#just in time for discourse about how shitty i should feel for romanticizing their relationship :)

[prouvaireafterdark]

For a Kiss So Fatal and So Warm

Here’s my take on Louis’ first night as a vampire, inspired by the AMC trailers and spoilers/speculation I’ve picked up along the way (that will almost assuredly be canon noncompliant the minute episode 1 airs lol) 

For context, if that matters to you, this fic runs on the assumption that Louis and Lestat were already involved romantically and sexually when Lestat turned him.

Also, I just think it’d be neat if they fucked in Lestat’s coffin, so I had to give the people (me) what they want :) Hope you enjoy!

Also on AO3!

***

It was ironic, really, that in the end all Louis had needed to do to truly appreciate the beauty of life was die.

He walked through the familiar streets of New Orleans with his maker by his side, experiencing all his city had to offer as if for the first time. He absorbed every detail with startling clarity and wonder: the stars sparkling like diamonds in the sky above, the curious thrum of electricity from the street lamps, the chaotic melodies of jazz musicians still crooning well into the early morning. Even their shoes hitting the rough cobblestones underfoot held some small fascination, each sharp sound echoing in his ears, a novelty.

Most enchanting of all, perhaps, was the way Lestat’s curls bounced with each step, shining in the moonlight like spun gold. Louis couldn’t stop looking at them. He wanted to reach out and touch them, wondered if they would feel even softer than he remembered as they slipped through his fingers. 

Lestat caught him staring and smiled at him wolfishly, excitement bursting in his pale blue eyes. In a fit of impulse, he grabbed Louis’ arm and pulled him into a dark, deserted alleyway with a celerity no human could ever hope to match. 

Louis gasped in surprise as he was crowded up against the brick wall behind him and Lestat caught the sound eagerly with his mouth. Louis melted against him with a soft groan, Lestat’s kiss overwhelming him like never before. His mouth felt more sensitive now, every brush of Lestat’s lips a revelation, and pressed this close he could hear the beating of Lestat’s heart, feel the blood rushing beneath his palms as he cupped the sides of his neck to pull him closer. 

It ignited within him a lust unlike any he’d ever experienced, and before he even realized what he was doing his mouth had slipped from Lestat’s lips to the hinge of his jaw before finally dipping down to latch onto his throat. His fledgling fangs ached as his mouth opened over his maker’s thundering pulse, and Louis was helpless in the face of such powerful instinct.

Lestat moaned, loud and unabashed, as Louis finally sank his teeth into his neck, his right hand flying up to cradle the back of Louis’ skull. 

The blood that poured into Louis’ mouth was rich and warm, as intoxicating as it had been the first time he’d tasted it earlier this evening. The pleasure he felt as he drank was immense, transcendent—similar in intensity to when Lestat had made love to him and yet so different, so utterly beyond description.

Lestat was enjoying himself too, if the way he gasped in his ear and rolled his hips against him was anything to go by, but he only let Louis drink for a short moment longer before he started to push him away. 

Louis resisted him, holding fast to the back of his neck with one hand, the other wound tight around his waist as he drank from him greedily. 

“That’s enough, Louis. You’ve had enough,” Lestat said, voice strained, his grip on Louis’ arms like iron, and the words washed over Louis’ mind like a bucket of ice water. 

He let go of Lestat instantly, breathing hard as he leaned back against the wall behind him. 

“I’m sorry,” Louis apologized, brow drawn in shame even as his eyes were still transfixed on Lestat’s neck. He watched the wound he’d left there slowly close, until it was as if it had never been there at all. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You don’t?” Lestat asked, an amused lilt to his voice as he looked at him, a mischievous glint in his eye. He reached up to wipe away an errant drop that has escaped Louis’ mouth with the pad of his thumb before licking it suggestively off his own finger. “If only the night was still young, Louis. I have so much left to show you.”

Heat kindled low in Louis’ belly as he tracked the movement of Lestat’s tongue—until his words registered and he realized what Lestat was really saying. 

His thirst was sated for the moment, having just had his fill of Lestat’s immortal blood, but Louis knew that, as his maker and his mentor, Lestat intended to show him how to kill. 

It was one thing to drink from Lestat in the heat of the moment, Louis thought—and even that he had not managed without guilt—but to hunt and murder an innocent human being? Contrary to Lestat’s insistence that Louis would feel differently once he was turned, that he would shrug off his human sense of morality along with his mortal coil, in this moment, the very idea of such an act still turned his stomach.  

His expression must have betrayed the battle within him because Lestat laughed suddenly, shaking his head as one would at the charming naivety of a child. Louis’ mood soured further at the sound, but Lestat either ignored it or didn’t notice as he took Louis by the hand.

“Come now, mon chéri,” he said, threading their fingers together. “Dawn approaches.”

Louis followed without comment and in mere minutes they had made it back to Lestat’s hotel and were walking down the hall toward the door of his suite. 

Lestat pulled him inside without delay and Louis hardly had time to hang his coat by the door before he was being ushered through the sitting room toward Lestat’s bedroom.

The room looked just as it had the first time he’d entered it, decorated with opulent wallpaper, ornate wood furniture, intricately patterned oriental rugs, and a large four-poster bed against the far wall, its soft bedding still undisturbed. Lestat had spared no expense when choosing his accommodations, it would seem. 

As he studied it all with new eyes, Louis recalled how he had felt when Lestat had first pressed him back against those sumptuous pillows, his cool lips scorching a path down the column of his throat. Louis had been aflame with desire, desperate to be embraced and unmade in some permanent, life-altering way. He had longed for the sweet release of oblivion in any form it could come—even death, in his darkest moments.

With a strange sense of detachment, Louis wondered at the irony with which God had seen fit to answer his prayers, somehow granting him nothing and everything of what he had once so dearly desired. 

No, not God, Louis reminded himself suddenly as Lestat closed the door behind them and crossed the room to pull the shutters closed tight over the windows. I have a new maker now.

They dressed quickly for bed, Louis in a set of burgundy satin pajamas borrowed from Lestat’s own wardrobe. He was momentarily distracted by the silky feel of the fabric against his skin, and so when he looked up to find his devil of a lover kneeling beside the bed as if in preparation for prayer, he nearly choked on a laugh.

Lestat was not praying, however. Louis watched as he pulled a large wooden box from under the bed.

No, not a box, Louis realized as he took in its distinctive, tapered shape. A coffin.

“What the hell is a coffin doing under your bed?” Louis wondered aloud, his voice raised in alarmed confusion. Had it always been there? 

“Where else would a vampire sleep that is safe from the sun?” Lestat asked, as if the conclusion was obvious.

Fear rose up within Louis at the grim sight it made, but the feeling was hollow somehow too, without the teeth it once had when he had been a living man. Lestat continued, unbothered.

“We’ll have to steal another one when we wake tomorrow evening so you can have one to yourself,” Lestat said, lifting the coffin’s lid to reveal the lush, satin interior, “but we’ll manage well enough in here for now, I think.”

“You want both of us to sleep in there?” Louis asked, as the absurdity of Lestat’s words hit him. It had been built for only one occupant, after all, and in life Louis had never been fond of tight spaces. “You cannot be serious. We’ll suffocate, if the lid will even close on us.”

Lestat smiled up at him from the floor, his pale lips stretching wide over his teeth.

“Mortal fears are for mortal men, my dear Louis,” he answered, his tone somehow managing affection and condescension at the same time. “You would do well to remember that, now that you no longer are one.”

They were hardly words of comfort, and when Louis’ anxiety did not appear assuaged, Lestat stood up and reached for his hand. 

“You will be perfectly safe in there with me,” he assured him, quite serious, until another shark-like grin overtook his face. “I even promise not to bite. Unless you ask, of course.”

The corner of Louis’ mouth lifted in spite of himself, and something restless in his chest calmed at Lestat’s touch even in the face of his ridiculous teasing. How confusing his feelings for this man could be.

Lestat released his hand and climbed inside the coffin, lying down flat on his back with his head resting on a satin pillow. Louis stared at him a moment, trying to figure out how best to configure their bodies in such a tight space, until Lestat found the end of his patience.

“Sometime tonight, please, Louis,” he huffed from inside the coffin, his left arm raised in invitation. “Unless you’d like us both to burn.”

Louis took the hint. There was a narrow space to Lestat’s left, so he lowered himself down into the coffin and settled there, half on top of Lestat’s chest, with their legs tangled close together. Once Louis’ head was resting comfortably on Lestat’s shoulder, he finally pulled the lid of the coffin closed.

As the light faded into darkness, Louis expected the sense of unease he had felt just looking at the coffin to grow, but it did not. In fact, his mind was not at all troubled by the darkness nor the satin-lined wood caging him in mere inches from his body. 

Instead, like a moth to a flame, he found his attention once more drawn to Lestat. His awareness narrowed to all the points they were touching; the warmth of Lestat’s body beneath him, the soft wiry hair tickling his palm where it peeked out from the neckline of his white tank top, the gentle stroke of his fingers against Louis’ lower back as they worked their way under the hem of his shirt. Such wonderful sensations they were, and Louis could feel himself beginning to get lost in them until Lestat’s voice cut through the dark.

“Not so bad now, hm?” he said, low and sensual as ever as he covered the hand Louis had placed on his chest with his own. 

“No,” Louis admitted, spreading his fingertips so Lestat could thread their fingers together as he so often loved to do. 

It wasn’t bad at all, actually, being held by Lestat, feeling the tenderness of his touch in the dark, but Louis couldn’t tell him that—Lestat’s ego was big enough already and this new sleeping arrangement of theirs would truly become intolerable if he allowed him to become any more smug over having been right.

Instead, he gave in to the urge to press a kiss to Lestat’s neck. He could smell Lestat’s blood flowing through his veins, and the longer his lips lingered there, the more he could feel his pulse begin to quicken. The terrible rhythm of his heart called to something deep inside Louis, but the base impulse that had driven him to bite Lestat earlier had shifted, taking on a new yet familiar shape now that his thirst for blood was quenched. 

Indeed, it was a different sort of impulse, though no less base, that drove him now to let his lips part so he could taste the salt of his skin as he kissed him there again. Lestat’s throat rumbled under his mouth as he chuckled.

“Insatiable,” Lestat murmured, sounding inordinately pleased by the fact, even as he added, “You had better keep those fangs to yourself tonight, Louis. I don’t have much blood left to give you.”

“You liked it, though, didn’t you? When I bit you before?” Louis asked, his lips still brushing against his neck as he thought of how Lestat had felt in his arms for that brief moment. He wanted to do it again, to feel Lestat writhe in ecstasy against him as his blood filled his mouth. 

“Yes,” Lestat sighed, and at his admission, Louis couldn’t resist parting his lips to nip at his neck with blunt teeth this time, a mere imitation of what he had done to him earlier. 

Lestat groaned all the same, arching his neck up to Louis’ mouth. Desperate the hear that sound again, he bit down a little harder, just short of drawing blood, before he soothed the tender spot with his tongue. 

Lestat rewarded him for his effort with a French curse moaned low in his ear as his hips rocked upward against Louis’ thigh, seeking out whatever friction he could get on his rapidly hardening cock. The corner of Louis’ mouth turned up with quiet satisfaction—for once, he felt as if Lestat was at his mercy, and not the other way around.

“Why?” Louis asked, partly to draw this out a little longer and partly because he was curious. The gratification in the act of biting was obvious—he had experienced it himself—but to be bitten? It seemed contrary to what little Louis understood of his new condition.

“The sharing of blood,” Lestat began after a moment, sounding out of breath, his accent more pronounced, “is the highest form of intimacy for our kind.”

Our kind, Louis thought, his mind abuzz with questions. Were there others like them, then? He would have to ask Lestat about it later.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Louis asked, recalling the agony of his own transformation just hours ago. 

“Exquisitely,” answered Lestat, and before Louis could ask him anything more, he pulled him into a bruising kiss.

Louis kissed him back with equal fervor, luxuriating once more in the feeling of Lestat’s lips moving insistently against his own. Had they always been so soft, so warm? Or were Louis’ colder now, more sensitive? Whatever the reason for it, Louis gave himself over to the sensation, content to be pulled in by the all-consuming tide of Lestat’s desire. 

Each kiss bled into the next, a series that felt as endless as the sands of time now that Louis had no real need to catch his breath. It wasn’t until he felt impatient fingers beginning to unbutton his shirt that he pulled away, looking down at Lestat through the dark.

“I thought dawn was approaching,” Louis teased as Lestat shoved the offending garment off his shoulders. “Are you sure we have time?”

“Shut up, Louis,” Lestat said without an ounce of heat, his nails dragging deliciously against his newly bare skin as he tried to touch Louis everywhere at once. “You started this.”

“Then let me finish it,” he replied and, with uncharacteristic boldness, reached down to pull at the drawstring of Lestat’s pajamas.

Lestat eagerly lifted his hips to help him push them down as far as he could get them. His cock sprang up against his belly, already hard and leaking when Louis wrapped his fingers around him.

Lestat let his head drop back onto the pillow as he moaned, expressive as ever, and Louis followed him down to flick his tongue into his open mouth as he began to stroke him, swiping his thumb through the fluid welling up at the tip and spreading it down the length of his shaft to ease the way. 

Every movement of his hand elicited some reaction from Lestat—a hitch in his breath, a soft curse, the bite of his fingernails along Louis’ back or shoulders—and when he moaned again the sound of it traveled through his throat to Louis’ mouth as he sucked a fleeting bruise onto his skin. 

It frightened Louis as much as it exhilarated him, how Lestat came alive under his touch, how it set his own heart on fire to be with him in such an intimate way. For so long, Louis had run from his desire for other men, had carried the shame of it with him every day. He lived in fear that God would one day strike him down for the thoughts in his head, but here, in the quiet dark, with Lestat gasping his name against his cheek and pushing his borrowed pajamas roughly off his hips, it was easy to forget that this was a sin.

Bare below the waist now, Louis rolled his hips forward to grind himself against the hard plane of Lestat’s belly where his shirt had ridden up, his cock aching for attention. Lestat licked his palm before he reached down to take him in hand and Louis moaned sharply against his neck at the relief his touch brought. 

With the coffin still closed, they had barely any room to move at all, but it was enough for Louis to rock his hips back and forth, to drag his cock through the tight channel of Lestat’s fist. They moved in tandem, giving and taking their pleasure in turn, and Louis burned with every twist of Lestat’s wrist, with every feverish kiss he pressed to his mouth. His heart was pounding against his ribs, blood rushing in his ears, nearly but not quite loud enough to drown out all the perfect little sounds Lestat kept making in the back of his throat.

Lestat stiffened beneath him suddenly, his cock twitching hard in Louis’ grip as he came with a loud, desperate moan. He hardly gave himself a moment to bask in it before he let go of Louis’ cock, just long enough to swipe his fingers through his own release and grab hold of him again. 

It was a heady assault on his senses—the wet glide of Lestat’s fist over his cock, the scent of blood and sweat and sex surrounding them both. Louis was coming before he knew it, pleasure twisting hot in his gut as he spilled over Lestat’s fist, adding to the mess. Lestat worked him through it, milking him for all he was worth until Louis hid his face in his neck and grabbed his wrist to stop him, whimpering from overstimulation.

In the wake of such a powerful orgasm, Louis was exhausted, his limbs heavy and warm, but Lestat only let him rest for a moment before he was pushing on the lid of their coffin and urging Louis to sit up. 

The air was cool on his bare skin as he leaned back on his knees, the waistband of his pajamas still pulled taut around his thighs. The first thing he noticed was that the room was a little brighter than it was when they’d first entered it, the faintest light of the early dawn beginning to bleed through the edges of the shutters. 

The second was that Lestat looked thoroughly debauched beneath him, his belly a sticky red-tinged mess of come and sweat. He was so beautiful it stunned him for a moment, and the self-satisfied smile Lestat gave him when he caught him staring again made his stomach swoop. 

Louis continued to watch Lestat as he stripped off his ruined tank top and used it to clean them both up—first himself, of course, and then Louis—before dropping it over the side of the coffin to be dealt with later. They would both need a bath when they awoke, but for now Louis was content to kick his satin pajamas off the rest of the way and let Lestat pull him back down on top of him.

Lestat wrapped his arms around Louis once more when the coffin’s lid fell back into place, drawing idle patterns with his fingertips across his shoulder, then the ridge of his spine, and the dip of his lower back. 

As Louis gave in to his exhaustion and let his eyes drift close, he felt the curve of Lestat’s smile against his forehead as he kissed him one last time.

“Bonne nuit, mon amour,” Lestat whispered, his breath a gentle caress against his skin. “When you wake, New Orleans will be ours for the taking.”

Though he gave no indication that he had heard Lestat, Louis’ heart sank with guilt at the insinuation behind his words. 

He lay awake another moment more, and as the paralysis of sleep finally claimed him, he sent a prayer for God’s forgiveness for all of the horrors tomorrow was sure to bring.

[genderfluidlucifer]

Response to being asked to give  an opinion on Connie’s calout by residentevil-4

(Tw: CSAM, rape fic, incest fic, predatory behavior, racism, ableism, kink mention, nsfw mentions. Minors should probably dni.)

“Connie and I know each other irl and went to school together for 3 years, although they now live in a different state and have cut contact with me. We went to a private therapy school in Manhattan as we're both disabled and were deemed unable to attend public school. Even though we were pretty close, Connie didn't like having photos taken of them, so I don't have any selfies of the two of us; however, these are from our sophomore and senior yearbooks which at least confirms that we were in the same year at school. People who have seen Connie's selfies should be able to confirm that that is what they look like. First and foremost, Connie is not TMA. They are intersex and the two of us have discussed intersex issues both in person and online, but they are still decidedly CAFAB.” Ok so first off, I want to address this part of the callout. To be honest...was it really necessary to literally doxx Connie ehre? Because this textbook definition of doxxing. Yes Connie’s done some shitty things but I freally don’t think that what they’ve done warrants this level of doxxing. Or...even better, any doxxing. This feels like a really unnecessary breach of privacy, revealing sensitive information on Connie’s childhood that they choose to confide in you with. I really don’t agree with this aspect of the callout as it feels very invasive and bordering on stalkerish.  Btw when I say bordering on stalkerish I’m not directly calling you a stalker Bonnie. Just so we’re clear. I am not defending Connie supposedly faking being TMA. Because faking being TMA is a very serious issue. HOWEVER since I don’t know Connie irl and to be quite frank it’s none of my business what the nature of their agab is. Were not close and I’m certainly not going to like lead Connie onto thinking we’re friends just to confirm this with them because that would be creepy. So to be honest I’m going to take this part of the callout with again of salt for now.

[ID: A cropped screenshot of a numbered list Connie posted to their blog hadrosaurs in response to an ask. 

“3. I’m TMA And that’s completely irrelevant. I’m not accusing them because of their gender I didn’t even know their gender when they said that to me saying that they said that because they fucking said that and the reaction to it was incredibly alarming. Don’t fucking say that stuff to people.]

I mean I”m not a trans woman so take this with a grain of salt if you want but...I don’t see how this is really proof of Connie being deliberately transmisogynistic? Yes Connie gives iffy retellings of mistakes they’ve made in the past. I’ve seen that on their blog before and I won’t pretend it doesn’t happen. BUT here they sound genuine enough and to be honest a growing issue I’ve seen with callouts as of late is. A person confirms they in fact did not do the thing they were called out for. And then the people who make the callout choose to see it as proof of incriminating behavior anyways. To be honest it’s a big problem and it’s also incredibly unfair to the person being called out. If you’re so determined at that point to see the person as bigoted no matter what they say then of course anything they say can be seen as proof. So I’m going to have to pass on this bit of evidence. “Connie responded: “Final note: I have spoken extensively with several trans women about using TMA to describe myself. I will not be getting into discourse about that on this blog again. All that leads to is people demanding my medical records and calling me slurs. If you wanna have a thoughtful conversation about it direct message me cause it’s not happening again here.” Again this really doesn’t seem all that self incriminating. Connie mentions here that they’ve talked to rl trans woman about whether or not they can be considered TMA. Connie really doesn’t have to disclose that personal information to people for any reason. Yes even when people are e including this ask response in a callout. And considering lots of people DO get invasive about Connie’s medical history ans general personal life over matters like this? I feel their reaction is pretty understandable here. “Connie has constantly compared “exclusionists” (or anyone, really) to TERFs, even when the people in question are not transmisogynistic, trans exclusionary radfems, or are even transmisogyny affected themselves.

“ Gonna have to disagree with this part of the callout too. Lots of ace inclus blogs, even some run by trans women , have proven that the ace exclus movement was started by swerfs/terfs. But the blog that has the most evidence for this is courteousmingler on tumblr. I suggest you check out that blog’s archiving of the history of ace exclus rhetoric before rushing to call me a transmisogynist for disagreeing with this part of the callout. I looked through all of the evidence for Connie being racist and tbh as a black ndn it all feels incredibly flimsy. It’d be one thing if Connie was using their experiences to derail and invalidate the discussions about how black people are oppressed But they weren’t doing that there at all. This part of the post feels incredibly biased. And like OP is looking for things to be mad about. Going to have to pass on this list of evidence. Also uh I seem to recall that residentevil04 got called out for some questionable behavior as well. “Both me (insepsy, hi) and ezrat have had really weird spikes in activity on our Statcounters, both on the same day. (Saturday, 4/17/21) For both of us, majority of the pages looked at by these visitors have been related to or about Connie, or have been posts that Connie would find "problematic" such as the f slur untagged or something related to "panphobia"/aphobia. I’m sorry but...none of the proof of cyberstalking holds any water. Visiting someone’s blogs and rbing posts to disagree with them is not cyberstalking. Keeping tabs on urls that an abusive person who has harassed are using so you can block them (in this case with kyoshi) and warn your mutuals is not stalking. As a victim of rl stalking it’s...really weird to call this legit stalking at all. Much less claim that you have damning proof of it being stalking when no such evidence exists in the callout. Besides after Connie and nonbinarydave called out one of kyoshi’s buddies for sending a death threat hate anon to nonbinarydave’s toddler st4lker partly admitted to doing it a few times. Then other mutuals in kyoshi’s toxic social circle clearly began joining in. Making side accounts where they tried to spin a false narrative of nonbinarydave’s daughter being one of their alters (ableist as hell.) And also trying to do it in such a way that they thought would trigger nonibnarydave’s psychosis (also ableist as hell.) If you’re going to drag Connie for their mistakes and never let them move on from those mistakes then it’s only fair to do that to people you agree with who also do toxic/bigoted things. ALso the fact that your wording here suggests that you think panphobia and aphobia aren’t real makes me doubt this claim even more. Exclus and their allies are notorious for mislabeling inclus disagreeing with them as stalking. “connie said that they would release that info at a later time and the minor began to argue with them that they had a responsibility regardless of their complicated relationship with age. in this argument connie for a time kept their age ambiguous and at one point told the minor (who confirmed in a later ask that they were severely traumatized by adults) that they obviously weren’t traumatized. connie quickly deleted this ask and any mentions of it and the next post they reblogged was about how wrong it was to try and quantify or discount others’ trauma. on my old blog i @ed them in the replies and asked if they had just done that. connie admitted to it and said it was fucked up but quickly blocked + deleted my comment. i can’t remember whether or not connie apologized to the minor, they may have? but yeah. i thought that was pretty weird.”] I do agree with some of the concern here that adults shouldn’t over expose minors in discourse. I’ve been contemplating this for awhile myself. And trying to figure out how to take better steps to avoid including minors who are triggered by discourse in discourse, especially. HOWEVER I have one little issue with this addition to the callout. If that is the case then exclus and their allies need to practice this as well. You cannot ignore the fact that the reason a lot of minors are getting involved in exclus discourse is due to adult exclus and their allies forcing minors to pick a side in the discourse. Y’all are not at all exempt from this problem. I still remember an ex mutual of mine trying to convince a minor to agree that aces can’t face corrective rape. And based on how aggressive it got with me when I tried to avoid giving an opinion on the matter, I can’t imagine that it would’ve reacted better to the minor refusing to give an opinion or to the minor outright disagreed. Refusing to put these standards on exclus and their allies is both hypocritical and quite frankly very transparent. The claims about them glorifying dark topics on AO3 through their fics also seems unfortunately legit. I mean those asks of shaming people who ask their viewers to not romanticize or glorify abusive relationships in their works is very damning. I’m very disappointed to see that Connie has taken being an inclus to the point of validating antis anti culture wholeheartedly. I can’t think of much more to add to my opinion on that part of the callout. As for the issue of Connie interacting with pro shippers in the past, I do know that this claim is legit. I’ve seen it before and so has Breeze. This was why for a brief time we decided to stop following their blogs. Because it was triggering to have pro shippers put on our dash. And sometimes we just don’t feel it’s worth it to always let people we’re platforming know they’re rbing triggering stuff. So sometimes we just quietly unfollow and choose to not interact until we’re sure they’re filtering what they do and don’t rb in some way. I definitely don’t agree with that behavior. And if they’re still doing that I”ll deplatform again. “The anon asks: “A weird question but do you know any other stimboard blogs with your follow criteria? (No radfems, racists, fandom antis, etc.) I was hoping to find more through your “similar blogs” but a lot have no anti-antis for their DNI or allow truscum/transmeds and exclus. :(“

The user responds: “I know of @turtle-pond-stims, @outofangband, and @kinaesthetics! 🍂🍄" “[ID: A cropped screenshot of an ask sent by Connie from their now-deactivated blog, butch-with-a-tortoise.

Connie says: “hey anon I have safe stim blogs. dm me if you want them. And radfems/bigots aren’t allowed to interact. For my own safety (because the community is honestly terrifying) I can’t publicly say on my blogs that I’m safe for proshippers/kinky people but I try to spread word how I can.”] [ID: Screenshot of a post by evilwriter37, which reads, “I’ve been seeing posts about fandom police leaving ao3, and it’s like: Good. We don’t want you here anyway. Go find your own fanfiction site.”

The post is tagged “#Fandom #AO3 #Antis #Purity Culture” and has 87 notes. It was posted on December 21st, 2020.

There is a reply from main-to-outofangband-andothers saying: “there are Silm antis on that site who are against Russigon (Maedhros and Fingon) not because they’re cousins but because they’re both male (coded)”] [ID: A screenshot of an anonymous (though signed off as being from outofangband) ask sent to evilwriter37, which says, “Melkor and Viggo solidarity is ‘Look there’s nothing wrong with keeping my enemy chained up in my personal chambers at all times so please just focus on the war efforts and I’ll focus on the boy* in my chambers’ -@outofbangand.

*boy used figuratively @ antis”

The user responds: “Pfft!!! Hahaha! You’re absolutely right! (And Viggo does refer to Hiccup in canon as ‘my boy’).”] I can’t really say anything to refute this. Because these are all posts of Connie outright stating that they disagree with antis. And not only sympathize with anti antis but are fully against antis. Looks like very damning evidence. Although ngl I’m not entirely against kinky blogs as a whole? Just so long as they truly stay in their lane with their kink content. And don’t force it on others in any way. Or shame people who are triggered by their kinks. It is true that being entirely against kinky blogs no matter what is dipping your toes into swerf rhetoric. Tbh I’m not going to look at the rest. This is pretty much all I need to make a decision on whether or not I”ll continue platforming Connie. Though I will try to get some more  perspective from people who I interact with as well. Because I feel better about making a more definitive decision after doing that. Also in general please don’t not try to get an opinion from me on how I feel about syscourse. A lot of the claims about Connie’s age weirdness and them using their alters as a shield feel like syscourse to me. Especially if this callout was written by one or several singlets. Singlets should never be trying to judge how legit someone’s system is ever. Even if their system friends encourage them to. You can call out a horrible person with a system without trying to insinuate that they’re lying about their alters in some way. Doing otherwise is ableist ESPECIALLY if you’re a singlet. Also in general the reason I stay out of discussions of judging how someone is handling their systems is because it’s syscourse and syscourse is triggering for my system and I. If this post was an attempt to get me to give an opinion  on the validity of Connie’s system I don’t appreciate it. And I would appreciate not being dragged into such matters again, thank you.

In general there’s like a few parts of this callout that feel legit. Which is unfortunately cluttered with obvious bias and obsessive hatred of Connie. I’m not here to stan or coddle Connie. I know they are not a perfect person. Especially since no human being in the world is perfect. But I feel the way this callout was created was very sloppy since a lot of the evidence was messy at best. And some points were very hypocritical as well as there being some no true scotsman moments from OP. In acting like exclus never do any of the thing that they tried to call out Connie for. Which is behavior that I am not a fan of. This is why people need to be more careful about callouts and like make roughdrafts and have a more unbiased person helping them if they don’t feel they can do it on their own. I’m even trying to make a resolve to do better at that myself. So it’s not like I’m unwilling to put my money where my mouth is. Anyways those are all my thoughts on this messy callout. And tbh I’m not going to get too much more heavily involved in this. Because I need to focus on more immediately serious rl stuff more often, like doing what I can to get out of the hellish landscape of a house I currently am stuck in.

[piesforjack]

why i think it’s time to stop romanticizing jack/p*rse

listen,,,,i get that the general fandom discourse surrounding jack/p*rse is that they were dating and in love etc etc but...i just really need it to be acknowledged as fanon because...well...it is. this is how jack details their relationship to bitty when they’re talking about their dating history:

that’s just.......not what u say when ur talking about a serious relationship, pals. the fandom has a huge thing for romanticizing something that, in canon, is...very insignificant? like, the character it should affect the most is...almost completely emotionally unattached to the relationship (as seen above.) ofc there’s good reason for him to be emotionally detached and distance himself from it (which i will discuss below) but that doesn’t erase the fact that jack doesn’t divulge into his history with k*nt in the deep and meaningful way so many people like to imagine he did. the reality is that k*nt got lumped alongside a few named girls and that was that.

so. why do i bring this up?? what’s the point in poking holes in this???, the indignant jackp*rse shipper groaned, well, here’s three reasons (tw for discussion of abusive language and behaviours):

i see a lot of people swapping it in as canon (it being: jack/p*rse being in love/dating seriously) usually as if it adds more depth to the jack/bitty romance plot (fact: it does not.) the way i see it, p*rse is brought in as a fleeting background character to propel jack’s own story forwards and act as a comparative point of reference between his past and his present, this makes p*rse almost irrelevant to the main story because bitty is the main character and i feel like we forget that sometimes. people make k*nt out to be a more imperative character to this story than he really is or deserves to be (especially when we take into account all the other supporting character in this story that have much more importance/development/relevance.) there are sooooo many quality characters already in this, canonically, and they’re shoved aside for sordid love triangle discourse and fics and headcanons time and time again. it’s just. disheartening. to know that no matter how interesting or diverse the cast of characters may be, people will always flock to the tried and true love triangle which in this case, whether intentional or not, perpetuates the “white fave” problem that exists in a lot of fandoms. (i’ll discuss this more later)

it really skews the perception of k*ent as a character. k*nt is not a nice guy, canonically. the only actual real knowledge we have of kent comes from a very small section of the whole comic, and he does not present himself as the ~casual problematic fave~ that so many people like to paint him as (shitty refers to him as “modest” but that’s the only “nice” thing we get about k*nt, i wanted to mention that before someone came after me with that piece of info. i didn’t purposely leave it out, i remember.) whether you identify with k*nt (a common defence for his popularity) or not, his words and actions in the comic thus far are borderline (if not fully) abusive and manipulative. you can project or headcanon whatever mental illnesses you want onto him (which is a quite popular for him as well), i’m not gonna stop you because representation is important! people do have mental illnesses that affect their behaviours and actions in this way! but you cannot use that as an excuse for his actions. you cannot say that because X has mental illness A that any and all things they say or do are okay and acceptable and we should all be okay with it (because that’s just not true. source: personal experience.) with all that in mind, AND when you take into account jack’s understanding and detailing of their past relationship, it reallllly impacts and shapes how you view k*ent’s actions. to ignore or re-write canon jack/p*rse as this whirlwind romantic love affair greatly changes the canon perception (ie. making jack look like a bad person for cutting p*rse out of his life when in reality there’s canonical reasons for him to do so, see below)

cornering/trapping someone in a room or situation that isn’t easily escaped (ie. being in jack’s room, the only room (arguably) that jack can/could/would want to escape to), element of surprise (particular trigger for anxiety in a lot of cases (not all, but a lot), showing up unexpectedly and unwelcome), guilt tripping (an attempt to make someone feel guilty for something by bringing up a wrong doing/perceived wrong doing regardless of whether or not they should/do feel bad)

isolating (making someone feel like they need you/can’t function without you), manipulation (making a person think/believe something in order to get what you want from them)

degradation (pointing out/playing into established/previous insecurities)

blackmail (an attempt to use knowledge or secrets against someone in order to manipulate them into complying with you)

conclusion?:

and lastly, 3. i know it’s been said time and time again, but k*nt gets more acknowledgement (ie. posts, fanfics, discourse, etc) than any of the other side characters in the whole story, most specifically, the characters of colour (i can’t find a link to the post, but, you’ve probably already seen it) and that’s...unsettling. i know, i’m being hypocritical by contributing to the discourse but i feel like this is really important. i’m not saying that every single person who writes about k*nt is racist or what have you, but i am saying that it’s incredibly frustrating as a poc to see that nothing n o t h i n g a character of colour does will ever be equitable or worthy of the attention and care that white characters always get. that’s not an exaggeration, either. excusing jack and bitty (solely because they are, undoubtedly, the main characters of this comic, bitty being the primary character ofc), k*nt p*rson should not be as over-represented as he is in the general fandom. he has done nothing to earn or deserve the highly detailed backstory and dedication that some of the reoccurring, main supporting characters can’t even get from this fandom. all he’s done is shown up for 0.3 seconds to add some drama and depth to the secondary main character in order to propel that characters narrative forward and in turn to move along the plot for the primary main character. that’s it that’s all the end. and YET. i get that love triangles are addictive, and that angst and hurt/comfort are like CRACK to some people, but by god i wish people could step tf back and look at the bigger picture and try and piece together why their focus and attention strays to him, maybe look at other fandoms you’re in, examine where your attention gets drawn to, try and understand your actions by studying your past. 

if you take nothing else from this post, please acknowledge canon jack/p*rse for what it really actually is/was and please for the love of god accept that p*rse’s behaviour was unacceptable, abusive, and wrong.

[infinitemelancholie]

April.23.2017

A couple of new developments in my life:

1. I can confidently state “Fuck everyone” because of the state I’m in and all that I went through and will probably continue to go through. I hate that I was sexually assaulted as child and that it’s after affects will probably be something I have to deal with now. I hate the people that lead me to believe that doing anything with men somehow made me less of a man, and just about anyone that has tried to force me into hyper masculine roles. Those people suck and fuck them. Fuck everyone who never lead me to believe it was possible to be bi. That really was unnecessary and uncalled for and just made being me even more difficult and I hate them for it. Fuck everyone that treats queer men as accessories or fetish or something because like the fuck is up with that? Fuck everyone that somehow thought it was cool that I was into one gender but if I wanted to know about the other or some other gender I’d have to talk to someone else. Because like how the fuck is that supposed to work and why the fuck do you think it’s ok to be supportive and helpful for something that doesn’t even fully encompass my sexuality? Fuck all straight women for being shitty towards gay and bi men. Like seriously? This is how you treat us? Fuck straight women that try to pretend I’m gay or something. Because that’s not how this works and you’re really a shiity person. Take down that rainbow facebook profile tint because you sure as shit aren’t an ally. Fuck anyone that’s aphobic on any level. Aces are literally the best thing to ever happen. The notion of now desiring sexual relations completely destroys current relationship discourses and makes being non monogamous much easier. And yeah I’m most definitely grey romantic so that’s a thing and I’m enjoying that because like I feel free at last to not have to worry about a number of issues I think. Fuck everyone that thinks being promiscuous makes you a misogynist or something because like honestly you can have millions of sex partners and yet still be completely respectful towards each and every one of them and treat them like they matter because they do matter to you and that’s how I’m basically living my life right now and honesty I gotta tell ya it’s the fucking tits. Like it’s actually a good thing for me and to me honestly. I feel like I’m able to express a kind of love to them without like having to form some kind of “committed” relationship with all the stalking, needless and endless insecurities and jealousy, restrictions  on who can be my friends, restrictions on sexual relations, restrictions on how I live my life, trying to reform or change me in any way shape or form, trying to dominate me in the sense of pulling shit like the silent treatment or threatening to end a relationship or any other toxic behavior that many monogamous esque people engage in. Honestly fuck anyone that’s normalized this toxic relationship monogamous culture we have. It’s only killing us. And fuck anyone who doesn’t let me have a say for my own needs or tries to make them into some kind of selfishness because it’s not. And fuck anyone that gets butthurt at being told no. If you can’t take no for an answer that’s definitely your problem and that’s definitely a sign I need to be as far away from you as I possibly can be. Fuck white people for being racist. Fuck my college professors for being fucking I don’t know cocky I guess is the word for it? Some of them come off as a little domineering or something along those lines and it’s weird. Also yeah I know I’m not doing all that great but like I have mental issues that aren’t entirely my fault so fuck off. 

2. This deserves its own space. Fuck misogyny and sexism. No seriously fuck that noise. Fuck the noise that made me super paranoid over talking to women or interacting with them on some level because of this irrational fear of like them being somehow unapproachable or whatever because of hotness rating on a 1 to 10 scale. Seriously the fuck’s up with that? Like “Oh I can’t talk to you because you’re out of my league”? Like fuck that bullshit. Its not healthy and honestly feeds this weird idea that women are somehow magically different and must be treat specially by men because they’re women. News flash they’re just people with literally the same problems as us but even worse if possible. Seriously women are without a doubt the must insecure people on the face of the earth. Oh and here’s some grade A dating advice: learn to be fluent in passive aggression. It’s every woman’s modus operandi no matter what. They’ll always try to do something to let you know but not really know what they want. Excessive giggling or laughter is probably a sign they’re into you. Mentions of what they like means “you better fucking take them there/do this for them at some point because they like this thing”. Like honestly women are probably the ones that make most of the decisions when it comes to these things. Men just follow along. Of course there’s those discrepancies where the man makes a decision and the woman goes along to keep him happy or something but still that does give power over to women because like it’s up to her keeping this dude happy when she doesn’t have to. Also this is helping me out a lot in unpacking my internalized biphobia because a) I’m realizing that I don’t need to sleep with massive amounts of women to reclaim my manhood b) sleeping with men is the literal tits and I fucking love it and it in no way impacts my gender etc c) I have no reason to feel that women have some weird sex power over me because like they’re just women. Literally there’s nothing special about them. They’re probably more afraid of me which I’m not ok with but kinda am because like I got nothing to fear on my part. Even if it doesn’t work out with one woman like it doesn’t matter. There are others for starters and also I’m fucking bisexual. Why should I obsess over the rejection of just one woman when there’s like other genders out there for me to be occupied or involved with. As far as I’m concerned a rejection is just a pass to continue being single and I’m honestly enjoying that. No giving up my shit to others. No having to cohabitate with someone. No having to shell out money for valentine’s day and stuff. None of that. I’m a free man and I can do with that what I want to do.

3. Sometimes I’m confused about my grey romanticism. There are people I meet that got me feeling some kind of way and I don’t know what to do about it. Like there’s this one girl I just met this quarter who seems like really cool and stuff but like I think I’m crushing on her or something. Maybe I’m just sexually into her? That seems more likely. I can live with that. I guess the question is trying to proceed from there in a way that won’t like make things weird for us. Maybe I should just be upfront about the whole grey romantic bisexual thing and be done with it. Fuck it here’s what I want. Yes I want to have sex with her all throughout campus or wherever because I think it’d be awesome and I think she’s got it going on. I’m not really into the prospects of being in a committed romantic relationship because that’s definitely not me but like a fwb or something would be dooooooooope. But like none of that feau fwb thing that people have. Like a queer platonic relationship kinda thing would be what I’d like. Yeah that’s what I want. A queer platonic relationship. A relationship where you’re not really a bf or gf but one where you’re more than friends still. You’re friends but like a different kind of friend. Not even a best friend. A friend where there’s intimacy and closeness but no real romantic connection present. A queer platonic relationship. That’s what I’ve been after this whole time. I’ve just settled on doing the whole romantic thing because like idk I guess it’s easier to do that or something. Like it’s easier to communicate that to potentials etc. Also this brings into mind this guy I met earlier this year who I swear I’ve developed a crush on but am now thinking it wasn’t quite a crush really. Perhaps that was what a squish is. Perhaps I’ve officially had my first squish without realizing it. Mmmm maybe not. Though it’s somewhere between the two I can at least admit that.

4. There’s a difference between doing what you want without worrying about what others think and being a deuche nozzle about it. Ie you can go about your life not really caring about others’ opinions but consequences do matter in some way or another. I haven’t fleshed out the details but a few examples

 -being involved in any way with someone in a workplace or even small college/college department/club/etc (partly why I’m a little off put by my feelings towards this girl and even guy) has consequences for both myself and them. If things go to shit like everyone will be up in our business about it. Like they’d know. Plus we’d have to see one another a lot and let’s be honesty PTSD me probably won’t be able to handle that well. Plus I’m sure it’d just make them hate me more. And we’d be sharing friends so group studying becomes awkward etc

I was going to say something about casual sex and feelings developed from that but like honestly I’m not the one responsible for making someone feel or think that I’m in love with them because of how we have sex together or how they feel about having sex with me. Although it’s pretty shitty when like the other person like wants to have sex with you but like becomes weird about it afterwards for lord knows what reason. Anyways moral of the story it’s not my problem nor is it my job and I’m ok with that