#there’s more like i said in very broad strokes what happened but like

[heavencasteel420]

Honestly the implications for the Byers family dynamics if Jonathan gets taken to the UD instead of Will are staggering.

[sareeen]

Unknown Touches for a Lady

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N never thought she would be married to the spymaster of the Night Court. However, they are undoubtedly married and nothing will save her from the night ahead of her.

Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, lovely azriel

Here –> Part 2 Masterlist

A/N: The idea that popped into my head today and I didn't get up until I wrote it. :)

English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistake.

Y/N felt the bed sink in beside her and someone, her husband, fold up the edge of the blanket and slip quietly under the duvet.

Y/N felt as if she would suffocate with fear.

Two hours ago, they had gone through the ceremony where she was forced to marry the spymaster of the Night Court in a luxurious setting.

For a purpose, her father said as he adjusted her veil.

It was nothing more than a means to make a deal for the benefit of the Court of Nightmares. More food, more power in exchange for soldiers and a girl.

In fact, her family had eagerly offered her to the High Lord as a prospective bride, and as she was educated and intelligent enough to be chosen over the other women in the Court of Nightmares.

For a long time Y/N did not know to whom she was to be married. She had been raised from a very young age to believe that she was destined to be a wife and mother, but she never thought that it would be him.

But now she was given a chance. A chance to leave that damn evil place and be away from her family.

Today, for the first time in her life, she could see the stars and feel the gentle touch of the breeze on her skin, bringing tears to her eyes. If she was lucky, perhaps her husband would never send her back there. If she obeyed him – though the very thought made her feel sick. All her existence had consisted of nothing but submitting to others. She would have liked to have ruled over herself, but it would always be a dream, now that she was married.

The shadowsinger moved beside her, causing every cell in Y/N to warn her to run.

Well, it's happening, she thought despondently to herself and closed her eyes.

She knew exactly what her duty was. What must happen.

For this marriage to be legitimate, Y/N must give in to her husband and willingly spread her legs.

“I know you don't want to,” he said softly behind her back before gently placing his hand on her hip. Y/N jumped at the sudden touch. “But we have a duty, Y/N.”

She shuddered as the spymaster spoke her name out of his mouth. His voice was soft, but still a warning tone mixed into the words. She had no doubt that he was not often contradicted and may the Great Mother have mercy on whoever tried.

Y/N licked her lips and let out a shaky sigh, then nodded. Trembling, she turned onto her back and it took her a few seconds to gather her courage and look at her husband.

Azriel watched her silently, his figure illuminated by the faint moonlight that filtered through the gaps in the drawn curtains. Y/N could see his broad shoulder, the swelling muscles in his arm, and even the dark outline of his tattoo in the dim light.

Y/N could feel the golden brown eyes watching her warily as they scrutinized her. She was surprised to find that the shadowsinger did not return her stare for a moment and kept his gaze on her face the whole time. Perhaps he was waiting for her to make a move.

Maybe he was waiting for her to initiate.

Y/N's mouth went dry at the thought that he might have wanted her to. However, she had been raised to do what others wanted, so with all her presence of mind she slowly touched her palm to Azriel's chest. She felt warm, silky skin and felt a steady heartbeat beneath her hand as she slid it a little further away. She heard the Illyrian take a deep breath and the scarred finger she had put the gold ring on a few hours ago gently stroked the cool back of her hand.

Y/N was so startled for a moment that she forgot to breathe. Never had she imagined that the dreaded shadowsinger could be so gentle as he was now.

Perhaps behind the scars and shadows there was not a monster, but a feeling being.

A tiny germ of hope began to blossom in Y/N and she continued to caress him a little more boldly. Her hand glided down Azriel's muscular arm and Y/N was startled to find herself enjoying it.

The way the steely muscles tighten under her touch, the heat radiating from his body as if beaming up at her, inviting her to slide closer and enjoy it.

Azriel, as if hearing her thoughts, took hold of her waist and gently pulled her towards him until their chests touched.

Y/N's nightgown was so thin that the spymaster could easily feel that her nipples were hard and straining against his chest.

Azriel groaned, barely audible, and something inside Y/N stirred at the sound.

Confused, she felt wetness between her legs and some primal longing that she had never experienced before took her. She almost longed for him to return her touch. To have him caress her heated skin. It was so unfamiliar to her, and yet it was as if her body knew how to press herself against him.

Unexpectedly, she felt the hardness against her belly that made her go rigid, but Azriel just squeezed the soft flesh of her hip and didn't let her move away.

“No,” he whispered and buried his face in her hair, his thumb tracing soothing circles around her waist. “Don't be frightened. This is what happens when –“

“I'm not so clueless that I don't know what it is,” Y/N said, blushing. She thanked the Gods for the darkness. “The women explained everything to me before the wedding anyway. That this is what it takes to conceive a marriage and it's the natural reaction of every man when he touches a woman in a loose fitting nightgown.”

Azriel remained silent, but eventually he involuntarily chuckled to himself. Y/N smiled vaguely, but the man's shaking chest and voice filled her with a certain joy. It reassured her.

“Not all men,” Azriel said, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger and tugging it gently. “But you're certainly beautiful and you're wearing very little nightgown.”

“I didn't choose it” Y/N muttered grumpily as she lowered her head to look at the said piece. It was a little translucent and she felt a twinge of anxiety when she first saw that she would have to wear it tonight.

“I thought so,” he muttered. “If it's any comfort I think it looks good on you and I like it very much.”

She had heard rumors of the shadowsinger that he hardly spoke, but they were now lying here and he was obviously talkative.

Y/N finally understood that this was Azriel's way of distracting her and calming the emotions that were raging inside her.

Her fear of the unknown and to make her comfortable with the situation. No one had ever done anything like that for her, not even her mother.

She swallowed hard and, not giving herself time to drift away from the thought, leaned into him and pressed her lips to his. She didn't know how to do this, since tonight she was getting the first kiss of her life from Azriel at the altar in front of hundreds of guests. It was more like a little peck than a kiss.

She understood this when Azriel recovered from his momentary shock and kissed her back. This was different.

The spymaster's hand slid into her hair, his fingers tangled in her ringlets as he gently tilted her head into position and everything just got better.

The angle of the kiss changed, deepened much more and something like an excited tremor began in Y/N's belly. The scent of Azriel filled her senses, the cool night mist and cedar balming her soul, her nails involuntarily digging into Azriel's biceps and it was as if he lost all restraint at that small movement.

He rolled Y/N onto her back, then towered over her and kissed her fiercely. His tongue stroked along her lower lip as if asking for admission and she hesitantly opened it and Azriel's tongue immediately made its way to hers. Y/N let her husband guide her and she was almost giddy with pleasure.

She enjoyed the way Azriel's tongue glided over hers, the weight of him pressing her almost uncomfortably into the mattress and the hot hardness between her legs.

The shadowsinger's lips moved to her chin, and Y/N gasped for air as he moved lower and lower, finding a spot in the hollow between her shoulder and neck that made her hip snap away from the bed and involuntarily rub against Azriel.

Heat flooded her face, but she was unable to pull away from him and with long, sensual strokes she wanted more, which he acknowledged with soft moans.

Strong hands now gripped her thighs and Azriel moved lower, then bucked his hips and pushed against her. His pants and Y/N's underwear blocked them, but Azriel touched a space between her legs and moved as she imagined he would when he will be inside her.

She never thought it would be like this. This overwhelming feeling of his body moving over her, which he'd then elicited from her. Sighs erupted from deep within her body and Azriel kissed her as if to absorb the sounds she was making.

“That's it” Azriel gasped as Y/N arched and their hips met. “Just like that, my beauty.”

She groaned at the endearment and watched the wings spread wide on Azriel's back with a glazed look.

The membrane made the room even darker as it blocked out what little light had crept into the room. She wanted to feel the feel of it under her fingers.

“You can touch them,” he whispered, his breathing labored by Y/N's ear. “But only if I can touch you.”

“But you already do” she gasped, a thin layer of sweat beading on her forehead.

Azriel then let go of her thighs and slid between them, then reached down to her panties and pressed the outer curve of his hand to the spot where Y/N's body throbbed and almost burned. Gasping for air, panting, she made sounds that she should have been ashamed of, but her mind was in a fog and she could not contain herself. She would be ashamed later, but for now she could only cling to Azriel's strong shoulder.

“Here, Y/N” Azriel chuckled. “This is where I want to touch you.”

Y/N bit her lip at her husband's lustfuled words and nodded.

“There –“ her throat was tight, she could hardly get the words out. “It's good there.”

“Is it?”

“Yes” she cried softly.

His hand had pulled her underwear aside and was now touching her bare skin, causing Y/N's head to bob to the side and she clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle her voice.

However, Azriel stopped her hard and gave a disgruntled squeak.

“No, Y/N,” he muttered darkly. “I want to hear you.”

His wings fluttered, drawing her attention, and she stretched out her arm. When she touched the taut, silky membrane, Azriel shuddered and rubbed her harder between her legs.

Y/N loved what she was eliciting from her husband, so she repeated the motion and this time touched her fingernail to it a little, letting it gently scratch the inside of the wing.

“Cauldron” Azriel almost gritted his teeth in pleasure and buried his face in her neck. “You drive me crazy.”

Y/N felt the same way. His hand between her legs, his lip now brushing tiny kisses on her neck. It was killing her and she felt like a bowstring being stretched, ready to snap at any moment. Something was building inside her, the warmth in the pit of her belly seemed to be tightening and it was almost unbearable.

Then Azriel slipped a finger into the wetness between her legs and she gasped for air. It was a stinging sensation, but as he curled his finger he hit a good spot in her and she began to moan.

When Azriel gently pulled it out and then slipped back in, she heard that wet squeaking sound and it made her even more excited.

She wanted to touch him too. So much so that she had the courage to slip her hand into Azriel's pants and touch his hardness.

“Y/N” Azriel gasped as he pulled away from the delicate skin of her neck and peered down at her in the darkness.

“Teach me, please” she whispered with heavy lids. “How to touch you so that you feel as I feel now.”

Azriel closed his eyes and laughed softly.

“I already feel like that” he panted, but he helped Y/N and showed her how to take him in her grip. How tightly to squeeze and when he moved his hip to move into her hand, Y/N felt herself die instantly in admiration.

“Honey” Azriel sighed. “I need to be inside you.”

She knew what he meant.

She was a little afraid, because the women had said it would hurt terribly. However, what they had just done with Azriel had never been told that she would feel like this, so she hoped the sex would be different. Just as fantastic as this.

She opened her legs wider, giving him permission to make her his. Azriel immediately pulled her underwear off her and his own pants, then took her in his arms.

He adjusted himself between her legs but stopped and the golden brown eyes almost burned her face.

“This might hurt a little” he whispered to her and stroked her cheek affectionately. “But I'll try to do it as slowly and gently as possible.”

“It's fine, Azriel” she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and that's when she felt him shiver slightly too. Well, he was nervous too. “I'm used to the pain.”

Azriel froze, then sank down on top of her, so that their naked bodies were touching.

“From now on, no one will ever hurt you again,” he growled, his voice hard and purposeful.

Then he entered her, very slowly and Y/N gasped. She tensed in pain and whimpered and Azriel took her head in both hands and kissed her.

Finally when she thought she would pass out, she felt she couldn't take it. They lay there for a long time, but Azriel pushed forward and forward and then stopped.

Y/N sighed shakily and when her pain turned into a dull throbbing, he moved.

It was awfully strange the way Azriel moved inside her. It was unfamiliar, but after a while it got better and she gasped and clung to Azriel as if he would hold her and not let her fall over the precipice.

Emboldened, he thrust his hips faster and harder toward her and pulled her toward him with one hand, making them both gasp for air.

“Gods” Y/N broke from Azriel's lips and she groaned. Somehow the man moved in a different way and it drove her mad. “There!”

As if born to pleasure his wife, he repeated the motion again and his hand slid to her breast. He took one of her nipples between his fingers, then leaned in and licked it, whereupon Y/N clamped herself around her husband's member and moaned.

“Come for me, honey.”

His finger slid to her clit and rubbed it, which triggered something inside her.

Lights exploded behind her eyelids, her insides clenched and an animalistic moan tore from her. The heat was overwhelming her and she was sure it was over, she would die here and now, but Gods - if it is death she will be glad to go with it.

Azriel's hips slammed hard against her and she felt something warm flood over her and he shuddered. She wrapped her arms around him as if to protect him and their sweaty foreheads touched as they panted with the sensations that overwhelmed them.

Y/N opened her eyes and studied Azriel's face in the dim light. His handsome face was now relaxed and a small smile lurked at the corner of his mouth, his long black lashes casting shadows across his cheek. Her breath caught as she opened his eyes and his golden brown gaze locked on her.

There was an air of kindness and contentment that was evident in the way his hand stroked gently down her side.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly and pulled out of her, careful not to hurt her. The sheet was a little bloody, but neither of them cared.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered and turned to face him as he lay down next to her. Azriel covered them with the blanket and took her hand. “It didn't hurt that much.”

He smiled and kissed her hand.

“It won't after this.”

“Will it be after this?” asked Y/N shyly but hopefully.

“There will be a lot after this.”

Y/N almost burst with joy. Maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all.

[littlebeluu]

Can u write some Marc guiu where the reader is insecure about her stretch marks and during s*x Marc noticed she was trying to cover them and he moved her hands started kissing the stretch marks telling her she’s perfect/ beautiful and he loves her.. x

I'm so happy for this becauuuse, I've been keeping a little secret for some time. I may or may not follow Marc's secret account on Twitter... where he happened to like this post that i will translate for you (back when likes were visible 😭). I took this screenshot in February.

I think we all agree that the majority of guys don't give a fuck about this.

q: Women with stretch marks are not attractive.

I hope that this information overcompensates for this poorly written smut. Let's get into it.

warnings: smut, oral (f and m), penetration, insecurities.

I watched as Marc pulled off his shirt, his bleached blonde hair sticking up in every direction. His broad shoulders and powerful back rippling under his tanned skin. He was a sight to behold.

“Come here,” he commanded.

I slowly got up from my position on the bed and made my way over to him, my heart beating nervously. I stopped a few feet away, fidgeting with the hem of my own shirt.

“Closer,” he said, a smile playing on Marc's lips.

I took another step closer to him. His hands reached out, sliding my shirt up over my body. Marc's fingers grazing over my skin sent shivers down my spine. As my shirt was pulled off over my head, I instinctively moved my arms to cover my stomach and legs, my stretch marks. But he quickly pulled my hands away, his smile growing wider.

“I love these,” he said, gently running his fingers over the lines on my skin.

I looked up at him in shock. No one had ever said that before.

“But they’re not very pretty,” I replied, my cheeks blushing.

Marc raised a brow, “What?”

“They’re not... I don’t know... I just feel like they make me look ugly,” I explained.

He chuckled and took my hands, leading me over to the bed. We both sat down, his hands never leaving mine.

“They’re not ugly at all amor, they’re beautiful. They mean you’ve experienced life, plus they look like fucking lightning, or water reflection. And to me... that’s sexy as fuck” he said.

I smiled at his words. My eyes followed Marc's hands as they ran up and down my body, stopping at the waistband of my yoga pants. His hands slid underneath the fabric, slowly pulling them off of me. As his hands passed over the curves of my hips and butt, my breath caught in my throat. I stood up before him, completely naked.

“You’re so beautiful,” Marc said, his voice full of longing.

My cheeks flushed even more and I tried to move to cover myself again, but he stopped me.

“I want to see you,” he said, voice firm. “I want to see all of you.”

His hands moved to the front of my body, sliding up over my breasts and down over my stomach.

My eyes closed as Marc's hands explored every inch of my body. When they reached my stretch marks again, I opened my eyes and watched as his lips followed. Kissing every single one of them. I couldn’t help but let out a whimper of pleasure. His hands continued to move over my body, sliding between my legs.

He slipped two fingers inside of me and I let out a moan of pleasure. Marc's fingers curled inside of me and his thumb circled around my clit. I could feel my orgasm building. My moans got louder and louder until I was crying out as I came.

When my orgasm subsided he stood up. I watched in awe as his shirt was pulled off, his muscles flexing beneath his tanned skin. Marc pulled down his pants and boxers, freeing his large cock. My eyes widened at the sight.

“Fuck,” I said, my mouth falling open.

He chuckled, “Like what you see?” he asked, a smirk on his face.

I nodded eagerly. His hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking it up and down. I watched in amazement as pre-cum dripped out of the tip.

Marc picked me up, carrying me over to the bed. I was placed on my back, his body hovering over mine. His mouth moved to my neck, sucking and biting the skin there. I let out a loud moan, feeling another orgasm building. Marc kissed down my body, stopping at my breasts. His tongue flicked over my nipples, making me squirm under him. I could feel his cock rubbing against my pussy, but he didn’t enter me yet. Instead he continued to tease me, moving his tongue down to my pussy. I felt his warm breath on my clit, followed by his tongue licking at my folds. I cried out as another orgasm ripped through my body.

When I came back down, I opened my eyes to see him hovering over me, a smile on his face.

“You taste so good,” Marc said, “But I think I’ve made you cum enough for now.”

I nodded in agreement, still trying to catch my breath. His cock was still rock hard against my leg. I knew Marc hadn’t cum yet, but I was ready for him to.

“Please,” I begged, “I want to feel you inside of me.”

He chuckled, “Not yet.”

Marc moved so that he was straddling my chest. His cock was inches from my mouth. I licked my lips, knowing exactly what he wanted.

Marc took hold of my head and brought my mouth to his cock. I took him in my mouth, sucking him hard. I could feel his cock swelling in my mouth. I knew he was close due to his whimpers. His hand tightened around the back of my head and his cock hit the back of my throat as he came.

I swallowed his load, moaning in pleasure at the taste of his cum. Marc's hand stayed in my hair, his cock still in my mouth. I licked and sucked at him, trying to get every last bit of cum out of him. When I was finished, he pulled out of my mouth and kissed me. I could taste his salty cum on our tongues.

I felt his cock starting to grow hard again as we kissed. He broke the kiss and looked down at me.

“Are you ready?” Marc asked.

I eagerly nodded, “Yes, please.”

He positioned himself between my legs, his cock rubbing against my pussy. I moaned at the sensation, desperate for him to be inside of me. His hands went under my ass, lifting me slightly as he thrust into me. I cried out at the feeling of Marc filling me up. His cock felt so good inside of me, it was like he was made to fit me. Marc began to thrust in and out of me, his pace fast and hard. His hands gripped my ass as he fucked me. I could feel another orgasm building. My legs wrapped around his waist, holding onto him as he fucked me. I moaned loudly, my hands gripping the sheets. Marc's pace was becoming faster and faster, harder and harder.

“Fuck,” he cried out, “I’m going to cum.”

I nodded eagerly, my moans getting louder and louder until I was crying out as I came. I could feel his cock swell inside of me and then he was coming, his cum filling me up. His hands stayed on my ass as he emptied his load into me. Marc's cock twitched as his cum dripped out of me and onto the sheets.

He slowly pulled out of me and laid down next to me. Marc's hand moved to my stomach, running his fingers over my stretch marks.

“Thank you,” I said, looking over at him.

Marc smiled and kissed me. “I told you, you’re beautiful.”

I smiled back at him, feeling loved and appreciated. My insecurities now washed away thanks to his words. I laid my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His hand still ran over my skin. I felt loved and protected in his arms. I kissed his chest and closed my eyes, falling into a peaceful sleep. Marc's arms held me tight as he fell asleep too.

[problematicbyler]

an incomplete history of byler sexuality discourse

and how widespread fandom purity culture and homophobia created a flourishing nsfw sub-fandom

some may call me chronically online, but i call myself a fandom historian. i've been a member of some fandom or another since i was about thirteen, and i've always been interested in the rise and fall of fandom discourse. though it's annoying in the moment it's happening, i think it's very interesting and telling to look back at the overall arcs and trends.

so, let's talk about the many times the fandom has cancelled people over byler sexuality, and how each level of "hornygate" has contributed to the growth of the proship/byler smut community.

(i use the term proship in its intended definition, which is to say, not "problematic shipping," but rather being pro-fiction, anti-censorship, and anti-harassment; it is a position of believing the fiction one creates or consumes doesn't reflect a person's real life beliefs or morals.)

i have been a stranger things lover since season 1, a byler shipper since season 2, and an active part of the byler community on tumblr since season 4. i'll mostly be focusing on post-season 4 discourse because that's what i've really been most present for and that was the period that really marked a turning point in the fandom.

seasons 1-3

i wasn't as plugged into fandom discourse back in the day, but the broad strokes of early discourse was mostly thinly veiled homophobia. claiming that it was sexualization to assume will or mike could be queer despite blatant queer coding, implying that analysts were no better than will's bullies to assume his sexuality, etc etc. people were criticized for shipping byler at all because they were so young (but these people naturally had no issue with mileven, so, again, homophobia).

season 4 (may-july 2022)

now, season 4. this is where byler was brought to the attention of a lot more fans, and stranger things' viewership reached wider than ever. the byler fandom on tumblr booms from 4k to 100k over the course of season 4's release.

this brought a lot of new people who have never been in fandoms before, people who never learned don't like don't read or your kink is not my kink and that's okay or ship and let ship.

or, a lot of times, people who had only been in fandoms for celebrities and bands, which tend to have different rules when it comes to shipping and sex, because they're real people. hence a lot of young antis' conflation of character with their actors, but that's a different rant.

so with a rapidly growing fandom, a show ripe for analysis, and the art of media literacy bleeding out on the ground in front of us, the hellscape of the fandom post-season 4 in 2022 followed as such:

august 2022

jo/kendra gate where two extremely popular analysts were called out for "sexualizing" byler while being adults (early to mid 20s). they were dogpiled and harassed because one of them said that will was giving mike "bedroom eyes" (he was) and one of them said mike was checking will out (he was):

pyshiie and moogate. the proship side of byler twitter rose up and started to divide itself. i'll credit my own joining-the-dark-side to pyshiie and moo, formerly barbjeanisms, who were two popular artists called out respectively for sexualizing byler and generally being proship. similarly, people were called out and criticized for even following or interacting with those accounts after this discourse.

september 2022

hosegate is the most famous across the byler fandom, and it's when some users proposed that the scene in the pizzeria uses phallic imagery to imply mike turns will on (or vice versa) and a lot of people thought that was too sexualized, it caused a divide, and more fanpolicing, etc.

october 2022

the artist noodlesandtea was harassed for having liked arguably nsfw bakudeku art (they were shirtless, it wasn't explicit) on the same account where they draw characters who are minors. they also drew byler kissing, which was a problem for some? anyone who defended them was also called a pedo, naturally. noodles also got called out for having drawn fanart of the popular e-rated fanfiction....

the unmarked mixtape. a massively popular sequel to a massively popular fic, the red envelope. for a long time, those were the most widely recommended byler fics, but it very soon became taboo to even admit to reading them because the sequel has explicit sex and the first has them making out.

sonnet116 gate is another fic that was beloved and then rapidly turned on by byler twitter because it had implied, fade to black sex scenes. it was about them hooking up but had no smut. and even the non explicit idea of that was offensive and pedophilic of anyone who dared read it. around this time, another fic was called out for having will moaning into a kiss, because writing a teenager moaning was also offensive and pedophilic.

i'm told i (jana / troublebyler gate?) may have influenced a lot of people joining twitter for byler smut after writing illicit affairs and some other smutty oneshots in rapid succession, seeing a lot of byler shippers moving to the proship side of the fandom just to discuss and write byler smut. i also hosted a little fandom gossip column on my curiouscat where a lot of folks confessed to reading or writing smut while pretending to be "normal" in the "main" fandom. it basically revealed/implied that a large amount of popular authors, artists, and accounts were secretly pro byler smut, and that many proshippers were "undercover" in the "main" fandom.

the blocklist era. around this time the "main" fandom also created a "st twt safety" account on twitter which was basically targeted harassment and mass reporting of proshippers. the account does warn of some genuine bad actors sending gore images via dms, being racist, etc. but by far, the majority of it was simply calling out proshippers for sexualizing byler, sharing screenshots they thought were "gross," which only resulted in spreading nsfw content to unintended audiences of minors that likely never would have seen the nsfw accounts otherwise.

november 2022

practice kissing gate is where a handful of popular fic writers were criticized for writing practice kissing fics (such as undertow), and in fact, any amount of byler making out, because adults "fantasizing" about teenagers kissing was "gross."

the proship corner of st twitter continued to grow a lot thanks to so many lovely fan creators, all of whom i couldn't possibly list but who have done a lot for the community! but we continued to get bombarded with endless callout posts and block lists and witch hunting. people were unabashedly policing people's following lists and likes on twitter to call people out for engaging with any questionable users or content. (if you search byler twitter now you can still see the wreckage of so many witch hunts.)

onward through 2023

over time things have mostly calmed down, or at least enough of the folks on "opposing sides" of the fandom have mutually blocked each other to survive. this is likely also influenced by the hiatus leaving the fandom to quiet down, the collapse of twitter-turned-x having many users migrate their fandom content elsewhere, and the mass exodus of many people from the fandom for political reasons. if i had to guess, the ramp-up to season 5 will see all new conflict as more "casual" fans return to the fandom. but who's to say.

which brings us to now:

spicybylerpolls gate, wherein the byler tag on tumblr collectively had to reckon with the fact that people want byler to have sex and it doesn't make them creeps to vote in silly polls about it. people criticized the blog for being overly sexualized and pure fantasy versus more "acceptable" analysis, with many making sweeping moralizing statements about anyone who dared interact with the blog.

this has kicked off tumblr's own sort of horny revolution in encouraging folks to be more open on here, whereas previously we were confined to our corner of twitter.

so in summary:

people over and over again put fan creators on a pedestal just to turn on them when they're "betrayed" when a person's views did not one-to-one line up to theirs.

teens in the fandom especially were "betrayed" by adults in the fandom they thought were "safe" (and i would argue that self proclaimed "safe" adults in fandom are far more dangerous to real life minors than the proship fans who sexualize fictional characters but dont interact with real teens)

most everything has been fueled by widespread ageism at any fan over the age of 18, widespread homophobia and puritanism in regards to exploring queer sexuality or discussing sex at all

so much hate has been over what are essentially "thought crimes", with people watering down serious accusations like pedophilia into a petty insult over disagreements on fiction

and the cycle repeats itself endlessly until things devolve back into witch hunting and policing peoples following and likes etc

the best part to me is that every single cancellation just resulted in more people flooding to the horny side of the fandom to post more freely and without shame. every time a person on twitter posted screenshots of my account to say how "gross" it was (while simultaneously exposing my 18+ nsfw content to their audience of minors) i had a surge in followers. the more the fandom squeezes, the more people slip from its hold.

but that doesn't make the harassment campaigns okay, and it doesn't mean the fandom didn't do massive amounts of harm to real people in an attempt to protect fictional characters.

my hope going forward is that the fandom can coexist as a community where people don't have to like or agree with certain content to treat the people who create it with respect and dignity. and i hope that, while this side of the fandom might grow more on tumblr, we don't have to relive the same old discourses and go through the same cycles we went through on twitter.

and remember kids, the block button is both free and fun.

[mollymagician]

Matthew didn’t go immediately.

When Death visited the Dreaming that day, it was just he and Lucienne she was there to see. A quick visit, she said. Informal. Just the three of them in a quiet corner of the library. Because, she said… if anyone deserved to know, it was them.

She smiled that smile of hers, and he swore something that had been broken in his little bird-sized heart started to knit back together.

He would have been gone in an instant, out the window in a flash and demands on his…er…afterlife?… be damned. But Death crooked a finger at him, and leaned down, conspiratorial, to whisper, “Matthew, give them time, okay? It won’t be easy, at first. He’s going to need it.” A quick hand stroking his back feathers, like an apology.

He coughed and studied the wood grain of the desk . “Uh…yeah. I mean…right. Of course. You…you got it, uh, Ma’am.”

But she was already gone.

So, he gave them time.

A month passed, in the Waking, by his reckoning.

How much time was time, Matthew wondered.

What did ‘time’ mean to someone who was a few billion years old? Was a month enough time for the anthropomorphic personification of everybody’s brain-stuff to become Some Guy? How did that even work, anyway? Did he need to, like, solidify? Like a pudding? Probably not the instant stuff. But what the hell did he know about pudding, he’d only ever eaten it out of a little plastic cup.

While he pondered the pudding-to-Endless equivalency method of time measurement, another month passed.

Then one evening, as he perched on one of the palace spires and watched the sun sinking down towards the rippling mirage that concealed the horizon, his patience snapped completely, without warning, and he found himself winging his way into the Waking before his own common sense could sweet talk him out of it.

He landed on the narrow sill outside of a very familiar window. Mellow lamplight spilled through the glass. He could see inside, across the comfortable living room with it’s well-worn couch and cluttered dining table, to the two figures standing together in the small kitchen.

Holy fucking shit, Matthew thought.

He lunged foreword to tap out that familiar little rhythm on the glass— shave and a haircut— and Hob was hustling over to open it in an instant, grinning like a searchlight. Then he was skidding to a stop in the middle of the kitchen counter and before him was

Before him stood

If possible, he seemed even thinner than before— whatever had happened over the past two months had happened to him hard. But he was also…softer. Was that a thing that could be? Standing in the kitchen in a faded blue (blue. blue?) tshirt and threadbare gray sweatpants and smiling. SMILING. He was Some Guy and he was looking at Matthew and smiling.

He was exactly the same. He was entirely different.

“Holy fucking shit,” Matthew said.

Dream leaned his forearms against the counter, bringing himself down to ravens-eye level and said, “Hello Matthew.”

Very eloquently, Matthew said, “Dude.” Then, the floodgates opened and he couldn’t seem to stop. “DUDE. Fuck…it’s…you! It’s you! Look at that! Holy shit! I can’t even…I mean why am I surprised I died and woke up a fucking bird but I mean…look at you!! FUCK!!” He flapped his wings emphatically and stomped, as best he could with his spindly legs. “Goddammit! These…fucking…ARRGH. No thumbs! An’ no arms! I just wanna…HOB. My dude. Would you help me out here????”

Hob, who had been standing by with the expression of someone who had sprained an internal organ with the effort not to laugh, drew a shaky breath and a hand across his mouth and stepped foreword.

“Okay, I think I see. I get you.” He stepped up to Dream, laid broad palms on his narrow shoulders, and said with great formality, “Dream…from Matthew.”

And tugged Dream forward into a crushing, bone-creaking hug, compressing the breath clean out of him.

Dream squeaked like a squeezed balloon and that…that, more than anything else, made it real.

“Yeah,” Matthew said, “That’s the stuff.”

When Hob released him a solid minute later, Dream staggered a bit and caught himself on the counter, looking slightly stunned. But the smile was back, tugging up the corners of his mouth.

“I…I thank you, Matthew,” He said. “I missed you as well.”

Matthew looked down at his skinny little bird feet, listening to the sound of his claws clicking as he fidgeted. He felt…what was this? Shy. When the hell had shy ever happened to him? Never, that’s when. Fuck that. Matthew cleared his throat and looked up at the pair standing there beaming at him under the gold kitchen lights. “So, uh. What’cha up to? Got any big plans for…uh…for your afterlife tonight?”

“Ah. Hob is teaching me how to.” Dream paused. “Not set the stove on fire. We are making—what is this?” He plucked a small box off the countertop and studied it. “Pudding. Apparently.”

The sound Matthew made would have been pppPPPpppffffftttttt if he’d had lips. Which he didn’t, so the noise that actually came out was more or less indescribable.

“It’s a step up from tinned soup,” Hob said. “Progress is being made.”

Dream slanted him a look and picked up the can of whip cream, fiddling with the nozzle. “I did make perfectly adequate tinned soup. The second time. I believe I will be more than capable of—“ The rest of the sentence was obliterated by the sound of aerosolized dairy product spurting across his face.

Dream sighed.

Hob turned around to face the refrigerator, his shoulders shaking silently, organs once again in peril.

“…Oh man,” Matthew said. “This is gonna be great.”

[plumfondler]

Touch-starved, needy Steve. It’s gotten a little better with robin and the kids, but he just melts when Eddie starts getting in his space and all but hanging off him

This.... Got away from me, yes.

🫂

The first time Steve notices Eddie getting in his personal space (after being pinned to the boathouse wall) he is a little taken aback. His first instinct is to back away or push Eddie away from him, because that's what you do, right? Someone is in your space, it's probably a threat, so you should neutralize the threat?

Once Steve's fight response fades, he develops an immediate fondness for Eddie. Eddie was passionate and intense and loud and charming. And a very tactile person.

Steve often noticed Eddie's hands. They would gesture wildly and clench excitedly, but also fidget nervously. Steve had his keyring hanging from his belt loop once and Eddie started playing with the keys as soon as he was within arms reach of Steve. After that, Steve bought a small leather bracelet with some beads on it and Eddie immediately grabbed his wrist and started fiddling with it.

Once Steve got used to Eddie holding his arm across his lap to play with his bracelet, he started testing the waters and draping his legs across Eddie when they were all sitting around. The joy that burst in Steve's chest was unlike anything he'd ever felt, when Eddie rested his hands on Steve's legs, fingers idly stroking.

Eddie soon started pulling Steve's legs over his lap first, which gave Steve the confidence to start trying other things, like leaning.

Though the leaning did turn into accidentally falling asleep on once or twice.

But something changed after the leaning. Eddie was suddenly attached. The second he would walk into a room with Steve in it, he was drawn to him like a magnet. Eddie would drape his arms over Steve's broad shoulders when everyone was standing around, or just drape his entire body over Steve's back like a koala if Steve was sitting on a stool or at a picnic table. And Steve would always put a hand on Eddie's arms to hold him there. To silently say "stay."

Soon Eddie was casually wrapping Steve up in hugs mid-conversation, with no warning.

Then one day Eddie kisses Steve's cheek. Steve made Eddie a mixtape of all the metal songs he liked so maybe Eddie can show him more like those? And Eddie's face lit up and he planted a fat kiss on Steve's face.

Steve can't say he isn't surprised. He can't say he doesn't love it. The warmth. The softness. Eddie's gentle hand that held Steve's chin for a brief moment.

Steve found himself giggling and speechless.

Eddie seems to love this reaction so he likes to try it again from time to time.

And then one time they try it at the same time.

Steve and Robin are bickering about something and Eddie is dangling over Steve's shoulder. Eddie silently gestures to Steve's empty beer with his own, shaking it, and Steve nods, still listening to Robin.

Eddie leans in to kiss Steve's cheek but Steve turns.

Their lips meet and they both sigh upon impact.

They don't pull away.

Robin stops talking.

Eddie and Steve open their eyes, lips still attached.

"Oh boy, okay, so this is finally happening, okay. And it happened in front of me okay, that's fine okay. I can deal with this, it's fine it's fine it's fine."

Robin starts babbling and Eddie and Steve slowly smile foreheads together, reaching out to hold each other's faces, bursting into laughter.

"Hey Robs, we're gonna go talk about this in the kitchen, okay?" Steve said, weaving his fingers with Eddie's, reaching out to squeeze Robin's hand.

Robin nodded and Steve lifted Eddie's fingers to his face, nuzzling them.

"Yes, we're going to go make out about this in the kitchen, can we bring you anything in an hour?" Eddie asked, standing and tugging Steve up to his feet.

Steve giggled and followed Eddie to the kitchen.

They rounded the corner and Steve pinned Eddie against the wall, kissing him tenderly.

"Whoa, wait, what happened to talking about this," Eddie grinned, nudging Steve's nose with his own.

"Hi,I like you. Do you like me?"

"Yes, a lot."

"Mmk."

And the kissing resumed.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

Send me your headcanons!

[acti-veg]

Lab grown meat is not vegan. The animal cannot consent to donating its tissue. Further, it normalizes eating animals. Finally, how the fuck do you think its safe? What processed food of the last several decades hasn't bee n found to fuck up our guts and cause cancer?

Normally love your stuff just bummed you're into lab grown animal protein as a vegan.

A transition away from animal agriculture and towards lab grown meat or fermented proteins would result in the suffering and deaths of billions fewer animals, as well as significantly less water and land use, and far lower GHG. As animal advocates, are we really going to oppose a technology that involves far fewer animal inputs on the basis that it still involves some?

Lab grown meat obviously is not vegan, at least not yet, but it isn’t for vegans. It is for the vast majority of people who do eat meat and have no intention of stopping. If we can offer an alternative that is chemically identical but harms far fewer animals, why wouldn’t we do that? Everyone going vegan is just not going to happen anytime soon, do we consign animals to the slaughterhouse in the meantime for the sake of ideological purity?

Eating animals is already normalised, in every society on earth. What this normalises is the consumption of alternative proteins, which absolutely must be part of any sensible transition towards sustainable agriculture. The problem with meat isn’t that it is animal flesh and there is something intrinsically evil about that, it is that obtaining it requires exploitation and harm.

Besides, it’s not like I’m cheering on lab grown meat here. That article is not even in favour of lab grown meat, and neither is the author. Monbiot is concerned about how the anti-cultured meat legislation will apply in broad strokes to any alternative protein, especially fermented proteins, which he believes offers the best alternative to animal proteins. That is a very legitimate concern.

As for safety, again, lab grown meat is biologically and chemically identical to organic meat. Meat is not the healthiest of foods, but this particular meat being cultured rather than slaughtered doesn’t mean it is somehow dangerous. In fact, there is nothing inherently unsafe about processed foods in general. Hummus is processed, so are baked beans, so is wholemeal bread. ‘Processed’ as a byword for ‘unsafe’ is pure pseudoscience, popularised by social media influencers and so-called ‘health gurus.’

I know you mean well, but this insistence that it is either full blown veganism for the entire population or nothing, is completely unhelpful. The reality is that we have to consider viable alternatives that are significantly more sustainable and more humane, we cannot be boycotting everything that doesn’t represent a perfect solution. It won’t get us anywhere.

Like you, I have no intention of ever eating lab grown meat. That said, I’m certainly not going to oppose the advent of a technology that has the potential to save billions of lives, feed the world using far fewer resources, and may help to avert the worst impacts of climate change. Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good.

[xomakara]

The Baby Bug

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | Wooyoung comes home from work after taking care of a baby and he really wants another child. PAIRING | Wooyoung x Reader GENRE | dad!Wooyoung, baby fever yo, suggestive implications, a cute little ball of sunshine, more fluff than anything lol, strong language RATING | SFW, suggestive LENGTH | 3,587 words TAGLIST | -- NETWORKS | AUTHOR’S NOTE | Watching any content with babies and kids just pull at my heartstrings and that’s what exactly happened when I watched this. They’d definitely be great dads in the future.

“I’m home!” Wooyoung calls out as he takes his shoes off at the entrance and slips his feet into his house slippers. Just as he was placing his bag on the floor, he heard the little pitter-patter of feet and a small body launching itself towards him. He caught the small boy in mid air with one hand, making him squeal happily before throwing him over his shoulder.

“Daddy’s home!” The little boy wiggles around excitedly.

“Aww, squirt, you missed me so much?” he says fondly, rocking him back and forth. “Where’s mommy?”

"Mommy is in the kitchen."

“Wooyoung? Is that you?” He heard his wife call out from the kitchen.

Wooyoung gently set the squirming kid down on the floor and padded into the kitchen, wiping his hands on his shirt. A broad smile stretched across his face as he saw his beautiful wife leaning against the countertop, cleaning up dishes. The sight reminded him of how far they had come, just from two lonely kids who could barely take care of themselves.

“I’m home, my love.” He leaned down to give you a kiss on the cheek.

You looked up and smiled. “Hey there, handsome. Did your day go well?”

He wrapped an arm around your waist. “It went great. Yeosang and I played with a baby all day today. He was the cutest thing ever.”

You lightly slapped his shoulder, looking all around the kitchen. “Don’t let Woojin hear you say that, haha. He’ll abandon us and go live with Seonghwa.”

Wooyoung snorted. “Are you kidding? That little terror is all we need. I can’t imagine life without him now.”

“Hahaha…” You agreed. “Okay, okay. Are you hungry or thirsty? Do you want anything to eat?”

“I’m not hungry for food but something else…” He pulled you closer to him. His lips descended on yours. “Want to have some fun?”

You laughed as he tugged you closer to him, covering your mouth with his own. You pulled away, breathless. “Not right now. Later. When Hongjoong and Seonghwa comes pick up Woojin for their play date.”

Wooyoung nodded his head. “Good idea.”

“Until then, let's find our little terror.” You took his hand and led him to the living room.

“Woojin? Baby, where are you at?” You called out, scanning the entire living room until you found him, playing with toys on the sofa. You and Wooyoung sat next to him. “What are you playing with, munchkin?”

The boy gave you a big grin. “Uncle Yunho got me a new toy. It makes sounds when you push the buttons and it makes bubbles. I like it.”

Wooyoung let out a laugh. “Your uncles sure like to spoil you, huh?“

Woojin beamed. “Because all the uncles love me!”

You grinned back. “That’s right, buddy. All the uncles love you very much. Now, are you ready to go? Because Uncle Hongjoong and Uncle Seonghwa should be here any minute to pick you up.”

“Why?” The little boy asked, still playing with the toy.

“Remember that the uncles are taking you to the zoo? And then you’re spending the night there.”

“Yeah, zoo!” Woojin clapped his hands excitedly. “I love the zoo!”

“Well, if you keep that happy attitude, I bet Uncle Seonghwa will get you some extra special treats.” You said, stroking Woojin’s hair.

“Like what?” The little boy tilted his head curiously.

“Hmm…I don’t know. Maybe some ice cream. Or maybe he’ll get you a candy or two. What do you think, baby?”

“Candy!” The boy exclaimed happily. “Can I please have candy?”

Wooyoung laughed and patted his son’s hair. “If you behave for the uncles, you might just get candy.”

“Are Uncle Yeosang and Uncle Mingi and Uncle Yunho and Uncle San and Uncle Jongho going to the zoo too?”

“Let’s ask them.” Wooyoung nodded, taking his phone out and calling everyone. You turned to look at Wooyoung as he talked to everyone. He was holding the receiver close to his ear and he had a bright smile plastered on his face. When he ended the call, he looked down at his son. “Yep, all the uncles are going too.”

“Yay!” Woojin cheered happily, bouncing up and down on his seat. He hugged you and Wooyoung. The three of you played with his toys and watched a little bit of TV before the guys showed up.

 As soon as Woojin saw Mingi, he launched himself at him and wrapped his arms around his legs, refusing to let go. Mingi lifted his leg up and swung him around in a circle.

Seonghwa looked at Wooyoung. “Everything all packed for our play date?”

You handed him Woojin’s bag. “Yep, all packed and ready.”

“Woojin, are you ready?” Mingi said to the little boy that still clung to his leg.

The little boy nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Let’s go, Uncle.”

“Alright, squirt.” Seonghwa ruffled his hair affectionately. “Give your dad and mom a kiss and hug before you go.”

Woojin ran up to you, his little arms wide open. You bent down and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you, baby. Be good for the uncles, okay? We’ll miss you.”

"I love you mommy." He put both hands on your cheeks and gave you a quick peck. Then, he ran over to Wooyoung, jumped into his lap and hugged him tightly. “I love you, daddy. See you later!”

“Be good for your uncles, squirt.” Wooyoung gave you a wink before putting him down on the ground. He ran up to the guys and waved at you and Wooyoung, before running out the door with his uncles.

You watched him run down the driveway, laughing with Mingi and running to latch into Yunho’s arms. Your heart ached watching him leave but you knew that this would be beneficial for both Wooyoung and yourself. You leaned into Wooyoung’s chest and wrapped your arms around him.

“Finally alone.” Wooyoung whispered. “Finally.”

“Yeah, finally.” You smiled as you gazed up at him.

“Mmm…” He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of being in your arms. “What should we do now, wife?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Just what kind of suggestion did you have in mind, husband?”

“Oh, you know…” He winked suggestively. “We could go into the bedroom. We could make love. Maybe even try something new…”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re incorrigible.”

He chuckled. “But you like it, don’t you?”

“As long as you give me all the attention and love that I crave, then yes. Yes, I do like it.”

He groaned softly, running his hands through your hair. “Ahhh, I love hearing you say that.”

“What do you want to do first?” You asked, breathlessly.

“Y/N, you should know by now what I want.” He said as he nibbled on your neck. “What do you want, wife?”

“I want…” Your voice broke off as he moved lower, kissing a trail along your collarbone. “…what you want.”

His teeth nipped at your collarbone and you gasped, arching your back slightly as he kept moving downwards. His tongue traced a path along your cleavage and as his hand caressed your breasts, you shivered involuntarily.

“My love, do you want another baby?” He whispered, continuing to touch your sensitive skin. "Maybe we can try for a baby girl? I'd love one that looks like you, my angel.”

“Maybe.” You murmured, closing your eyes as he massaged your nipples. “If it happens naturally.”

“With that cute little mouth of yours constantly asking for more, how can I deny you anything?” He said in between kisses. “Let's see if we can get pregnant tonight. Let's make love like never before, Y/N. Let's prove to ourselves once and for all that we are meant to be together.”

You chuckled. “As if we haven't proved that already.”

A few days had passed since Woojin’s playdate with Seonghwa and Mingi. Woojin loved the time spent with his uncles. They were so cool and made him laugh all the time. They also took him to all sorts of places – they went to the playground and the beach, they ate tons of snacks, played hide-and-seek and had ticklish fights. Wooyoung had gotten reports every day about how well behaved Woojin was during the playdates and he felt proud of his son.

You were on the couch with Wooyoung, Woojin sitting in the middle as you watched a family movie. Woojin had fallen asleep and was cuddled on his dad’s lap, snoring gently. Wooyoung smiled fondly at his sleeping son, idly tracing circles on his soft dark curls.

“He’s so well behaved when he’s not being a little terror.” Wooyoung muttered.

You laughed quietly. “He’s a little terror because he got that from you.”

“True.” He sighed, smiling fondly. “He definitely gets it from me.”

You looked at your son’s peaceful face as he snoozed away on your husband’s chest. The sight of him always filled you with such warmth. The little guy was so innocent and pure. And no matter how many times you thought you couldn’t handle his tantrums, he always managed to charm you with his innocence and eagerness to please. Even though it wasn’t easy raising a kid, seeing his joy at the simplest things brought you immense happiness.

And looking at him now, peacefully snoring away on Wooyoung’s chest, you suddenly realized that you wanted another baby. Because Woojin was growing up so fast, and although it was fun watching him grow and develop into a young man, part of you wanted another little person to take care of and dote on.

It was as if Wooyoung could hear your thoughts so he softly whispered. "Babe?"

"Hmm?" You turned to look at him, seeing the tender expression on his face.

"Let's try for a baby again." He murmured. "Please?"

Your heart skipped a beat at those words. “Really?”

“Woojin is growing up so fast. Soon, he won’t need us anymore. It’d be nice to have another little one running around the house. And maybe it'll be a girl this time, and she’ll be just as beautiful as you. She’ll be perfect. Just like her older brother.”

Your heart swelled with pride and love as you stared at him. There was nothing else you needed than having him by your side. This man who adored you and cared for you unconditionally. Who worked hard to provide for your family and keep them happy. A family that he created with you. Together, you were amazing. And you couldn’t wait to share this wonderful life with someone who makes you feel whole.

Wooyoung placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “So, shall we make another baby, wife?”

“Absolutely.” You replied without hesitation.

"Mommy? Daddy?" Woojin softly spoke up, his voice laced with sleepiness. "What are you doing?"

You and Wooyoung let out a small laugh. You stroked your son's hair. "Woojin, baby. Do you want to be a big brother?"

“Uh huh.” He nodded his head tiredly. "I want a brother or sister. Is there a baby in your tummy yet?"

You laughed softly. "Not quite yet, buddy. But we're trying."

Wooyoung let out a laugh as he ruffled Woojin's hair. "Well, we'll see. Come on, buddy. Let's get you tucked into bed so mommy and daddy can talk."

“Okay.” Woojin nodded his head obediently and stretched his arms towards Wooyoung. "Can you carry me to my room?"

"Sure thing, buddy." Wooyoung picked up his son and walked him to his bedroom. As he laid him down on his bed, Wooyoung lightly touched his nose with his finger and smiled. “Good night, my little pirate. Sleep tight and dream sweet dreams.”

After giving Woojin a kiss goodnight, Wooyoung returned to your room where you were lying in bed, reading.

"Hey." He entered the room, shutting the door behind him. "Are you done reading?"

You set the book down and looked at him, letting out a smile. "Almost."

He crawled onto the bed next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist. "Our little menace is asleep. What should we do now?"

You put your book down and turned on your side to look at him. "How about we spend some quality time together?"

"That sounds great." He kissed you softly. "Anything in particular you'd like to do?"

"I'm open to suggestions." You smiled, caressing his cheek.

"Well, if I may make a suggestion…" He leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. "I think I'd like to fuck my wife senseless."

You groaned as his hot lips met yours, causing you to gasp. “You’re incorrigible.”

"I know." He grinned. "But you still love me, right?"

"More than anything." You pulled him closer to you, grinding your hips against his.

"Glad to hear that." He nuzzled your neck, making you shudder with desire. "I think I'd like to find out how much I can drive you crazy."

“How am I supposed to stay sane when you’re touching me like that?” You whispered seductively.

“Don’t worry, my darling. I’ll do my best to make sure you stay sane.” He breathed into your ear.

It's been almost a month since Wooyoung and you started trying for another baby. While you were both excited to start trying for another child, you weren't too surprised when your pregnancy test came out negative. And you were even less surprised when you took another test only a week later and it was also negative.

“It’s okay, my darling.” Wooyoung reassured you as he held your hand. “It will happen when it’s supposed to. We’ll keep trying until it works.”

“Yes.” You smiled. “We will. I know we will.”

After a few weeks, you started feeling more hopeful. Maybe it wouldn't take too long to conceive again. And perhaps you would get pregnant before the end of the year. You could barely contain your excitement as you waited for the results of the last two tests you had taken.

It was Friday afternoon and Wooyoung was preparing to leave for the studio to record for a new album. The rest of the members would meet up there later and record their parts.

You watched him getting ready, admiring his physique. His black hair was messily combed back and falling across his forehead, making him look utterly sexy. Every single move he made caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. As soon as he spritzed on some of his cologne, you couldn't help but feel nauseous.

His fingers reached out for yours. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." You shook your head. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I don't want to leave you and Woojin home if you're getting sick."

You shook your head. "Just a little nauseo-"

"Come here." He pulled you close to him, cradling you in his arms. "Is something wrong?"

You tried to bury your face in his chest but his cologne still hit you straight in the face, causing you to push him away and run towards the toilet. Your stomach churned as you felt bile rising up your throat. You sat down on the floor and puked, dry heaving for a while until your stomach finally settled down.

"Baby? Are you okay?" Wooyoung rushed over to you.

"Sorry." You sniffed. "I'm okay now."

"Shit." He groaned, sighing deeply. "Should I just stay home? I'm sure the guys won't mind. I hate leaving you alone when you're ill."

"No, it's okay. I'm fine." You brushed off his concerns. "Really. I promise."

He frowned but decided to trust you. "Alright then. Just call me or text me if you start feeling worse. Okay?"

"Okay." You hugged him tightly, trying to reassure him.

"I'll drop Woojin at my parents before I head to the studio." He promised, kissing your forehead. "He can play with my parents and Kyungmin for the day while you get some rest."

“Thank you, my love.” You gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Anytime.” He gave you another quick peck before heading out of the house with your son in tow.

You spent the morning cleaning the house, picking up Woojin’s toys, and doing the laundry. Feeling nauseous again, you headed to the bathroom. You closed the door and looked at the stack of pregnancy tests sitting on the top of the toilet. Taking them one by one, you compared each test strip to see if any showed two pink lines that signified you could be pregnant. They all showed one line except for one test.

Looking at it, you couldn't believe your eyes. Two lines, one faint compared to the other. Your heart began beating faster and your breathing became shallow as you stared at the positive test. You rummaged through your bedroom drawers to find another test. Once you found it, you carefully took it out and took it to the bathroom. After putting the first one aside, you used the second test and waited impatiently for the result.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" You shrieked as the second test also showed the same two pink lines. "I'm fucking pregnant!"

Tears of joy began streaming down your cheeks. You didn't know whether to cry tears of happiness or frustration because this wasn't how you thought it would happen. It happened sooner than expected and despite all the prior negative tests from earlier, you welcomed the news with open arms.

Grabbing a tissue, you wiped your tears. You picked up the phone and face-timed a familiar person.

"Baby, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Wooyoung asked and you could see the worry in his face. You could hear the chatter of the guys in the background as they talked amongst themselves. "Should I come home?"

"No." You chuckled nervously. "Everything's fine. Actually… Everything's perfect."

"You're not sick?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern. "You were vomiting this morning."

"Morning sickness, baby. Nothing serious." You smiled. "I'm pregnant."

"For real?! Are you sure?" Wooyoung sounded extremely relieved.

You held up the two positive tests for him, zooming in on the faint lines that signaled you were pregnant. You saw the happiness in his face. "See? Positive."

"I'm coming home." He said immediately, before calling out to the guys that he's leaving. "I'm going home! My wife is pregnant! Woo!"

You laughed as the guys teased him, Wooyoung saying that he would be at the studio bright and early tomorrow to finish recording for their album. The guys agreed and encouraged him to go home and spend time with his family.

"I'll go pick up Woojin first and then I'll be home. I love you." Wooyoung said before ending the video call.

You placed your phone on the countertop, breathing a huge sigh of relief. This was definitely the happiest moment of your life. You looked at yourself in the mirror, smiling widely.

"Wow. Me, the mother of two." You mused to yourself. "I can't believe it."

An hour had passed and you heard the front door opening, your son throwing his shoes off and running to envelope you in a hug.

"Mommy! Mommy! Daddy says you're having a baby!" He exclaimed, hugging you tightly.

"Did he?" You asked, holding him tighter. "Are you ready to be a big brother?"

"Yeah! Yeah!" Woojin shouted happily, bouncing up and down. "I'll teach him how to kick a ball! And to read! And… And..."

Wooyoung let out a laugh as he gave you a hug, placing his chin on your shoulder. "What if it's a girl?"

"Then I'll be the best big brother in the world." Woojin exclaimed as he looked up at his dad.

"My boy is already thinking like a big brother." Wooyoung murmured affectionately.

"Can I help take care of the baby?" Woojin asked shyly.

"Of course you can, kiddo." You replied. "The more the merrier."

"Yay! Because I have lots of ideas!" Woojin beamed. "I wanna help with cooking and bath time and feeding and changing diapers."

You laughed. "Sure, honey. That sounds like fun."

Wooyoung gently stroked his son's head. "That sounds good to me, too. What else did you have in mind?"

Woojin thought for a moment before his smile grew wider. "I want to sing lullabies to the baby!"

You laughed. "I can already imagine how noisy our house will become once the baby gets here."

"And… And... And…" Woojin continued excitedly, but you were too busy laughing at his enthusiasm to hear what he said next. "And..! I wanna share the room with the baby so that I can protect it."

"Aww." You cooed, burying your face in his hair. "You are such an adorable little boy. You're going to be the best big brother ever."

"Thanks, mommy." He kissed your nose. "Daddy said the same thing to me in the car."

Wooyoung grinned. "And I think it's safe to say that I'll be the best father ever."

"When are you not the best father in the world?" You turned your head to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. "I can't wait to meet our little princess or prince."

"Soon, my love." He whispered softly. "Very soon."

[helpmeimmona]

Your safe place.

Pairing: Beelzebub x Early OG game gn!MC (can be either romantic or platonic)

Word count: 736

Warnings: none, I guess (???) pls enjoy

A/N: OHMYGOD I dont know how to do anything yet!!!! I need a masterlist and some other things but i dont know how to do it yet and im very lazy at the moment. I think i liked how this turned out and I hope you guys like it too. English is not my first language so if you find any grammar error pls tell me <333

AND I DONT KNOW HOW TO MAKE A BANNER REALLY THIN SO I CAN SEPARATE THINGS 😭😭😭😭

Sleeping all night in the House Of Lamentation was not an easy task.

There were countless nights when you would wake up in the middle of the night to the sounds of one of the brothers fighting, or Levi bursting into your room to talk about some new anime with an unnecessarily long name, or Mammon's shrieks during Lucifer's punishments.

But today was different. For some reason, the house was peaceful and strangely quiet. No sudden noises. Afraid to jinx it, you just went to sleep as quietly as possible. Maybe the brothers chose peace today. Maybe they were too tired. Maybe they decided to give you a reward for your good work and just let you sleep the whole night today.

Maybe today you were lucky.

"MC..."

You open your eyes. Goddammit, you jinxed it in your thoughts. Good job.

Readjusting your eyes in the dark, your drowsy and sleep-deprived mind focused on who had called your name.

Beel was standing at the end of the bed, munching on some food, which wasn't strange. But something caught your attention. He seemed strangely... helpless. The normally blunt but caring brother, built like a gladiator, was wearing a hurt expression. His eyebrows were furrowed and he seemed desperate to fill his mouth with some snack to keep his lips from trembling.

"Beel? Is something wrong?" You asked, supporting your torso with your elbows to better understand the current situation.

The redhead had his arms glued to his side, his purple hues staring down as if he was afraid he was bothering you.

"Had another nightmare." The boy mumbled, his fingertips playing with the fabric of his sweatpants.

Your heart sank.

He probably had a dream about how he had to choose between his brother and sister, and how he couldn't save Lilith when she died in his arms.

Since Beel confessed to you what happened on the day of the fall, about his sister's death and Belphegor's hatred for humans, you realized that his survivor's guilt would one day eat him alive.

"Wanna sleep here with me?" You offered, without thinking much. "I will keep your nightmares away." You are reassured.

The avatar of gluttony's eyes finally met yours, and a sigh escaped his mouth as if he had been holding it for a long time.

"You don't mind?" He asked.

"Of course not, Beel." You shook your head, lifted your blanket so that he could lay next to you. "Eats."

Beelzebub checked for any signs of crumbs on his clothes or face before he laid on his side, shyly. You chose to wrap your arms around him, starting to stroke the little hairs on his nape and allowing him to hide his head on his chest. You squeezed him, holding his broad shoulders and tracing patterns on his muscular back.

"Wanna talk about it?" You asked softly.

Beel held his torso, intertwining his legs until he was nearly merging with his body and shook his head, seeming to sink more in his skin.

"It's just that... since Belphie's not here, and you don't need to sleep in my room anymore, I feel kinda... lonely." The demon mumbled, his voice muffled against your pajamas and you cooed, squeezing him a bit more. "And I feel good sleeping with you. The nightmares don't come." He said. "You make me feel small."

A soft smile appeared on your face and you took a deep breath. Even the strongest, those who protect need a place to be protected.

"Well, feel free to sleep here whenever you feel like you need it." His grasp on you tightened, and you went back to stroking his hair.

You felt him sigh, and you hoped that even for a little, you could be Beel's safe place.

__________________________________________

"Oi, get up! How much have ya been sleepin' for Lucifer to send me to wake ya up?!" Mmmm, what? What loud voice is that, disturbing your silent and calm night's sleep? "Stupid human, GET! UP! ALREADY!!!"

Something pulled your heat protector, and you whined, seeking body heat from the big thing you were still holding.

"WHA- WHAT THE HELL??" The voice screamed.

Little did you know what awaited you, when you had to listen to Mammon screaming all day about how he caught your and Beel's limbs entwined in the same bed, the redhead holding you for dear life while you both snored in a tranquil slumber.

[nightcolorz]

Armand surgical malpractice meta (spoilers for TVA)

It’s, at least from what I’ve seen, a pretty popularly agreed upon conception that Armand’s mutation of Claudia b4 her death as described in TVA didn’t actually happen..partly bcus it’s such a drastic and grotesque retcon from her death in interview with the vampire so lots of ppl don’t want to address it as canon, and partly bcus it’s so bizarre and seemingly unprompted in context that it just seems more plausible that Armand would make this up as some sort of twisted shock value rather then actually do it. I used to buy into this theory and never rlly thought about it beyond that, and today for the first time I thought about it deeply and realized. Damn I rlly disagree! I think that Armand 100% canonically chopped Claudia’s head off and sewed it onto an adult body. I believe it happened as told. And I have many reasons !

First and foremost I don’t think that Armand is actually capable of lying so deliberately in this context. Interpreting most tvc narrators as potentially lying to our faces and intentionally twisting events to suit a narrative and a purpose of dictating our perception of them is, I think, accurate and justified, and smth I love about this fandom. Everyone is not to be trusted 100%, especially Louis and Lestat, who are said and implied many times to have completely fabricated some events in the books for the sake of painting a picture. Tvc serve as this over arching plot about multiple conflicting characters manipulating events of their lives to suit a narrative that we as the audience can pick apart and discover the truth within. Very much “this bitch said WHAT about me?? that dumb cunt is always spreading lies smh, it actually happened LIKE THIS” (they r both not telling the full truth). Armand however is very much an outlier here, and it’s part of what makes TVA so unique as a chronicle. It’s a big part of his character throughout the series, in TVA and leading up to TVA, that Armand’s way of thinking is so dysfunctional and his memory is so flawed (bcus of all his trauma) (and neurodivergence) (imo) that he isn’t able to fully conceptualize the events of his life as chronological and meaningful in the way that one would need to do to be able to write a memoir.

He can’t describe events in broad strokes, or wrap his head around a vast emotional impact in a way that is explanatory or intentional. Think of that conversation he has with Daniel in queen of the damned, where he explains that he isn’t capable of telling Daniel what his life in the past “was like” because that’s a concept incomprehensible to him. He only knows what happened, not what it was like, not how it affected him or how it shaped his personhood, what it means etc. It’s a form of dissociation almost. The vampire armand is the first time in Armand’s vampiric life that he self reflects beyond acknowledging events and his emotions in that moment, it’s the first time he attempts to make connections and understand himself in a way that is narrative and structured and not fragmented bits of history and A names. Part of this requires further dissociation. I definitely get the impression that since Armand is being so vulnerable in a way he is so unused to, yet is so significant, he is unable to register while he’s talking that not only David, but millions of people including every vampire in the world, will know what he says. He’s just laying himself completely bare, he’s talking and talking and only once he finishes realizes oh. Oh. everyone’s going to read this huh. It’s so cathartic he doesn’t consider that in the moment. It’s the first time he’s ever been capable of reckoning with his life in a self reflective way, of looking at it and explaining it and reasoning with it, structuring it in order, not fragments, etc, seeing the cause and the impact and touching on an overall conclusion (tho he never entirely gets there). These baby steps are so difficult for him already, and considering this part of his character I really think it’s a stretch to say that Armand would be capable of the thought process in his book of pure venting to go “maybe I should twist the truth here or change this or add this or lie about this so people will think of me this way or so Lestat can see this, etc” TVA is unreliable, more so bcus of how mentally ill armand is and how little he understands his own life and emotions, but not deliberately like iwtv and tvl. Armand even says that the book was for Benji and Sybelle, but it’s so unfiltered and horrific and vent-like that this sounds ridiculous. He doesn’t even have his stated audience in mind while he’s telling his story, let alone his broader audience. The audience was a complete afterthought, a barely registered consequence. So why would he lie about Claudia? How would he be capable?

it’s another common piece of conversation around this part of TVA where we go, Armand discusses how he never would want to tell this to Louis bcus he knows how badly it would hurt him, so why did he describe it so graphically? Well, cause of all I mentioned. It seems pretty clear to me that armand is almost haunted by the affair with Claudia, and he has no way of lying about this, so his descriptions seemed very much to me like a desperate bit of venting. He has never told anyone how horrific it actually was and it’s always been in his mind, so he just lets it all out. Makes sense, but the broader question is, if Armand wasn’t lying…why did he do that at all?? This I think is so interesting.

To understand this I had to think a lot about Armand’s motivations for killing Claudia at all, which is well, simply, revenge against Lestat and claiming of Louis without barriers. If Claudia dies Lestat will be sad and Louis will be mine and mine alone 👍👍 etc. but Claudia’s mutation was not rooted in either of these motivations, which is part of why it’s so shocking. He didn’t do it to hurt Lestat, lestat never found out. It just seems so odd and unprompted. But once I thought more about why Armand hates Lestat, and why he wants to hurt him by killing Claudia, it started to fit into place. Armand’s hatred for Lestat is rooted very much in his twisted resemblance to Marius that he perceives as being very strong and basically mocking. When he first sees Lestat in tvl he’s repulsed by him instantly bcus he sees him as this parody of Marius, this beautiful blonde man in striking red robes who boldly and carelessly defies the laws of vampires established by the children of Satan as if they are meaningless to him, revels in the indulgent world of humans like he belongs there, shamelessly as armand devotes himself to miserable repression. It strikes a nerve for armand, feels very personally offensive to him, like the embodiment of the traits that got Marius’s destroyed r coming back to mock him in his face. And then as he gets to know Lestat more deeply he only hates him more, bcus Lestat is not only bold and careless, but he’s immature and stupid, and he knows nothing. Armand in his horribly traumatized mind set registers Lestat as “like Marius” and takes this to mean “maybe he can save me, maybe he will teach me and free me from this hell, guide me and give me the purpose I need to be given.” But Lestat does not do this, lmfao. He actually destroys any sense of purpose armand had, rips him from his safety net, and when Armand begs for guidance, asks to be allowed to travel alongside Lestat so he can learn to be a person again, Lestat denies him. The only purpose he bothers to give him is the scraps, symbolic of his perverse indulgence that Armand despises, and fucks off. Lestat is grotesquely reminiscent of Marius, in the worst ways. It’s like his presence alone opens Armand’s eyes to how badly Marius has ruined him. He was the sun, the purpose, the guiding light, and then it was ripped away, and there was nothing else without him. Just a void.

So Armand hates Lestat for this very personal mockery of his own plight, and this hatred spirals into unbridled rage when Lestat returns to him and expects Armand to give Lestat the assistance that he denied him. Not only this, but Lestat found Marius, found marius and was granted guidance and love that Marius refused to give Armand after his indoctrination into the children of Satan. And Marius told Lestat to never ever do what he did, never make an Armand, because Armand was a mistake, he was too young to be a vampire, and now he’s a mistake he will never forgive himself for. And with this immense privilege that Armand spent a huge chunk of his life yearning for, guidance from Marius when he was his most lost, Lestat decides to disregard it. He decides that since Marius said it was bad to turn a child as young as Armand, he’d turn a child even younger then Armand, just cuz. He is once again the embodiment of Marius’s sins, the grotesque parody. Marius turned a teenager, Lestat turns a five year old. It’s almost cruel in how mocking it is, almost intentional in how personal. So Claudia is this child, this deliberate mistake made by someone who knew her turning would be harmful to her but was selfish enough not to care, then went on to regret it when he has to reckon with the consequences. Seem familiar? Armand sure thought so. So I imagine that being alone with Claudia, looking this deeply sad reflection of his own agony in the eyes, knowing she is about to die for justice against a warped parody of his Maker, for the sake of punishment for her own existence, I imagine this struck a cord of insanity in Armand’s fucked up mind, caused him to loose his absolute shit for just long enough to go what if I can fix her, what if I can turn this narrative around, give her the remarkable ending I know deep down that she, I , will never be granted. What if I can give her a body that will reflect her mind? What if I can make this abomination into a miracle? No wonder he pulled out the surgical tools 😭 No wonder he was so horrified by his own actions when he came to his senses, no wonder he refused to share this, kept it to himself for so long, until he finally broke and confessed it all in a desperate moment when he was too caught up in the dam breaking to realize he’d be exposing this horrific action to the world.

Armand sees Claudia as a repulsive mistake that should’ve never existed made by Lestat to deliberately mock him up until the surgery, when then for only a moment lost to time ended in blood she is another child who had her life taken from her too soon by an egotistical blonde man who thought he could play god with someone’s life. “They were done for anyway, he was going to starve to death in a brothel, she was going to die as a street orphan, the blood would be a service to them, a chance they never had” But they both know that’s a lie they tell themselves to justify the act of taking a child and molding it into what they please for fun, for pleasure, for companionship, just to see what would happen. Armand sees this for a moment and wants to give her a chance, give them both a chance, wants to see her as an adult, as someone who could have a life. And then of course, we know how that turns out 😭

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Creature Comforts (Raphael x F!Tav)

Tav is a working girl at Sharess' Caress, and she's Raphael's favourite.

Soft smut, bath sex, mild body worship, mild touch starved Raphael, soft(ish) Raphael, mentions of prostitution

AO3

-

“The devil’s asking after you,” said Mamzell, holding a metal bucket of ice and a bottle of wine for Tav to take with a sly smile. “Paid in advance.”

“Of course he is,” sighed Tav fondly. Naturally the wine was the most expensive Sharess’ Caress had to offer. Rich and dry with a lingering, burning aftertaste; just like the devil who drank it. Tav climbed the stairs to his room was the usual warm anticipation bubbling in her belly that she’d come to expect by now when she met with him. Bad business, she knew, to be fond of a client – especially one so dangerous. Yet every time he asked for her, she went to him. It would come back to bite her one day, but Tav had always been a glutton for punishment.

Pushing open the door, his room smelled like the rose petals scattered on the ground, the heat of hot bath oils, and the ever-present undercurrent of smoke and fire he could never quite hide. Tav quietly shut the door behind her. He was in the bath, with the water up to his chest as he rested his arms on the bath’s rim, his head lolled back. He was facing away from her as she entered, but she didn’t doubt he was aware of her presence.

“You started without me,” she said, feigning disappointment, though she didn’t have to try very hard. Watching him carefully undress was always an enjoyable experience. Especially when he stared her down the entire time.

“The water was simply too tempting to resist,” he hummed. His delicious voice held the thickness of indulgence that deepened its cadence and set her blood alight beneath her skin. “Fret not, darling. I haven’t done your job for you.”

Tav laughed, well aware there was no chance of that happening. He was here to be pampered. She approached the bath, setting down the ice bucket. When the bottle clinked, the devil rolled his head so he could look at her. His cheek pressed against his bicep; a stray lock of hair escaped his otherwise immaculate coif. His big brown doe eyes were as arresting as ever, even with dark circles beneath them.

“Hello, sweetling,” he said.

“Hello, Raphael,” she murmured in reply. She cupped his face, stroked his refined jaw. He leaned in to her touch. He seemed more tired than usual. Tav wondered what kinds of infernal intricacies were going on to drain him so, then decided she’d rather not know. He wouldn’t tell her even if she asked. She wouldn’t ask; an unspoken rule. “Drink?”

“Please.”

Her fingertips dragged slowly across his chin as she walked away to fetch glasses. Raphael popped the cork and poured them both a generous amount of burgundy coloured, fruity scented wine. He took a deep draught. Tav watched the bob of his throat when he swallowed, supping on small sips herself. She liked the wine, but too much made her head spin. She needed to keep it clear around this devil. She put her glass down and sat on the bath’s rim, close to him. The silence was comfortable, charged. She knew this dance; they had performed it many times already. The water was incredibly hot when she dipped one hand in, to the point of discomfort, but that was alright. A puddle in her palm, she coasted it over one broad shoulder of his, liking the way droplets scattered down his tawny skin. She kneaded his muscle, memorising his soft exhale.

“Shall I wash your hair first?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Raphael handed her a small clay jug. She filled it with steaming murky water. “Close your eyes,” she said, waiting until he obeyed her, keeping his drink at safe distance, then she gently tipped the water over his head and neck. His hair darkened as it saturated; quite a fetching look, Tav thought. “Soap?”

“Mm.” He offered a block of dark red and umber that smelled of cherries and pepper. He always brought his own things from the Hells, something Tav privately found amusing. They were clearly pricey, better than even the highest quality luxuries that Sharess’ Caress offered. Of course Raphael would settle for no less, her Hell prince. The soap slid like liquid silk in Tav’s hands as she wet it and began to lather up the devil’s soft hair. He felt good beneath her hands; good to spoil. She coaxed tension from his temples, gently scratching her nails across his scalp in the way she knew he liked.

“Long day?” She asked.

“More prudent to say long month, I think,” he responded lazily.

“Ah. That’s a sentiment I definitely understand.” Using the jug again, she rinsed the soap from his head. “I finished the book you lent me, by the way.”

“What did you think of it? I’m curious. What’s the phrase? ‘Copper for your thoughts’?”

“A whole copper? Generous.” Raphael’s chuckle was barely more than a rumble. Tav nudged him to lean forward so she could start soaping his neck and shoulder blades. She was not ignorant to the way he pressed into her touch. “I liked the story, but I found it hard to feel sympathetic for the Count of Darkness the way the author probably wanted me to.”

The devil perked up, as he tended to do when discussions turned philosophical. “And why is that, little dove?”

Tav’s slippery fingertips trailed into the divots of his spine. “Difficult to root for someone who kidnaps and seduces a married woman because he feels like he’s entitled to her, with his only excuse being she may or may not be a reincarnation of his dead wife. No matter how charming he is.”

Raphael’s response was impassioned. “Is he not entitled to her? What of his passion, his love? His broken, lonely heart? Centuries of isolation he endured, his beloved so viciously stolen away from him, only to discover he may have a second chance at life with her again…why should he not reach for her?”

“She was already married, for a start. She loved her husband.”

The devil tutted. “None could know her or love her as the Count could.”

“Of course you’d say that. Poor Mr Harker would probably beg to differ.” Tav was more amused than anything. Raphael was responding exactly as she knew he would. “Well…I suppose the Count did have a nice castle. Real estate is in shambles these days, so Mina could have definitely done worse in that regard.”

“How pragmatic of you,” Raphael drawled. Tav laughed as she finished washing his back.

“I’m a simple whore in a chaotic world. It’s taught me to be pragmatic.” She stood and observed him for a moment. Wet, glistening tawny skin, honey-brown eyes smouldering, sharp jaw set. He was devastatingly beautiful.

“Have you no care for romance, Tav?” He asked, voice airy despite the weight behind his question. He drained the last of his wine and set his glass aside.

“I think you and I hold different definitions of romance.” They weren’t talking about the book anymore. She decided the conversation was over. “Shall I wash your front now?”

He didn’t answer for several seconds, expression unreadable. Tav wondered if he’d press the issue or not; he didn’t, perhaps too content or lethargic. “That depends. Are you going to join me?”

“Hm…” Tav pursed her lips, pretending to consider it. “I’m not sure. The perfume I’m wearing right now is quite expensive, you know.”

“I’ll buy you a dozen bottles, sweet dove,” he promised.

She had no doubt he meant it. She smiled, sliding out of her clothes. They fell into a pile at her feet. Raphael devoured her with his gaze as she stepped into the bath, opposite him. His eyes consumed one length of long, lithe leg at a time as she made herself comfortable, stretching out so her legs were either side of his hips, the soles of her feet resting against porcelain. The places where their bodies touched burned hotter than the water. He watched her in loaded silence as she settled, staring blatantly at the dusky peaks of her nipples and the pretty warm flush travelling across her cheeks, neck and chest. No one made her feel wanted quite like him.

Soap in hand again, she pulled his left leg across her lap, rubbing lather into his knee, shin, and the heavy defined muscle of his calf. Had she not felt the way he relaxed like melted butter, his deep sigh would have given away how much he was enjoying her touch. When he bent that leg so she could rub his ankle and foot, she caught a glimpse of another growing sign of his enjoyment amidst the sloshing soapy water. The sound he made when she pushed her thumbs into the arch of his foot made butterflies burst to life in her belly. He didn’t look away from her the entire time, eyes half-lidded. He wanted her to know what she was doing to him. What he was allowing her to do.

His other leg received the same treatment, but instead of moving to his gloriously thick thighs, Tav splayed her hands out on Raphael’s belly and slowly slid them up, ghosting the grooves of his abs and the trail of hair that disappeared below the water, then his sternum, resting her fingertips there for a second to feel the strong thumping of his heart. She circled his pecs; flicked her thumbs over his pebbled nipples. He sucked in a sharp breath.

“Ah…”

Unable to resist, Tav swallowed his gentle vocalisation with a kiss. He tasted of wine and smoke. His thin yet plush lips were like hot velvet against her mouth as he fiercely returned her kiss, coaxing her tongue out so he could suck on it. This time it was she who groaned, fingers curled, nails digging small crescents into his flesh. He brought her closer with one hand between her shoulder blades, his other squeezing her hip tight enough that she was sure she’d have finger-shaped bruises. Water spilled over the bath’s lip and onto the floor; the only sound besides the sticky smacks of their sloppy kisses. Like that, Tav could feel the entirety of his hard cock pressed between their stomachs. She wriggled a soapy hand down and squeezed it, tugging from root to tip. She bit at his mouth, greedily feasting on his gasp.

“Are you ready for me?” She whispered into the humid cavern behind his teeth.

“Always,” he growled.

With practised familiarity, Tav guided the head of Raphael’s drooling cock to her folds, swollen and slick despite the water. She teased them both, just a little, grinding against him enough so that his glans bumped her clit and felt the enticing heat of her entrance. She liked to see his pupils expand and eclipse the sweet brown of his irises like black holes before she sank onto him completely. He rested his forehead on hers as she worked him inside, grunting when he was fully sheathed. She gripped his biceps, he her hips, and they stared at each other; then she moved. Rolling her hips slow, lazy, enjoying the feeling of fullness and the way his cock nudged sensitive spots along her inner walls. His rutting was equally lazy, and it didn’t take long for them to find an easy rhythm. Her breasts slid over his soap-slick chest, jolting her entire body each time her nipples brushed his. It was good.

Raphael licked the seam of her lips, dotted scorching kisses across her chin, her jaw, the spot where her pulse thundered. She tilted her head and sighed when he sucked a mark there, that precious vulnerable place. “Be mine, Tav,” he purred darkly into her ear. Goosebumps erupted on her skin. “I would give you everything you wanted, every claim and castle, any luxury in life you desired. All you have to do is agree to be mine.”

“You can’t tempt me with contracts, Raphael,” sighed Tav, breathless as the pace and strength of his thrusts increased, changed to fit his mood. They were making a mess of the bath water now. “You know that.”

“Then what can I tempt you with?” An edge of frustration lingered in his voice. It showed itself in the rough way he swiped at her clit with two fingers, making her cry out and arch her back.

“Something…mmm, something you’re not ready to offer me.” In retaliation she leaned forward and bit his nipple. The overwhelming floral musk of soap in her mouth was worth the spitting curse he released, worth the flash of claws she felt digging into her flesh.

“Stubborn creature. You have yet to tell me what that means,” snarled her devil, fighting to regain control.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Their coupling grew frantic, a chasing of release, using each other’s bodies to find it. With Raphael ruthlessly fingering the stretch of her cunt around his cock, prodding the wired nub of her clit when he felt the urge, it was Tav who reached her climax first. The throbbing coil in her womb unfurled; she let her head fall back, mouth open, groaning out his name. He watched her ride her orgasm intently, the harsh clench of his teeth and wild desperation in his eyes giving away that he’d been waiting for her. For this. The fluttering squeeze of her walls milking his cock and the almost-reverent way her lips shaped the syllables of his name were too much; Raphael emptied deep inside her in spurts, jerky thrusts, and a strangled staccato groan. His rapture made for a truly handsome picture Faerun’s greatest artists could only dream of painting.

They basked in the afterglow for a while. Tav washed the lingering suds from him; he watched as she washed herself, cleaned his seed from her sex, his only contribution to the endeavour a hungry, possessive look of debauched satisfaction. She would smell like cherries for hours. Eventually he climbed out of the bath as Tav reclined, finally letting herself to finish her drink. He dried and dressed himself meticulously, off to go where devils went and do what devils did. Prim and orderly about his appearance despite the messy way he’d fucked her not long ago. Aloof and back to business despite the way he’d been so pliable beneath her hands. Tav was very fond of him indeed.

“Do you want your book back?” She asked him when he’d tightened his cufflinks.

“Keep it,” he replied, more refreshed and put together than he’d been when she arrived. “Perhaps one day you will read it again and your viewpoint will change.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed.

Raphael smiled at her then, just a small quirk of his lips, ambition and determination sparkling in his pretty, disarming eyes. She may have won this battle, but the war was far from over. “Ta-ta for now, little dove.”

He clicked his fingers and disappeared in a burst of fire and infernal magic. He’d be back soon; despite everything, Tav looked forward to it.

[scoobydoodean]

ok so I deeply love and respect your thoughts on supernatural because the majority of them line up with what I've been thinking for years but you said something the other day that I keep turning over in my brain and it was something along the lines of carver liking dean more than sam - I know you're in the middle of rewatching s4 but I would love to hear you expound on that (if you have time) because I remember being in the fandom while carvernatural was airing and it was pretty much when the deangirl exodus started. in fact I think people tore into him worse than dabb even 😭

feel free to hold onto this until later when you start the carver seasons if you wish :)

<3 I'll go ahead and answer this one, because it's more of a "broad strokes" thing for me, and I've been rewatching very slowly (on purpose) so that could be a very long wait.

This is so funny because I can just picture Sam fans reading it and turning red and their blood boiling with the fire of a thousand suns but the TL;DR is that season 8-11 (Carver era) broad strokes to me are:

Sam sucks and is a worse brother and person than Dean.

Sam spends the first two seasons of Carver's run thinking he's a better person than Dean anyway and then the second two knowing he sucks, deciding to embrace his moral flexibility to keep Dean alive no matter the cost, and trying to mend things.

Dean is circled by many potential suitors who also in a sense represent Sam replacements because Sam sucks: Benny, Cas, Crowley, and Amara.

Dean knows that Sam sucks and part of him wants to get tf away from him very badly but another part of him feels guilty for wanting that. Family is suffering. Family is a chain around your neck keeping you tied to them via guilt. (Demon Dean represents the desire for escape, as does Amara).

Everybody wants to be with Dean, be Dean, and/or be loved by Dean. Dean is love. Dean is the world. Dean is the reason for existing. Everybody is lovesick about him. Sam is just there.

Sam needs to stop blaming Dean for so many things and learn to own his own choices.

That was fun to write down.

Longer commentary/explanation below the cut.

Season 8 (Carver's first season) literally begins with a Sam character assassination. It begins with us learning that Sam knowingly left Kevin to spend the rest of his life kidnapped and tortured without even telling a soul what happened to him. Not only did he abandon Dean and Cas as well but he didn't even look for them, and refuses to give a satisfying answer as to why.

Season 8 Sam's abandonment as distinct from previous behavior

I have had people this year who I love and respect tell me they don't view this as a character assassination and say they believe this is in character for Sam. I simply do not agree with that. I talk about this as it relates to Kevin here.

Sam has displayed selfishness and a big ego at many points in the series up to season 8. He's told a lot of lies (sometimes to the point of gaslighting), he's gone behind Dean's back to do things that affect Dean's life, he's taken traumatic experiences Dean opened up to him about and ultimately harmed Dean with them, he's shown resentments and anger, he's displayed jealousy, he's displayed a sense of superiority. He has never abandoned his brother to die without even trying. The Sam of season 3 would eviscerate season 8 Sam for this.

Sometimes Sam says and does things he shouldn't, but his crimes do not include "abandoning Dean to die without even looking for him" up to season 8. Many of his crimes happen at least partly because he really really doesn't want Dean to die or is desperate to save his life. He lets go of his anger at John and returns to make sure Dean is safe in 1.11. He refuses to give up and finds a way to save Dean in 1.12. In 1.22, he's willing to put John's life at risk for revenge, but in 2.01 he gets into an outright screaming match with John in the hospital under the belief that John's prioritizing the demon over Dean. Sam spends all of season 3 raging and angst-ing about not being able to save Dean to the point of considering and doing some shady as hell things/abandoning some of his more stalwart moral stances (3.05, 3.11, 3.15, 3.16). Dean's death and later, the desire to secure his safety/future, is one of the catalysts for Sam's descent into drinking demon blood (3.09, 3.16, 4.04, 4.09, 4.12). When he dies in "Swan Song", he urges Dean to pursue a normal, safe, life because he knows that at that point in time, Dean wants to get out but has always felt trapped (2.09, 2.10, 2.20, 3.01, 4.12, 4.16). Even Soulless Sam (who isn't the same as regular Sam) tried to look for Dean in 6.09 "Clap Your Hands If You Believe"—it was simply that when leads for the night dried up, he hooked up with someone because he had nothing more to go on and in soulless Sam's head that was the reasonable thing to do. But soulless Sam also certainly isn't representative of the real Sam—the fact that he doesn't care as much is supposed to point us to differences between him and regular Sam. Season 8 opens with Sam abandoning Dean in a context that makes him arguably worse than his soulless self.

(I talk about why Sam actually abandons everyone in season 8 in a very long post here).

Season 8 and 9 more broadly

So Carver has Sam abandon Dean to die without even trying. Then he has Sam refuse to give any kind of actually reasonable explanation that makes sense to anyone who was paying attention. Then he has Sam say that he's going to leave the life and Dean needs to get over it and accept that Sam's new life will not include contact with Dean (just like his life at Stanford didn't). While saying he's going to leave, he still wants to exert control over Dean's relationships and leverages the threat of leaving (as if he were going to stay) to get Dean to shut up about Sam abandoning him and then again to try and get Dean to cut ties with Benny. He wants to kill Benny before knowing a single thing about him. He assigns someone (Martin) who he knows is mentally unstable and has a more black and white perception of monsters to track Benny and gets Martin killed. He watches Martin knock Dean unconscious and chain him up in a room and doesn't stop it because he wants Benny dead that bad, but then has the audacity to act as if Dean sending him a fake text is worse than Sam literally chaining him up in a room to prevent Sam from killing an innocent person (someone Sam would normally—btw—defend based on episodes like 2.03 and 4.04 or even a few episodes ago with Kate in "Bitten"). He tells Amelia he wants to fight for their relationship then the moment Dan says they should leave the choice to Amelia, he leaves so that it becomes his choice, and then he returns for one episode just to be a homewrecker. He insists on doing The Trials while promising to survive them and giving a big speech about how he's going to save Dean from his own suicidal ideation and then drops the promise as if it never existed two episodes later. Sam loses confidence in himself to complete The Trials and then acts like Dean is the one who doesn't believe in him because Dean is caring for him and insisting he rest and this is an unforgivable offense. At the end of the season, he basically says he's going to commit suicide because Dean has friends besides him. He acts as if he deserves to be Dean's most trusted confidant after an entire season of him being an absolutely fucking terrible brother and acts like Dean is just a big meanie whose feelings are irrational.

After all of this, he has the audacity, in season 9, to suggest that Dean is a bad person who can't stand the thought of being alone. He tells Dean he's the worst person ever and they can only be work partners from now on because Dean is so so bad and evil for stopping him from committing suicide and then not telling him about Gadreel. At the end of the season he admits this was a lie. He just wanted to punish Dean (9.23).

I can see how—if you were watching live at the time (I started watching when season 11 was airing) you'd lose hope. You'd quit the show over all of this, because it seems to go on forever. It's like torture. I would drop kick season 8 Sam into a pit full of lava without hesitation so I get it. If I believed that Carver was actually saying "Yes so true Dean is The Worst™️ and Sam is morally superior <3" for two seasons straight I'd quit the show too. But that isn't what he's saying. We're supposed to read between the lines and realize how unbelievably full of shit Sam is—how deeply selfish and hypocritical he's being. How yes—Dean has made mistakes—but Sam is NOT a better person than him and has gotten away with some absolutely rancid garbage. And season 10 and 11 go on to beat you over the head with it if you didn't get it the first time.

Season 10 and 11

Season 10 opens with this dialogue from a demon:

I heard the rumors. I said "no, that can't be." A Winchester, one of us? But it's true, isn't it? Whatever soul you had; whatever boy scout code you cuddled up to at night; it's all gone. Leaving what? Look at you!

We're meant to think she's talking about Dean who just woke up with black eyes, but then the camera cuts to Sam torturing her, demanding to know where Dean is.

In 10.03, we learn that Sam talked a man (Lester) into selling his soul so he could use him as bait. Demon Dean ends up being assigned to fulfill Lester's deal (to kill his wife for cheating on him). Dean immediately clocks Lester as having cheated on her first and kills Lester for being an insufferable hypocrite... and while he's doing it, I'm pretty sure he's also thinking of Sam's flaming hypocrisy.

SAM: I never meant— DEMON DEAN: Who cares what you meant?! That line that we thought was so clear between us and the things that we hunted, ain’t so clear is it? Wow. You might actually be worse than me! I mean, you took a guy at his lowest, used him, and it cost him his life and his soul. Nice work.

NOTE: 10.03 also recalls 4.21—an episode Sam fans have always tended to emphasize as a "Dean crime" episode where Dean risks Sam's death to force a detox. Sam does the reverse—pumping Dean full of human blood here in 10.03 and explicitly risking his death.

Sam gets Suzie killed in "The Werther Project" while searching for The Book of the Damned.

SAM I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry. SUZIE Lot of good “sorry” does me. Look at me. Look….at….me. [She points to her corpse.] There she is. The first casualty of your misguided mission. But what’s another human life to you? Anything’s worth it, as long as you two make it out alive. And how’s that search going? Any closer to a cure? SAM This isn’t real. You’re not real. SUZIE You think Dean’s the wild card, the loose cannon. But don’t you see? Making deals with witches, opening Pandora’s box down there? You’re the reckless one. You’ll do anything to keep clinging to that doomed brother of yours. How many more will die, Sammy? You know it. You have to be stopped. And the only one who can stop you is you!

A few episodes later, Sam orders Oskar's death for a spell to remove the Mark of Cain. I've seen hilarious posts before about how he had no choice but to do this because MoC Dean is so scawy and bad but that quite explicitly is not his motivation. They could have done so many other things. Throw him into space. Bury him in a really deep hole. Put him in something like The Cage. But Sam didn't like any of those options, because all of them meant being without his brother, and he's realized he doesn't want to be without him no matter the cost (10.18).

SAM So, awhile back, we had a chance to, um…close the gates of Hell. And in order to do that, I would’ve had to die. And, I was okay with that, and I am okay with that, but Dean was not. And so, he uh… CHARLIE He saved you. SAM Yeah, he saved me. CHARLIE And let me guess, in doing so, he did something you didn’t want, and that pissed you off. And you said something that hurt him? SAM Yeah, that sounds about right. [...] SAM You know, when Dean came to get me at school, I-I told myself… one last job, you know? One more job. And then when – when I, um…. When I lost Jess, I, again, told myself one more job. There’s always one more job, you know? And one more job, and one more job, and then I was gonna go back to law and – and to my life. CHARLIE You were the Dread Pirate Roberts of hunting. SAM Yeah. I guess I really understand now that….this is my life. I love it. But I can’t do it without my brother. I don’t want to do it without my brother. And if he’s gone, then I don’t…. CHARLIE I got it. I-I do.

This all culminates in 10.23, where a very mentally unstable MoC Dean attempts to reason with Sam about them both being evil and needing to take themselves out:

DEAN: Remember when we were in that church, making Crowley human, about to close the Gates of Hell? Well, you sure as hell were ready to die for the greater good then. SAM: Yeah, and, Dean, you pulled me back. DEAN: And I was wrong. You were right, Sam. You knew that this world would be better without us in it. SAM: No, no, no, wait a second. You're twisting my words here, Dean. DEAN: Why? Because we -- we track evil and kill it? The family business? Is that it? Look at the tape, Sam. Evil tracks us. And it nukes everything in our vicinity -- our family, our friends. It's time we put a proper name to what we really are and we deal with it. SAM: Wait a second. We are not evil. Listen... We're far from perfect, but we are good. That thing on your arm is evil, but not you, not me. DEAN: I let Rudy die. How was that not evil? I know what I am, Sam. But who were you when you --when you drove that man to sell his soul... Or when you bullied Charlie into getting herself killed? And to what end? A-a good end? A just end? To remove the Mark no matter what the consequences? Sam, how is that not evil? I have this thing on my arm, and you're willing to let the Darkness into the world. SAM: You were also willing to summon death to make sure you could never do any more harm. You summoned me because you knew I would do anything to protect you. That's not evil, Dean. That's not an evil man. That is a good man crying to be heard, searching for... some other way.

Dean is saying a lot of shady shit here, but some of what he's saying... isn't wrong?

Sam is willing to let The Darkness destroy the world, and he does, and then standing in the aftermath of a town being destroyed by the force he unleashed, Sam says:

SAM: I unleashed a force on this world that could destroy it . . . to save you. DEAN: And I told you not to. SAM: And I'd do it again. In a second, I would do it again.

Thousands of people are dying and Sam says he would do it again. This post about Sam's actions versus Dean stopping Sam from closing the gates of hell is highly relevant.

Season 11 continues with Sam taking a little more responsibility for his own decisions, while praying for Dean to live (11.02):

SAM: So . . . I know it's been a long time, but . . . Dean and I, we've -- we've been through a lot of bad. But this is different. This is my fault, and I don't know how to fix it. And if I have to die, I've made my peace with that, but . . . Please. Dean deserves better. Dean deserves a life. There are people out there, good people, who are going to suffer because of me, and I am not asking you to clean up my mess. Hell, I don't even know if you're out there, but . . . If you are . . . And if you can hear me, I, um . . . We need your help, God. We need to know there's hope. We need a sign.

And then there's the VERY long-awaited apology:

SAM When I was with Lucifer, he, um... He showed me things. It was like a highlight reel of my biggest failures. DEAN Yeah, he was messing with you. That's what he does. SAM Give me a sec. I should've looked for you. When you were in Purgatory, I... I should've turned over every stone.

Family (Sam) as chains

While all of this is happening, we also have Benny and Cas and Crowley and Amara.

Benny is contrast—someone whose goodness and selfless loyalty only makes Sam's horrible flaws stand out more sharply in season 8. Under the influence of the specter, Dean says, "Benny has been more of a brother to me this past year than you have ever been" and Sam can't stand it. It haunts him so bad he tries to kill Benny, and can't get over it even after the end of the season when Benny is fucking dead. He is unable to accept that the contrast between himself and Benny is his own fault.

Crowley and Dean's flirtations begin in season 9, as Sam suffocates Dean, and at the end of the season, Crowley has literally convinced Dean to run away with him. In 10.01, there is a delightful phone call where Crowley rubs it in Sam's face that Dean is with HIM:

SAM I don't know how you did this, what kind of... Black-magic stunt you pulled, but hear me --I will save my brother or die trying. CROWLEY You know what tickles me about all this? It's what's really eating you up. You don't care that he's a demon. Heck, you've been a demon. We've all been demons. No, it's that he's with me and he's having the time of his life. You can't stand the fact that he's mine. SAM He's not your pet. CROWLEY My pet? He's my best friend, my partner in crime. They'll write songs about us, graphic novels. “The Misadventures of Growley and Squirrel." Dean Winchester completes me, and that's what makes you lose your chickens.

It's this cruel callback to Sam's jealousy of Benny and Cas in season 8—how Crowley convinced Dean to finally ditch his smothering, controlling brat of little brother who can't stand him having friends, and now Dean is having the time of his life howling at the moon. The problem is, Dean also feels a little bit like maybe Crowley wants to control him too, and that isn't working for him.

Amara in season 11 goes on to further speak on terrible brothers who think they're better than you, who leave you betrayed and diminished, who abandon you. She's raging against the concept of family as chains—she wants revenge... but all the while she's in pain because she still loves her brother. Amara's attraction to Dean is based on that commonality—what she feels is a shared experience and how she wants to cut the last remaining pieces of love she feels for her brother away so she can finally be free of the pain of him—and she doesn't care if she destroys everything—including herself—in the process. (See: Dean slowly losing his identity through the MoC arc). Sam and Dean's relationship is in rehab over this whole season though, and so Dean's role ends up being to convince Amara not to destroy herself—to instead do what Sam and Dean have done and make up and work on improving their relationship.

[nekropsii]

🔥

Dancestors

[For the Unpopular Opinions Ask Game!!]

Okay, this may come across to some as harsh, but I don’t care. You asked for Unpopular Opinions. This is one of them. It’s heated. It needs to be said.

The way people continuously searched for reasons to get mad at the Alpha Trolls and still to this day continuously search for them to the point of literally fucking making shit up is embarrassing. The fact that people- fans!- use them as their little scapegoat for “everything wrong with Homestuck” is embarrassing.

The way people will make up and pass around straight up lies about the Alpha Trolls just for the sake of Outrage Farming is embarrassing. The fact that these are all taken as truth, more so than the literal text of the Alpha Troll plot lines, simply because people didn’t have anything else to yell at that week, is fucking embarrassing.

I once watched a pretty good Homestuck video essay on YouTube. It was a great time. The premise of it was basically a retrospective on Homestuck and it’s plot in broad strokes, and why the whole thing is good and cool and you should read it. Very nice. The speaker had a lovely voice. And then, for some ungodly fucking reason, right at the end, they started going on some very long winded, incredibly wrong diatribe about the Alpha Trolls and why they’re the worst thing that’s ever happened- parroting, with rage, common lies I’d seen for years and sprinkling in some brand new brain fungus, all like it was fact. The dude called Porrim, Porrim fucking Maryam, an MRA. Porrim fucking Maryam was reduced down to a whiny Men’s Rights Activist who didn’t know shit, and Kankri Vantas was correct about everything, suddenly. Horuss’s main problem was that he was a mockery of Otherkin people. Otherkin people! As if the fact that he’s a mockery of Systems is less important!! The reason for this is clear- that motherfucker, and every god damn other person making essays about how the Alpha Trolls are The Worst in the whole ass 2020s, have not actually read or played through the Alpha Troll segments for shit. They have no go damn clue what they’re talking about, and they don’t care. They don’t care about being right, or making good points and observations, they care about being mad and getting engagement. It is literally completely performative.

It completely ruined the entire essay. And for what? And for fucking what? The Alpha Trolls are, for the most part, wholly irrelevant to the story, sans Aranea and Meenah. You can skip over them and miss nothing. They are not “the worst Homestuck has to offer”, they are a skippable fucking footnote, and everyone needs to get a god damn grip. Holy shit.

At this point, it really feels like most of the anger and hatred is only still parroted around blindly because it’s just tradition at this point. No one knows what they’re talking about, and no one cares. Why would they? This is what gets them the little guaranteed dopamine rush of other idiots just looking to be angry agreeing with them blindly, just for the sake of being really mad at something that doesn’t matter and no one will face check. God damn. Grow some eyes and read the comic you’re criticizing before criticizing it. Grow a damn spine and get your own opinions. This is not hard.

The Alpha Trolls are rife with things worth criticism. No one is talking about any of them, because no one cares to actually read it and gather an insightful, meaningful opinion on them from literal direct observation and analysis. They just care about being mad, and saying something very outrageous confidently enough that they seem right. It’s not that they don’t have anything worth criticizing, it’s that almost everything people are criticizing them for either doesn’t matter, is wrong, or is a lie.

[str8aura-no-not-that-one]

i think animals are better than people.

that's not an uncommon belief, is it? you hear it said all the time, in memes, on coffee mugs, 'id rather talk to your dog', 'my cat doesn't judge me like my coworkers do', etc. its a very popular philosophy to espouse, albeit mostly in jest. It's not really jest for me, but it's not really a dig at humanity either.

I struggle often with feelings of misanthropy, how nice it would be to just assume all humans are inherently evil or uncaring, to slot an entire species into a broad stroke to make them easier to deal with. I tell myself sometimes I don't like working with humans, or seeing humans. I have a tendency to go quiet or mute at times because I don't feel like engaging people in conversation.

but that's really just stress. there is no crime for being an idiot. that person who cuts me off on the street made a slip up, or maybe did it with genuine antagonism, and that still doesn't make them a bad or worthless person. I've been 'the one who fucked up' enough times to know how crushing it is when you inconvenience somebody else, and I don't like to lose my temper, as often as it happens. I get angry a lot. I feel angry a lot. it feels good, but I don't enjoy it. I'm not a bad dog. I believe people are good, just flawed, and emotional.

and I wish, like everybody does, that I could talk to animals. I wish I could ask a deer for its thoughts, negotiate with a bear, or tell a hurt animal that its going to be alright, I'm just trying to help you. I yearn for that world, but I also accept that animals would lose their magic if they could. They would still be beautiful, yes, but I don't love animals because I imagine they are weirdly-shaped people, who understand what I say. I love them because they're animals.

We went down different paths, humanity and the animal kingdom; nowadays, we see different boons and drawbacks for it. They fight for their lives every day, never sure which moment will be their last. We struggle with thoughts of complex morality and our place in a dead, empty universe. animals never ate the apple. animals are free from sin, and punishment. When a fox kills a rabbit, it is not a murder. When a viper rescued out of the cold bites and kills the farmer that saved it, it is not a betrayal. it is simply their nature.

a few months ago, at a house I was staying at for a little while, there was a tree outside with a nest of birds. I wasn't aware of this until I came out one day and found all of the babies, freshly hatched, lying on the hard pavement beneath the trees. Cuts and tears along their bodies, eyes still screwed shut, writhing and wriggling to try and restore the warmth of the nest they had suddenly been stolen from. I called animal control and waited with the hatchlings as long as I could, but eventually I couldn't bear to see the sight. I looked up the best way to restore them to their nest, and with the use of a ladder, I got to work.

i also read that you shouldn't touch them with your hands, as it will scare off the mother bird. this, as I later found out, is an urban legend. I put on gloves to hold them, unwieldy, thick gloves meant for hands larger than my own.

they were featherless pink bastards. I think humans have the ugliest babies out of any species, but these ones were pretty close.

the first two went in without problem, but on the third, my fingers wrapped in gloves couldn't get a grip and i

dropped

it

onto the pavement

headfirst

i don't know if it was still alive or not when I finally took the gloves off and restored it. I don't know. there was no splatter, no obvious signs of death. it just stopped moving.

if the mother returned and found the body of her child, she would not be shocked. 60-70% of hatchlings do not survive to adulthood. she would not seek retribution, or to make me pay for what I had done. she didn't understand I had been trying to help, and she didn't care. life went on. she probably had more children to replace the cadaver.

i read a book series as a kid called Funjungle. It was about a kid who lived at a zoo, and would solve various mysteries around the place. In one book, he recounts being present for the lancing of a boil on a rhino, and talks about how animals always fight back against such processes. you cant explain to them that you are trying to help, all they understand is that you are causing them pain right now, regardless of whether it will soothe in the future. animals, wild and tame, think in the now.

ironically, in real life, I try not to anthropomorphize too much. I understand that an animal's 'smile' only resembles such because of the way his lips are shaped. I understand that the possums and raccoons and squirrels I encounter as I go about my life, and that one fox I had the joy of getting to witness up close, are dangerous creatures who do not have my best interests in heart. I understand that something beautiful will kill me without a second thought if it thinks I am a threat to it, and for an animal, it is always always always better to be safe than sorry.

i can tell a human things are going to be okay. I can tell a human this is only going to hurt for a minute. I can tell a human i'm sorry.

a human can lie to me. a human can hurt me. a human can make me feel like I don't want to live anymore.

I can never lose my temper at an animal, any more than I could be angry at a mountain.

animals are base, instinctive, temperamental, capricious, alien creatures.

that is why they are beautiful.

that is why I must stay away from them. as much as I wish to hug them, to talk to them, to befriend them, it is not possible. they may occupy our physical spaces, but they are from different worlds entirely.

i must look, but not touch. it is better this way.

my place is with the humans.

and it kills me a little more every day.

[oneatlatime]

Any predictions for season 3, or are you planning to dive straight in?

You're not the first person who's mentioned s3 predictions, so I'll give it a shot, but I'm really not sure if I have anything to use to make predictions. S2 ended in a very final, end of arc kind of way. Lots of things have been tied up. I don't even know where they're all flying off to. Back to the Southern Water Tribe, since the Earth Kingdom's a bit of a bust? The Fire Nation's out of the question, the Northern Water Tribe probably has mixed feelings about seeing them again, maybe the Eastern Air Temple? Although even that might not be safe, since Aang's travel plans to said temple to meet the Guru were known by various Earth Kingdom generals. And that stupid King.

I think the Fire Nation contingent are going back to the Fire Nation, and I am looking forward to a Zuko with eyes at least somewhat open interacting with FN citizens/nobles/military etc. who are still completely drinking the kool aid. I think it's going to suck for Zuko. Should make for good TV though. Lots of conversations where both people are saying entirely different things while thinking they're talking about the same thing.

I said it before, but I'm worried for Iroh. He's for sure arrested, but is he going to be executed? Obviously I don't want that, but unless Iroh still has enormous popular support, and the Firelord's grasp on power is incredibly shaky, I don't see how permanently eliminating a traitor (from a FN perspective) can be avoided. Then again. Kids' show.

As for the Gaang? In broad strokes, Aang still needs to learn firebending to fully Avatar himself, then he needs to defeat the Fire Lord (who is quite the homebody apparently - seriously, where is this guy?). So next season Aang will shake off his lightning hangover, find a firebending teacher, defeat the firelord. He'll probably have to commute to the Fire Nation to find the Fire Lord first. No idea what he'll do in between those things. Perhaps inadvisable shenanigans? That would be in character. His biggest story arc all series has been learning to accept his status as Avatar, but between his talks with the Guru and opening his last Chakra in the finale, I think he's done it. So all that's left is the main plot and goofiness.

Katara has the same problem she had going into S2 - she's mastered waterbending, so she needs a new conflict/arc. S2 answered this demand by... having her hang around? What did Katara do this season? Bend a bunch, set up camps, tear down camps, wreck Jet, support Aang, be nice to Toph that one time, yell at people. I hope she gets something meatier in S3. I still think she should meet some good FN citizens that challenge her morals.

Sokka was also kind of just there this season, although if I'm being mean I'll say that he was also kind of just there for S1 too, which is why it doesn't feel as odd as Katara's lack of purpose. I loved his stuff with Suki. Suki is officially the glow up of the season. I loved their interactions together, and I love the growth she poked him into doing. I'd like to see more of that. So less a prediction and more of a hope: S3 Sokka develops the ability to rely on/trust others (or maybe realises others can be relied upon/trusted is more accurate), hopefully with Suki somehow involved. And I loved his dad too. I want to see more of that guy, but since a cardinal rule of kids' stories is getting rid of the authority figures asap, it won't happen.

Toph. Honestly I'm stumped. She already broke the universe. Where can she go from there? Unless she's going to devolve into an antagonist, which I absolutely don't want, I don't see how she can top her S2 plot. And Aang's got earthbending down, so I guess she'll be like Katara was this season: tagging along. Not that I'm complaining; I love me some Toph in any form. We have seen that she wants to make peace with her parents, sort of, probably? Or at least give them another shot? But I kind of don't want her within 100 miles of her parents. So I don't know.

Appa & Momo will hopefully be tagalongs in S3 too. I learned my lesson this season about wanting the animals to have character arcs.

I guess the antagonist in S3 will be the Fire Lord, finally. Who else is left? Zhao tried, he died. Azula tried, she won. Unless S3 has an Azula rematch. But would she want that? She's already proven that she won. She can go home and enjoy the spoils of her victory (which may or may not include Zuko - I'm kind of unclear on exactly how much agency Zuko is going to have in the FN, especially since I'm not actually sure that he has permission to be there as a free man - didn't the arrest warrant Azula was executing in episode 1 list both Zuko and Iroh?)

There's nothing left for the Gaang in Ba Sing Se, so I doubt they'll go back there. Frankly it's the FN characters who have roots there. I wonder what will happen to Iroh's tea shop? I wonder if his investors will find out who he is? I wonder if money talks louder than national loyalty? (It's the Earth Kingdom - the answer is yes) Wouldn't it be funny if Iroh busted out of imprisonment and went right back to serving tea? And everyone sent to find him would be thinking "this is the famed tactician the Dragon of the West - he's probably travelling the FN plotting a coup as we speak. That devilish mind of his must have safe houses set up all over the nation." When actually he's right back where he got caught, doing exactly what he was doing when he got caught, to great and not-very-quiet acclaim?

I think S3 might have an overall darker tone too, within the bounds of a kids' show. I don't know what place Ba Sing Se occupied in the mind of the average person in the Avatar universe (although refugees seemed to revere it), but the city's fall to the FN represents a very big FN victory. The Gaang will probably be the most underdoglike in S3. S1 was mostly stalemate, then a big FN defeat. S2 was opened with the FN taking Omashu and closed with them taking Ba Sing Se. The FN have never been in a better position, and I bet the NWT is safe from further invasion only until the FN have built their fleet back up. So even the few free areas could have an expiry date on their freedom.

This is rapidly devolving into rambles, so I'll conclude by saying I have no clue what's going to happen next season, and that's exciting.

[novantinuum]

Which one is knowing, loving, being? Is that one about the blorbo Steven?

Yessss ahahah, this is the one with the Gem Steven design I won't shut up about on discord XD

(thank you for taking my bait and asking me about this fiUSHKFNSUGJH my evil plan worked)

E eeeeee *cracks knuckles* time to RAMBLE! I am so excited about this one, lmaooo. If you're wondering where all my "Crack the Paragon update progress" energy went these past few months, I am so sorry besties- but it got funneled to this project instead. I need to finish this goddamn fic by the end of the year like I need air.

The tl;dr of it all is that this story is my adult human!Steven/gem!Steven/Connie propaganda piece, and also a place to explore my personal take on how Steven works like,,, biologically,,, as a bizarre hybrid of two beings who are fused but also Not Really. Certainly not in the way fusion works for OTHER people.

Mind you, this fic is very NSFW, as will be the snippit I share- so the rest of my rambles will go under a cut. You have been warned.

Okay, so the broad strokes. This one's gonna be 4 chapters-

Chapter one will focus on a recently married 23 yr old Steven heading out to Rose's Room so he can work through some mental bullshit regarding the split he experienced as a kid. That trauma still lingers all these years later, and there's still so much he doesn't fully understand about... about what happened. About being outright cleaved in two. He ends up having the Room conjure a cloud version of his Gem half- the most unfamiliar and alien one of the two, to him- so he can try and talk out his confusions.

Chapter two features Steven nosediving into an obsession over an impulsive kiss he shared with that friggin' cloud version of his Gem half, and one thing kinda just leads to another, and well- said obsession ends with his component halves briefly split apart so they can fuckin' bang to work through whatever crunchy ass emotions they've got all stewed up in there. Progress wise, I am at this part of the fic right now, and I am having a lot of fun making this segment as "emotions and stimuli all mixed together" and intentionally confusing as I can. I am taking the depiction of "split POV" we had in Change Your Mind VERY seriously and literally, because I haven't seen too many writers dare to try.

Chapter three is mostly like, an interlude chapter- it's the aftermath of chapter two, where a confused and sheepish Steven opens up to his wife Connie about what he just experienced. In my head, my version of Steven is VERY demisexual, so he's like... just as "huh" as anyone else about what just took place. He and Connie talk shit out, and then Connie is basically like "baby. sweetheart. love of my life. why the HELL would you rip out your own gem like that, and MORE IMPORTANTLY, why would you ever do that when i'm not here to help you if things went wrong??" By the end of the convo though, Steven extends an open invitation for Connie to join in at some point and enjoy some intimacy as the three of them, both of his component halves and her.

Chapter four is entirely about that precise encounter, both the planning and the actual sex. The broad purpose I have in mind here is to showcase how such an encounter is something that's innately healing for them as a couple, in the way they get to re-contextualize this scenario in tones of love and trust and willful choice... as opposed to the horrid experience of being ripped apart by another's hand. I also just want them to get WEIRD about it, because like. Come on. Steven's half-alien. He (and the organic and Gem who combine to MAKE him) deserves to be weird about himself and the way he interacts with his own sexuality. And you just KNOW Connie would be into that. There is a lot of genital shapeshifting here, and they have a fucking great time.

I have overtly had the extremely general sketch of this idea floating around in my head since 2019, but never had the guts to actually tackle it until now. Now, though... I've actually gotten some practice with writing smut and feel confident in my ability to swing these scenes in the way I envision them, AND I finally have a circle of people who are down to talk about Steven being really goddamn weird about himself lmafo. Like, it's 2024, I'm allowed to ship selfcest if I want, fuck you.

But yes, chapter 1 is already done at 5.3K words, and I've got a solid 7.4K on chapter 2 (and rising.) For my actual WIP share, here is a snippit I recently wrote for chapter 4, working ahead a bit-

“So this is your idea of a big finale, huh?” he says with an impish smirk as he reads the last item on the list, a healthy dose of humor lightening his words. “Both of them fucking like rabid animals in heat as you merely lounge on the bed and watch?” “Oh, shut up,” she bites back, unable to even look her dear husband in the eye as she clunks her head down on the kitchen table, her cheeks burning like she’s destined to crumble to cinders amidst her own personal inferno of runaway lust. But Steven, damn that ridiculous man, won’t let her live this down. Ugh. Of course he wouldn’t. “Now, tell me… how long have you been secretly dreaming of this scenario?” She groans, mumbling her shameful little response straight into the table mat. “Only like… every other night since I saw you fall apart…” His rumbly chuckle— brimming with unquestioned warmth and just a tinge of bashfulness at the sheer risqué inanity of this never-before-spoken revelation— rings loud and clear, coating the whole room in its dense, chocolatey tenor. “What?” Connie whines as she snaps upright, her hands fidgeting on the table in the throes of such excruciating embarrassment. “What exactly’s so funny about that? I’m being very brave and vulnerable about this, you know!” He raises a placating hand, pushing himself through the final notes of his laughter before moving to respond. “Sorry, sorry, I promise I’m not making fun, it’s just— I guess you never really struck me as the, uh… the voyeuristic type?” “Does that… bother you?” she frowns, tilting her head a little. “The idea of me just… watching? I— it’s only a suggestion, we can always take it off, if you—” “No, I’m okay with it. Depending on how we set things up, I think it could be pretty hot. In fact…” Steven grabs for a pencil, and— waggling his eyebrows at her— begins to write one last line on their collective beat sheet. “I actually have a little idea of my own that I think would be fun to try out during this…”