#i feel like a lot of this is fairly obvious to a lot of people

[pastabaguette]

sorry for all the posts today, but this one is very important: alternian video game edits.

i actually have reasonings for all of their blood types, and a few classpects, so i'll dive into them here:

monika: i'm thinking that early in the game, during acts 1 and 2, she maybe masqueraded as a jadeblood or higher. only during act 3 does she reveal herself as a fuchsia to the protagonist.

gordon and alyx: gordon is probably a tealblood, or somewhere around there. fairly high, but not too high, i think. alyx is an olive, and eli is an indigo. azian was probably a gold. (or lime?) i did have to keep gordon’s orange HEV suit, though. surely you understand. okay, troll half life lore: i think on alternia, all the main characters in the half life franchise are like, olive or above. the rebels in follow freeman and the guards are all lowbloods, so that the player doesn't feel too bad about sacrificing them, or something like that. i think this would be something that would happen in an alternian video game, at least.

agent 47: 47 is actually a mutant, due to being manufactured in a lab. he's a weird ice-blue color. he's still got that piercing stare. i felt a little sad changing his iconic red tie, but i do have some thoughts on that as well. obviously, red in human culture tends to symbolize passion, among other things, and in this case, violence and aggression, because it's the color of blood. however, because trolls all have different blood colors, i think they might have different meanings attached to colors than humans typically do. i think that typically, the colors that would most commonly represent aggression in alternian culture would be blue (cobalt and indigo) and purple. now, i know that the sea dwellers exist, but since the vast majority of trolls are lowbloods, they would have a lot more contact with the land-dwelling highbloods, rather than the fish. so, 47’s tie is blue. (i also just think it looks cool matching his eyes)

chell: I made chell a bronzeblood. she’s a test subject, but not one of the special ones (astronauts, olympians, etc). she’s just another lab rat. (also, a lot of her outfit is orange…)

now for classpects! i only have two i’m sure of as of now:

gordon freeman is an heir of hope. this one is fairly obvious to me. a common belief is that heirs have the ability to become their aspect, in a way. in half life 2, gordon quickly becomes the main symbol of the resistance on earth. for the rebels, he himself IS hope.

agent 47 is a prince of life. again, it’s a common interpretation that princes are themselves void of their aspect, and they destroy that aspect in others. this is really literal, obviously, but as a hitman, 47 kills people. literally destroying life. as for his own lack of life in himself, it’s pretty simple as well. 47 is almost always described as entirely void of emotion and empathy. others often remark on his soulless stare, a lack of life behind his eyes. so, as a prince, he fulfills both criteria there.

holy hell, that was a lot of words. i didn’t intend to talk this much. feel free to add your own thoughts; i’d like to hear what others think. these descriptions were a bit rushed, and i don’t really consider myself to be very good at communicating my thoughts, so a lot of things may have been lost in translation. i’d be happy to try and elaborate on my reasonings for any of them.

(oh, also, please no alyx spoilers. i haven’t played it yet!)

[calliopeebles]

inspired by the fact that i was talking about berdly on discord the other day and i later realized i was using my headcanons for him to talk about growing up autistic

[shrekyaoi]

Do you have any recommendations for other good Roach content? I'm not the biggest fan of how Roach is typically portrayed in fanon

unfortunately i‘m probably not the best person to ask since i started writing this to, among other reasons, “be the change you want to see.” i was also dissatisfied with how i saw roach being portrayed (namely as a skinny painfully white twink with the personality of a sweat rag) and decided to take matters into my own hands. i guess i could do a shoutout to my own past fics but roach doesn’t really feature in them very heavily, although the lore i’ve created for him has been pretty consistent since i’ve started. it’s deeply frustrating that i haven’t found anyone who really sees him the way i do but as with most things in fandom, c’est la vie. if any of my followers have recs though feel free to slam those in the replies. i’d like to get a look at them, too.

[wlw-cryptid]

what does stimming mean

the word itself is a riff on "stimulation" and the action of stimming is an autism/adhd thing mostly? I believe it's usually like a(n often unorthodox) natural expression/reaction to whatever situation you're in. repetitive body movements me personally. i wiggle in my seat when im really happy or flustered or something because i just dont know how else to let all that out and its gotta go Somewhere

like. sometimes you feel an emotion so much that the reaction bubbles up and overflows into a physical energy, with a common example being flapping hands when youre happy, or clenching your fists really hard when youre overwhelmed by your environment. stims can be bigger things too, like rocking, bouncing, or spinning around.

BUT i think it can also be a stimulation seeking thing too? like being Understimulated so you start scratching at your skin, rubbing a certain kind of fabric, or tapping on a surface. like i said, a common stimming example is rocking. like in your seat, on your feet, or maybe in bed. its Soothing. stimming can give your brain a Sensation it was desperately looking for like that n a person often feels calmer because of it. but i might just be conflating this side of things with something that is more accurately put under a different name.

[popsicle-stick]

people who give jonathan harker a devon accent in dracula. i owe you my life

[fingertipsmp3]

Should I just write my cowboy falls in love with a werewolf idea. I’m starting to think it’s the only fun idea I’ve had recently

[mamahoggs]

i keep hopping back and forth on whether i think my first take on prompto is more accurate than my last…. why is this such a struggle

[medicinemane]

Jesus fucking christ I get tired of sitting here and hearing my dad loudly ripping ass from the other room

Like listen, I get it, I get that you can't control your guts. Like fuck, for a while... as in like months, I was having trouble even leaving the house... still no clue what was even up which makes me feel like my theory about not eating enough is in the lead given... haven't found any allergies I can identify

So I get it and have sympathy (and fear inheriting my dad's guts), but... it's just so fucking gross man

And it's also like... maybe I'm eating, maybe I'm watching a show... whatever it is the mood's kinda ruined by this just... it almost literally couldn't be louder or grosser

I get you can't control your guts but... do something... anything... see a doctor or... anything

It's just nasty. He's not a bad person, but my dad's just a nasty dude

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

This one powdered detergent smells so fucking good but my building said “only liquid in the machines” and if I use it hand washing my stuff is sometimes stiff afterwards. It smells so fucking good though 😫 and lasts way longer than the liquid stuff 😔 but they have cameras outside the laundry room (and I know they use them because sometimes they will put a note by your door if you forget a rule) so I can’t get away with using it in the machines. The shirt I put on today was washed a few months ago when I was still using it and it smells so good 🫠 I am sad

[prepare4trouble]

Guys, I need some opinions. This post randomly came up on Facebook, and I was horrified.

So were a lot of the people commenting on there. I shared it to a group, and people were split almost exactly 50/50 between “this is awful/they can’t breathe!/let them out” and “love this, I want one.”

I think this shows a fairly obvious split between two kinds of people. I have no idea what the difference is: age, neurodivergence, exposure to the Toy Story movies, whatever, but there seem to be two kinds of people.

So, I’m interested in whether we get the same kind of split on tumblr. I’m pretty sure I already know the answer, but I’m interested anyway. So.

[emisloves]

A FRIEND LIKE HIM ✦ N.RK

pairing: bsf!riki x fem!reader

genre: best friends to lovers

warnings: mixed signals, mutual pining (but not very obvious), jealousy, kissing, forced (?) making out, fluff

word count: 2.6k

a/n: looks familiar? i had posted it on @/emi-en, my previous blog. this was also my first attempt at fluff, so it isn't my best work. i am not very proud of this one.

You truly were grateful for having a friend like Riki.

From when you guys met back in second grade, when he shared his bento with you after finding you crying on the rooftop, since your mother forgot to pack you lunch, right up to your high school years, when he holds your hand to make sure you don’t get lost in crowds.

You really were grateful for him.

It's just that– sometimes you wished he wasn't so– confusing.

It was the third time this month. The third time a guy had come up to you to ask you out, before stuttering and backing up at the last second. The reason? Why, it's Riki of course.

He was always with you. Everywhere. He almost never left you alone, especially with a guy. His excuse was always the same whenever you confronted him about it.

“I just don't want to leave you alone with them– you know how some people can be when they don't get their way, right?”

It frustrated you beyond measure. But you understood his intentions. The last time you were alone on your own with a guy that wasn't him– didn't end very well.

Long story short, you had once managed to evade Riki and gone to the rooftop all by yourself, where you coincidentally met another classmate of yours. Said classmate was fairly nice, leading you guys to have a long conversation with each other– before he started being creepy.

Just before he could actually try anything, Riki found you guys. He took one look at your uncomfortable expression and the other dude’s face, immediately making an excuse about how you were both late to your after school tuition, quickly wrapping an arm around your shoulder and taking you away from the guy. So yes, in a way, you understood his protectiveness.

But this wasn't it. There were so many more things about him that confused you to no end. You see, he likes to give you mixed signals.

“Now what would you need my hair tie for?”

Riki scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Well– you know– look, all my friends wear one on their hand, okay? I also want one–”

You stared at him, unamused. “All of your friends also have girlfriends. They wear their girlfriends’ hair ties on their hands. You don't have a girlfriend. By wearing my hair tie, you would be basically saying that I am your girlfriend.”

He groaned. “Who cares what they think? If I want to wear your hair tie, I will. Now stop complaining and give me one.”

You sighed, taking a hair tie out of your pouch and handing it to him. Riki was persistent, you knew he wouldn't stop bothering you until you gave in.

To any passer-by, it would seem like he has feelings for you, right?

Wrong.

“How do I ask her out?”

You stopped chewing the end of your pencil momentarily, looking up from your work, surprised. You weren’t aware of Riki having a crush. “Who?”

Hei shook his head. “Doesn't matter, just tell me how I should ask a girl out. In a way where she absolutely cannot reject me.”

You raised a brow at him. So he had a crush on a girl, who he desperately wanted to go out with, and he decided you were the best person to ask for help from. Was it normal for you to feel hurt in a situation like this?

You shook off your stupid thoughts, before thinking deeply. “Well– you need to make it special and memorable for her.”

He stared at you cluelessly, causing you to stifle a groan. Must you teach him exactly how to ask a girl out?

“Maybe get her favorite flowers. A big bouquet of them. Don't ask her directly to be your date, make a special speech for her, the more emotional, the better. Remember, background also matters. If you do all that at some stupid place like a parking lot or something similar– prepare to get rejected.”

Riki slowly nodded, processing all the information. “Right– thanks a lot, dwarf.”

You gave an offended gasp. Dwarf? After you tell him exactly how to get a date without fail, he insults your height? Again?

You weren't even that short. It's not your fault he decided to keep growing until he was practically a giant– towering over not just you, but almost everyone in school. No wonder he is the Basketball Team Captain– but that's beside the point.

Do you see how confusing he is now? Well, guess what? There is more to it.

Riki always holds your hand in crowds, claiming you're ‘so short you can easily get lost, or worse, kidnapped.’ You had taken great offense to it the first time he said that, refusing to talk to him for two days– before he brought you ice cream at your house, causing you to finally cave in.

Since then, you haven't complained again. If Riki wants to hold your hand in crowds to ensure your safety, who are you to complain? Especially when his hand feels so warm and comforting against your own– but he doesn't have to know that.

Today was no different. Both of you were outside, having decided to hang out together for the entire evening, eating at different food stalls without any adult supervision. The streets were more crowded than usual, prompting him to hold your hand the entire time. The only times he left your hand was when the two of you stopped at a stall to eat.

As the evening rolled by, the streets got less and less crowded. Riki still hadn't left your hand.

It was already eight pm now. There were barely any people around– five people, give or take? That isn't considered a crowd, right? Then why was he still holding your hand?

You suddenly stopped walking, causing Riki to stop as well. He turned around, tilting his head and looking at you curiously. Noticing your silence, he finally spoke. “Why did you stop?”

You bit your lip, before snapping at him. “Why didn't you stop?”

He blinked, looking utterly baffled by your sudden outburst. “What do you mean by that?”

You rolled your eyes, before lifting both of your intertwined hands in front of his face. “This. You said you will hold my hand when we are in a crowd to prevent myself from getting lost– does this look like a crowd to you?”

Riki blinked, before opening his mouth, as if to say something, only to close it again. After ten extremely slow seconds, he spoke. “I just– like holding your hand– it feels nice–”

It was your turn to be stumped. Was it his life’s mission to make your heart flutter? You could only hope he didn't realize how red you were–

You snapped yourself out of the weird thoughts, mentally scolding yourself. ‘He doesn't like you like that, he is planning to ask someone else out to prom– stop overthinking his actions.’ That's what you always told yourself. Because, at the end of the day, he was just your best friend, and it’s normal for best friends to act this way– right?

You realized how stupid you looked just standing and staring at him, after he confessed to your hand feeling nice to hold. You cleared your throat, before speaking again. “Right– let's just go home now. It's pretty late anyway.”

One thing was for sure. You most definitely had a crush on Riki. The only problem? He is your best friend, there is no way you're ruining your friendship with him over a stupid crush that probably won't last.

You were wrong. Your feelings towards him did not fade away. Instead, they seemed to intensify, carving into an ugly jealousy whenever he looked at another girl or vice-versa. No matter how hard you tried to suppress your feelings, you couldn't help but look elsewhere when such an event happened, clenching your jaw or subtly rolling your eyes. Only, you weren't as subtle as you thought.

Both of you were on your way to the lockers, school having just ended. You were putting your books inside, while Riki waited for you beside your locker. Once you were done putting your books away, you closed the locker door, turning to him. “Alright I’m done let’s g–”

You stopped speaking, witnessing the exchange between Riki and another girl. The girl smiled at him and handed him a chocolate, before speaking. “Your last Basketball match was really fun to watch! You play really well, Riki. No wonder the coach selected you as captain. I will be there in your next match, wearing a jersey with your number to support you! Good luck!”

The girl smiled again, before walking away. The entire time she spoke, Riki was smiling. You couldn’t help the jealousy that flared in your chest at their interaction.

Riki looked at you, his smile dropping at your expression. He frowned at you. “What happened?”

You tried to neutralize your expression. “Nothing. Let’s just go home.”

He shook his head, fully turning towards you. “It doesn’t seem like it’s ‘nothing’."

You rolled your eyes, turning on your heel and starting to walk away from him. “As I said, it’s nothing. So drop it.”

Riki sighed, his shoulders slumping at your cold tone. He trailed behind you like a kicked puppy, not saying anything else.

The two of you lived in the same neighborhood, so both of you always went home and came to school together. Both of you always took a shortcut, a some-what creepy alleyway, in absence of which it would take an extra half an hour to travel.

Today, as you were walking through the same alleyway on your way back, you suddenly felt a tug on your hand. You turned around, to see Riki pulling you by the hand. “What happened?”

He didn’t let go of your hand. “We are alone now. Tell me what happened back there.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to shrug off his grasp– in vain. “Nothing happened. Let go of my hand.”

He was starting to get pissed off by your stubborn attitude. “Either you tell me now, or we stay here till you decide to stop being childish.”

You glared at him, harshly trying to tug your hand out of his grasp. “What is wrong with you? I just told you nothing happened, didn’t I? Let go of me–”

He tightened his hold on your hand, giving it a harsh tug, pulling you towards him. You gasped, stumbling forward, into his chest. He held you tightly by the waist, leaving you no room to escape. You put your hands on his chest, trying to push him away, in vain. “What the fuck–”

He glared at you. “Do you know how annoying it is when you decide to be such a stubborn bitch? I asked you nicely about what the actual fuck your problem was, didn’t I? However, it seems like you don’t understand anything when you’re spoken to nicely. Will you speak up now, or will I have to force an answer out of you?”

You scoffed at his audacity. “Are you threatening me now?”

He poked his inner cheek with his tongue. “If threatening you is what it takes for you to finally speak up, then yes, yes I am threatening you.”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him. You pushed him with all your strength, causing his grip to loosen, taking the chance to immediately run away. He was shocked at how you suddenly broke free, before shaking off his surprise and immediately running after you. His long legs caught up to you quickly, holding your wrist and harshly tugging it. You gasped, stumbling, causing him to quickly catch you. He slammed you against the alley wall, pinning your wrists above your head. He leaned down to be face to face with you. “Will you speak up now, or are you going to keep being stubborn?”

You looked at him, shock written all over your face. Your face hardened almost immediately. “Fuck you.”

His gaze sharpened. “Fine then. I didn’t want to do this but you left me no choice.”

Before you could come up with another sassy reply, Riki suddenly smashed his lips against yours, causing you to freeze.

The kiss was nothing like what you had imagined before. It was harsh, as if he was trying to punish you non verbally for not answering him. You didn’t reciprocate his kiss, keeping your lips firmly sealed. You could tell he was starting to get frustrated, but you still didn’t kiss him back.

He was starting to get pissed, letting go of your wrists to hold your waist in one hand, your jaw in the other. He bit down on your lip, drawing blood, causing you to gasp. He could care less about your discomfort, sucking the blood off your lip. He tilted your head with one hand, deepening the kiss.

You finally kissed him back, slowly bringing your hands to his shoulders. His kiss became a lot gentler, his grip on you loosening. After what felt like an eternity, you both finally parted.

He rested his forehead on yours, both of you trying to catch your breath. “Will you tell me what’s the matter now?”

You gulped, before sighing. “Nothing really. I was just– jealous.”

He frowned, lifting his head. “Jealous? Why so?”

You bit your lip, looking down. “That girl– she was talking to you and all you did the entire time she spoke was smile at her.”

He smiled slightly, lifting your chin. “It was only common courtesy.”

Upon seeing you continuing to sulk, he pressed a small peck to your lips, before speaking. “Besides, she isn’t the one that I’m kissing right now, is she?”

You went red in the face, praying he didn’t realize how hard you were blushing, before a thought struck you, causing your mood to sour again. “Why are you kissing me anyway? You shouldn’t do things like this casually just to get an answer out of someone.”

He laughed in disbelief, before pecking your cheek. “Remember when you told me exactly how to ask out a girl so that she wouldn’t be able to reject me in any circumstances?”

You slowly nodded. “Yea? What about it?”

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, I wanted to ask you out that way. A big bouquet of lilies and daisies, talking about how we met, how I felt about you at that time, when was the first time you made my heart flutter, how I got jealous of all the guys that tried to ask you out– all of it at the rooftop of our school, where we first met. But none of that matters now right? Since you already know how I feel.”

The entire time that he spoke, you listened to him, your eyes were open so widely that they looked like hearts. You smiled once he was done. “I had forgotten to add another thing. None of that matters if the girl you’re asking out is into you already.”

He looked baffled for a few seconds, before his eyes widened in realization. He smiled so wide that it started to hurt his cheeks. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, one that you gladly reciprocated. When you both broke apart, he leaned his forehead on yours, a small smile on his face. “This might not have been how I planned to confess, but I’m glad it happened this way.”

You smiled, kissing his cheek. “I’m glad too.”

[moonstruckme]

Ugh, Whimsical!reader x James (not together yet) where anytime she says something he just has the most lovesick look on his face and Sirius is like “we’ve lost him, boys” but then reader quips back with something about looking at those you’re comfortable and friendly with boosts your seratonin and you’re glad to have James look at you if it makes him happy

Thanks for requesting babe!

James Potter x whimsical!reader ♡ 932 words

“You seem like you’re feeling better today, Remus,” you say, passing him a cup of tea. You give one to Sirius, too, then James. It’s got a couple of little flowers floating on the top, James notices. Adorable. 

Remus looks a bit caught offguard. “I am, thanks. How’d you know?” 

“Your aura’s looking less gray than usual.” 

Sirius snickers. “Just like you to have a gray aura, Moons. Boring.” 

You settle on the couch beside James, crossing your legs underneath you. “I don’t think Remus is boring,” you say, voice soft and airy as dandelion fluff. “His color often just looks a tad sapped. It’s bluer today.” 

Remus seems to perk up a bit at your appraisal. He does look well, James thinks, but your noticing improves his color even more. Remus doesn’t like being viewed like a helpless, afflicted lamb, and you never have treated him like one, save whatever you put in his tea (it takes a few minutes longer to make than the rest of yours, though James pretends not to notice). 

James watches you watching Remus, and his heart gives a happy little throb. You’re so kind, considerate in ways which you play off as incidental, but he can see the effort you put into taking care of the people in your life. He doesn’t know how you know half the things you do, but you’re always looking out for them. He’ll be waiting for Sirius to come home late at night and you’ll text to ask if everything is okay, or Remus will be having one of his worse days and you’ll show up unannounced with chocolates and juniper bound with twine to “cleanse” their flat, whatever that means. Or when James was sick with the flu a few weeks ago, and Remus and Sirius both swore they hadn’t said a word to you but he’d woken from a nap to find you sitting beside him with soup and a very strong elderberry tea. He’s fairly sure your presence had healed him just as much as the sustenance. You have that effect on him. 

“Do we all have auras?” Sirius asks, and James comes out of his reverie to find his friend watching him with a poorly concealed smirk. He supposes he’s had that look on his face again. Lovestruck.

“Of course.” You give Sirius a funny smile, like this should be obvious. “Everyone has an aura,” you say, “we just can’t all see it all of the time.” 

“What’s yours look like?” James asks. 

Your lips part in surprise as you turn to look at him, your knee bumping his thigh. “I can’t see my own. I’d have to ask someone else.” 

“What about mine?” Sirius asks. 

You turn back to him. James feels the loss. “Right now, it’s mostly orange.” 

“Right now?” 

“Yours shifts a lot. A couple of minutes ago, it was pinker.” You tilt your head, considering. “You’re very sunset-y today, Sirius.” 

Sirius grins, and James knows that whatever his friend may think about auras, he’s going to carry that compliment with him for the rest of the week. “And what about our Jamesie? What’s his aura like?” 

“Oh, James’ almost never changes.” You look over at him with a small smile on your face. Maybe James is flattering himself, but he feels as though there’s a faintly secretive quality to it, like some part of your smile is just for him. “His is always yellow. Though I have been noticing a bit more red than usual lately.” 

James isn’t sure he can speak with your eyes on him like this. You’re so lovely it’s choking him. Thankfully, Remus comes to his aid. 

“Is that a good thing?” he asks. “It shifting, I mean.” 

You don’t turn away from James like he expects you’re going to. You hold his gaze, that smile broadening just slightly. It has all the soft radiance of moonlight. 

“I don’t think so,” you say. “It’s not making him any less himself, it only means that something has changed.” 

“Good god,” Sirius stage-whispers to Remus. “Look at him, we’ve lost him completely. Bet it gets redder every time he looks at her.” 

“It does, a little.” Your eyes flit upwards, presumably to colors which he can’t see but he imagines his face is starting to match. “It might be the serotonin boost. Looking at people you care about will do that.” You set a hand on top of his, thumb stroking over the knuckle of his pinkie finger. James’ mouth is a desert. “I’m happy to have James look at me if it makes him happy.” 

Sirius lets out a short laugh. “I’m sure it does, sweetheart. He’s—” 

Remus must elbow him, because he goes blessedly silent. 

“I’ve been wondering,” Remus says mildly, “do you give us different kinds of tea? They always look different from each other.” 

“Oh, yes.” You finally break your gaze away from James’, but your hand stays atop his. It’s hardly a whisper of a touch, and yet he’s very concerned you’re somehow absorbing every thought and feeling he’s having through some freaky osmosis. It doesn’t seem wholly out of the realm of possibility for you. “I make them with different ingredients for each of you.” 

Sirius quirks an eyebrow. “In that case, can I try a new one next time? This one tastes a bit like dirt.” 

You shrug, nonplussed. “If you like, but it might not do as much for you.” 

“What do you put in them?” Remus asks curiously. 

You take a sip of your own tea. “Just what you need.” 

[bombuni]

a wild ride

summary: It’s Halloween night. Your friends have decided to take you out and get you drunk, but it’s kind of hard to focus on forgetting when the man you want to forget is standing across the room and flirting with another girl. genre/pairing: kim hongjoong x reader, slight yunho x reader, smut, jealous f2l wc: 4.4k warnings: SMUT, 18+ MDNI!, mentions of weed and drinking, cursing, drunk sex but they’re tipsy at the worst, mean!dom!hongjoong, but he's soft for reader, fem!sub!reader, bratty reader but she gets tamed quick, one instance of edging, finger sucking, name calling (just the use of ‘slut’) they’re both so possessive of each other and jealous it’s crazy bom note: this is my love letter to hongjoong’s bouncy outfit bc we moved on too fast</3 anywhooo THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 1K!!! we hit it like a couple weeks ago but. it’s here now guys. I thank you for liking my works enough to follow and support and nothing will prove my gratitude but I just hope this comes close enough :) please enjoy and thanks once again everyone!!<3 also, here’s a playlist i made and listened to a lot while writing this!

You’re not really sure how your friends managed to talk you into coming out tonight. Much less, how you let Wooyoung drag you into matching costumes with him and San. Now you feel like an idiot standing in a fairly inaccurate rendition of a cat next to a pirate version of Seonghwa and Spider-man Yunho. Wooyoung seems to enjoy matching with you, although, letting everyone in the cramped house know that you three ‘have the best couples costume’ in the party. It’s embarrassing having to pull Wooyoung away from annoyed partygoers every 5 seconds, but he’s already halfway drunk and it’s sort of endearing how he boasts about you.

The night has barely started and whatever poor soul lives here should already be regretting hosting a Halloween party. There’s 4 couples making out in your line of sight, the smell of weed permeates your clothes, and the drunk-off-their-ass people in the middle of the room dancing to a poor remix of Monster Mash are sure to break something. There’s a rank scent that emanates from the wall on which you’re leaning against which makes you think someone’s already thrown up right where your shoulder is touching. Or it could just be Seonghwa’s breath, you’re not really sure.

The overwhelming heat from the bodies stuffed in the room is no comparison to the heat boiling inside of you. The humidity in the air and cacophony of noises do nothing to help your rising irritation. You try to cool it down with the iced drink in your hand, but the only way the warmth will go away is by looking away from Hongjoong-who’s in such a clear view from across the room you’d consider it God’s punishment for your selfish desire-and that’s never really going to happen. Not if he keeps looking at her while he’s dressed like that. That being in an intolerably well-fitting cowboy outfit. It’s obvious he knows he looks good, his forearm resting on the wall above the girl’s head as he leans down to hear her better. To get more intimate, to give her the same enticingly inviting smirk he gives you. Your cup crinlinking harshly in your fist snaps you out of the rage-induced trance. Seonghwa’s knowing smirk is haunting you from the corner of your eye, Yunho on your other side trying and failing to hide the same impish smile.

“You know you can’t actually blow people’s heads off if you stare hard enough, right?” Yunho chuckles, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

“Ha, ha,” the sarcasm flows right off of Yunho.

“Someone’s jealous,” Seonghwa’s voice is tinged with a taunt, the smell of alcohol absolutely dripping off of him as he leans into you. You’re fully aware of his drunken intentions to piss you off, but you try your best to be mature and ignore the teasing finger he’s pointing in your face.

“Jesus, are you 12?” Smacking the finger out of your face, he stumbles back in mild surprise.

Yunho’s at least somewhat sober, laughing at the ‘pirate’s’ drunk theatrics, “I have an idea for you-”

Seonghwa lifts his red solo cup in the air and his mouth moves faster than either you or Yunho can process, “You kiss Hongjoong!”

It’s simply impossible for Hongjoong to have heard him from across the room and over the various conversations and the loud music playing, but you still shush and shove Seonghwa in a panic as if he’ll come over and shoot you down right in front of everybody. He pulls the ridiculously fake eyepatch up over his eye to stare at you incredulously, “That was rude,”

Yunho pulls Seonghwa into him, a protective arm landing over him so you won’t slap the alcohol out of his system, “Why don’t you go and, I don’t know, tell Hongjoong you’re in love with him?” He says with a mocking voice, shrugging as if it’s a simple solution.

You scoff at the tall man, “First of all, I am not in love wi-“

All of a sudden, Wooyoung pops up between you and Yunho’s bodies with his drawn-on whiskers completely smudged and cat ears gone, “Hongjoong! You looovveee Hongjoong,” he’s swaying and already moved on to telling you how much he loves you instead when you try to respond. Yunho only smirks at you, I told you so clearly evident on his pale face.

You grumble embarrassedly and glance towards Hongjoong again to make sure he hasn’t heard any of your guys’ conversation , “I don’t.”

Wooyoung hums to the song playing, balance completely lost as he drops all of his body weight onto you and tunes out of the conversation. Seonghwa’s not fairing any better against Yunho, but he’s still trying to tell you what a match you and Hongjoong are.

“All we’re trying to say is that,” Yunho pauses to move Seonghwa’s fingers from his lips, “Hongjoong’s been in a bad mood all night watching you, and now he’s chatting up another girl? I-”

Wooyoung mumbles from where he’s resting on your shoulder, “Something’s fishy,”

Yunho nods, “What he said,”

You roll your eyes for the millionth time that night. A small, naive part of you really, really wants to believe your friends. But they’re drunk, and you’ll admit you’re slightly tipsy. You’ve accepted the fact that Hongjoong will never see you as more than a good friend. You look over to Hongjoong one more time in hopes that this time you won’t feel anything, but when you turn your head you find him already looking in your direction. You can’t really tell what his expression means, but his jaw is clenched and his scrutinizing eyes remain on Wooyoung’s arms around you. It’s no coincidence or trick of the light, you’re sure, but a poorly crafted Batman passes in front of you and Hongjoong’s back to being entranced by the girl next to him.

For a second, you’re lost in space and time. You should be embarrassed and ashamed that one glance from him is enough to send you careening back into fantasies of him, but the alcohol in your system and Yunho’s encouragement makes for a deadly combination. There’s a plan forming in your head. The sober half of you is rationalizing Hongjoong’s glance and telling you it was nothing more than that; a glance. But the tipsy half tells you that you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.

As Yunho sips his drink idly, you decide to take your chance, “Wanna dance, Yunho?”

He exhales sharply through his nostrils, smiling smugly because he knows exactly what your intentions are, “Sure, kitty,”

He takes your hand gently and pulls you towards the makeshift dance floor. He bows elegantly as if this is a ballroom, but he looks ridiculous doing it in a Spider-Man costume amidst people of varying states of sobriety. While you’re busy doubled over laughing at him, he sneaks his arms around you. It’s sudden when he pulls you flush against his body, brown eyes searching yours for any uncertainty before pulling your arms around his neck. For some reason, touching the nape of his neck makes you feel a certain closeness to him. Yunho leans his forehead on yours and the intimacy he’s allowing you makes you regret inviting him to dance. He really shouldn’t be pulling out all the stops for a girl who’s thinking of someone else.

Yunho takes your silence as embarrassment from his showiness, “I gotta make it believable, right?” You’ve never really thought about how tall he is until now, head tilted to only focus on you. His big hands wrap around your waist and burn where they touch.

“R-right,” you mumble, still dizzy from Yunho’s closeness.

Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong’s fuming behind the sea of people. Your back is to him so you can’t see the pursed lips and furrowed eyebrows painted on his face. Yunho, on the other hand, gladly takes notice when he finally looks over to him. Hongjoong’s s gone to completely ignoring the girl he was talking to, only humming ‘yeah’s’ and ‘totally’s’ when he’s prompted. He’s burning holes into your back, as if glaring will suddenly remove you from Yunho. The fuse in him blows when you laugh at something Yunho said. The sound is barely heard over the music and myriad of voices, but it still reverberates through Hongjoong like it’s a call to him. Only meant for him.

“It worked,” Yunho whispers into your ear and sends chills down your spine, “Your cowboy’s stomping over.” You look at your Spiderman smiling down at you one last time when you feel a gloved hand on your shoulder. You can’t really see under the strobe lights, but there’s surely no smile on Hongjoong’s face. He’s glaring at Yunho like you’re his property that he’s touched without permission. Yunho’s hands slide slowly off of you compared to the quick removal of yours, just to piss Hongjoong off even more. You’re sure Yunho has another sort of personal vendetta against Hongjoong now.

“Hey, cowpoke,” there’s a lazy drawl in Yunho’s voice, bordering on venomous, “wanna join us?” Yunho’s hands move to wrap around you again, but Hongjoong quickly pulls you back into his side. He’s surprised by how easily you meld into his movements, but he doesn’t know how far you’d really let him go.

“You’re both drunk,” you follow like a lost puppy as he pulls you off the makeshift dance floor, “and need to be separated.”

Yunho hums behind you, “I’m perfectly sober,”

Hongjoong scoffs and as he opens his mouth to retort, you pull away from him, “I wanna keep dancing, Joong,”

Yunho shrugs as if the issue is completely out of his hands-again, what did Hongjoong do to him?-and smiles, “You heard the lady,” Hongjoong’s eyes fixate on the taller man, fists clenching at his side. If looks could kill, Yunho would have been 6 feet under ten minutes ago. His mind races with thoughts of how to get rid of Yunho, how to keep you for himself, and how his hand is still pulsing from when he felt yours, fearing he’s become addicted to your touch already.

His tone is final, “No.”

Before you can even say anything, Hongjoong drags you through the overflow of bodies towards the upstairs of the house. You can certainly hear Seonghwa and Wooyoung hollering obscenities at you-even over the party noise-before Hongjoong leads you deeper and deeper into the surprisingly large house. The hallways grow quieter and less crowded before he finds an empty room, letting you in first. It’s quaint and sparsely decorated, the soft environment settling your nerves. As you sit on the white bedsheets, Hongjoong watches you like you’re his next meal.

He finally speaks, arms crossed and a questioning look on his face, “You good?’

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Yes. Are you?”

He doesn’t answer you because he’s not really sure if he is. In truth, Hongjoong can’t stop looking at you. He’s sure your look tonight is imprinted in his brain all the way from the short, short skirt to the ridiculously low cut top you’re wearing. He’s frustrated with himself that he feels so possessive over you, as if you’re already his. He’s frustrated with you for simply letting Wooyoung and Yunho do as they please.

You watch as he sits on the bed next to you, fiddling with the cuffs of his gloves. He’s trying to act nonchalant, but you can tell he’s holding back from scolding you with the way he’s biting his cheek. He’s good at hiding it from others, but not from you.

His words are short and sharp, “Were you having fun with Yunho?”

The question catches you off guard. You mirror him, playing with your fishnet leggings and watching him out of the corner of your eye. You’re scared he’ll say yes, but you ask anyway, “Were you?”

Hongjoong turns to you, “I asked first,”

You roll your eyes at him, “Whatever. You seemed pretty happy talking to Ms. Boobs-in-your-face,”

You’re being petty and insulting a girl you don’t even know, but the irritation from earlier is returning with a fiery revenge. It keeps building the more you think about the way her hands would continuously run down the textured white lines on his shirt. Or how he’d smile at her like she was the only person in the room. You can feel his eyes on you again and you’re too embarrassed to meet them. You’re sure he’s sporting a cocky smile now that he’s heard the jealousy dripping in your voice.

“You didn’t seem to mind Yunho grinding on you,” he spits out before he can stop himself.

That finally makes you look at him, “He was not-”

“And Wooyoung’s hands all over you,”

You gawk at him, surprised to know that he had been watching you too. Now the pettiness you’re both showing is obvious. The air is tense before you speak, Hongjoong’s intent glare making you feel small, “You know how Wooyoung is, especially when he’s drunk,”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes at you, “Doesn’t explain Yunho crawling all over you,”

You cross your arms, inadvertently pushing your tits together and Hongjoong has to hold back a groan, “Why are you so concerned with what Yunho and I do?”

There’s a mutual understanding of the jealousy coursing through the room, though it’s unspoken. In your anger, however, you can’t really process the fact that he’s possessive over you. That he’s outright admitting he thinks of you as his, and vice versa. Instead of simply kissing and making up, you keep pissing each other off. Why you keep pressing his buttons you’re not sure, but you can’t deny how hot Hongjoong looks with the black cowboy hat tilted over his face, muscular arms tensing under the dim light.

He stands to his full height again-too frustrated to stay still-moving so that he’s right in front of you, “What, so you’re into Yunho all of a sudden?”

“Did you just bring me up here so you can interrogate me on my love life?” you mumble.

His jaw clenches again, “You’re so mouthy tonight, you know that? I’m getting sick of it,”

He’s invading your space now, lips so close you could just reach up and touch them with yours, “What are you going to do about it, Hongjoong?”

The words seem to set something off in him, his lips on you so fast it’s dizzying. His warm hands automatically find their way to your hips as he pushes you backwards onto the bed. He’s finally figured out how to silence you, muffling any sounds you make with his mouth. Anything that comes from you, he wants for himself. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, both too focused on getting out all the built up feelings and frustration. Neither of you care about anything but getting more and more of each other. You feel his tongue finding its way into your mouth and you don’t put up much of a fight anymore.

He doesn’t pause his attack on your lips, panting while he speaks, “You gonna keep mouthing off, baby?”

Your mind short-circuits at the nickname. Although a large part of your annoyance has now dissipated, his lips like water to soothe the burn of your desire, you still want to see how far you can push him,

“Dunno,” you pant out.

His right hand slides up from your hip bone to your jawline as goosebumps follow the trail of his touch. A whine slips out of you when Hongjoong’s hand contracts, squishing your cheeks and forcing your lips into a pout so your focus is on his words. He can’t help the prideful smirk when he hears the noise you make, happy to know he has such an effect on you.

“I know,” a kiss to your jawline, “I’m going to show you who you belong to,”

You wiggle in his grasp, but he’s holding you tight, “And exactly who do I belong to?”

He smirks down at you, thoughts running through all the ways he’s going to break you, “Oh, you’re funny,” he leans threateningly over you, “You’re very funny,”

Just because you enjoy the game of stirring him on you continue, “Yunho said the same thing,”

He smiles dangerously at you. Not dangerous in the sense of attractiveness, but more in the sense that it’s a warning to the vicious, envious territory you’re entering. You feel your resolve melting against him, the air suffocating you with the thick, heavy feeling of pent-up desire. However, he doesn’t even let you get the right words out before he sticks his thumb into your mouth. It’s surprisingly appetizing, and you don’t wait for his sign to go before wrapping your lips around it. It’s your silent apology for what you said.

Now, his smile is gentler. But it’s Hongjoong, and Hongjoong doesn’t let things go so easy.

“Sluts needs to be quiet,” he whispers softly, but it’s who it’s coming from that makes it so you hear it loud and clear. You nod in obedience, still lapping as he adds more fingers into your mouth, exploring this part of your body.

“You know what else sluts need to do?” You shake your head and open your eyes up at him, “They need to fucking behave.”

He growls, “You’re gonna take what I give you until I’ve had enough. Then I’ll give you what you want,”

You want to whine and protest, but he’s looking at you like that’s not even an option. He stares down at you, taunting and challenging you. Hongjoong knows you’re not happy about his rules, but he doesn’t care. You need to learn to forget about anyone other than him. He won’t stop until you do. Your mouth pulls off of his fingers with a pop and you realize all too quickly what a mistake you’ve made.

His eyes squint at you, “Did I tell you to stop?”

You peer up at him with a guilty look, pout heavy on your lips hoping he’ll show just the slightest bit of mercy. But once again, it’s Hongjoong. He manhandles you towards him, back to his chest and for some reason it feels like you’re a complete puzzle.

He gropes your sides, pulling you close so you can feel how hard he is for you. The feeling of him rubbing against you makes you moan, the sheer satisfaction of finally getting what you want making you high on the pleasure. You know you’re supposed to be quiet, but the excitement of going against Hongjoong just ‘cause makes you want to do it more.

You spot his blue hair out of the corner of your eye as he leans down to your ear, “You’re gonna be quiet and take it like a good slut,” His right arm comes up and around your neck, pulling you in as if you aren’t already close enough, “Unless you want Yunho to hear?”

His clothed dick is making you weak. It’s the only friction he’s given you so far and it’s already breaking and tearing you apart. You shake your head vigorously, spouting nonsense babbles as if you’re appalled Hongjoong would even suggest that. However, Hongjoong seems all too enticed by the idea of everyone hearing how loud he can make you. You try to get more from him by rutting back into him, hoping he liked your answer, but he stops your hips.

“Sluts don’t get what they want, baby,” He pants into your ear and you realize he’s just as torn as you are, he’s just better at hiding it. His hand finds its way under your skirt, fumbling to pull your panties down. The sound of your wet pussy fills the room as Hongjoong plays with your folds, agonizingly slow to make you shake with anticipation.

He smiles down at you, “You’re so fucking wet,”

Before you can say anything snappy, he slides in you. He fills you just right, and you don’t want to sound crazy, but you feel like your pussy was sculpted just for him. His cock drives in you and hits right where you need it to. It makes you want to fall over, too weak to hold yourself up, but Hongjoong stops that from even happening.

You’re whining for more, “Keep being loud and Wooyoung will hear you,”

You gasp as he thrusts in you, but it just spurs him on. Being buried in you feels right, like it’s where he was made to be. He chalks up his intensified feelings to the alcohol flowing in his system.

Your moans mix together, “Seonghwa too? Want me to make everyone in this house know who’s fucking you?”

You can barely keep your head up, much less respond to him. The bed squeaks as he thrusts in you over and over again, limbs entangled. You start to think Hongjoong may have some jealousy issues, but you don’t mind.

His hand snakes around you again, this time reaching to play with your clit. His fingers make your knees buckle, the rhythm between his hips and his hand sending a new wave of pleasure through you. You don’t have the energy to process it, but all the while he’s telling you how he’s the only one who can touch you like this.

Your lower half is on fire, white hot sparks of pleasure flowing all the way from your abdomen to your toes. All of your senses are heightened because of Hongjoong’s touch and you feel the pleasure reaching its tipping point, right before Hongjoong rips his hand away and stops his hips.

Your complaint is right on the tip of your tongue, but Hongjoong drags you like a ragdoll over him before you can get the words out. Your senses haven’t even come back to you yet, but Hongjoong looks up at you with the cockiest smile and you feel that same bliss again.

His hands on your hips turns your nervous system on again, “You wanna cum, baby?”

Your voice comes out hoarse, “Yes. Yes, please, Joongie,”

He looks up at you contemplatively, as if deciding whether you deserve to finish or not. It makes a defiant whine build up in your throat the longer he takes.

He shushes you with a nudge, “Then work for it.”

Hongjoong’s tone is final and even though you’re on top of him, there’s no room for control or for arguing. He looks up at you expectantly, simply waiting for you to obey. You want to grab his collar, make him regret talking to you like he owns you, but unfortunately he in fact does.

The cowboy hat is befitting now, so you take it for yourself. His blue hair is disheveled and tangled underneath it, but he still looks celestial. A laugh rips out of him as the hat tips over your head when you look down. You pout at him, but the giggles slip into groans when you slide down him again.

It’s entirely too distracting for Hongjoong, and he has to bite his lip to hold back from cumming on the spot. You’re too tight and wet, too perfect for him. He almost regrets putting you in this position now.

But you look too good all sweaty on top of him, mouth parted open in satisfaction, with the sound of skin against skin accompanying you. Watching you bounce with his hat on makes him feel a little crazy.

His hand reaches for your clit again, finding that spot that he’s learned your body really likes. Your back arches against his fingers, shuddering at the feeling of him. His fingers follow a pattern against you, persistent in their goal to make you cum. It’s too good, too fast. You can’t help it as your body falls over him, pleasure overriding your ability to function.

Hongjoong laughs at you, “Can't do anything on your own, huh? Dumb slut needs me to help,” You nod against his neck, hiding your embarrassed blush.

He, uncharacteristically, kisses the crown of your head. You suppose it’s an apology for the way he hauls your thighs over him, then slams you back down on his cock again. Once again, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. You feel the heat rising in you again, your body tightening up against Hongjoong.

This time there’s no signs of him stopping, his forearms keeping a tight hold of your thighs as he spears you on his cock over and over again, his desperate pants right by your ear.

He senses you’re near your tipping point, “See? All you needed was a good fucking for you to behave,”

You nod brainlessly, simply following whatever he says with only one thing on your mind.

“You can cum, baby. Want you to be loud so even fucking Yunho knows,”

You feel it coursing through you. It’s been a slow build up waves caused by Hongjoong, but now with his permission it turns into a full-on tsunami hitting you. The pleasure shoots through you, your entire body seizing up as it takes over you. Hongjoong fucks you through it with slow, shallow thrusts. Or at least he tries to, before the feeling of your tightening pussy finally pulls the orgasm out of him. He’s quick to pull out, his cum splattering all over his lower abdomen.

When you’re done, you’re left panting and sweaty on his still shirt-clad chest. You feel his racing heartbeat against your hands, heavy breaths beating against you. You look up and Hongjoong has the softest, tranquil smile for you.

“I only danced with Yunho to make you jealous,” you mumble amidst the silence.

His hand runs through your hair under his hat, “I only flirted with that girl to make you jealous,”

You’re scared by how soft and intimate it’s suddenly turned. You’re scared Hongjoong only thinks of you as a fuck buddy now, nothing more nothing less. So, You don’t say anything else.

He knows you by now, knows where every cog in your brain goes and how it works. Hongjoong pokes your cheek gently, “That means I like you a lot,”

“Oh,” you feel your heartbeat pick up speed, “me too.”

“Good,” he smiles at you again, that charming and sugary sweet smile he only gives you, “then we’ll go on a date.” You nod into him, blissful peace finally settling over you.

You’re halfway to sleep when Hongjoong speaks up again, “Can I have my hat back?”

[thistlecatfics]

Talking about Incest in Public

(both the painful traumatic kind and the hot fictional kind)

As it turns out, lots of the people who read and write taboo fiction have survived some deeply fucked up shit. After talking about incest with other survivors on the Moon, Sun & Stars discord and answering questions, I decided to share more about my experiences and the things that helped me survive and the things that helped me heal, because there are a lot of us, and a lot of us feel very alone, and maybe there are other people who aren’t incest survivors but who might want to know more to better support the survivors in their life.  

–

Incest is not just a sexual act between two family members -- it's a larger system of absence of boundaries within a family, and it's almost always part of multiple incestuous dynamics, even if only one might be the obvious or explicit dynamic. 

If you’re an incest survivor, you’re almost certainly not the only one in your family. 

-

“The true characteristics and dimensions of incestuous abuse have been masked by the taboo and silence that have surrounded its occurrence. Recent research demonstrates that incest occurs regularly in our society, perpetrated by individuals who, for the most part, would otherwise be regarded as fairly normal. The taboo on incestuous relations is a deterrent to some would-be perpetrators but not to others. The taboo contradicts the reality of incest prevalence, a fact which led Armstrong (1978) to comment that th taboo has been on the open discussion of incest and not on its perpetration.”

-Christine Courtois, “Healing the Incest Wound: Adult Survivors in Therapy” 

–

To use my family as an example - 

My (similarly aged) brother did sexual things to me as a kid, and I had a range of reactions to it including pleasure and enjoyment. And confusion. And fear. I do not think he is bad or even what he did was bad. I think we were both two kids who existed in a family with incestuous dynamics, and we were both shaped by those dynamics and trying our best to survive. 

From a young age, I existed as a physical comfort object to my mom (when she was sad she'd get into my bed to hold me until she felt better while I dissociated), and I took on the idea that my role in the family was for my body to be used to make other people feel good. The sexual behavior by my brother felt like an extension of how my mom held me. 

My mother was the victim of incest from her uncle, and her parents sided with her uncle over her when she spoke out about it (even after he was facing legal consequences for his behavior with kids outside of the family) (even after he fled the country). She didn't know how to emotionally regulate herself, and I don't think she had (or has) the capacity to understand a child's need for physical autonomy and boundaries because her own were never respected. 

There were other incestuous behaviors and dynamics within my family which I'm continuously discovering and unpacking. I think my mom’s uncle abused my grandmother too but I’ll never know for sure. It’s deeply uncomfortable to look back on a happy family story or a childhood nickname and see something sinister underneath and wonder if you’re being paranoid or if it’s actually that bad.  

–

Things that have helped: 

Long term relational therapy (5+ years). EMDR. Adopting a cat. Adopting more cats. Antidepressants. Reading about incest (realistic, terrifying, academic). Reading about incest (fictional, hot, amateur). Being a competitive athlete. Getting a graduate degree. Going on long walks late at night. Telling my family I had Covid so I could skip a family vacation. 

These books specifically: Healing the Incest Wound by Christine Courtois, The Myth of Normal, Dissociation Made Simple, Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, The Narcissistic Family Unit, Clementine Morrigan’s writing x1000. 

The protector parts: Eating disorder. Self harm. Drinking. Perfectionism. Depression. Suicidal ideation. I’m grateful to these imperfect protectors I’ve leaned on over the years. 

Things that have not helped: 

You will be shocked to hear that people on the internet yelling about how people who find fictional incest hot are disgusting and bad and dangerous did NOT in fact help me unlearn the belief that experiencing incest made me disgusting and bad and dangerous. Luckily, I’m built of spite. But it certainly did not help. 

(If I think about my vulnerable pre-teen/teen self reading those things, I become deeply angry. How dare you hurt her in the name of protection.)

- I don’t cater to all these vipers Dressed in empath’s clothing God save the most judgmental creeps Who say they want what’s best for me Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I’ll never see

-Taylor Swift, But Daddy I Love Him

-

After I discovered fanfiction in middle school, and then after I realized that there was a world beyond OFC/Draco Malfoy fic, I read a lot of Blackcest. I devoured any I could find, hopping through rec lists on LiveJournal. 

Reading Blackcest fics, first Bellatrix/Sirius then Sirius/Regulus mostly, allowed me to see my experiences reflected. Those fics gave me a way to contextualize my family and my role in it. I hate the expectation that kids who experience bad things should go to a safe trusted adult rather than find art that romanticizes their experience. The whole point is that there isn’t a safe trusted adult. The whole point is that I needed the art. I got to hold the romanticized narrative until I got far enough away that I could put it away in a box until I had enough therapy that I could safely open the box and build a new, more honest story. 

Obviously plenty of people love incest smut and fic and art. It’s taboo! It’s angsty! It’s a classic! Probably most of those people don’t have direct personal experience with incest in their families. I’m glad they read and write fics too. 

But for me – have you ever experienced something you believe so strongly you will never be able to say aloud? That any time you see your secret referenced it’s in shock and disgust and revulsion? You can pretend – you’re very good at pretending – but you know it’s real, and you know it’s your secret you’ll hold onto for the rest of your life while the world reminds you how disgusting you are? 

Then you find that people are writing about what you experienced in a thousand variations that all contain some nugget of your truth.

I cannot express in words how important it was that I found those stories at that time. 

I never commented on a single fic. I never made a single account on any of the sites I read fanfiction on. I clicked the “yes I’m 18” box without hesitation every time. I wish I could go back in time and have my adult self articulate the enormity of my gratitude for each and every author who helped save me whose work exists on sites I can only revisit with the Wayback Machine. 

I understand why people might feel horrified at the idea of a 11-12 year old reading smutty incest Harry Potter fanfic. People aren’t wrong for feeling that way. 

That said, I truly don’t care what people who aren’t incest survivors think.

I’m so proud of that child for finding a way to survive. She might have hated herself, might have fantasized about death, but she survived and kept the truth of her experience wrapped up in a fictional world where it could be safe to explore and kept it there until years and years of therapy made it possible to engage with it in reality. 

- I’m a real tough kid I can handle my shit They said, babe, you got to fake it till you make it And I did

-Taylor Swift, I Can Do It With a Broken Heart -

No one is writing about incest the way Clementine Morrigan is right now. I’m so grateful for her. I’m not sure this little tumblr post would exist without her essay series. 

"Incest functions as a spell of unreality. A structure of nothingness. A completely normal and unremarkable family life in which something unnameable is ominously and terrifyingly wrong. You know in the summer when you can see the heat making the air go squiggly? Imagine those squiggles as an indication that in the seeming nothingness, there is something there. Incest is like that. Subtle, pervasive, unthinkable, unnameable. But present, felt.

As a teenager I came up with this metaphor: Imagine you are in a house full of bugs. There are bugs crawling all over all the walls and all the furniture and in your food and even on the fork you are lifting to your mouth. And you feel disgusted, you feel like something is really wrong. But your whole family is acting completely normal, laughing and eating and talking as bugs crawl over their faces and into their mouths. When you tell them you think there are bugs in your food your family says it’s just pepper and not to worry about it.

There is no way to talk about incest without feeling that you are lying. This is because incest lives in the realm of unreality and everything in the realm of unreality cannot be thought or said or named. When you speak of things that happen in the realm of unreality it will always feel like a lie and be treated like a lie. You are breaking the fundamental rule. You are not allowed to talk about what goes on in the realm of unreality because it isn’t real."

Read more and pay for her writing if you can on her substack.

-

Without a doubt, the not-explicitly-sexual incest from my mom fucked me up more than the explicitly sexual incest from my brother, but I only feel confident claiming the incest survivor label because sexual stuff was done to me by a family member, and I still feel like I’m lying sometimes because it wasn't bad enough to count. 

I’m a literal mental health clinician who can map out various incestuous dynamics within my family and who has clear memories of a family member doing sexual stuff to my child body, and I still feel like I’m lying. 

I believe you if you feel like a liar because I bet you do. I believe you if the incest never included anything directly physical. I believe you if you enjoyed it. I believe you if you don’t remember but feel like it’s true. 

I love us. 

If we’re monsters, I love our courageous monstrosity.

If we’re liars, I love the way we make up stories to survive when reality is impossible. 

If we’re an uncomfortable truth, good. 

-

It still impacts me. I’m not over it. 

It’s very difficult for me to imagine love that does not include violation. To be loved and to be allowed to maintain a self. 

But I’m open to learning otherwise, and that openness is new. 

-

I was so, so good at living in unreality. I could make myself perfect, such a flawless object until I couldn’t think of anything except killing myself, but even then I still maintained the image of perfection my family expected. 

It’s cool I never actually killed myself. 

I find it hard to be around my family now. There are advantages of living in unreality. I drink a lot more when I’m around my family than I ever did before, but I don’t think about killing myself nearly as much. Reality is worth it. Being able to exist as a person is worth it. 

- I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.

-Sylvia Plath

- I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid. (I insist.)

It didn’t kill me then. It’s not going to kill me now. (I remind myself.) 

My life is worth living, and there are fights worth fighting, and it is undeniably true the world is full of horror, but it is good to write and create and be alive, and it is good to try. I’m a little afraid to post this, but the fear and shame isn’t mine to hold, and I never should have been the one holding it. 

Consider this a thank you note sent out to the universe in the hopes the sentiment echoes towards those authors who saved me then and to all the writers who are saving people now. Your art matters. No matter how weird or niche or dismissed or hated it is. It matters. 

Thank you.

[cassandraclare]

q&a

Alexa: Will we ever get to hear about Tessa's time in the Spiral Labyrinth? I think that would be so cool. 2) Why does Jem always say that the Carstairs owe the Herondales? I know that Jem feels that Will saved him when he was a child, but Jem saved will just as much as Will saved Jem. I'm curious if you have any more thoughts on that, like if it is just part of Jem's personality that he feels so keenly that he owes Will.

Sure, Jem saved Will just like Will saved Jem, but that isn't going to make Jem feel like he owes Will less, because indeed, that's not his personality (or Will's — Will would say the Herondales owe the Carstairs.) For Jem, this is a very pure feeling, that he will always owe this debt to Will and to the Herondales, and even though he wouldn't deny he also saved Will, he wouldn't qualify the statement — "The Carstairs owe the Herondales, though, you know, the Herondales also owe the Carstairs and so it's basically even but I'd still like to help out" because it would undercut the strength of his conviction. None of that means he doesn't know he did a lot for Will and Will's family too! As to whether there's more to Jem's belief that the Carstairs owe the Herondales than the obvious, we will have to see.

Anonymous:  THE SHADOWHUNTER CHRONICLES. I SEE YOU HAVE WICKED POWERS IN THE WORKS (NOT SOON ENOUGH).... FOLLOWING KIT HERONDALE AFTER 2012 ERA BUT HERES MY QUESTION.... YOU HAVE ALL THIS GAP BETWEEN THE LAST HOURS SET IN 1900S UNTIL THE 2000S WITH THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS. WE, AS FANS DO NOT KNOW WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE CARSTAIRS ETC, SUCH AS AFTER CHAIN OF THORNS.... ...... YOU HAVE MANY MANY MANY GAPS HERE TO BE TRYING TO END THE SERIES..... SOOOO MANY UNANSWERED QUESTIONS WITH THE CHARACTERS. (AND YES IVE READ EVERY SINGLE BOOK).

Ack, the caps! Hello, friend. It is true that not every moment of every day of every decade has been described in a series, but that is fairly normal! We don't know exactly what transpires between Last Hours and Mortal Instruments (though we have many hints in the various short story collections, especially where it comes to the time of the Circle) — nor do we know what, for instance, was happening in the New York Institute during The Infernal Devices. With a big universe, you're never going to know what's happening in every place at every time. There will always be gaps; it's neither a bug nor a feature, more a natural consequence of the format.

I totally understand being like, "The Shadowhunter world cannot end with Wicked Powers, there are more stories to tell" but — whenever it all ended — there would always be more stories to tell.

princeash asked:

Hi Cassie!! So excited by the announcement! My question is, are we getting a Ash pov in tlkof?and could we maybe get a snippet of him 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 (also, I'm very happy about finally getting a release date and i dont mind waiting because i know you'll make it worth the wait!! 🤎)

Hello! We are not getting Ash's POV in TLKOF, unless something major changes. Ash is a bit of a mysterious figure for quite a while. Figuring out what makes him tick and what he's really up to is part of the fun. Also I'm working on not overwhelming people with so many POVs. :)

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

In Vino Veritas (In Wine, There is Truth) - A.A.

Pairings: Astarion x Fem!Reader/Tav (Sorceress/Magic User)

Warnings: FLUFF (the sickeningly sweet kind). Angst. Insecure/Jealous!Astarion. Drunk!Astarion. Soft/Clingy!Astarion. Astarion is in his feelings. Love Confessions. BG3 Spoilers (Early Act I). Mutual Pining. Oblivious!Tav. Honestly kind of Sub!Astarion vibes. Not Proofread!

Wordcount: 2,589

Summary: After seeing you bonding with the other companions, Astarion is in deep with his emotions. This leads to him staggering off to a bar in a nearby town, and you go looking for him as you are worried about him. Once you find him, a confession of love spills from his lips unprompted.

A/N: Can vampires even get drunk? I’m not entirely sure, but that’s what this is about. This wasn’t a request, just something I was interested in writing. I haven’t written Astarion in this way before, but I think I like how it turned out. Thank you guys for all the love on my Astarion fics! I appreciate it immensely. Also, two posts in one day is kind of insane for me. Enjoy!

You weren’t always confident in yourself or your abilities. However, your recent adventures with Lae’zel, Astarion, and Gale have boosted your self-esteem. Gale had even approached you one night rambling about the “weave” and how he wanted you to experience it. You were able to conjure it with favorable ease, however you backed away once he had come onto you. Astarion stood in disgust as he watched the scene unravel. Gale was clearly attracted to you, and clearly wanted in your pants at one point or another. Astarion wouldn’t mind being in your pants either, at one point or another.

Secretly, Astarion envied your naivety, your ability to be fairly oblivious to many people’s advances. Heck, you didn’t even notice Gale’s constant passing glances until he was quite literally leaning in to kiss you, impressed by your ability to conjure the weave with little effort. You turned away nearly instantly, at least once you realized.

You were fairly friendly, which led a lot of suitors to believe that you were interested in them. Gale was no different. The wizard felt that you showed great potential, and he was impressed by your magical abilities. Initially, you believed this to be friendly behavior from Gale, but alas, he felt more for you than that. You had a difficult time turning him down, as you did with most. Gale wasn’t a bad guy, he just – wasn’t for you. Astarion had to spend some time alone after watching you and Gale bond. He felt a pain in his chest while watching the scene.

He was glad to find out that you had rejected Gale, which Gale had let him know (unprompted, of course) one night while out by the fire. Gale was working on his magic, Astarion was reading, and you were sleeping dreadfully well after the long day.

Soon after, you, Lae’zel, Astarion and Gale met Wyll on the way to the grove. You had a battle with the goblins and gained a new ally in Wyll. Unfortunately, Astarion had placed himself right in the midst of the conflict, leading him to take quite the beating. So, when Wyll offered to join the party, you felt it was obvious to have Wyll take his place. Lae’zel and Gale were in moderately good shape afterwards. “Fine,” Astarion spoke merely one word, then turned around in a dejected manner, slumping his way away from the group. When he glanced back, he saw Wyll laughing at something you had said, which caused the pain in his chest to worsen.

Astarion had to walk through a nearby town in order to get back to camp, which is where the mistakes began. He spotted a tavern, which looked acceptable – albeit rundown in comparison to the ones he frequented in Baldur’s Gate. The thought of alcohol to tame his present emotions didn’t seem so terrible. I mean, was he really that replaceable to you? If you were honest, the only reason you sent him away was because of how damaged he looked after battle. Part of you wanted to go with him, or at least offer, but he had walked away too quickly for you to even respond. You probably should have gone after him, instead you turned to your new companion in order to get acquainted.

Your mistake was recognized after you got back to camp last night – because where the hell was Astarion? All of his belongings were still around, but he was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t bathing, but perhaps he could be hunting? It seemed fairly abnormal for him to just wander off. It was getting fairly late and Astarion still hadn’t arrived back at camp. You were getting worried.

“Has anyone seen Astarion?” You asked everyone who was still awake. The group shook their heads. You kept telling yourself that he probably just was out hunting. Yet something didn’t feel right.

“I’m worried about him, guys. I sent him back to camp and he’s nowhere to be found.” You commented, with Shadowheart being the first to respond. “It’s Astarion, Tav. It’s not like he’s known to be the most reliable, even in the few days we’ve known him.” Her fondness for you was shining through, and her almost envious tone showed her distain for your anxious thoughts about the pale elf companion.

You decided to backtrack on the path away from camp, the one that Astarion would have taken back, trying to retrace his steps. You hoped that he hadn’t collapsed somewhere, that was absolutely your worst fear. You couldn’t help but worry at the thought of losing Astarion. He had already been through so much - that you were incredibly aware of.

You wandered the dim, moonlit trail, hoping that you would find a sign of him anywhere. You peered through the forest trees, but with little avail. You thought about shouting out to him but thought better of it. You could attract someone – or something, rather, that you’d prefer not to. You decided to keep as quiet as you could.

You crept towards the nearby town. Given that the afternoon had far past, the only open facility was the tavern. It was old, but well-kept given its state. The building itself was made from stone, with a large oak wooden door at its front. It vibrated with livelihood from the activities of indoors. This tavern was likely the sole place in town where folks could go to have a decent time. Through the windows, you spotted various ages and races of people, all joined together in dancing, drinking, chatting, and even singing. You didn’t see Astarion, but you figured that asking surely wouldn’t hurt. Maybe they knew of his whereabouts.

The door creaked open as you entered, revealing the brightly candlelit interior of the tavern. The wood floors were certainly run down, likely from years of wear and tear and dancing upon them. Many eyes fell upon you when you entered. Your footsteps were light, but your presence was different for the townsfolk. You were new. Astarion had felt similarly when he moved into space, but they had become used to his presence by now. Not only that, but he had spent copious amounts of gold on drinks, which was certainly appreciated. You didn’t know that though, not yet.

The townsfolk had accepted your presence within a few moments of entering, with one muttering to another “she’s a pretty one, isn’t she?” before gulping down more beer, then standing up to make a move on you. You were quite oblivious to this situation, moving steadily towards the barkeep, hoping she might be able to tell you of Astarion’s whereabouts, as you moved through the bar and still didn’t take notice of the elf.

“Eh, darlin!” You heard a man grunt at you, but you didn’t want to acknowledge him. The words almost hit your ears in just the right way, the eerie similarity to Astarion’s word choice was uncanny.

As you approached the bar, the barmaid approached you sweetly. She was an older lady with deep raven hair, likely had worked there for a substantial portion of time, perhaps even being the owner of the place. “Hi, dear. What can I get goin’ for you?” She inquired with a courteous smile. “Nothing quite yet for me. I’m looking for my friend, he’s an elf with white hair, he probably would have passed by here several hours ago.”

“Aw! You must be Tav! He wouldn’t stop rambling about you while he was here. I think he slumped over to the bathroom, we tried to sober him up, but he was lookin’ pretty sick.” The barkeep gestured to the doors in the corner, and you nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be back.”

You pushed your way through the patrons in order to place several knocks on the only closed door. “Astarion?” You raised your voice to ensure that he heard you over the music that boasted in the background. You leaned your head against the door, hoping to hear a response from him. You nearly fell as suddenly the door was replaced with air, and a stumbling Astarion approached you. “Darling!” He exclaimed. This new, puppy-like energy contrasted with his always stoic exterior. You went to scold him, about to go off about his selfishness in abandoning camp like that, but before you could, his rambling continued.

“Goodness, you look phenomenal. I can hardly take it.” You looked at him, creases forming on your face as your mind became more puzzled. Astarion was typically a flirty person, but this was different. For some reason, it seemed – sincere?

“Astarion, what are you doing here?”

“Well I got sad, so I decided to have a few – um – drinks.” His words slurred as they exited his lips, which did not promote truth in his sentence. “A few?” He nodded eagerly in response, and you grabbed at the fabric near his shoulder in order to tug him over to the bar. “Do you know how many drinks he’s had?” You asked the barmaid, hoping she could provide some insight. “In the double digits, certainly. Spent most of his time downing drinks and talking about your ‘delectability.’”

She responded as you took a deep breath. Astarion, who was lent up against your shoulder now, and could hardly maintain composure, brought an index finger to usher the woman quiet, pressing it against her lips. “SHHHH.” He spoke loudly, before she removed his finger in a swift motion. Astarion leant towards your ear, whispering “she’s just talking about how it’s more noticeable that I’m in love with you when I’m tipsy.” Your eyes shot open for the first time in hours. You had maintained heavy lids since post battle; however you hadn’t heard anything this shocking in weeks. You couldn’t help the way that your cheeks now sprouted a flushed, pink hue.

“You somehow get even cuter when you blush.” Astarion spoke, and you placed your head in your hands, which Astarion immediately tried to pull away “don’t, please, you’re so pretty.” You almost rolled your eyes, what if this was all some strange dream? Don’t get you wrong, there were many nights that you dreamt of the day that Astarion would approach you in this way, you just – didn’t think it would happen. You finally released your face from your hands and looked at the barmaid. “We’ll be leaving now, thank you.” You grabbed on to Astarion once more, tugging him towards the large oak door at the entrance.

“Someone’s in trouble!” One of the men shouted from across the bar at the scene. “I hope so!” Astarion shouted back, and you tugged him harder.

As the overwhelm was diluted by the calm of the outdoors, and your faces were hit by the cool air, you turned to face him.

“Astarion, what the hells is going on?” Your question was slightly louder than intended, especially since you had to raise your voice to be heard inside of the bar.

Immediately, you were faced with a pout on Astarion’s lips and dilated pupils as he gazed at you. “Please don’t be mad, darling.”

“I just want to know if you’re okay.” You responded, your features softening, which comforted him.

“I just-“ he stammered, having a difficult time finding the words. He looked back to you, seeing how patient you were, and he relaxed, with help from the alcohol that still coursed steadily through him. “you’re perfect.” For the second time tonight, your eyes widened like craters. You were nearly at a loss for words, but as you went to speak, Astarion interrupted you.

“Gods, Tav! Gale is entranced by you, Shadowheart has definitely caught feelings, Lae’zel wants you to give her bruises, and did you see the way that Wyll looked at you today?” He inquired, and you meagerly shook your head. “Not to mention I’m fucking in love with you! And I can’t even show it! I haven’t felt this way, like, ever, with anyone! And I’m fucking terrified, Tav!”

He gesticulated harshly as he spoke, his pent-up energy finally releasing. You moved towards him, holding your arms out, almost as an offering to him. He looked at you with soft eyes, then headed towards you himself, wrapping his arms around your waist, as yours fell across his shoulders. He relaxed into your touch, leaning his face to nuzzle in your neck. “Please don’t let me go.” Astarion pleaded.

“I won’t, Star.” You whispered into his ear, and you could feel him sigh in relief.

“I’m sorry I was jealous and upset.”

“Don’t be sorry for feeling the way you do, Astarion.” These words nearly brought a drunken Astarion to tears, but he was able to focus on the way you felt in his arms instead. You were able to convince him to cease the hug in order to walk back to camp, but he insisted that he needed to have a hand on you at all times to be assured that “you wouldn’t let him go.” So, it ended up with his hand intertwined with yours for the duration of the short journey back, along with him leaning on you to keep steady.

The rest of the companions were awaiting your return to camp and sighed in relief when you arrived. They were slightly surprised to see Astarion lent up against you, with your frame keeping him upright. Shadowheart seemed to roll her eyes in annoyance at the pale elf’s return, but was thankful you were alright, nonetheless. They stayed quiet, as it seemed more like an “ask questions later” type of circumstance. Since they now knew you were safe, they deemed it acceptable to retreat to their own tents for the night.

You teetered Astarion over to his own tent, facing him as he stared at you with puppy dog eyes. “You’ll stay?” He asked, and you looked at him with similar eyes. “Please?” He followed up, and you nodded. “Let’s go to my tent, though. Is that alright?”

“As long as I’m with you.”

You lead Astarion to your – somewhat more put together tent, with a larger bedroll that could fit the both of you situated on the floor. He stared in awe as he admired the colors within, it was actually quite cozy.

You put yourself in bed as normal, while Astarion seemed to stand with a blank look on his face, his eyes traveling from your eyes to the tent, as if this was new to him. “You okay, Astarion?” You asked, and he nodded. “More than okay, actually.” He responded, and you smiled. You reached your arms out, beckoning him towards you “come here, then, sweet boy.” He grinned giddily, nearly diving into your arms.

-

Astarion woke up in the somewhat unfamiliar environment of your tent, with a throbbing headache. However, he realized that he was sprawled across your lap, and decided to be content in the fact that even though he didn’t remember a single thing about last night, he knew that he had wound up in the right place, in the right person’s arms.

You noticed he had woken from the fluttering of his eyelashes on your skin, and you brought your hand to his hair in order to play with it ever so slightly. “Good morning, handsome” you spoke.

“Good morning, darling. What in the hells happened last night?” He responded, turning towards you with a smirk on his face. “Did I get as lucky as I hope I did?” Sober Astarion was back, that was for certain.