to make it your mission to bitch and moan the entire time now, aren't you?

He can't have that. 

Can barely stand you when you're not complaining. 

You flinch when he walks up to you, trying to pull away when he snatches your wrist. 

"Don't-"

"Stop moving, damn it!"

You stop, shaking a little as you watch him. 

Your trembling doesn't go unnoticed by him, but he does nothing to make you feel less afraid, just brushes his hand over the welt. 

Watching in mounting confusion, you see the nasty burn disappear as his hand passes over it, there one second and gone the next. Then he lets go of your wrist and your arm falls to your side. 

"Why did you..."

He waits for you to finish your sentence.

When you don't say anything more, he raises a brow, and you see his gaze drift over you. Then he steps closer, his eyes falling to your lips.

"You know, you've got such pretty little lips for every word out of them being bitchy. Looking at them, I don't mind. Listening to you whine and moan? Not so much."

He steps even closer, raising his eyes to your own now, "At least, not unless I'm the reason behind them."

JK smirks at the blush that creeps into your cheeks, "If it means you won't complain anymore, I can heal the rest of you, you know. I can make you feel a lot better than you do now."

The way he says it and the feeling of his hand sliding onto your hip makes it clear he means much more than just healing some cuts and bruises.

Something you are not about to fall into.

Deciding to play along though, you move closer, hands coming up and resting on his chest. 

You try to ignore the incessant beating of your heart.

Two can play at this game.

"Really?" You whisper and stand up on your tiptoes to get your lips even closer to his.  

His eyes dart back and forth between yours. 

You let yourself stay there for exactly five seconds before a small laugh slips out and you shove his chest, moving him away from you.

"Mm, I've got more important things to do, demon. I'm flattered by the offer, really. Very sweet of you. But I think I'll pass, sorry."

A breathy chuckle of disbelief escapes him as he turns to look at you walking down the tunnel quickly. 

Did you really just turn him down?

And act like you'd be doing him a favor if you agreed?

The feeling that bubbles up in his chest is something he hasn't felt since that one time Sav took more than half of his souls for the month. That was a very very very long time ago. 

He vowed he wouldn't let anyone humiliate him again. 

Now this stupid little human girl comes marching into Hell and decides it's a good idea to do just that?

Not on his watch. 

He storms past you, shoulder bumping yours, "You couldn't handle it anyway, klutz."

You raise a brow as you watch him stalk ahead. 

Did you really just hurt his fragile ego that bad because you turned down his offer to sleep with him?

Biting back a smile, you shake your head and follow him.

Your move, JK.

_____________________________

The further into the mountain you go, the hotter it gets. 

A while ago you started to hear the screams. 

You shoved your hands over your ears, but as per usual, it's hardly done any good. 

With every step, it feels like you're getting closer and closer to something horrible beyond comprehension, to something so horrific that even just being in the same mountain as it is making you physically ill, and you haven't even seen it yet. 

When he stops abruptly, you do so also, watching him carefully.

He turns around, "You walk straight through, do not stop. Don't linger or you will regret it. Do you understand?"

You nod and his eyes narrow at you. 

"I'm serious. Don't fuck this up."

"I won't," You say firmly, balling your fists up to help you focus. 

His eyes drift over your determined face; cheeks chubby and dirty as your mouth is set in a straight line, brows furrowed in concentration.

You shift on your feet in what seems to be an anxious tic.  

A dark chuckle slips from his lips. 

"Alright then. Be brave, little klutz," He whispers teasingly before turning and continuing down the tunnel. 

You march after him, steeling your nerves as you beg yourself not to look at anything but his back. You do not want to know what horrors are waiting around the corner. 

-

The first moment stepping into the huge corridor is terrifying. 

Your eyes are glued to him, but you can hear the piercing shrieks coming from all around you. 

In your peripherals, you can tell that the walls are engulfed in flames. 

Do not look. 

As you walk down the never-ending hall, the screams get louder and angrier. 

Screams of blasphemy reach you whenever you pass and they see you. 

Unable to listen to it much longer, you reach your hands up and plug your ears, trying to drown out the disgusting words thrown your way.

The ones aimed at Him. 

You won't stand to listen to it. 

JK is suddenly way ahead of you.

You don't remember him picking up the pace. 

Hurrying forward, you unconsciously unplug your ears and grab onto the back of his shirt, keeping yourself close against him in fear of getting left behind in this place. 

You still won't look. 

Eyes pinched shut, you shove your face into him, body trembling from the sheer noise of the tortured souls burning. 

The second you grabbed him, he had stopped in confusion. 

After a moment though he realizes what you're doing and smirks, ready to use this against you.

You feel cold hands touch your arms and detach you from his back, pulling you more until you're in front of him. 

You keep your eyes shut tight, but your arms reach out blindly trying to grab onto him again. 

"Please," you choke out in a gasp, "Please don't leave me behind."

You feel his hands take your arms firmly. At the simple gesture, something inside of you shatters, he sees your face crumple and suddenly you're crying. 

And you can't stop. 

The enraged screams build; profanities being hurled at you from every direction. Telling you to open your eyes. Telling you to witness what your King did to them. 

To watch them burn alive in their own tombs of fire and torture.

"Get me out," You plead desperately as you feel like your eyes are about to open against your own will, "Please! Please, I don't wanna look! Get me out!"

You're clinging to him, begging him to get you away from here. 

It's what he's been waiting for all this time. 

Is this what finally broke you?

He stares at you, watching as you start to curl into him, fists bunched in his shirt and shaking him, screaming at him to help you. To please help you.

He does not care about you.

He should feel a rush of pride, of relief, of satisfaction at seeing how completely at his mercy you are. He should laugh and let you look at the scene around you, watch you fall to your knees and continue to beg him to save you.

So, why doesn't he?

You feel cold hands touch your face, holding your cheeks firmly as he says, "Cover your ears and walk."

Before you can say or think anything else, you feel him turn you around.

Now you're leading the way, but almost tucked into his chest, his larger frame looming over you as he covers your eyes with his hand.

Without hesitating for a single second, you plug your ears again, now not needing to worry about shielding your eyes. 

His other hand is placed on your lower back, guiding you forward through the corridor, leading you carefully through the sixth circle of Hell.

Do not be mistaken. 

He does not care about you.

_

You're not sure how long it will take to get through the tunnel. 

The only thing you can focus on is moving forward.

The feeling of his hand on your lower back and the one covering your eyes is what keeps you grounded as you stumble along.

The ground is uncomfortably hot on your bare feet, but you try not to dwell on it, even though it is a bit of a welcome distraction from the howls of people burning around you. 

Arms aching from holding them up to cover your ears, you scream internally at yourself not to let them drop. The auditory horrors waiting for you are a million times worse, you know that. 

You've got this, ____. 

You let out a shaky sigh and bite your bottom lip, using the pain as another distraction from everything else that's happening. 

Not able to see where you're going, your foot catches on a small stone and you stumble forward, fully expecting to fall.

But when his arm wraps around your waist and he practically lifts you up with one arm to right you again, you feel your heart start to hammer in your chest for a reason other than fear. 

-

"Why didn't you tell me?"

You dropped your head into your hands at the sound of your best friend's shaky voice, finally confronting you. 

"I didn't know how," You had whispered weakly, "I'm sorry."

The feeling of his hands running down your arms sent a warm feeling into your chest as he knelt in front of you, now face to face with you as you sat on the rickety old cot.

You didn't have the courage to look at him, so you turned your head to look out the small window above the cot, noting how ratty the little drapes looked.

You made a mental note to ask Tae later if he could sew them up for you.

"Please look at me."

You shook your head, biting your lip harshly to hold in the tears. 

"You have no reason to be sorry, ____."

You finally looked at him, "Don't call me that," you whispered brokenly, a single tear finally escaping. 

His brows furrowed, "Why not?"

"Everytime you call me that, it means you're being serious. I don't want you to be serious."

A sad smile appeared on his handsome face and you felt your heart lodge itself into your throat. 

You dragged your eyes away from his, "Don't look at me like that either."

I can't handle it.

A small chuckle reached your ears, and you felt his soft touch as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. 

"Apple."

You bit your lip even harder before finally looking at him again. 

"I don't want things to change," You croaked out tearfully, emotions finally betraying you.

"Nothing is going to change."

You scoffed and looked away, messily wiping the tears that escaped. 

"Apple, nothing is going to change." He said more firmly. 

"Let's just forget it for now," You stood up and wiped at your face and runny nose, "I have to go. Mother wants me to help with dinner. The Jungs are coming over." You avoided his gaze.

He stood up too and when you chanced a glance at him you could see it on his face. 

You could always tell when he lied to you. 

Things were going to change. 

And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

-

All sense of time and direction gone, you startle when you feel his hand removing one of your own from your ear. 

"You're fine," he says lowly, "We're out."

You drop your arms and wait until he uncovers your eyes, then you peek them open a little, looking around to see that you are no longer in the mountain. The dark smokey mountains loom around you.

"We left the sixth circle?" You whisper, voice cracking. 

He nods, "Yeah."

"Thank you," You stare at your hands, picking the dirt from under your nails obsessively. 

He doesn't respond, but you don't take that as a bad thing. 

Normally, he would have a nasty remark to throw your way. This is progress as far as you're concerned. 

When he lifts his head, he sees you staring at him, tears building in your eyes. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, never looking away. 

His brows furrow and he cocks his head to the side and looks at you suspiciously, "Why?"

You suddenly realize that you're staring at him and speaking nonsense, so you quickly turn your gaze to the ground and mumble, "Never mind, sorry."

He watches you for a little longer, then drags his eyes away.

"I-..."

You look at him when he speaks, watching as he stares at a rock on the ground, then he huffs out an irritated sigh. 

"I need to go for a bit. Just- don't get yourself into trouble. You're enough trouble as it is." He snaps, then walks away. 

You don't even flinch when a billow of smoke surrounds him and suddenly he's gone. You just keep staring at the last place he was, anxiety starting to take root in you.

________________

JK doesn't move when he sees the young girl leaning over the fire, her hand outstretched to grab another bundle of herbs wrapped in a thin rope, ready to toss it into the fire and watch it burn as she whispers the words he already heard in his mind moments earlier. 

He stays planted on the big barrel in the corner of the old barn she so foolishly decided to summon a demon in; lounging as he watches her emotionlessly.

Usually he'd be giddy with the idea of getting another soul under his belt. Right now he just doesn't want to deal with it. 

Everything is confusing him and pissing him off.

More reason to get this over with quickly. 

Just as he hops down from the comfortable seat, a chill goes down his spine and he feels a surge of hatred sweep over him. 

JK narrows his eyes and steps closer to the girl, almost upon her when what he suspected steps out from one of the dilapidated stalls. 

"Hello demon," The unbelievably handsome being walks over until he's standing on the other side of the fire, in the perfect place for the girl to see him if he allows it.

She doesn't seem to sense either of their presences. 

JK glares daggers at the newcomer, "My name isn't 'demon'."

"Oh I know that," A soft chuckle follows, "I know who you are, JK."

The demon clenches his fists, "What are you doing here? She summoned me, not you."

"Funny, she doesn't have to summon me," The young man smiles, the most disgustingly beautiful smile. 

JK hates him already. 

The way he seems to glow within, the pure beauty surrounding this guardian. 

He despises it. 

"You're not welcome here, demon."

"Funny," JK mocks, "Seems like I'm the one she wants to see, not you."

"She's just a child. Leave her alone."

"Mm, child or not," The devil walks around to get a good look at her face, "She'll make a nice addition to Hell. Why don't you skip along to prayer time and let the two of us talk this out? Besides, she's fifteen, pretty sure she can make her own decisions. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, puppet?"

"You have no idea what she's been through," The angel seethes, "Even if you did, you're too weak to prey on someone who actually gives you a challenge. Children are easy right? Animals too. You just love to terrify and manipulate the helpless, you're that pathetic. Am I wrong?"

"Not at all," JK smirks, "Why work harder? Now that we've got that sorted out, run off little angel. I've got some business to do."

"Go ahead and try," The girl's angel walks closer until he's between the girl and the demon she summoned out of pure desperation. 

JK grits his teeth at the fact that the guardian angel is at least a foot taller than him, not to mention broader. The wings on his back make him even larger, the purple color shimmering as he glares at the demon in front of him. 

"You have no power here, wretch. Get out."

"Gonna let your little girl get away with playing with summoning demons?"

"Leave while I'm asking nicely."

"Aw, you going to go and tell on me to your King?" JK sneers, "Go ahead, I'll take her down with me."

The angel smirks, his handsome face leaning closer, "This child has more strength in her than you will ever have. She's just a bit lost right now. You? You are the lowest, most despicable creature to exist. You have no right to even look at her. Go back to Hell,” He growls.

The demon's jaw clenches when he feels his body starting to leave against his own will. 

"Fuck you," he spits at the guardian angel.

The angel only looks into the demon's eyes, smiling gently. He doesn't flinch when he sees the look on his opponent's face, knowing the pain that is starting to consume him. 

JK gulps, then he glances back at the girl once more, watching with mounting anger as she seems to have a moment of realization before grabbing a bucket of water and dumping it over the fire, no longer intending to make a deal. 

"Get out," The guardian angel whispers one last time. 

JK glares as hard as he can before he turns and walks off, disappearing into thin air. 

_________________

You jump in surprise when you see him stumble out of another cloud of black smoke, falling to his hands and knees and trembling violently. 

"Fuck!" He screams, slamming his fist into the gravel. He grabs a rock that's near him and throws it as hard as he can, shattering it against a small tree that barely moves when struck. 

Deciding not to say anything, you keep your eyes downcast as he throws a tantrum, screaming about cursing someone and some other stuff you can't make out. 

You think you might hear him saying something about angels, but you’re not sure.

As long as you've been here, you have not seen him like this. He seems to have lost all control.

It's terrifying. 

JK breathes deeply, seemingly starting to come down from his enraged high. 

He raises his eyes and sees you sitting there.

A flame rises up in him and he marches over to you, making you flinch when he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. 

You can see the anger in his eyes, the sweat making his hair stick to his face as he breathes heavily. It does nothing to help your nerves; you know he’s gorgeous, he knows you know he’s gorgeous. 

"Where are they?"

"Who?" Your voice shakes, not knowing what he's getting at. 

"Your guardian angel," he seethes, "Where the fuck are they?"

"I- I don't know what you mean-"

"You're telling me to believe that you are this fucking innocent? That your soul is this disgustingly pure and yet your guardian angel just let you come down here without a fight?" He laughs darkly.

"Maybe I don't have one," You try, hoping you sound convincing enough. 

"Everyone's got one, darling," He says sickeningly sweet, seeming to have calmed down, yet that doesn't bring you any comfort, “But you already knew that.”

He's staring at you so intently that for a moment you're sure he's figured it out.

What is he going to do to you?

"Well I don't know where mine is!" You shout desperately, standing up and pushing his hand away from you, "Maybe they didn’t want me! I came to Hell to get something no one else can give me, that no angels can give me. I am going through Hell with the help of a demon and you're still doubting me?"

He watches you carefully for a full minute, then he steps closer. 

You feel your heart race when he brushes a strand of hair from your face and cups your cheek with his hand, roughly pulling you closer until you can feel his breath against your lips. 

He doesn’t care that you’re trembling. 

He doesn’t care how your face scrunches in pain, that you’re confused and scared. 

He couldn’t care less about the fear in your eyes or the way you gulp anxiously.

You are weak. 

You and your heart will always be weak.

He will never care about you.

He will never be weak.

He will crush anything that tries to make him weak.

"If I find out that you've been lying to me, little mortal," His nose brushes against yours, lips briefly touching your own as the thundering in your ribcage picks up.

He pulls back a little, his cold breath still passing your lips and sending a chill down your spine as he whispers, "I will kill you myself."

_________________________________

a/n: tysm for reading, bbies 💕 how are we feeling?

Tag list; @kookxin @butterymin @telepathytae @kooliv @highoffbaddecisions @meanum @smitssharon02 @kmpac @ggukkieland @jjanjankook @sugaslittlekookies @hobispriteu1306 @kimchibrat @slowlydeliciousjiminie @screamertannie  @i-dont-give-a-fok @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @ohyeahjk @babycandy111 @ttipa @ggukcanim @era-genius @katlumiiine @xmochiloverx @sopikooo @berryonasummerevening @jamlessstars @bangtannie7 @idkjustlovingbts @iftheworldiswritten @nuttykittypainter @geniejunn @mal99 @ane102 @charlesswife @jeonssm @ashbxnny @veronawrites @jjkw-7 @jinsundor @h-g-bts @justvibingsblog @hyuneyeon @hellbornsworld @hiii-priestess @nuttypizzacat @vidaficrecs @royallyjjk

[orbitfalls]

AAAAA HELLO CAN YOU TELL ME ABOUT OUT OF ORDER?!?! 80k is SO exciting

YESSS OFC I WILL LOVE!!! and aaaa yes 80k im so proud of myself!!!! out of order is my first ever fic (still a work in progress but she's grown quite long lately heheh!!) so it has a very special place in my heart<33 i definitely do feel like i've improved a lot since i started writing it, but i think that progress is a good thing yk<3

it's wolfstar- and jily centered, or at least it started out that way, but Pandora and Barty lowkey started taking over the story as i got progressively more and more invested in their characters. The plot itself is still about wolfstar and jily, and they're still the MCs, but half the chapters are just pandora and barty being icons at this point😭 then barty and lily started flirting and i was like, WOW, HOLD ON, WE'RE GETTING WAYY OFF TRACK HERE so i invented ✨east of eden✨ to let my inner demons unfold (and east of eden has now become my favourite to write, unsurprisingly). this is also essentially how i got into shipping bartylily lol<3

oh and look at that, i've already gotten off track in my own rambling again... let me tell you about out of order!!

it's a boarding school AU, and a muggle AU with a modern setting. the concept is that sirius and james are your standard it-boy roommates and have been for the past several years (peter erasure:( didn't much like his character when i started writing it and it's too late to change it now), but the story starts off with remus transferring to their school and being assigned to their dorm, which starts a bunch of drama, because remus is a rather famous influencer. The Thing is, though, that wolfstar used to be very close, but a Big ThingTM happened two years ago which sparked a HUGE conflict between the two of them that no one else knows about, and which would be a huge scandal for Remus' career if it ever got out. the whole thing's very dramatic and tense, and there's a bunch of drama happening on the side lines while the story unfolds. i'm adding a little snippet below that's really not that little because i just can't shut the fuck up. it's set at mary's birthday party, narrated by an ecstasy-tripping remus lol<3

(forever pushing the albino rosier twins agenda btw)

As Remus trips through the tightly packed dance floor, even the familiar of faces distort and disfigure, napes growing fingers that stretch through tinsel-decorated locks of hair and eyes that are too wide, or too round, or just misplaced in general. Mostly, they're brown, or green, or blue. Some are heavy-lidded, some are red around the edges, some have dilated pupils. Pandora's eyes have a sort of reddish purple shade. They're the type of eyes that are round and sort of puppy-like, with a little space of white that droops below her irises as if she's always looking up. She's traced them with eyeliner that stands out against the pale surface of her skin, and when she smiles, gentle creases form under her platinum bottom lashes. "Remus." Her voice sounds like she's speaking through a shallow body of water. Her eyes look like little purple suns. Remus sees them rise and fall over the horizon and imagines how his lifespan shortens by another day every time they move. He imagines how ancient she must be. This is why you shouldn't do ecstasy in the bathroom, he supposes. He blinks. She's looking at him still. He blinks again. "Aren't you supposed to hate me?" "Hate you?" Her head tilts to the side. There's something faintly unsettling about the way her features bend with her emotions, not a cold and motionless face like Regulus' or a vivid display of dramatics like Sirius', but some third and different option entirely. "I don't do that much. Why do you think I should hate you?" Remus shrugs. He's sort of forgotten. "I don't know. Aren't you Regulus' girlfriend?" "Certainly not," she laughs. "Regulus is family. Sure if you'd hurt him, I'd hurt you, but I wouldn't have to hate you to do that." She says it easily, not the trace of a threat in her tone. She's quite a small girl, smaller than both Lily and Regulus - still, Remus' intuition tells him that he'd be in deep trouble if she ever decided she wanted him to be. Remus sways slightly. The song changes and more people press onto the dance floor; he feels the pulse of the wood under his feet. It beats in sync with his own pounding head. Pandora smiles, and Remus watches her eyes crease. She says, "But Regulus isn't the one you damaged, at the end of the day, so I hold nothing against you." She's got a pretty voice, softspoken and a little deep for a girl, with a posh finality to the details of her words. She pronounces them properly, pierced lips moving around each syllable like she's blowing bubbles through a piece of gum: Certainly. Pop. Regulus. Pop. Sure. Pop. "Oh," Remus says. He feels like a tree in the wind. "That's good." Pandora laughs. She reaches out a small hand, fingers heavy with silver rings. There's one on her middle finger, shaped like a snake. It hisses at Remus. "Come, let's go to the others," it says. Pandora's hand is sort of warm, but also sort of cold, like when you put your hand into water so cold it seems to ignite your skin.

[tricornonthecob]

Title Line

LK 106: Hey Man, Nice Shot Heard Round The World

(pt1)(pt2)(pt3)(pt4)

She just said Fuckit and fell asleep, but like. Having once stayed awake for 72 hours straight, I can't blame her. Pro tip: don't stay awake for 72 hours straight unless you're invested in carrying on a conversation with your paralysis demon.

Welp. Just gonna let these two teens sleep in the same room together without a chaperone. Its not like teens are known for hormonal urges and poor decision-making and the people here certainly aren't going to assume they're automatically going to canoodle. Nope. Just gonna walk away.

I can't tell if she was power napping or just faking it so she could sneak out.

turns out ya boi sleep-mutters. Like a beagle/great dane puppy muttering while it dreams of chaos and well-reasoned but incendiary rhetoric.

Can confirm, drank the tap water in Massachusetts and wanted to fight a seagull. also is that TJ lurking back there...?

Possibly due to the more than 100 years of the British government being fairly hands-off until George Number 3 inherited all the war debt from the 7 Years War and him and Parliament looked up and said "hang on a minute..."?

Britain was pretty fucking invested in it, too, Sarah, lets not forget which group of people were the ones hellbent on a dick waving contest with the French.

Oh god oh no oh honeyyyyyy

...Wait what was the question?

Also I really wish they had gone more in depth into the Phillips family I am so weirdly invested in them. Welp, guess I just gotta make more fan content of them now.

Yes hello I'd like to make a complaint, the nerds are respectfully debating politics in the lounge during quiet hours again. Hmmm? Well, yes, I suppose their arguments are sound enough, not a fallacy or strawman in sight, but I really wanted to sleep in.

Idea. Speech and Debate club but like Dueling Pianos: with an audience that is completely trashed and made up primarily of bachelorette and 21st birthday parties. Dueling Thesis Statements. We could revolutionize academia and University education!

Girl just elegantly collapses to her knees, damn you didn't need that flourish.

Sarah I think they already know that? And somehow I don't think you want to send the Yankee Dude Dandies to Parliament I think they might throw punches in-between verses.

Danger is half the reason she's doing this, you knew that about her James.

Man it really didn't take him long to adjust to Sarah also being a journalist, did it. Ride or Die.

Give it up for ya bois, the Stock Footage Soldiers of Foote. We're gonna be seeing a lot more of them!

Did he not know that his cousin was in the colonies??? And yet they greet each other like they're best cousin-buddies. I want to know more about what happened, did Lady Phillips not inform her sibling(s)-in-law about sending her 15-year-old daughter out to find her husband? I don't think she did. I think Lady Phillips is Going Through It and there's some spicy drama on the Phillips side.

(also why am I picking up gay vibes from him)

oh my GOD HE IS GAY THAT'S HIS LOVER I AM HERE FOR TOM PHILLIPS / BRYAN JOHNSON. The ship name is Philson.

Oh honeyyyyyyy.

Honestly he's taking it pretty well.

His disappointment is immeasurable and his day is ruined by Shockingly Competent New Englanders.

Cousin Tom is kinda sitting like an awkward schoolgirl here. but also just lookit those two. Philson is so cute together!

I want. To know. About. The Phillips. Family. Drama.

[rosalesbeausderholle]

So, like... are you a terf? Can't tell tbh

Okay, so I've been staring at this ask for days, trying to decide to answer or not, because I knew if I answered I'd likely end up writing a lot about my thoughts on this whole thing, and that the effort wouldn't be appreciated, so I'd rather leave it or answer with a witty one-liner.

But you know what? This is also the perfect opportunity to actually lay out my beliefs, which have changed over the years, and get certain things off my chest, because I feel like I must, so I'm going for it. Obviously, this blog is not super serious, but I do talk a lot about politics and especially feminism on here, so I think it's important that the people who read it get a good sense of where I actually stand.

This may be long, so I'm gonna give a short answer for your benefit, anon, and then a long one.

So, am I a terf?

Short answer: no. I neither consider myself a radical feminist nor do I exclude trans people's experiences with gender from my analysis of gender, while I firmly believe that feminism is a movement for women's liberation and must center women, the destruction of gender roles would be helpful to everyone. I also, genuinely, don't have anything against trans people, even if I disagree with some stances on gender people tout in the name of trans rights. So no, I don't think I am one.

And if you mean it in the sense of "is this blog safe for trans followers?" Well, it's a blog, a blog can't physically hurt you or oppress you, or make you unsafe. It can upset you, sure, and I hope I don't upset people by blogging, but I don't post anything with the intent to hurt anyone, and I hope I don't hurt trans people either, I certainly don't go out of my way to do so.

Now, the long (long, long, looong) answer under the cut:

It is true that I don't consider myself a radical feminist, that is, I don't consider myself a radical feminist anymore.

There's many reasons why I drifted away, but mostly it boils down to the general atmosphere in the movement. During my years around online radical feminist spaces I've seen people become increasingly more and more cruel and increasingly more like the people they argue against. What led me to it in the first place was not only that it pointed out the flaws and problems on popular views on gender, sexuality, and feminism in general, but that they were proud of being "the rational ones", "the ones that don't ostracize people for wrong think", "the smart ones that act according to science and not obsessive beliefs that don't hold up to analysis" and over the years I've just found that to be untrue.

The sense of sisterhood is just… not there and it honestly feels like you're one wrong word of being metaphorically stabbed in the back (the same way I feel within mainstream feminist/lgbt communities, echo chambers proliferate anywhere). I've seen people piled on for the smallest disagreements and misinterpretations, I've seen women demonized over all kinds of shit, and for incredibly hypocritical reasons too (one notable example that I'm sure people familiar with the drama will recognize is the woman who admitted to having done BDSM and be a Domme… harassing and stalking a woman who was abused by bdsm as a teen?) The cruelty I've seen some radfems express towards other women is honestly astounding, and I'm not about that.

There's also a lot of bigotry. For one, yes, there's radfems that are transphobic (of course they say that they aren't, that transphobia doesn't exist, or that they consider transphobia to be something else entirely) and I don't even mean in the sense of using one set of pronouns over the other or not believing in gender, I mean in the sense of being outright cruel towards trans people who don't deserve it whatsoever. In the sense of immediately assuming that all trans people ever are fetishists and have awful intentions and want nothing but to hurt women and gay people, in the sense of constantly making fun of trans people's appearances, in the sense of talking about how the bodies of trans people are "broken", "mutilated", "deformed".

Not to mention the fact that so many have no sympathy whatsoever for what experiencing dysphoria is like. Then of course, there's a myriad of words like "troon" that just feel like "I want to call trans people slurs but I might get judged for that." I can't stand for that, no matter the disagreements I have with mainstream ideas about gender.

I've also seen many examples of ableism, homophobia, racism, and a lot, like A LOT, of internalized misogyny which leads to saying incredibly misogynistic things towards other women. Whatever the debate du jour is, it feels like there's always someone ready to call someone else a "dickworshipper", or to call lesbians "incels", or to express some seriously victim-blaming-sounding sentiments towards women abused by men.

This has become worse in the recent years because as more and more people find out about the feminist vs trans debate about gender, and more people self-identify as "gender critical" (a label that now makes me ashamed), more white conservatives have started to use these platforms to spread hate, and also, as the debate becomes viler and crueler on both sides, people, well, people get angrier, they get somewhat radicalized (again, this goes for both sides), they start believing it is acceptable to behave in a way they wouldn't have a year ago. The fact that this all happens across the internet just makes it worse, because it's easier to insult anonymously than to someone's face.

So, because of that, and because of not agreeing with stuff like political lesbianism and some level of biological essentialism (not in the way people use it, in the "men are naturally wired to be violent and misogyny is inescapable" way, which I don't grudge people for having these sentiments I get why they exist, I just disagree) I don't call myself a radical feminist anymore.

However, it is still true that I have a lot of problems with modern takes about gender and feminism, and that if you were to label my feminism, "radical feminist" would be what fit best. The fact that I disagree with a lot of how radfems/gcs act doesn't mean they can't also be right in certain issues and I've personally made lots of friends and met a lot of wonderful and incredibly smart people through these spaces. And the idea that anyone that so much associates with "terfs" is immediately an irredeemable demon is a flat-out fear-mongering lie.

There's a reason why these debates get so heated and so hurtful, and while sure, I recognize that it is true that most trans people want to live their lives happily as they feel most comfortable, I can't just ignore how there's a lot of misogyny and homophobia that so many people arguing for trans rights (both by people who are trans and who are cis) spout.

The cotton ceiling is a prime example, it will never be anything but incredibly homophobic to tell lesbians and gay men that we must examine our sexualities in order to change them so that they include trans people that we're not attracted to. And this has hurt people, a lot of us, and it has even lead of actual real instances of sexual coercion, because in a climate in which being attracted to someone means validating and respecting them, and not validating them is the worst you could do, it gets so so so easy for predators and abusers to take advantage of vulnerable people. And this, by the way, has nothing to do with anything inherent to trans people, but with that how predatory people have always been drawn to those who are vulnerable.

And you can argue in circles all you want about how "well nobody is telling you that you have to fuck X, nobody cares!" they sure care when they ask lesbians unprompted who they'd sleep with in order to make sure they're politically pure, they sure care when they make guides telling us step by step how we should get over our aversion to penis, they sure care when being only attracted to the same sex as yourself gets you immediately branded as a terf and that's the worst thing anyone could be ever, regardless of your actual stances on feminism and on trans issues. The moment someone has said "no, I'm not into that" and your response is "yes, ok, BUT you should ask yourself why" you've already lost, you've already become the bad guy in the situation, you're already trying to ignore someone else's sexual boundaries.

And the reason why lesbians and gay men care so much and get so angry about this is because we've fought for so long for our sexual orientation to be accepted and for us to be able to proudly be ourselves, and now, we not only have to face homophobia from outside the community, but from the inside too. We can't even rely on the people who are supposed to be on our side not to be disgustingly homophobic towards us. And yes, wanting us to change our sexual orientation so you, personally, feel valid is nothing but homophobic. We're not hurting people or disrespecting them by not sleeping with them, we're not fetishists or genital-obsessed freaks. We just happen to be attracted to one sex that's all. It's not evil, it's just how we are. And you know what? I don't deny that there's women out there who might be a, idk, Kinsey 5 and who'd describe their sexualities as "everyone who identifies as a woman", and you know that's fine, but the fact is that these women's sexuality doesn't work the same as mine, I'm attracted to female people, not to external femininity or a gender identity (something I can't even see!) and I'm not gonna apologize for feeling like that. It also doesn't have to be hurtful for trans people that there's people who are exclusively same-sex and opposite-sex attracted, while other people may be more attracted to gender presentation. We're just different, that's okay. And sex is not activism, so no one has to sleep with anyone so that person is respected, because sex =/= validation =/= respect, but rather respect of other people's personhood is the only thing that equals respect, whether you find them hot or not.

There's also a lot of misogynistic sentiments that come out of modern lgbt communities and liberal progressives, and who are tied up in debates about trans rights. Such as: the insane idea that biological sex doesn't actually exist or matter, people claiming to be progressive yet basing their gender identity (or other's gender identity) off of gender roles. So many parents who go to the doctor and get a diagnosis of gender dysphoria only become worried in the first place because their little girl played with trucks or their little boys like to wear dresses, because they find that behaviour aberrant. I don't think that is in any way progressive, and I don't think people saying "I'm trans because I fit the gender steriotypes of the opposite sex" is either and sure, not everyone does that, but it happens. I believe in abolishing gender in the sense of abolishing gender roles, I don't think there's anything inherently masculine or feminine, there's just people who, mostly, are of one sex or the other, and there's the roles that are imposed and assigned unto them from the moment the doctor says "it's a girl/boy" (please everyone read Delusions of Gender).

Basing one's identity on gender roles and misogynistic ideas of what it means to be a man/woman is just… misogynistic... plain and simple, and while everyone is free to do what they wish, I can't just pretend that I'm okay with the perpetration of misogynistic gender steriotypes, or pretend that my body doesn't make me part of a sex class which is who misogyny is aimed at, and that my only sense of "womanhood" comes not from pronouns or from an innate feminine essence but rather my body and all the experiences I've lived in it. And I can't deny that, or deny that other female people (or afab people, if you prefer) are also affected by misogyny because of their bodies and how they're interpreted, regardless of their gender identity. It's ridiculous to say that a trans man can't be part of feminism, or that he has the same status in patriarchy of a cis man, same with trans and cis women, it is ridiculous to pretend our bodies aren't real and don't affect our lived experiences.

Of course people experience is gender dysphoria and I want to be empathetic to that experience, and I believe that people have the right to deal with it however they feel more comfortable with, which yes, includes gender transition. But there's also people who detransition for a myriad of reasons, and people who are dysphoric but don't physically transition for medical reasons, or people who's dysphoria doesn't last forever. Because of that, what I believe is that there should be available methods of dealing with dysphoria that don't include only transition, and I don't think that's taking away from trans people, but rather giving people who are dysphoric more options. I obviously do not support conversion therapy in any way shape or form, but medical transition is still a huge, literally life changing process, and people deserve to be informed when they go through it and have more options to deal with their dysphoria if they decide not to (options that obviously aren't going to a conservative therapist and encouraging them to be a girly straight girl or a manly straight man).

There's not one way to be a man or a woman, gender roles are bullshit and not natural, homosexuality is real (and so is sex) and it's fine that it exists, trans people deserve the right to live free of discrimination, homophobia and misogyny can also come from people who aren't white cishet conservatives, and deserves to be called out for what it is, but so does transphobia. Oh, and burn the sex industry to the ground too. That's what I believe.

Now, you tell me if I'm evil.

[shall-we-imagine]

Scaredy Cat. (Badboy!SigurdxReader)

Bet you weren't expecting this, huh.

Requested: 26. "All due respect, but that's a bunch of crap." From the prompt list.

A/N: Badboy!Klaus was quite popular so why not try this? 🤷‍♀️idk how to write proper bad boys so spare me I'm trying 😂 this is also a bit of an idol AU? 😂 you can call me artist; you can call me idol sorry I'm actually loving the BTS comeback even though a lot of people don't...aannd that's not the right place to discuss this I'll shut up. Moving on.

Genre: Fluff.

(Second Person Point of View)

Being friends with an idol had its pros and cons. On one hand, it led to you being friends with all his group mates, and it also scored you dates with other idols. On the other hand, you barely get to even see your friend; it's always video calls, and even those aren't as often as you'd like. But what can you do? As long as he's following his dream, you're happy for him.

Sometimes, however, you wish you could just have him around whenever you need him. He's always very caring towards you, but he can't help it that he's busy. So, sometimes you just have to suck it up and deal with your own problems yourself. Or do you?

Pacing around the living room, you contemplate calling Serge. If he was sleeping, you really didn't wanna disturb the tiny bit of sleep he gets. What if he was busy doing something else? He usually calls when he's free anyway..

"It's okay; I'll be fine." You whisper to yourself reassuringly, even though your voice came out filled with uncertainty. As you approach the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, you flick on as much light switches as possible. There ain't no demon attacking you tonight, nope.

You down the refreshing glass of water. "There. That's not so bad. I can do thi-" your sentence was cut off by your own squeal. What was that noise?

You hesitantly inch closer to your open kitchen window. As you were scolding yourself for leaving that window open, you peek into the back yard of your house. There it was. The source of the noise.

You could see the bushes shaking violently, indicating something or someone was in there. Trembling hands reach to quietly shut the window and blinds, as you tip toe away from the window. Maybe it was the fact that you were home alone getting the best of you, but you were terrified to the core. Someone might be lurking around in your backyard, and that would explain the odd noises you'd been hearing for the past hour or so.

You rush back into the living room. What in the world were you supposed to do?

Call your parents? They're thousands of miles away; they can't particularly help.

Call the police? Okay, you're not actually sure someone is out there, and you don't wanna just call for nothing..

The only person left to call was Serge..

You promised yourself that you'd call one time; if he doesn't pick up, you have to try to ignore the noises.

Please, for the love of everything good, pick u-

"Hello?" A voice deeper and more calm than Serge's booms through the phone.

You frown. "Um, isn't that Serge's phone?"

"Yes, darling, but Serge is shooting for his up coming drama right now, so he can't respond to the phone he forgot at the dorms." Darling? Oh, it's him. "Figured you might need some company, though, so I replied." You could almost see him smirk.

Now, when you say you're friends with the group Serge belongs to, well, there's an exception, and that's the one and only Sigurd Curtis. Fans love him for his 'mysterious charms', but all you could see is an irritating jerk. And now was really not the time for him.

"So? What did you call for?" His question reminds you that you hadn't replied to him earlier.

You sigh. "I called for Serge, but he's not here, so I'm hanging up."

"Oh, come on, am I not good enou-" you hang up before hearing the rest of his teasing and whining.

You couldn't really understand him much. He was generally quiet, but somehow, when it comes to you, he becomes the most talkative person on the planet. Which would've been fine if he didn't use all his power to tease you and flirt with you for no reason.

Well, there's no other choice but to deal with the unreasonable fear yourself.

#####

"This is not working." You huff, unable to stop thinking someone might break in. Your house didn't have a single light bulb turned off, which was probably going to be a pain when your parents receive the electricity bill, but you didn't have any plans of turning any of them off for now.

You stare at your phone, as if silently willing it to start ringing and showing Serge's picture. Of course, that didn't happen even after you stared for a full minute.

"Should I try calling again?" You sigh.

You took your heart thumping in fear as a yes. You prayed with all your power the idiot would respond, but once again, you were greeted with the flirtatious tone you feared hearing.

"Missed me already?"

A loud groan sounds across the empty room. "When is Serge coming back?"

"I don't know, cupcake." Knowing he specifically uses this to make you uncomfortable, you try your best not to cringe. "I've just been informed you're home alone. Is that why you want Serge? You're scared?"

Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "Usually..when my parents go on trips for work, Serge spends his time talking to me to get my mind off of the fact that I'm home alone." You admit sheepishly. "Sometimes he even sings me to sleep." You add in a quieter voice, part of you hoping he didn't hear it. You didn't even know why you were telling him this; maybe sleep-deprived you was extra friendly and liked over sharing.

"Oh." A pause was followed by a confident statement, "I could do that!"

"W-what?" However, there was no response. "He hung up? What in the world is wrong with that guy?!"

No longer than 2 minutes later, you were jumpscared by the doorbell. You silently approach the door, unsure who would be at the door. Of course, there was a face that popped into your head, but you somehow still couldn't be sure if it was really him.

"Sigurd?" You eye the taller male. His hair was freshly dyed black; he was even given an undercut while the hair on the top of his head was styled in a messy quiff. His attire was black as usual. Of course, as an idol, he had to switch colours, but when he got to wear what he wants, he'd almost always dress in black, to add to his 'mysterious' aura- you assume. He wore a black tank top with random scribbles on the front, matched with black skinny jeans that had some chains hanging from them; you never really understood that odd choice of clothing, but you didn't question it. What you did question, however, was the choker he wore.

"Sharing closets with your dog or something?" You point at the strange accessory. It was adorned with spikes and a few silver chains intertwining with each other; the best way to describe it was that it looked like a dog's collar.

"Ha ha very funny. It's called fashion, pancake, you wouldn't understand." Wearing a sympathetic smile, he pats your shoulder, allowing himself inside.

"Are you hungry or something? Wasn't it cupcake at first? Now it's pancake? What's with that?" You roll your eyes. Nice sleep-deprived you was nowhere to be seen, apparently.

He glances at your chest before looking back into your eyes and giving an innocent smile. "Nothing." He walks further into the house, not waiting for a reaction from you.

"You little-" you bite back an insult, knowing he just enjoys pushing your buttons. You had to stay calm. "Why are you here? I didn't even invite you. Plus don't you have work or something?!"

"You implicitly invited me." He points out, "And, no, we're on a break, remember?"

A sudden knocking noise makes you jump before you could even respond to the dork that made himself comfortable on your couch.

He stares at you with a raised eyebrow, "that was a branch hitting the window.."

"I knew that." His intense stare doesn't waver. "Okay, fine. It scared me..a little! I'm scared of being home alone, and there's a person lurking outside the house and-"

"There's a person lurking outside the house?!" He hops off the couch, his expression -for once- not smug or playful but concerned. It somehow made your heart skip a few beats. Surely, you were overreacting, though; there's no way he just looked attractive because he seemed concerned. There's no way you suddenly noticed how well black contrasts his skin tone, making it suit him beautifully. Nope.

"Well, I'm not very sure it's a person.." you explain shyly, "I just heard some noises and saw the bushes moving.."

"Man, you freaked me out for nothing." He runs a hand through his visibly soft hair. "Where was it you saw the bushes move?"

"Okay, stay here and keep the door locked; I'll take a look outside to ensure nobody's out there." He instructs, after you show him to the back door.

"Sigurd, you don't need to do this. What if someone dangerous was out there?" You attempt to reason with him.

He chuckles, "you worried about me, cupcake?"

You pretend to gag. "You might as well find yourself a ride home cuz I'm not gonna be opening that door again."

After a few moments, you hear Sigurd call out for you, claiming you should come out. He has teamed up with the serial killer outside and plans to trick you into getting murdered?

"Oh my god stop panicking; just come out! It's a puppy for God's sake!" He shouts, even though he really couldn't see you or your desire to ignore his request to leave the safety of your house.

"Fine!" You shout back, as you reluctantly pull open the door. The view beyond the door certainly made you glad you complied with his request, though.

Sigurd was crouching on the grass rubbing a small Pit bull's belly. It wiggled its tail happily, as he continued to shower it with affection. You almost let out a small awwhh. You almost forgot that this was the same guy you threatened to not let back into your house.

"I think that's my neighbour's puppy." You muse, as you approach Sigurd and the pit bull. You check the red, spike-filled collar. "Look. It's matching with you." You tease.

"Hey! How many times do I have to explain-"

You cut him off to add in a mocking tone, "it's fashion!!"

He merely glares, to which you laugh. It was your turn to tease him for once. "Anyway, we need to take it back to its owner." You state.

"Can't we keep it for a bit longer, please?" He pouts, catching you off guard.

"U-uh, um, we can't!" You begin to object, but all you could think of was how cute that was. Looking at this guy, with at least 2 sets of ear piercings and a hair cut to display a rebellious aura, just sit there pouting at you because you told him to take the puppy back to its owner- it was so strange yet so adorable.

You do your best to ignore the red adorning your cheeks, as you stand your point and demand he takes it back.

"No fun." He grumbles, as he lifts the puppy and holds it to his chest. "Fine; where's the house? At least come with." He gets off the ground. That's when you first notice some minor details of his tank top. The sides were sort of see-through, allowing you glimpses of his toned body underneath.

"Whatchu starin' at?" Your eyes meet with the smug male's. His smirk just never left his lips, as he continuously wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"Nothing!" You push past him, giving yourself a way to hide your burning cheeks. "That's the house; just follow me." You announce, mainly to change the topic.

After doing your duty as a noble neighbour and returning the puppy to its owner, you head back to your house, Sigurd following behind- obviously.

"I'm so tired." You yawn.

The dark haired male gives an excited grin. "Time to sing you to sleep!" He claps happily. Mysterious charms they say. That guy is the biggest dork you've ever seen. You are friends with Serge, though, so maybe second biggest dork.

"You really don't have to-"

He cuts you off, "All due respect, but that's a bunch of crap. I want to do it, and you want me to do it too." Well, he wasn't wrong. Sigurd's voice is really unique; it's one you really enjoy listening to. This would pretty much be like a private show..how can you say no?

"Well, get comfortable cuz I'm not gonna strain my precious vocals just for you to not fall asleep." He informs, earning an eye roll from you.

Once you place yourself in relaxing position and pull the covers up to your chest, Sigurd begins singing quietly and soothingly. His voice was so calming and gentle, urging you to throw away your worries and let the sweet melody carry you to the land of dreams. Which you inevitably did. Your eyelids had already gotten too heavy for you to keep them open; therefore, it took no time for you to drift into deep sleep.

######

An annoyingly loud ringtone disturbs your comfortable sleep, and you force your eyes open.

You hear a groan coming from the edge of the bed, almost giving you a heart attack before you remember last night's events.

"Hello?" Sigurd grumbles into his phone. As it was a video call, you could see the caller- Serge.

"Sigurd, wher- wait a minute; is that (Y/N)?! Why are you in bed with (Y/N)?? (Y/N), why are you in bed with your least favourite member of the group??" Serge cuts off his own speech to begin yelling about the situation he misunderstood.

"Wait; what do you mean least favourite member?? Why am I your least favourite?! Who's your bias then??" Sigurd complains. What made it funnier and cuter was the fact that you could tell he was genuinely offended by him not being your bias.

"Guy." You confess, "or Joel."

"I spent the night here and sang you to bed; don't I at least get an upgrade??" He whines.

"Hey, why am I not your bias?" Serge joins in, also visibly offended.

"You're my friend. it's weird to have you as a bias." You defend.

"Joel and Guy are your friends too!" Serge just isn't having it, clearly.

"Oh my god, Serge, just let it go, please?" You plead. It was too early in the morning for this.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. We'll discuss this later." He states. "Anyway, Sigurd, where did you leave my phone? I don't wanna keep using Guy's! Well, not that he would let me, but yeah."

"Your pho- oh." Sigurd's confused expression switches to an embarrassed one. "I might've taken it with me?" He pulls a second phone from his pocket.

"Sigurd, I've been calling since morning! You better bring it back right now! I can't believe you-" Sigurd cuts off Serge's rant by hanging up. "Well, I guess I have to go. Man, I'll never hear the end of it!" He groans, to which you giggle lightly. "I mean it is your fault for taking his phone." You point out.

"I was comforting you!" He defends. He looked so hurt you didn't appreciate his 'efforts', which made you want to pinch his cheeks or something. His hair had gotten messier, somehow making him even more attractive, yet you wanted to pinch his cheeks. Well, in your defense, he was acting like a child.

"Anyway, I'm gonna get going now." He pushes himself off the bed. "If you ever need someone to spend the night again, always call me." He winks. "You're an idiot." You shake your head.

"Goodbye, (Y/N)." He smiles. (Y/N). This was the first time he calls you with your real name ever since you met.

"You just called me (Y/N)." You grin victoriously.

"No, I didn't, cupcake." He yells, disappearing into the hallway. You throw your head back in frustration. He just won't stop being his annoying self, huh? Sadly, you felt yourself liking it and waiting for another meeting with him.

"I'm getting bias wrecked, aren't I?" You sigh.