#like genuinely. not being loved at all is better than love that is tainted and hurtful

[satanfemme]

I....I think I might have some of the anger you used to have. How did you grow? How do you become so positive but it doesn't feel fake anymore?

a combination of a shift in perspective + the kind of healing that just takes a lot of time and practice.

on my shift in perspective:

understanding political theory better has helped (communism, anarchism, and transfeminism are the schools of thought I study the most. the abolition of prisons/punitive justice is also especially important to me). it sounds silly, but when you don't understand truthful and reality-based political theory it's very easy to feel like there's fundamentally "good people" and fundamentally "evil people", if not feeling that it's human nature as a whole to be evil, and this worldview can taint every part of your life. studying theory has helped me understand HOW and WHY horrible things happen in the world on both large and small scales, and that it's more complicated (and also more solvable) than just paranoid and misanthropic "people are bad" fears. this has helped me a lot.

on a more personal and esoteric note, I've also come to see people as inherently interconnected. I believe we're all part of the same macroorganism and there's no fundamental differences between us other than circumstances. everyone in the world is traumatized and doing their best to respond to what's happening to them as it's happening, and learning as they go. it's a lot harder to hate someone once you understand whatever they're doing to wrong you is out of fear/trauma. it's also a lot harder to hate someone once you understand that you could've been them if only your life went a different way. (in other words, as I like to point out: everyone is capable of being abusive, and people who are abusive are still people). it also probably helps through all these beliefs that I don't believe in genuine free will, but I understand that thought probably isn't comforting to most people the way it's comforting to me.

on my healing:

living away from my abusive parents for five years and counting helps. trying to find ways to treat my mental disabilities with patience and grace (and with an increasingly anti-psych viewpoint) has helped. getting an emotional support dog has helped.

maybe the BIGGEST help has been meeting and befriending more people in real life, and doing new and novel things all the time. socially speaking I consider myself raised by social media, and although my feelings towards that fact aren't wholly negative, let me tell you that the real adult world is SO much better and healthier than any website. I like meeting people who are different than me, and have different thoughts than me, and I like exploring, and going to shows, and experimenting with things. nothing makes me feel as alive as when I'm out there in the world Doing A Thing, In A Location, Dressed In An Outfit, and With Other People.

I also think age has helped to an extent, but not because of any pseudoscience "your brain matures at X age" stuff. I think I just have a lot more practice at being a person than I did in the past. and I hope to have more practice in the future. this is the first year I've felt like an "adult" and it feels fucking GREAT! I feel emotionally mature, I feel autonomous, I feel really good.

AND ALSO. my last piece of wisdom for you: stop worrying about how other's see you, stop worrying about your interests being cringe, stop worrying about being the most perfect morally pure person in the world. letting go of these fears doesn't happen over night, it takes time. but the more I become openly & proudly freakish and weird, the happier and nicer I become. I love being a cringy furry pervert so much. it's awesome. can't recommend that kind of thing enough.

[anna-dreamer]

Finwean generational trauma is so real. I imagine, after Maglor and Maedhros kidnapped the twins, there was a clear and brutal understanding that that was not them giving those children a good life; but also, also, with Maglor and Maedhros being prone to the Oath, with their lives and souls tainted and fractured by bloodshed and murder and violence and loss and despair, they'd think there was no chance in the void for them to make something good out of it. Not with the Oath, not with the Doom, not with the way their father was. Their grandfather, due to whatever eldritch horror haunted his childhood in Endorë, felt that he had to have as many children as possible, so that his family would not fail and he wouldn't be left alone and scared in the dark. As a result, their father, abandoned and traumatised and angry, felt that he had to have as many children as possible, so that he would never be abandoned again, alone and scared in the dark. And he made sure of that. He had seven children, and he tied them up with an unbreakable Oath that would sooner destroy all of them than let them give up on him. So many hurts in this family were attempted to be healed with the use of children. And now here are Maglor and Maedhros. Alone and scared in the dark. True, there are two little boys on their hands, yet they have already wronged these boys so deeply. If there is a small chance of salvation or even redemption through them, Maglor and Maedhros would not take it. Besides, it would not work anyway. Refusing to repeat the old pattern is a first step in the right direction, and on itself it wouldn't be enough, but...

But then Eärendil appears in the sky. This is Elrond and Elros' father up there - and at the same time there is Fëanor too, because it's the silmaril that shines, the unobtainable, unreachable, illusory silmaril, like a father Maglor and Maedhros still desperately long for. Oh, but he will not come back. He is as far away as any star in the sky. The twins can't have their father back, and neither can the last two Fëanorians.

And then it hits Maglor. True, his brother and him are Doomed. True, there is probably no happy ending for them two. But it doesn't have to be this way for Elrond and Elros. With whatever strength and will to live and hope that he has left, he will try to do better by them. Maedhros would try to argue, but Maglor would tell him, They did not have Fëanor for a father! And they will not.

He can only hope that his genuine love and care he will give to the twins is just enough for them to turn out better than Maglor and Maedhros did. Maglor and Maedhros took them in. Now they are responsible. They will try. If redemption comes, it's not through acquiring someone to love you, but through loving them as sincerely and selflessly as your broken heart can. And if redemption doesn't come at all, so be it. It was not about redemption anyway. The second step, to consciously break the chain, is made.

Alas, it does not work as well on Maedhros. He doesn't feel this bittersweet bliss. He has fallen too deep into despair. And as soon as Elrond and Elros are gone, it becomes not enough for Maglor to heal either. He has just enough hope left to argue with his brother whether or not to go for silmarils. But all those last years spent alone with Maedhros sucked a lot out of Maglor, and nothing is left, apart from the feverish devotion, Nelyo knows better, Nelyo always knew better, like a dark shadow of Father always knows better, we will follow him and we will die for him if needed... No matter that Maedhros is not in his right mind. Neither was Fëanor. Their father's Oath is intertwined with their love for each other, and it binds them together ever stronger. Maglor would not leave Maedhros. But Maedhros loves his brother too. He might have not been healed by a star, but he is still Nelyo. The big brother. And while he could not break any vicious circles with his life, but with his death, for his last surviving brother, he would try.

It was not enough for Maedhros or Maglor. But it was enough for Elrond and Elros. With them, Finwean generational trauma was healed. The chain was broken. And i firmly believe that, despite their own trauma, both ultimately had healthy and happy families.

And if Maglor is still out there, Elrond will find him. He will finish what Maglor - his father - has started.

[pocketgalaxies]

fcg: i enjoy eating silver more than copper

imogen: i am genuinely scared to meet my mom again

chet: it is well known that wood is better than metal

laudna: deep down inside, both delilah and i kind of want the shard

laudna: i don't want [the shard], fearne should have it, but i don't know anymore what's my opinion or desires or feelings or [delilah's]

imogen: i love laudna deeply, but i'm disgusted at the thought of delilah looking at us all the time

orym: i'm super lonely all the time, especially at night. doesn't matter if i'm bunking with one of you guys

fcg: sometimes i pity some of you because you have beating hearts and opportunities and you don't do enough with them

fcg: chetney you have so much love to give and it doesn't seem like you're interested in anything, in ANYTHING, other than wood. there's people out there who you could love and experiences you could share with someone else, but all you care about is wood

orym: i've always laughed it off but i guess i do kinda wonder if chetney is my dad

ashton: i am the reason that the jiana hexum robbery went fucking wrong and the reason why i got thrown out of a fucking window

ashton: (laudna: is that why you feel like you deserved to have the nobodies leave you?) yeah.

fearne: i feel like we are very ill-equipped for this job and we're gonna fail at saving the world

chet: while wood may be the superior material to metal, i do fear that with the dwindling interest in it that children will find my toys and thereby myself obsolete every year that i grow older

fcg: i think it's something buried deep down in my circuitry, but every time i hurt or kill something, it feels really good. it makes me sorta relax a little bit and some of my stress goes away

imogen: i know we're supposed to save the gods but i've tried talking to them my whole life and none of them will ever respond. i think i'm tainted. i don't know if i want to save gods that don't love me

laudna: you know we could all ripcord out of this at any moment, and i don't mean this scavenger hunt, i mean saving the world, right? andsometimesifantasizeaboutitallthetime

fearne: sometimes i do stuff to you guys while you're sleeping. not weird stuff, i just like to look at you closely and...you know, just look at you. you look so content and comfortable and i can get up and look at you really well. and maybe twiddle your hair and like braid it. nothing bad! nothing bad!!

ashton: any time it's too quiet, i start worrying that one of us, most of us, are gonna end up killing another one of us accidentally. all of us. orym...very gently, but probably–orym may be the only one i worry about the least, but genuinely everybody else. i have panicked thinking about what happens when one of you kills another one of us

orym: (laudna: do you have any strong feelings one way or another kind of being the normal guy in a group of freaks who are all ticking time bombs? are you okay with that, do you have any strong feelings?) i have all the faith in the world in you guys, all of you. and i have also spent time thinking how to neutralize each of you

fcg: i kinda worry that i put all my eggs in the changebringer basket and she might betray us all, i had a really weird conversation with her and i think she's just out for herself and she might not really care about me

imogen: fearne, i was really disappointed in you for running away from your power, you should take the shard (laudna: you should take the shard)

orym: i really miss dorian, and sometimes i think that's okay and sometimes i think it isn't

pate: [laudna] is my creator, i don't have feelings, i'm a construction

ashton: i feel fucking worse that i just fucked up fearne's life way more than mine, and i should've died instead of that happening

chet: i grew up in the bramblewood outside of westruun, and when i was a kid, i came back from learning how to make toys and found that my whole family had left. all they left behind were toys. and they ran when errevon the rimelord was running across the plains so i'm kinda afraid of dragons. and i had five siblings, alabaster, pepper, sugarplum, hermey, and chad, and i was so mad that they left, i never looked for any of them. and now i'm pretty sure they're dead, so i think that any family i have is just gonna look for a reason to leave me, that's why i don't get attached to anybody

[deceitfuldevout]

A Woman Like You

Tommy Shelby x WOC!Reader

Word Count: +1,215

Warning(s): Angst, Sexist remarks, Societal pressure, Sterotypes.

Author's note(s): I've recently been using writing as a form of therapy. This goes to all the ladies that can relate.

You've fallen head over heels for Tommy Shelby, but now you're questioning if his intentions were sincere or not.

GIF by nofckingfighting

You made the mistake of falling in love. You should've seen the signs sooner. You started working at the Garrison as a bar maid with Grace, eventually moving up to being their sole entertainment. You were an exotic bird who had caught to wandering eyes of drunken Englishmen. Some folks would say you had these men in a trance, with your rare features and seductive mannerisms. Some even say you're a witch. But there was only one person who saw you for you. Tommy Shelby.

It was refreshing, being seen as a soft, delicate thing. His demeanor would shift when talking to you. He's much kinder to you that with any of his men. That was until another, prettier face had caught his eye. You of all people knew the truth: Tommy Shelby would never love you. Instead he'd fallen for your coworker Grace. She's everything you weren't. That may have been the reason why. Of course, you should've seen the signs. How he'd look at her with such tenderness.

Eventually his entire personality completely changed with you. Perhaps they were his true colors. After her death, things went south. Tommy returned to you, but only for physical intimacy. He was rough, unapologetic, and at time, downright cruel. He hadn't spoke to you like a lady, with basic respect. It almost hurt knowing men will never speak to you with kind remarks. As soon as you found a better option, you let him know right away. When you close the pub for the last time, Tommy was there. It was strange, having an Englishman waste his previous time on foreign blood.

You turn around to find Tommy sitting on a barstool, not paying him mind. Then something strange happened. He isn't usually this tender, not even in private. So why on earth was he telling you to stay? After every humiliating thing he'd put you through. How Tommy would shimmy you off his arm in front of his business associates. It only got worse when he'd flirt with women right in front of you, then ask for a fuck because it was convenient. Perhaps it was the liquid courage, maybe even the hormones that made you tear up with anger. But for some reason, you wanted to let him know he hurt you, "Enough, Tom, you need to stop doing this,"

He tilts his head up, genuinely surprised that you'd spoken up. His eyelids are hooded, "If you've got something to say..." he lights up a cigarette, "...say it now," how predictable. Tommy's cruelty had no limits. You were tired of being his little plaything, "I deserve better than this, better than you," letting him know how you truly felt, "You're fucking selfish, you know that?" tears already streaming down both cheeks, "You could've told me you were seeing other women, Tom," your vision blurs. Tommy objected, "You knew who I was when you met me--"

"Yeah, yeah I thought I did, until you decided to to make an acceptation with that blonde whore!" you knew what it would take to get his blood boiling. You wanted to hurt him the same way he hurt you, "I've wasted most of my life waiting for you to love me back, I wasted my good years on a man who wouldn't care if I bled out on the floor!" voice now shaking. You were filled with regret, pain, and anger.

He doesn't even know what the weight of his words did to you, "I know how you English men see women like us, we're always sexually desired but never loved, enough for a good fuck but not enough to make a wife," a chuckle escapes your tips at the thought of it. How could he marry someone like you? His name and status that he's worked so hard for would be tainted. Because who could ever love a woman like you? He had the audacity to roll his eyes, "You were entertainment, to bring customers in," someone pretty enough to keep company around.

"Everything, Tom, everything I've been doing, the act, because I am not allowed the luxury of being seen as innocent," after pouring your heart out, he still hadn't believed you, "Don't act like you haven't been seeing other men," he scoffs. You started to laugh at that remark. Had he really been that clueless? Tears stream down both cheeks. You wipe at them, smearing your mascara, "Now that's incredible," a deep grunt is trapped in the back of your throat, "You really think I'm a whore, don't you?" in an almost hushed tone, "Tommy, you were my first and only, do you really not believe me?" nothing felt worse than being betrayed by the one you trust the most, "All I ever wanted was for you to love me," since the beginning you were there. Even when he was mourning Grace you were there to keep him comfort. How foolish of you.

"Now you never told me--"

"I know who you pretend I am, who you want me to be," you roll your eyes, sniffling for a moment, "I'm not like you Tom, I can't pass, I can't change the color of my skin or features-- I will never be the white woman you've always wanted me to be, the kind of woman you'd keep on your arm without feeling embarrassed, why can't you just accept that?" a faint pause, "You told me...you told me she wasn't your type," barely a whisper, "Was everything a lie?" when he doesn't say anything, it was the only answer you needed. At that moment you snapped, "Please! Look at me!" you smack his arm, "Tommy!" when he does you're given only a cold stare.

Of course, it was never going to be someone like you. There are tears brimming your eyes again. It hurts, knowing that you will always be second best. Always an option but never the first, "At first I was confused, your infatuation with Grace didn't make sense, and now I see that it never mattered who she was," your breath hitches for a moment, "You were always going to choose someone like her..." now rambling about the obvious, "Prettier, blonder...whiter," you taunt.

Each word felt like venom on your tongue. You should've been used to the poison by now, "You don't know how long it took for me to trust a man again, after the pain I've been through--women like me, Tom, we don't have pretty blue eyes that get us what we want, not without a price," that remark made your skin crawl, "Always the seductress, never seen as pure," a dark chuckle erupts, taking up all sound from the bar. Tommy only stares back at you, with that same cold expression. You lean against the counter, looking down at the wood before returning to glance at him, "Did you ever love me?"

If there's one thing about Tommy, is that he would never lie to you, "No," a short, simple answer. You give him a soft, faint smile. Saddened by the loss but also relieved that you were free at last, "Thank you," with that you left, never returning to the Garrison again.

[jellojelli]

Penacony Big 3 Hurt You're Feelings/How They Make Up for It

*a/n: idk if they're really the big three but they are in my heart*

Dr. Ratio

Veritas Ratio likely said something hurtful about your intelligence. He's no stranger to being critical and cold when it comes to academics and if you struggle in a field he is knowledgable about well, oopsies buddy. dear aeons if you are bad at math like I am you will probs be at the table like a child getting yelled at by him

"Are you really so simple-minded and ignorant that you can't even do this much? Really, why did I even agree to be with you?"

Veritas really didn't mean it.... he loves you dearly but he's Bad at Feelings™ and well academics are his thing and he can be kinda bitchy about it, especially with a lover since he holds you in such a good light, and high standards

If you get angry Veritas gets angry back, and then goes cold. He'll stop arguing with you and simply let you stew in it to let you calm down. Even if he does want to solve this issue immediately he won't because you and him need to calm down, but he doesn't let you know that's his intention for walking away so it looks bad

If you're the type to cry he gets shocked and feels instantly guilty. He would never want to make you cry because of his words. But again he is Bad at Feelings™ and his pride won't let him just apologize after making you cry so he's going to scoff and walk away like if you got angry, letting you calm down before he goes back in, but it looks really bad since he just scoffed and walked away from you

No matter how angry you get please don't say something over the top or targeting to him because if you mention Nous or the Genius Society he will be genuinely hurt and may not speak to you for a while i.e: a week because that's a real thing he is angry and maybe even a bit insecure about

Veritas will make it up to you, but in his own prideful way. Don't expect some grand apology, begging, or tears from him because that is not him at all. And don't think he will gift you anything either because he doesn't want to taint the notion of gift-giving with anger and hurt. Instead he'll si you down, apologize curtly and possibly make you something or do some things he knows you hate doing, like a meal or some dessert or doing some chores he knows you dislike to show you he is really sorry

Maybe he'd even invite you to bath with him and destress, this is not an invitation to have bath sex because 1) don't ruin the sanctity of his bathtub and 2) sex is already rare with him and he again refuses to ruin the notion and beauty of intimacy with you with anger and hurt

If you said something mean to him you better apologize sincerely to him about it in return or he may hold onto the fact that you like to use things against him and he won't tell you shit anymore because despite his demeanor and attitude he doesn't like his supposed major short-comings thrown in his face

Aventurine/Kakavasha

Aventurine goes through this back and forth with himself about being in a real relationship. One minute he's happy and genuine with you and the next he's stand-offish and arrogant to you. It's the Trauma™ and he doesn't mean to be this way towards you but he's scared one day you'll realize you could do better than him and just up and leave him for someone way better so he said something to try and push you away from him and make you realize this sooner rather than later

"Hah, you think you're special to me? I could have anyone I wanted, you're nothing much to me."

Aeons he is such a liar and the second those words leave his lips he wants to punch himself in the face, or let you punch him instead because why would he say that to the best thing in his life? The best person he's ever met?

If you're someone to get angry he doesn't match your energy. He won't yell at you or fight with you, instead, he digs an even deeper grave and continues his aloof and dismissive behavior, laughing and scoffing at your words while he screams at himself in his head with each hurtful word and action he throws at you. He'll stand his ground until you walk away or tire yourself out and go to bed/nap and then just sits by himself somewhere in the house in a pensive silence thinking about how much of a fucking idiot he is and how his 'luck' can't seem to help him when he needs it to

If you cry instead, oh boy.... Aventurine feels like a real piece of shit but that doesn't stop him from continuing until you run off somewhere in tears. He again sits in silence for a while, cursing himself out and nearly bringing himself to tears as he berets himself for making you cry when all you ever did was love and support him. He feels so toxic and icky that he can't even look at himself right now.

I repeat, DO NOT throw his insecurities in his face because these aren't simple matters that can be overlooked with minor consequences like with Dr. Ratio. If you bring up his past or his home this will be the last you ever see of him because those are things he cannot take lightly and he will never feel comfortable in your presence again because all he will think about is how you view him as a sl**e still or someone not even human. If you do this it will really break him because he really does love and trust you, even if he can't stop himself from trying to push you away at times

Kakavasha will make it up to you via a lot of different things. He starts with getting you a grandiose bouquet of you're favorite flowers. Buying you something you wanted for a while or something you mentioned wanting a while ago that you thought he wouldn't remember. And he will make sure you come back to a spotless and beautiful home after you calm down. Not to mention he transfers 100,000 credits to your account while you're out or asleep. And when you finally are in front of him again he will apologize sincerely, dropping his cocky and suave tone for a genuine and sad-sounding one

He's also willing to do whatever you want after. Shopping at his expense? Cuddling all night? Making him cook you something? Whatever your heart desires he will make it happen for you

Also, expect to be asked to come with him to casinos more often so that he can keep you near and dear during his wins, you are his lucky charm after all ;)

Sunday

This man is tricky. He always presents himself as a cool, collected, and intelligent man who cares deeply. And he does care deeply for you. But sometimes he has his moments, the ones that are darker, selfish, greedy, and just downright mean. He may have said something hurtful while stressed and told you that you're a burden and an annoyance to him, but he didn't mean a single word of it.

"Aeons you're an annoyance you know that? Why must you be a burden now of all times? Can't you see that I am doing more important work and that coddling you will never be my priority?"

Oops... He didn't mean to say that, but that's something he realizes after he's cooled down and had time to reflect. Sunday doesn't mean anything he said, truthfully, he just exploded and said anything to get some alone time... and now he's fucked up big time.

If you get angry Sunday can and will argue with you. He's not for a screaming match, but he will spew venom to beat you're anger and make you stop talking/yelling, even if that leads to him saying even more hurtful things that make you angrier/sadder. In the moment of anger and stress, he doesn't even think about what he's saying, for once he just lets out all his feelings and that unfortunately means he's letting out decades worth of anger and stress onto you

If you start crying, in the moment Sunday says one more hurtful comment about you being pitiful and emotional before stalking off, leaving you alone. Once he's calmed down he stares off into space with a haunted look on his face as he replays the things he said to you and the look on your face before he left. He feels like a dick, like a failure. You were the second person he promised himself to never hurt and now he's made you cry and feel like some worthless burden.

If you throw something he's insecure about in his face he can take it, but in the moment it causes some more venomous anger to come from him. It will prolong the current fight and he's going to start trying to hit below the belt to match your energy. He feels this is fair and just in the moment since you're trying to hit below his belt. Later though he just feels childish and bad since he was the one to start this argument and he deserved to be told those things and he shouldn't have responded to them at all

Sunday will make it up to you by finding you after some time. He sends a text first so you know he's coming, and to let you tell him that he should stay away a little longer if you need some more time to calm down and think. He comes with a bouquet of flowers, a custom one that in flower language means he's regretful and incredibly sorry. He will tell you from his heart that he is sorry, and that he didn't mean any of those things he said. He'll ask what he can do to show you that he is really sorry and means his apology. And he will do anything at all. Buying you something, doing something for you, he'll even do something embarrassing despite being the head of the Oak Family if it means you will accept his apology and continue to be with him

And don't even try to apologize back for anything said or done. He will stop you in your tracks and make sure you know he isn't hurt by anything said, if anything he deserved every word and more in his opinion

[hot-chocolate-rat]

Reading through @badaziraphaletakes inspired me to make a post about reasons:

Why people tend to choose Crowley of Aziraphale, and, consequently, think Aziraphale is bad

This might be a long post, i'll cover some topics and i might get all over the place at some point! But please be patient! Can i get into it?

Inversion of values

When first watching Good Omens, you might expect a strong inversion of values, that Heaven is bad and Hell is good, angels are the oppresors and demons the victims

It is mostly religiously (religious trauma) motivated, aka "christianity is a fucking bullshit" motivated, to expect seeing the ones who calls themselfs good (Heaven, who we interpret as Christian religious figures) be actually bad (wich, in real life, they tend to be) and, the ones they cast out as evil and sinful (Hell, wich we interpret in this case as anyone the church calls sinful, like the queer comunity) to be good and innocent and just different, it makes us feel emphatic for them, even seeing that they are, indeed, bad

I believe some people just dont want to accept it, they want to believe the angels are inherently bad and the demons just questioned their bad ways

But they arent, if anything ALL angels and demons are naturally good and innocent, "oh but Gabriel!" He was naturally good, we saw it, the same with Michael and Uriel too, they're all just tainted by the strong grip Heaven demands for them to have; in episode 1 season 2, we see both Crowley (as starmaker) and Aziraphale being totally innocent and adorable, they're good by nature, no one in the story is actually evil

When this inversion of values we wish for isnt fulfilled, it might cause an annoyance, i know a lot of people who dont accept it, and just make it up because... well is expected!

Queerness

This was originally taken from a post of "Bad Aziraphale Takes"

Crowley is "more queer" than Aziraphale, at least thats how people see it as, in fics too, how many times Crowley gender is explored, with pronouns and labels and identities? While the more i saw for Aziraphale was a vulva or they/them pronouns, and never in a human au! Aziraphale is depicted and seem as a cisgender male

I have seem even people saying Aziraphale have internalized homophobia! I- how??

Found them! @theelastword made an ask on the "bad Aziraphale takes" blog that inspired this bit <3 thank you love

Need for a villain and favorites

As we saw, people that hate Aziraphale choose to see Heaven as evil, as the villain, and that is also followed by many people who dont hate Aziraphale! Well, might i say that... we dont have a real villain in Good Omens? The angels arent evil for wishing to follow what they believe to be God's plan, nor for deminishing humanity- but i'm getting ahead of myself here!

The need to see Heaven as inhetently bad, the big bad villain, makes people see Aziraphale, going back there "freely", hurting Crowley's feelings, saying Hell/demons are the bad guys (wich they ARE?? There is not an inversion of values!) As him being evil, as him going to the side of the villain instesd of choosing Crowley, going back to CROWLEY'S abusers, not his, not theirs, Crowley

I do believe humans have a natural need to have favorites, when you're a kid is always "wich caracther of this cartoon am i?" and later is always "wich do i relate to more? Wich do i like more?", and people choose Crowley for all those reasons above and probally some personal ones too

So! As a small conclusion:

People choose to prefer Crowley, they choose to see Crowley as better because he's a "good demon", he's the victim that fell from Heaven and hates Hell, he's the queer caracther, he's kind and genuine and helps Aziraphale and have a car he loves

Because of the idea that Aziraphale is: A) opposite to Crowley; B) an Angel! (The abusers! The bad guys! The evil!); C) a BAD angel for that matter, he's selfish and mundane and comes across as rude to Crowley (because he acts so fucking autistic too!); people tend to DISLIKE Aziraphale, small simple minded people, but people nonetheless

I know the whole post is a bit over the place, it might sound confusing here and there, but i really wanted to put all this together to try and understand why people hate Aziraphale

I though maybe this can give a small input on why people think like that, it sures helps me to understand how they think that and what they mean by their terrible takes! I guess is mostly them being naive

Oh! You know how in the 2000's the media was demonizing femininity by having blond, pink, feminine villains in their high school romances? How we, to this day, tend to see feminine girls as fake, vulgar, naive, etc? How most teen girls go through a "not like other girls phase" because of that?

Same principle! Is the same reason for why they see Heaven and Aziraphale as evil

I hope someone can appreciate this lil silly thoughs put together <3

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 4th

Rimming, Rain x GN!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 871

Warnings: Rimming; established relationship; fellatio; anal fingering; spit as lube; GN!Reader; semi-public; cum eating; cumswap (terrorising @da-rulah with this lmao);

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage

Author's Note: Hello again, everyone! I just want to pop in again and say that I'm still very much overwhelmed by all the support over the last few days! It genuinely means a lot that so many of you are reading my fics, let alone liking and reblogging them! I love hearing all the kind words you have, and can't wait for you to see what the coming days have in store! I want to apologise for how short this one is... turns out the ghouls were much more difficult to write for than I orginially anticipated.

Want to give a major shout out and thank you to @da-rulah for beta reading all of these, and even helping me on some days when I wasn't feeling the writing vibes!

Without further ado, let the debauchery commence!

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Rain was looking and smelling particularly delicious today, either that or you were just exceptionally horny. You couldn’t tell if there was much distinction, though. He was busy with band practice all day, Papa IV feeling particularly anxious about the upcoming tour which meant he was being harsh to the Ghouls and frustrated at each of their little mistakes. Though Rain made the least amount, he was definitely the most effected by Papa’s stress. It made you want to wrap him in bubble wrap but his intense concentration was too much for you to bear.

During their lunch break, when you knew Rain had finished, you waited for him behind the nearest unlocked broom cupboard and ambushed him when he was alone, dragging him into the tiny room and slamming the door shut behind you. At first, he was frightened, but when he saw it was you he was just confused. Any noises of protest, however, were silenced by your lips capturing his in a messy kiss.

“What has gotten into you?” He murmured in between kisses.

“Hopefully you in a minute.” You teased. “But let me get my fill of you, first.”

He groaned when your lips moved to his neck and your hand cupped his growing bulge. “I don’t have m-much time.”

“I’ll be quick, is this okay?”

“Fast, please!”

Immediately, you dropped to your knees and pulled at the button tying his jeans closed. You made short work of freeing his almost hard cock from its confines and immediately got to work, pulling it into your mouth and sucking on it. Your head bobbed up and down as you made sure to take all of him in your mouth and down your throat as much as possible.

“Oh, fuck!” Rain exclaimed, his hands flying to your hair. When you looked up at him through your lashes, you saw that his head was thrown back and his mask was partially off, lifted by the shelving unit Rain was pushed up against.

Your hands moved up to his waistband and pulled his trousers and pants down to have better access to the rest of his body. Rain felt this and panicked a little, but you’d removed him from your mouth with a pop and replaced it with your finger, getting it wet with spit and readying it to go where you wanted it to. Once again, you took Rain into your mouth, but this time you allowed your wet finger to run over his taint and up to his rim, rubbing at the entrance before sticking a finger inside.

“Holy shit!” His voice came out as mere more than a gasp, followed by an incredibly loud whimper. Rain wasn’t much of a talker when you pleasured him, but he was exceptionally noisy. So many gasps and moans falling from his lips. And when you pushed your finger inside him, he bit his lip and released a small scream.

Soon, his hips started bucking as he began chasing his high - your finger in his hole providing him with more pleasure than he could handle. But this wasn’t how you wanted him to cum.

You removed yourself from his nicely-lubed cock and pulled your finger out of his hole, making him whine at the loss. Then, you placed your hands on his hips and turned him around so his ass was now in your face. Then, with no warning, you dove in.

Your tongue licked from his taint all the way up to his rim and you chuckled when he jumped slightly at the feel of you. When your tongue had reached his hole, you began to lick over the nerves and alternate between licking and pushing your tongue inside. You noticed somewhere between all of this, Rain’s right hand was moving in a rhythmic pattern, and when you pulled away, you saw it was wrapped around his cock stroking himself. “No!” He started. “Please don’t stop. I’m s-so close. Sathanas, please more!”

You giggled and dove back in, gripping onto his thighs for support. Your own centre was very much alive with arousal, and you were desperate to touch yourself to his little whimpers. But his pleasure was your priority at the moment.

“I’m so close! Please! I’m gonna cum!”

You began to lick his hole faster, trying to match the pace of his hand’s movements. And sure enough, Rain came hard, his left hand gripping on tightly to the shelves and his cum spilling out onto them.

His pants and groans began to die down as as he remained stood in place, recovering from his orgasm. Though, he turned slightly and saw you crawling towards the shelves. He watched your finger run through the puddle of cum and lick it clean. “Fucking hell!” He said at the sight of you.

He bent down and gave you a deep kiss, tasting himself on your tongue and feeling his own cum get passed from you to him, both of you swallowing it down when you pulled away. “Your turn.” He told you.

You shook your head and stood up, helping him pull his jeans and pants back up. “You don’t have time.” You kissed him again. “Later, okay?”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[museandwords]

worship in decay ( bucky barnes x reader)

Warnings: female!reader, dubious consent, lots of alcohol consumption, mentions of casual sex, addiction mentions, the avoidance of genuine feelings, foul language, self-destructive behaviors, self-hatred?, self-esteem issues, parent issues, childhood trauma, bucky is no saint, but he tries to be a good boy, mentions of mental health, this will be expanded on per chapter.

Author’s note: this was affectionately nicknamed the hoe fic. i have been working on this for the better part of the past two (three?) months. im still adding, re-writing and editing a lot of the chapters. so far i have 7 chapters planned, though this may change as it's expanding by the second. weekly updates are planned, and to be perfectly honest this is just self-indulged and an ode to the sluts. please validate me, feedback is welcome. also sorry i've been gone for so long (i got married)

MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY

PROLOGUE 

You don’t know why you do it. 

You suppose you could put the blame on your absent father, or the degradation and restrained hatred your mother held for you. You remember being that small child – begging for their love. 

Now you find it in the hands of strangers. 

Maybe you could blame it on the liquor that burns your throat and melts the ice off your bones and paints the world in some rose-coloured hue.

Or maybe (and this is the part that scares you most) you’re just truly a despicable human being, in which all of the ugly parts of your parents made you whole. 

You try not to think too much about that. So you find comfort in the warmth of bodies, the hunger in kisses, the worship of strange men that bring you closer to God than any religion could. 

At the end of the day; human beings are mammals at their core, it’s a dog eat dog world, and you’re starving.

‿︵‿︵ - - ‿︵‿︵ 

Waking up in the 21st century initially shook Bucky to his core.

American culture had fallen into a frenzy of degeneracy that could’ve made James Buchanan Barnes cry. 

But he wasn’t James Buchanan Barnes anymore, he was something else.

And he was already desensitized to the dread of the world thanks to the recollection of his own mental house of horrors.

He just couldn’t believe there were more people like him.

People who are more desperate, self-serving, and shameless, he notices. He feels right at home with them. 

That debauched urgency to chase a temporary high to replace the self-hatred even just for a little while was something he and these kinds of people shared. Addicts, the depraved, the lost, the broken. 

Let them say Bucky Barnes was their king. 

He's learned quickly that being brainwashed and kept on ice for the past 70 years really took a toll on his libido, go figure. He’s like a damn teenager full of raging hormones wanting to stick his dick in anything that moves. Now all he craves is the warmth of a human, living breathing body beneath him while their essence fills the holes in his soul. 

What surprises him more is that they let him. They let his blood stained hands all over their silken soft skin, they let his rotted essence into their core, infecting them, tainting them, over and over, and they enjoy it.

His teeth graze their neck, and they should be scared that the Winter Solider could rip their throat out in a millisecond.

Instead, they coo and sigh and hold onto him tighter. It's addictive.

He loves them, every single one, for one reason or another. 

This one makes pretty noises in his ear and smells like candy, that one has a beauty mark beneath her left eye and can make him laugh, those other ones look pretty in sundresses and make him breakfast in the morning.  They all give him something, things he never knew he needed. To be adored, taken care of, loved.

[yanderes-galore]

May I request a romantic concept *or* alphabet for Cersei Lannister (Game of Thrones) please?

Take as much time as you need, I really started to like her around seasons 5 and 6 ^^

🕊️ anon

Sure! I kept most of the info here general due to where I am in the story. So hopefully this concept can be applied to all seasons :)

Yandere! Cersei Lannister Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Blackmail, Coercion, Threats, Sadism, Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Stalking, Mind break, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Implied intimacy, Violence, Murder, Blood, Sexism mentioned, Forced "relationship".

You just know Cersei's one of the worst yanderes to have.

She often betrays those who trust her and only looks out for herself.

Every word out of her mouth is no doubt a lie.

Which means, even her obsession is strung along with her words and actions.

Cersei is aware of the fear people feel for her, she knows with one simple order she can have someone executed and their House either destroyed or tainted.

In fact, fear is often something she uses against her darling.

Cersei's primary way of keeping you in line is messing with your head.

Cersei would accuse you and your House of crimes you didn't commit, gaslighting you into obedience.

You may not be aware of your crimes, but she has witnesses and spies (whom she paid to go along with it... or threatened).

However, if you or your family were genuinely conspiring against her and her family...?

Great, now she can blackmail you into submission.

Essentially, Cersei will find dirt on you to have an excuse to watch you.

It doesn't matter if said dirt is real or imagined... she'll find some way to keep you under her command.

This method would also be how the queen kidnaps you for herself later on.

She's merely imprisoning you for your crimes.

Which is just a front to have you under her watch all the time.

Cersei is worse than merely a liar... she's ruthless, sadistic.

There's times she really does act like a lioness, proving true to the Lannister crest.

Cersei puts up the act of being mature and regal.

In reality, due to a lack of parenting, she's self-centered, immature, petty, a brat.

She's ambitious and short-sighted.

Cersei is willing to sacrifice a lot to get you into her arms.

In fact, she rarely even considers the consequences.

She doesn't entirely think things through.

As long as she gets her way, that's all that matters.

She doesn't care if you hate her.

Fine, you can, but she isn't letting go.

In fact, if she breaks you...

Then you can never leave her side, you'll have unwavering loyalty.

Except, Cersei doesn't even think that through half the time.

Breaking you could make you an unentertaining husk... she'd lose you.

In more ways than one if you were pushed way too far.

Cersei is dangerous to all who's around her.

She doesn't see her obsession as their own being most of the time.

She sees you as a pet, an extension of herself sometimes.

It's hard to say if the "love" she has for you is even genuine.

Where's the line when it comes to her?

Even towards her own children... "love" with her isn't love.

It feels almost like narcissistic ownership.

As queen, her word is law.

She has you under watch all the time.

She gives you your own chambers at first, a guard always by your door to prevent escape.

But soon enough she's trying to convince you to share her chambers, just to have you within arm reach.

If you disobey her, she disregards chambers all together.

You can sit in a cell for all she cares.

You'd still be hers.

Those close to you are threatened, used for bargaining, or outright executed.

What better way to gain compliance than using those close to you as a way to bargain.

She knows you're close to your House, she knows you have friends...

She knows you had past lovers... perhaps even children...

Cersei is not afraid to sacrifice everything you hold dear if it means your loyalty and obedience is only towards her.

She's petty and impossible to reason with.

She cares little when you cry at the sight of all the blood.

Or when she tells you she had someone's head mounted on a pike for being too close to you.

In fact, Cersei would demolish your House and home if it meant you had to rely on her.

You can't disobey if you have nothing to fight for, right?

Cersei is no doubt seductive and flirtatious towards you.

She has seduced many to garner their loyalty.

To her, this isn't about love.

This is about power and control...

Cersei's a megalomaniac, power means everything.

She wants to prove to others that they should fear her.

She may be no man, but she's got power and is ruthless all the same.

She gains sadistic pleasure when watching you bend the knee for her.

In fact... she just likes it when you're on your knees.

Cersei is easily jealous and possessive.

Her jealous and selfish attitude is the reason blood is spilled.

She does offer to wipe your tears when you see her kill another who's close to you... picking them off one by one like she did Robert Baratheon's illegitimates...

Yet afterwards she tells you not to shed anymore for them.

To Cersei, she owns all of you.

Your tears, your blood, everything...

You can't stop her.

When she lures you in close with promises of seduction and pardons for supposed crimes... she then locks you up.

You get to be stuck in a cell for her entertainment.

If you're lucky and obey, she'll reward you.

She'll give you little kisses, an affectionate touch anywhere you want.

She'll gladly use seduction to keep you hooked on her... to rely on her.

Perhaps even let you out and make you her royal pet.

She doesn't need a ring to keep you as hers.

She just needs threats, coercion, and sweet little praises to make you loyal.

Resist all you want, she'll break you down all the same.

She's the queen, she gets what she wants.

She proves that to you countless times, kissing you hungrily with a bruising grip.

She doesn't resort to whining to make you love her.

She simply takes what she wants, because you are hers.

It doesn't matter if her "love" for you is mutual or not...

She'll take you for herself all the same.

[tobiasdrake]

Between the Galick Gun, The Final Flash, and the Final Explosion, which of these Vegeta moves is A: The Coolest B: The most representative of Vegeta and C: The most successful

Answering these in order:

A - Coolest: Final Explosion.

This is Peak Vegeta.

Not in the sense of being the most representative of Vegeta, but in the sense of... literally being the peak of his character arc. This is it. This is the apex of the journey that Vegeta had been on since the day we met him.

We don't know what the full plan was originally for the Majin Buu arc. We know that Gohan was supposed to remain the main character and we can see that play out. This arc sees Gohan off to his own Climbing Karin Tower arc.

It's the same thing Toriyama did a lot with Goku. Gohan's missing in action and is undergoing secret ultra-training so he can return at the 11th hour and slay Majin Buu; The rest of us just have to hold the line until he gets here.

This changed significantly later in the arc, when Toriyama decided he liked Goku better and flipped the script on poor Gohan. We don't know when exactly that decision was made or know for sure what the original plan would have looked like.

But it's interesting to note that Vegeta only came back with Goku. Vegeta's return was a tool to reignite Goku's relevancy.

There is a real possibility that, had things gone according to the original plan, this would have genuinely been Vegeta's swan song. So with something like this, it's important to ask the question. What if this was it?

What if this were the final word on the Saiyan Prince?

It's not about what would be better or what would be worse. Just. If we never saw Vegeta again after this point, would we be satisfied? Would we feel that the story had said all there was to say? Would we need any more?

For me, I could have lived with this. If this was where Vegeta ended, I could have walked away satisfied with it. This was a powerful capstone on the story of an incredibly flawed man. A heroic sacrifice by a man who finally found something worth dying for, but whose heroism is tainted by the ugly reality that he made this problem to begin with; Itself a meaningful summation of the complicated and morally compromised life that he lived.

It did not end up being the final word. But it could have been, and it's no less beautiful for the later series walking back on it.

B - Most Representative: Final Flash

This is the technique that truly captures the spirit of Vegeta's martial style. In his heart of hearts, Vegeta's a blaster. He can fight hand-to-hand, to be sure. He's no slouch at it. But he loves to shoot, moreso than any other character.

He has multiple different named techniques for "Shoot the guy with concentrated ki REALLY HARD." Galick Gun, Big Bang Attack, Final Flash, they're all concentrated blasts. Vegeta likes to shoot.

I talked about this quite a bit before in my breakdown of Goku and Vegeta. Vegeta muscles through like a soldier, but his ki blasts legitimately are the most powerful ki blasts around (with possible exception of the Kikoho/Tri-Beam).

Final Flash perfectly encapsulates that, as an attack that could very well have vaporized Cell and ended things before the Cell Games were even an idea in his head... had Vegeta been willing to destroy the Earth to do it.

Given the damage we see it do to Cell, a wider beam would have been as catastrophic for him as it was for the planet.

This technique, moreso than the other two, best encapsulates Vegeta's style as a fighter.

C - Most Successful: Galick Gun

Both Final Flash and Final Explosion are powerful moments for Vegeta, but if we're talking effectiveness then they're held back by the fact that they achieved nothing.

Majin Buu and Cell both regenerated and kept on going like it didn't happen. In strictly utilitarian terms, Final Flash and Final Explosion both failed.

Galick Gun lost the exchange Vegeta used it in.

But it won him the fight. Goku had to push his Kaio-ken to x4 in order to pull this off, and that was a step too far for his body to handle.

At this point, Goku's cooked. He's still got ki to spare, certainly. He's not out of the fight completely.

But his body simply can't keep up anymore. His whole body is fried. Imagine a balloon that's been overinflated to the point that starts springing holes in it for the gas to spill out. That's Goku. That is his body.

It needs to be said that the Fake Moon/Oozaru trick did most of the heavy lifting for winning this fight for Vegeta. Like. Goku had no chance against this thing. Remember when Goku fired up his Kaio-ken and made Captain Ginyu shit himself?

180,000 is also the exact Battle Power of Vegeta's Oozaru form. True facts. At least, in the best of circumstances. Having to use the Fake Moon technique costs Vegeta a substantial enough amount of ki for it to be worth commenting on.

(Fun fact, Raditz was so weak that even as an Oozaru, he'd get his teeth kicked in by base form Vegeta.)

So. Yeah. The fact that Vegeta was an Oozaru is the key factor in his absolute shitstomp of Goku that followed the Beam Struggle. But the fact that Goku's entire body was so burned out he could barely offer any sort of defense is also a factor.

Could Vegeta have still shitstomped Goku if he hadn't done this? I don't know.

Could Goku have actually found a solution to the Oozaru if he wasn't already at the end of his rope? I don't know.

What I do know is that the Galick Gun brought Vegeta closer to victory than the Final Flash or Final Explosion, and so it wins category C.

[ghost-proofbaby]

Can I get a strawberry midsummer’s night with robin please?💜

absolutely yes yes yes <3 hope you enjoy!! thank you for the request <3

sticky kisses and serendipity

warnings: other than fem!reader? none. just lovin' on our girl. <3 not edited tho

wc: 1.3k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“You’ve got something, right… here!” 

There’s something in the warm summer air tonight. A lightness, a breeze of a feather that hadn’t been there the last few months. The heat has rid itself of the stifling humidity, the sun has begun to take its leave for the day, and the lake water has gone still with a tranquility you can feel within the depths of your chest. Even the occasional breeze can’t break the surface of the water, no ripples in sight as your feet hang off the dock. 

“Wha-” Robin had started to genuinely question, but she cuts off halfway through her question when your intentions get revealed; your finger swipes through the top of your ice cream cone, gathering just enough sweet treat to swipe across the tip of her nose. “No!” 

She lets out a whine, reaching too slow for your wrist as you retreat, still giggling a bit. 

You feel like a child, all vibrant eyes and aching cheeks as you watch the girl who’s the sole reason for it basking in the blanket of the dying day’s golden light. Giggling at anything and everything, tongue cold with a scoop of Rocky Road that you both could pretend for a moment hadn’t cost you the last of your latest paychecks. 

No one around to judge. No one around to witness. It’s just you, your girl, and the still lake water. 

“C’mon,” she continues to complain, but she’s still smiling back at you, striking something deep within your bones. She holds her own sherbet shake in the hand farthest from you, the pretty shade of pink matching the slow-healing sunburn that dusts the tops of her cheeks, “That’s not even fair. I’m gonna be all sticky now.” 

“Want me to kiss it better?” you tease, leaning forward, feeling the wood planks beneath you dig into your bare thighs. 

She’s quick to lean away from you, the sparkle of the chase glittering in her eyes as she jokes, “You? Gross. Why would I ever want a dingus like you to kiss me? Ugh.” 

Every word is laced up tightly with sarcasm, her hardly being able to get through them without the interruptions of soft scoffs, knowing just how ridiculous she is being. 

The joke doesn’t even hurt – it only makes something further bloom in the pit of your stomach as you pucker your lips and continue to chase her retreating figure, biting back a grin that matches her own. When she had first met you, she’d been too nervous to even recognize your sarcasm at times, let alone conjure her own. The joke was a sign of the times; the joke was evidence of a thawing that had happened over a blissful spring and long summer, preparing the two of you for crisp autumn. 

The joke showed she loved you. In whatever ways she could. 

The sun continues to creep below the horizon as the two of you continue all your childish antics, your sticky lips eventually finding home against her warming cheeks, noting the blush that spreads like wildfire at the simplest of your touches. You make a point to reach out your thumb, intent on swiping away all the chocolate residue you’d left behind, but she’s quick to stop you. Gentle fingers curling around your wrist, head turning sharply so you can’t reach that tainted cheek. 

“Don’t,” she whispers, even though there’s no one around. 

“I thought you didn’t want my dingus kisses.” 

All-consuming, her shy smile nearly blinds you, “I think I’ll live if we leave it until I go home.”

“It’s sticky,” you laugh a little, trying to reach your thumb out again. She stops you again, “Your hair’s gonna stick to it-”

“Don’t care,” she breathes out, set in her ways as her eyes dart from your eyes to your lips for a brief second, “I really don’t care.” 

Brave and reckless, eager and aching, she surges forward just to get those sticky lips on her own. A simple peck, a quiet slotting of lips against one another, but it says enough. A point is being made – she doesn’t care about the stickiness, and she does in fact want all your kisses. 

The feeling’s sort of mutual.

You sort of want to steal every kiss from her you can get away with, you sort of want to occupy every breath she takes on this shoreline. You sort of want the promise of every single summer of hers, and she sort of wants to just give them over to you freely. 

You know it, surely, when her lips press harder against yours. 

You can taste the subtle fruitiness of her shake, sugar all over both your tastebuds until you really can’t decipher who had which ice cream. Chocolate and orange cream, the bits of waffle cone stuck in your molars, the overwhelming sweetness of it all – she wants it all, with you and only you. At some point, she sets her shake down to her side blindly, lifting that cold, cold palm to cradle your cheek as if you might just be the most precious thing in the world to her.

And you are. And the feeling? The feeling is terribly, terribly mutual. 

Golden hour fades to dusk, faded blue hues wrapping the two of you up as all the vibrant shades of sunset start to soften. The moon has visibly risen in the eastern sky, smiling down at the two of you as all your youthful jubilation is exchanged. Wandering hands, you being limited to only one as you let it curl into the hairs at the nape of her neck, and teeth clashing a bit from the way neither of you can stop smiling. There comes a point where it’s clear she’s kissed away every inch of stickiness off of you, but she doesn’t stop. Neither of you do, not until all the air in your lungs has finally escaped, and the stubborn need to breathe has to override your need for her. 

And even then, you keep close to her. 

You scoot closer, until your skin is flush with hers, as you both catch your breaths. Staring straight ahead, glowing in each other’s peripherals as you lock in on the trees around the edge of the lake. It’s still not quite enough, and so eventually, legs overlap and entangle, joints pressed together until you’re both nothing more than a conjoined knot as Robin rests her head on your shoulder.

The sunset’s pretty, especially reflected off the lake water, but you think she’s even prettier. You’re pretty sure that there’s no natural phenomenon that could ever outweigh her beauty, but now’s not the time to wax that sort of poetry to her. There’ll be other summer nights, other pleasant evenings, to whisper to the girl at your side about all the stars you can count in her eyes. For now, it’s enough to just feel the weight of her slumping against you, and smell the way her perfume intertwines with the lingering sunscreen on both your skin. 

“You think the ducks are gonna come back?” she randomly blurts out, referencing the real reason you two had come out here to begin with.

You’d wanted to feed the ducks. You swore it wasn’t just an excuse to get her alone (it was). 

You throw your head back in laughter, “Yeah. Yeah, they better. I don’t think I can finish this waffle cone on my own.” 

Impulsively, you twist your neck until you can press a soft kiss to the crown of her head, breathing in her subtle shampoo. Your lips linger for several extra seconds, far longer than necessary, but it’s okay. You’ll allow yourself the honor, if for nothing more than to be an effort to contain all the adoration threatening to burst at your seams for the girl you lean further into. 

Once your lips retreat, she lifts her head, turning to glance at you for a moment before she returns the affection without hesitation. Soft lips press into the bare skin of your shoulder, and you both can only sigh in sync, in shared serendipity. 

“I could always help you with that, you know,” she wiggles her brows a little as she leans back, and you’re back to giggling like children. 

“Oh, I know.” 

Sticky kisses and serendipity. The perfect summer evening.

[prentissluvr]

thinking about later seasons transfem sam my beloved <3

tw: mentions of rape, being misgendered, and hating oneself

she’s so stoic and quiet and her face always looks tired. but she takes charge and does what she can and loves jack so much. she knows that kelly will always be his mother, but she is his mother too.

jack is very confused the first time that sam is misgendered in front of him. "sam is a girl," he says, matter of fact. sam can't afford to tear up. she explains it to jack when they get home and he thinks of her no differently. just that she is even stronger than he thought.

mary finds out she has a daughter. mary loves her. mary sees herself in sam. mary trims the dead ends of her hair, but doesn’t chop it short like she did with her own hair. sam's hair gets longer and a little curly when it rains or she doesn't brush it after a shower. always, mary sees herself in sam. a tired, guilty mother. a tired, guilty woman.

she stutters more than she used to, and she tries not to feel insecure about it. she doesn't notice it most of the time when she does stutter, though, because she's too stressed and tired to worry about something so small. her boobs are bigger these days, and she loves it, but her shoulders are forever too broad. she's a little bit more okay with that than she used to. maybe they have to be that way so she can carry the weight of many worlds on them.

she can never ever let on that lucifer raped her in the cage. she does not have sex.

she loves eileen from afar for a long time. but she trusts her innately. sam appreciates her more than she could say for her blatant and unabashed bisexuality. eileen makes her feel safe and seen in almost all of the ways. they have an understanding of each other that they have with maybe no one else.

she feels seen by charlie and rowena, at least a little bit. her and charlie talk about being lesbian, and charlie is one of sam's greatest supporters. she was sure that they'd finally make it to the dress shopping hang out that they'd been planning for years once they got the mark of cain off of dean. she dies and so does so much of sam's hope for the little joys. doing makeup together in her room in the bunker, talking about their favorite hot lord of the rings girls, the characters in books they like that they headcanon as queer. in the combined pool of pure and genuine and full love for sam in the world, charlie was responsible for most of it at the time. that love doesn't truly die, but sam is still less actively loved for who she is without charlie.

rowena trusts sam the most for many more reasons than the fact that she's a woman. she used to say things like "us women have to stick together, sam," to manipulate her. now she says it with heart. she calls sam beautiful when she flirts with her. she calls them a pair of "stunning, powerful women." she affirms her very often, just because that's how she talks.

and rowena is quiet about her bisexuality. she isn't insecure or worried, but the casual and unobvious way that she treats it is nice for sam. they rarely talk about that sort of thing, but sam is the first person out of this group of people that she offhandedly mentions it to. this is not an accident. she offers her spells that boost estrogen safely, quickly, and easily. rowena starts learning about and exploring the potential role of magic in transitioning.

the first person to love her unabashed and for who she is, with no reservations and nothing tainting anything, was jess. everything is so different now. sam is a grown woman. she's in her thirties. she's essentially a mother. everything is so much worse. somethings are better, easier. she has people that love her and care about her. she will never forget jess and what she did for her. because jess loved her, she let ruby love her, she let charlie love her, she let rowena love her, she let eileen love her, she let her mother love her. she hates herself a lot. she doesn't always hate her body. she actually feels good in her skin sometimes. she feels horrible in her skin sometimes.

she is trapped in a cycle of guilt and weariness and grief. at least she still knows how to smile sometimes. she is trapped.

[twigg96]

Food Poisoning

Daddy! Daryl X Reader

Place: Alexandria

Warnings: Literally food poisoning, vomit, a little fart joke, Kids being kids about being sick, Sickness

POV - You

Summary - After having stew with some tainted meat in it your three kiddos (Phoenix - 11, Beau - 6, and Lillian - 2) get a bad case of food poisoning. Just as kids do Beau comes in to tell his parents exactly what happened feeling traumatized and violated after he "threwed up".

The night had started off so genuinely nice. Normal even. For the turn that is. You had made dinner from the rabbit and squirrel Daryl hunted earlier in the day. It had been a hotter day than either of you realized it would be. But you never let that deter you from your duties. Daryl had warned you that the heat of the day may have spoilt some of the meat. And that he had lost one of the rabbits. He got a bad shot on it and when he finally found it, it was long dead with an arrow deep in its broken leg. He simply added it to his string not thinking anything of it. Wasn’t until later in the hunt he thought better of it and decided to chuck it… well he thought he tossed the right one at least. After a while he wasn’t so sure anymore. So he asked you to be extra vigilant while cooking that night. To sniff the meat and make sure nothing was camping out inside before tossing it in the fire to be cooked. 

You had listened. Truly you did. You had washed and smelled the meat as you cleaned and skinned it. Nothing smelled bad and so you went as far as to make a little stew for the whole community with the meat and some of Rick’s vegetables he grew in his garden. Everyone in the community seemed to love it. They ate it up vigorously and basked in the post fullness bliss of a good meal. You watched your kids play out in the yard with the other neighborhood children. When night fell after the kids had gone to bed, you and Daryl even felt adventurous enough to get a little handsy before falling into blissful sleep. 

Or that’s what the archer would have liked to have happened. But seeing as he was ripped from the calming embrace of sleep in the midst of REM he would have to argue otherwise… “Daddy…” A small and timid voice had called out into the darkness of the night. At first Daryl had believed it was just part of his dream. The one where none of the hell they lived in existed and he and his family lived in the peace he once knew. “Daddy…” The voice whispered nearer this time. Cutting straight through the lovely dream he had been having. Blinking awake slowly Daryl growled, slapping around blindly for the electric lamp sitting on the bedside table. With a click Daryl’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Beau stood a mere two inches away from the edge of the bed, only his head could be seen poking from over the side as he clutched his teddy bear close to his chest. “Daddy.” Beau whispered shakily, his lip pouting out and his eyes wide and full of tears. “Yeah?” Daryl mumbled tiredly as he tried to put together why his son was in his room in the dead of night. Sitting up in bed, the sheets falling to his exposed chest he looked over to you and sighed. You were starting to stir. Blinking away the garish light. Damn… you needed all the sleep you could get.

 “What… what do you want, Beau?” Daryl asked tiredly, reaching over you to grab a cigarette from your end table. “Well..” Beau started shuffling his feet anxiously. Daryl cocked a brow at the towheaded boy placing the cig in his mouth and flicking the lighter trying to get it to light. “Daddy… I threwed up.” He mumbled with a sob.” The words froze Daryl in his place. Maybe he it was just his foggy sleep deprived brain that was miss hearing what his son just said. But as his wife sat up stare at the two of them like they both started to grow wings and speak in tongues Daryl knew that he had heard correctly. “What?” You asked rubbing your eyes. Beau sobbed nodding. “Lillian threwed up first! Phoenix got up to check on her and she threwed up on the floor!” Beau sobbed helplessly. The both of you stared at Beau in disbelief and disgust. “So…” you ventured to ask, crawling over to your husband’s side of the bed. “Did you throw up Beau?” The little blonde nods swiping away fat tears and it isn’t until then that Daryl is able to make out the new stains on his son’s shirt and pants. “After I farted on the floor.” He whined. Daryl and you share a confused look. Farted… on the floor? What the hell does that mean? OH FUCK NO. Pulling his cigarette from his mouth Daryl gaped at Beau. “What do ya mean… farted on the flo- Beau!” He huffed twisting to the side of the bed. “Did ya shit on the floor?!” he hissed. Feeling your hand on his arm he tried to calm down but the sound of their youngest starting to scream and cry from their shared room and their eldest yelling “Mommy! Daddy! Lilly needs a bath!” was all too overwhelming for him at the moment. “Daryl.” Your calming voice drowned out the madness as your hand squeezed his. “I’ll work on cleaning up. Just… find a bucket… or two… and get them bathed and back in bed. Please. We got this, we’ve been through worse.” And suddenly Daryl knew. You were right. You always were. 

Standing with a groan, Daryl was grateful that he was wearing just boxers when Beau walked directly into his legs for a hug. God… kids and their need to be touched when they're sick. Scooping him into his arms Daryl sighed the smell of vomit was strong, but nothing he couldn’t handle after the hell they’ve lived through. “Sure ya don’t want me ta clean up too? I can-” Daryl muttered walking towards the door, Beau’s head already nuzzled under his chin seeking some semblance of comfort. “Daryl.” You had chided, cutting him off. “We’re a team. I got it, don’t worry.” With a small nod he hummed walking into the kid’s room to access the damage… and it was worse than he imagined. Scowling he sighed not seeing either of his daughters. “Phoenix!” He yelled, shuffling Beau in his arms, starting to search for them. The piercing wail of his two year old would normally have been terrifying given the world they live in but seeing as she was in the bathroom with his eldest at the moment he was simply annoyed. The water for the tap was running and when he popped his head in to see what was happening he rolled his eyes and groaned. “Phoenix… baby. Are you tryin’ ta drown yer sister?” He muttered trying so hard to make light of the situation. Phoenix’s head whipped around as she stared at him, the tub getting dangerously full as she held a fully clothed Lilly in the tub. 

Moving to place Beau on the floor Daryl kneeled beside Phoenix, turning the tap off and taking Lilly into his arms, sopping wet and all. “I was just trying to get her and her clothes clean, dad.” Phoenix whispered looking slightly ashamed and embarrassed. Taking a deep breath Daryl sighed, bouncing the screaming toddler doing his best not to emulate his own father in this situation by screaming in the face of his own children. “T-Thank you…” He bit out. It was a start at least that’s what he assumed. “Now… do me a favor…” He muttered lowly. “Get some towels for me, and some clean pajamas for all you kids and come back. Yer all gettin’ a damned bath.” 

It wasn’t until the early morning light streamed through the blinds that the rancid smell finally seemed to be mostly gone. You had done your best to clean everything up with only homemade vinegar as your main cleaning supply as everything else was running low. The windows were wide open despite the cool weather but even that didn’t deter your three hellions from getting some sleep. The two of you had decided to simply toss and burn the sheets and pajamas the kids had been sleeping in and just use old ones until you could find new ones on a run. As the two of you stood side by side watching the fire in the brisk morning air you couldn’t help but laugh. “Wha’?” Daryl nearly hissed, glaring at you. “Nothing… just… kinda feels normal ya know? We haven’t had to do that since before the turn when Phoenix was little.” You whispered thinking of the time Phoenix had simply crawled into your bed and proceeded to vomit all over Daryl like she was in the exorcist. Daryl stared into the fire but a small smile crossed his lips. “Yeah… suppose so…” Holding your hand he began to rub his thumb along the back of your hand. Any sense of normalcy in this life was better than none he assumed.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

-"ah shit here we go again" gif here-

vampire spawn!tav x Astarion

Rated: M

Warnings: vampirism, manipulation, oral (male receiving), corruption kink

Vampires do not know love, vampires only know possession and control. It is in their nature to dominate, to consume, and to kill. Love was taken from these creatures the moment they unnaturally obtained immortality. Immorality follows as one with supernatural power and charms starts to care less about the consequences, they become selfish creatures.

Yet, you are by far the most infuriating kind of vampire he has ever met. When he saw you attempt to feed (before you found out he is a vampire), you were trembling as you held a mouse in your hands. Fangs not even completely bared and tears in those pretty eyes, you released the mouse and sat outside of camp with only the moon as your companion.

It infuriates him because you are fighting against your nature, fighting a battle you will only lose over and over again. Better to embrace reality than pretend to live in a world where everything can be solved by the Gods and love.

Yet… It becomes part of the reason why he wants you.

Maybe he wants to see how long you can keep this up. Maybe he wants to corrupt you himself— The latter being far more fun.

But alas, he cannot have you completely to himself when there are others around.

Everyone seems to have their clingy paws on you like dogs to their master— Like that damn white dog you found. Astarion much prefers the owlbear, as it can bring back some offerings or whatever. At first, he thought this was part of some plan: make everyone trust you, feed on them, maybe kill a few of them at some point. Of course, maybe you adjusted the plan once it is found out that the journey requires everyone in order to reach the source of these tadpoles.

No, turns out you genuinely want friends— Which is weird and is going against his own plan. Yes, he is using you— You should know better as a vampire to trust another vampire. Charming and teasing his way with sweet words into your thoughts, a mentor-like way of teaching you vampirism, and the physical touches of a man so gentle he has more than once left you flustered.

He nearly has you wrapped around his finger.

But alas, you are not alone.

Shadowheart though does not outright say it, her mannerisms are protective of you. Karlach even more so and outright says it. Wyll is… Too textbook gentleman and heroic. Lae'zel had straight out said she wants a taste of you; both respect and lusting for you, while remaining as friendly as her kind can be. Gale, a friend and teacher as you start to hone your arcane talents.

All of them with their paws out eager for you; none have your attention like he does.

The vampire spawn may not be able to isolate you but he can draw you in. Like a butterfly in a spider's web.

Astarion knows this, he knows how to hook you in and reel you close to his side. It is his very nature to be seductive; to whisper sweet nothings, to make empty promises, to drain everything given to him dry.

"Please," You say between quickening breaths, "Show me." Above him with his blood on your lips, claws (trimmed down to be a normal shape) digging into his chest. Desperate. You want so bad it is drawing out that beast within.

Where he wants to devour, taint you, utterly ruin you—And he is.

Your first, that one piece of yourself that your master did not claim, is given to Astarion. Though he clearly is a charlatan who will use you, he also is the only one who understands the need: trading one hunger for another. Curiosity and a way to free you from something that can be stolen by your master.

Through him, you find freedom; unaware you are binding yourself to a creature who only knows deception, possession, and control.

You touch his chest, exploring the flesh of a vampire and a lover. Maybe a lover, you will not assume he truly loves you but you trust him enough with this. With the only thing your master never stole from you during your captivity.

"Relax, my sweet," His hands seem bigger than yours, his fingers have calluses yet his hands are soft, graceful. You take a deep breath and resume mapping out a body that is not yours— Hells, you don't know your own body like how you want to know his. Pale, cold, and yours to touch.

"There just like that." Purring out his praise as you gain the boldness to kiss his chest, he smirks at the way your eyes light up when he moans when you bravely take a chance to bite his skin. "Lower." You nod as you kiss your way down between his open legs, hands trembling then feel his hands touch and guide them to slip off his trousers and undergarment. "Slowly, no need to rush."

The eagerness is definitely there and your mouth is warm, there is such a charm to how you try to mimic what a few novels barely grasp.

The raw unadulterated lust.

Those red eyes gazing up at him, mouth leaving his cock for the moment as he sits up to show you how to stroke his cock. You listen, you copy, then you try different paces and your mouth once again. 

"With how excited you are to let me in your mouth, I wonder how long you wanted to try this." Amused by your inexperienced desire, "Use your tongue," His hand petting your hair, "Up and down." Moaning with clear delight and approval.

His hand weights your head down signaling for you to go further down, and see how much you can fit before choking.

Of course, not a lot but you try anyway even though you had to pull away to stop from choking. Didn't stop you from stroking his cock or trying again.

"Good pet." Oh, you hummed around his cock at such a small praise. "Do you like being called my pet?" You don't need to answer, you know by that grin on his face he already knows. "My pet, I am going to fuck your mouth now." Playing with your hair before gripping it in a firm vice.

You try to relax your throat like he advised before this, easier said than done.

[joshfuckingkiszka]

𝔈𝔫𝔡 𝔊𝔞𝔪𝔢 - 𝔍𝔐𝔎

jmk x f!reader

first of many, enjoy ;)

THIS BLOG IS 18+ MINORS DNI

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fake dating trope (it's a fave and I not be sorry), bit of angst, josh is a cutie

taylor's version masterpost

reputation masterpost

☮

Young Starlet Caught in Compromising Position!

Your publicist was less than pleased about the headline. Even though you had insisted nothing had happened, and that picture was simply a case of a bad angle. It wasn’t looking great, though. To be fair, the picture was pretty bad. A bruise painted your neck, lipstick smudged around your mouth as some guy grabbed your hips from behind.

It would be hard to explain yourself out of that one, to be honest. Regardless of whether the picture was accurately depicting your actions of the night, the fans had seen it. Your image had already been tainted in their eyes, and it would be nearly impossible to recover. 

Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations, ah

Rather than attempting to, it was decided that you required a rebrand. It started with the incorporation of darker clothes into your “wardrobe” - quoted only because it was what was chosen for you. Interviews began to shift to questioning the possibility of heavier music, to which you would coyly suggest it was possible. 

Then you released a new single. It caught the attention of rock fans everywhere. There was a sudden call for a genre change, which you hoped so desperately for. The last few years of your life had made you feel like a sell out. You traded the humanity and meaning in your music for tracks that would generate streams and ranks on charts. 

Within a couple years, no one remembered the popstar you had been. It was all about the rockstar you had become. And you were a big one. 

It wasn’t overwhelming anymore. The work you put in was hard and abundant, but it was genuine. It showed in the love that poured from the fans over social media and in the crowds of your sold out shows. 

A world tour was in the talks and an opening act was in question. Someone suggested a band you had heard a handful of times before: Greta Van Fleet, not that you ever really had time to immerse yourself in a new band. From the videos you’d seen and the songs you’d heard, you would be lucky to have them on tour with you. They were getting relatively popular and you knew you had to strike fast to get them on the setlist. 

“I have a surprise for you!” Gene, your publicist, exclaimed in a sing-song tune. 

“Ugh, last time you said that, I had a snake draped over my body. Still mad at you for that, actually.” You only looked up from your phone for the last sentence, otherwise preoccupied with a daunting game of 8 Ball with your best friend. 

“Well, this one I’m not sure is much better, if we’re being honest,” he trailed off, “the label loves you, you know that.” 

“Uh oh.” You weren’t worried. 

“But in a recent poll, they found that fans think you’re …how do I put this …boring?” He strung his words together carefully, as to not offend you. It wasn’t his tone of voice that concerned you. 

“Boring?! I’m practically fucking a mic stand every night!” 

“Not enough anymore, babe.” He was being rather nonchalant, and you realized that being called “boring” wasn’t even the main issue that was being presented. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, “So what are they going to do about it, Gene.” His name came out like the sparking embers of a fire on the forest floor. 

And I heard about you, ooh (yeah) You like the bad ones too

That was how you ended up at an intimate restaurant in Nashville, across from Josh Kiszka. He was nervous and it was actually kind of cute. It reminded you of a real date, something you hadn’t had in ages. 

“I like your dress. Green. That’s my favorite color,” his eyes raked over the silk of your dress. It extended to your ankles, a slit daring to expose your leg. The straps were a little tight, and prevented you from wearing a normal bra, and the tape holding up your breasts was peeling from sweat. 

“I know,” you chuckled, “everything about this is set up to be as persuasive as possible.”

“Oh. Either way. It looks great on you.” He was genuine, and as the night went on, you found that it wasn’t even his most endearing trait. 

Just as the clock was about to hit 11, he was standing on your front porch, wishing he didn’t have to leave. This was an arrangement, a plan to draw attention to the both of you, driving up streams and ticket sales. 

As you stood on your porch, hand lingering on the door as if it was a riddle, so close to him that you could practically taste the wine on his lips, you realized something. You realized that you were going to inevitably fall in love with Josh Kiszka, undeniable force meets immovable object. It was almost expected that dread would fill your stomach as you recognized this fate, but it never came. Instead, butterflies flew in its place. 

I've passed days without fun, this endgame is the one With four words on the tip of my tongue I'll never say

A month and half later, and several dates to show, you had proven yourself correct. But, who could blame you? What about Josh wasn’t lovable? 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you announced to the meeting. There were a few label executives, Gene, and Josh with his team. 

“What?” Josh was the first to say anything, and his face portrayed betrayal. 

“Yeah, what he said,” Gene added. 

You sighed, “I don’t want to pretend to be in a relationship anymore. That’s not what my job is, and I don’t see how it adds any value to my music.” 

“B-But, this is what’s going to sell the tickets. A love story, performing together in the throes of romance.” You glared at the executive. 

“No, our raw talent and meaningful music will sell tickets. I will not be told who I can date, when I can see them, and especially when I can break up with them. If that’s a problem, I’m sure another record label would have no problem meeting my demands.” 

This is what drew Josh to you: your fiery passion. In spite of that, he was upset, especially since you hadn’t even discussed it with him. He was under the impression that you liked him, maybe even liked him. God, he felt like a middle schooler again, paired with the pretty girl for a project only for her to ask for a different partner halfway through. 

I don't wanna touch you (I don't wanna be) Just another ex-love (you don't wanna see)

As it turns out, the label no longer had a problem meeting your demands. You waited outside the board room for Josh, pulling him aside when he came out, head hung low. 

“It’s not you, trust me.” 

“Oh, then it’s you?” 

“No. Listen, I don’t want to be told to date you, or what happens over the course of our ‘relationship.’ I don’t want the pressure of having to pretend to love you.” 

“I get it, believe me. You don’t have to explain.” 

“I want to do it by myself, on my terms. Love you, I mean. And believe me, I do.” 

He looked up for the first time, his eyes were beautiful. But you already knew that. 

“I don’t want to have to forget you, and never see you again because the tour is over. I want our love to be ours, and no one else’s.” 

Josh smiled, he agreed.

I wanna be your endgame, endgame

〚taglist〛

gvf: @doodle417, @brokenbellz, @gretavanfleas, @pyrojoshy, @greta-van-chaos, @xserenax-13, @hayley1623, @kdarling1, @autumns30, @keighoe, @chalametpwk, @sammysvanfeet, @shawnsthighs, @gretavanbitches, @sammiejane22, @gretavanbestie, @jordierama, @alexxavicry, @spark-my-nature, @rainy-darling

joshy: @prophetofthedune, @loofypoofy, @gretavangracee

[toussainttwins]

“You are implying that all beautiful things may shatter.” Eyes of hazel gilded in flecked crimson sharpen, the previous glimmer of welcoming mirth ripped away with the slight lower of a brow. Feigned or not. And yet, a smile remained curled within gentle features, and it is so that it broadens ever so slightly. A witch made to show her teeth, unafraid to bloody them with the red of the flayed man if she so pleased. She was a witch, the next thing to a God, and she was not fragile, and she would never break. And so she gives her a smile, with the fold of hands at her torso. “And yet- I have heard that beauty often hide claws.” And mine are as long and sharp as yours.

As she would chuckle for the moment. “Yet I am glad you are here.” As she leaned forward and would look right at her for the moment, hand raising to her face and cupping her cheek for the time being, before one hand moved to her skirt and would pull upon it, pulling up the crimson silks, to show her, the hazel fur, the softest brown fur there ever was, along with the hooves that where on the ground. “How do you walk like this.” As her tail flickered back and forth, as she was beautiful in every single way. But her curse, of all those years ago, with turning lovers into horses, had bitten her back, and this was the result, she was like the little lamb, hiding right in plain sight.

Who could blame a maiden that sought the help of a witch? It was as common in fairy-tales, as it was in daily life, only in the latter girls had a much more meagre desires and the payment was, as a result, less demanding. But for Natanis her cause seemed as dire as all the woes of princesses of earth and parchment combined. The petite succubus would trade anything for the happy ending of her tale, and thusly one day she put all the wisdom aside, donned a fancy travelling cape in a shade of a dryad's embrace for a good luck, locked the doors of the shop as tightly as she locked the fear out of her own heart and went to seek the Daughter of Kaedwenian Wilderness. Luckily, the infamous sorceress resided not as far as her moniker suggested, and it took the horned beauty but a short trip to the border. Yet her pretty hoofs burned with hurry, as if she was dancing thought a garden of knives, like that unhappy little siren... "Oh, I am glad too, sangbonbon!" Sabrina's smile left a hollow taste down her throat. It yearned and it burned, but not for her kisses, not for her flesh. It seemed like a tainted mirror of the crimson flower that burned inside her own chest. But was such a terrible miracle even possible? Regardless, a sorceress you know was better than a sorceress who would like to gobble you up alive... Natanis gulped, but did not let her own relieved smile flicker.

"Beautiful things may shutter...if they are left alone in this world, if there is no one to cradle their heart in their arms. For what would beauty mean, if it shone only for itself? Claws can't fight solitude." the petite succubus hurried the words out of her mouth, terrible and ugly, for all the fear they were laced with underneath. Natanis was afraid, but not of Sabrina Glevissig - not that she didn't recognize teeth and claws even if they were but lovely names for grisly weapons - of her own thoughts. Of her...loss she was afraid to put into speech. "Oh..." a plump hand flew towards the horned beauty's mouth. She looked up and down the flame-haired sorceress figure, up and down again and..broke into a genuine, sugar-sweet smile and a squeal of delight. "What a beauty you are, mistress Sabrina! Why, a fur of such a shade, like golden-chestnut-of-3-wishes... the softness of a dream, and to the eyes alone! Hoofs strong and shiny! almost as pretty as mine! And a tail..." Natanis, the weight of her iron-heavy woe lifted from the dainty shoulders for a moment, circled the newly-cursed - blessed! - sorceress-succubus, like a clockwork toy - rapid and loud with many gasping praises, sharp to the details with the eyes of a seamstress.

"Ah, do your new, charming hoofs give you any pain? It must be the cobblestones! They are a torture once you change the soft earth of the forest for the joys of the cities!" the vivacious twin shook her golden curls in sympathy, gasped again as if remembrance of something vital shoot her through the very heart and snatched a tiny, silver-clasped notebook, seemingly out of thin-air. The movement was so nimble, one could call it magic, whence it was a sleight of hand and a silver chain of a chatelain, hidden amidst the fold of the dress to blame. "I shall make a special skirt for you, with a long train, as long as a cloud on an autumn day, so it would hide your hoofsteps from the prying eyes when you walk in all your beauty!" @fallesto