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#that's the ever-changing part of themself
fella-lovin-fella · 2 years
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i think one of the most beautiful things about being in a relationship is that you'll never get to fully know them. they'll always have new stories, their favorite foods will change, they actually cant stand that band now. they'll find new hobbies, they'll read new books that they have got to tell you about and you will not believe what happened at work today. i just love not knowing, i love learning who they are over and over again.
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A reminder for this and any other holiday or non-holiday that it is desired: if your dad sucks, is intolerant or drunk or drugged out or abusive or hateful or blinded by religion or whatever,
then I am your dad now.
My CV in re: dadness sparkles. I am currently a dad. I know a number of horrible jokes. I have a car. I wear a hat. All this makes me eminently qualified
to be your dad now.
The holidays don't have to suck. Your family doesn't have to be the source of endless frustration. Yes, it has to be the source of SOME frustration. Just not infinite. And it won't be,
now that I am your dad.
Alright sport, get in here. We're going to open one present today. It is the prerogative of dads since time immemorial to obviate time itself. This is why you see so many dads dressing like idiots and driving convertibles: both are integral to the banishment of time. So that present we are opening today, is actually being opened tomorrow, through the power of dadness. This and many other wonders are yours. Feel the understated nuclear love power of a dad saying, in an almost bashful way, "Hey..." and then unleashing a Power Word: Dad upon you, known only to the most grizzled shamans and portly accountants. Know and be known by the Dad Who Casts Out Fear,
because I am your dad now.
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debtsunpaid · 2 months
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loooootta parallels between klavier and hugh dancy's will graham, tbh. same principle of being transformed first against your will, then accepting the change because you're too far gone to go back so you might as well walk forward, and finally completing the transformation yourself because you've come to see the beauty inherent in the change. by a similar token, ondine is a little bit of both bedelia and alana.
#OOC.#the more i draw parallels between nbc hannibal and jallaklavi the more these fuckers take on a clearer shape for me#i initially set out to make a non-romantic venom out of jalla & klavi but i think...klavi does come to love jalla in a way#more indecipherably so than strictly platonic or romantic but it's definitely a love of sorts#it's a love born both from the necessity of cooperating to survive and out of the comfort of being enabled#by a similar yet opposite principle klavi comes to love ondine (although it's strictly platonic there) bc she understands him#& eventually because she understands him but she doesn't Like him. there's a safety in being Checked after running off the rails for so lon#i don't think ondine ever loses herself to anima the way klavi loses themself to jalla bc she doesn't Love anima. she isn't Made to#all of ondine's problems come about so naturally and humanly that she doesn't treat anima like her savior or her villain. anima just Is.#anima is someone that asks for her help and ondine gives it bc she's got nothing to lose and everything to gain. and she gains a lot#meanwhile jalla is part of the REASON that klavi loses everything. why he loses every shred of safety and future he had#and klavi can fight their presence in his life all they want but it will never change anything. he's not strong enough to fight forever#but if he comes to Love the good things about having a mad god in their head then. there's less he has to think about losing#idk. i'm going berserk about my favorite little freak today
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kdinjenzen · 2 years
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My final words on Rooster Teeth & just SOME of my experiences there.
I’ve been waiting to say anything directly for a long time on this subject in hopes that something - anything - would change and get better, but it’s obvious that this is just “how it is there.”
So it’s time for me to finally say something about Rooster Teeth.
I joined the company, officially, as a contracted content creator and editor in February 2013. I worked to create a monthly video game news/release series. I produced episodes every month until I was officially hired as a full time content creator/editor in November of 2013.
From February 2013 until November 2013, I went entirely unpaid for all of my contract work. I was never given the payment promised for anything I did. When I was hired full time and I brought that up, I was told that “it’s been so long already, it’s not really a big deal is it?” And then the subject was never brought up again.
Within a few weeks of working at Rooster Teeth I was given a nickname, that nickname was a slur. Every day I came into work I was called “Fggt” - but they could not use that name in content so when anyone was recording I was called “Fugz” instead. For any fans who used that nickname for me for years, that’s what you were calling me. I couldn’t say anything about it, I had reported the use of that nickname for years to HR, and nothing was ever done about it and the videos that use that nickname for me are still up.
When Christmas rolled around my first year, 2013, I was given a “bonus” of about $100. Any money I had at the time was extremely helpful as I had nearly nothing to my name, so I was grateful for it. But a long time member of the company looked at me as I was handed my small bonus and scoffed “Why do YOU get a bonus? You’ve only been here for five minutes.”
In my first years there I would arrive at work around 7am (two hours before everyone else) to begin editing videos and would often have to stay until 9pm to get as much work done as possible. This was actively encouraged so we could have a backlog of content, but I was always given “rush orders” to edit more important videos to go out either the same day or next day. That’s when the crunch began for me and it did not end.
From that point on harassment started, and not just toward me. Any time I brought up mistreatment or that “making fun of people in content only encourages the community to hate us” - I was waved away saying “IT’S JUST A JOKE! Ignore the comments!”
This “ignore the comments” mantra was a way to excuse their own behavior. Anyone who was not “important” was constantly made fun of with no way to defend themselves or be part of the content in a way to defend themself even jokingly so. We were silenced at every turn.
Jeremy, Matt, and I tried to make content together as often as we could in those earlier days. And we rarely got the chance to do so. I remember being yelled at for making the Zelda video with Matt after it had already gone up because it was a “waste of time”.
During that time I was put into a position where I ignored my own physical health to focus more on work, which eventually caused me to come down with pneumonia. I spent several days in the hospital with a fever over 112F. When I was released I was back to work only a few days later and with the same work schedule.
Eventually I had enough from the department I was working for at the time and moved departments in hope that I would be better treated elsewhere in the company. I still loved the work I did, I loved some of the people at the company, and I believed that if I put my effort into it I could make things better for everyone.
The department I transferred to promised me a producer job and show running their new podcast while also being tasked to edit videos and sometimes write stories for news channel. I was never given the producer position in that department, I was never allowed even near the podcast unless they were “desperate for a last minute person”, I went entirely uncredited for anything I wrote for them, and I was pushed to edit 3 videos from start to finish every day with little to no turn around time so they could be posted immediately.
My hours in that department were 7am until 11pm.
I was crunching harder than before.
I wasn’t allowed to be in anything.
I had my name removed from everything I worked on.
I was put in an office where I was forgotten about and swept under the rug, people even IN the company forgot I worked there with how sectioned off and pushed aside I was.
In 2016 I came out as trans and many people at the company publicly voiced their support on social media.
Inside the company however, things got worse.
People had no idea how to deal with a trans woman, so I was interacted with even less and only trotted out every so often to show off “We Hire LGBTQIA+ People!”
It was only at this point where the nickname “Fugz” finally stopped being used all the time. Three years of content with that name being used toward me and all that content is still up.
During that time my acting manager began to harass me and lie to the community any time I was “planned to be on camera and couldn’t show up” - many times it was said to the audience watching that I “had already gone home” when I was in the other room crunching to finish my job and the work of my manager.
The harassment continued and I began to spiral into a deep depression, wondering what I could do, I eventually reported it to HR and the “solution” was that they brought in my manager who was harassing me into a Two-On-One meeting where the manager said “oh I’m sorry” and that was it. The way I was treated did not change at all and actively became worse.
I then went to one of the founding fathers of the company to express my concerns, and was told that I was “too nice to work at Rooster Teeth” and that I should “just quit and find somewhere else to work” - I was horrified.
At the moment I couldn’t do anything but feel horrified and powerless. I was an out trans woman in Texas in 2018 and was told “just quit and find work elsewhere in Texas” a state that actively finds ways to keep our rights from us.
Throughout my employment I also struggled to get the company insurance to cover my transition despite Rooster Teeth telling me that “Oh it’s all good” - because of their inaction and lack of help in this matter I amassed horrible amounts of medical debt despite being “completely covered” by them.
I still am recovering from this debt now as Rooster Teeth has been underpaying me for years, my raises were frozen by my manager at the time, and because of that I never received a proper raise even up until I quit earlier this year.
Until the end of 2020 I was paid around $40k per year as a Producer/Director. Far below the industry standard. If not for the help of one person fighting for me to be paid properly, I wouldn’t have gotten bumped up to the pay of the lowest paid person next to me. Which was nearly $70k. I was shocked that I was being underpaid by nearly $30k.
During the 2019 layoffs, I was actually one of the people affected. I was very nearly laid off as well, but was told to either move to LA and work there (at the $40k per year rate which is UNLIVABLE in LA) or be laid off immediately.
I agreed to move to LA, Rooster Teeth said they would be giving me $5k moving costs to pick up my life and move to LA by March of 2020. The money never was given to me and then COVID forced the company into moving to remote, meaning my job was actually saved by COVID happening.
Crunch during the height of COVID was monstrous. Every department was forced to push out more and more content and do more and more work to make up for “losses” - many of us were working 7 days a week and extremely long hours.
I helped run the 2021 Anniversary Stream Event, but in the middle of production I had to undergo life saving surgery and was told I needed AT LEAST two weeks rest before going back to work. The person I was working with to schedule that event took credit for all the work I did up to that point and then BLAMED ME for anything that went wrong with it because “I wasn’t doing my job” while I was recovering for major surgery and was on mandated medical leave.
BRGs (Business Resource Groups) were created at this time to help with representation issues inside the company. I did everything I could to help the other BRGs as well as the Queer BRG I helped lead. By mid 2021 I was told “we’ve done enough for the queer community” - which hurt to hear as I felt like we had barely accomplished anything and were still struggling to have accurate representation on screen as most of our PRIDE stream events featured mostly Cis/Het talent still.
During this time there was a lot of outspokenness for the mistreatment of minority groups inside of Rooster Teeth from former employees, lots of fans asked “Why didn’t you all do anything about it?”, to which I say actual ground level employees did everything they could. But we could only do so much.
At that moment I asked for transparency for how others, not just one or two employees, were treated in the company - myself included - and was essentially told that “the company is going through a lot right now just leave it alone”. How I was being treated and how others were being treated was once again swept under the rug.
I left Rooster Teeth because, despite thinking I could make positive change in the company, they proved that I couldn’t every step of the way. From 2013 until 2022, I did what I could to help my fellow employees, make positive change, and help the industry.
It’s also worth mentioning that for every bit of VO I did before I left Rooster Teeth, I wasn’t actually paid for any of it under the idea that “I was an employee, so I don’t need to be paid for VO.” In that case and the way it was viewed, I was paid less than $30 per hour for each of my VO sessions. Which is well below any industry standard.
But I was ultimately silenced and pushed aside.
This is all really just the surface level, there’s so much more I want to say but honestly it’s all so exhausting at this point and I’ve done everything I can.
I still struggle regularly with the emotional, mental, physical, and financial damage that was done to me over those years.
There are good people still working there, I’m friends with them, and I wish them the best.
TL;DR
Feb 2013 - Nov 2013. Unpaid Contract Work
Fugz = Fggt, reported to HR nothing was done
2013 Christmas "Bonus" $100. Long time members disapproved of said bonus
14hr work days, rush orders for same or next day videos
"Any time I brought up mistreatment or that “making fun of people in content only encourages the community to hate us” - I was waved away saying “IT’S JUST A JOKE! Ignore the comments!”" RT crunch caused pneumonia, no recovery period on return
Crunched harder, physically isolated "people even IN the company forgot I worked"
RT never fulfilled their deals promotion deals
15 hr work days
2016 came out as Trans, Transphobia harassment started
Acting Manager lied to the community and harassed me, HR did nothing and enabled harassment
Founding Fathers knew and did nothing. Said “too nice to work at Rooster Teeth” and "just quit and find somewhere else to work"
RT did not properly support medical insurance coverage
End 2020 Position Producer/Director, paid $40k. Next lowest paid person was $70k.
2019, forced to move to LA or get laid off. RT never paid moving costs. COVID forced remote jobs thus SAVING my job
RT INCREASES crunch during COVID
2021 Anniversary Stream Event. Had LIFE SAVING surgery, majority work stolen by coworker and blamed production failures on me during MEDICAL LEAVE.
BRG created to help with representation issues, mid 2021 RT said "we've done enough for the queer community" PRIDE stream events still mostly Cis/Het talents
Mistreatment of minorities in RT ignored "“the company is going through a lot right now just leave it alone"
Unpaid for VO work during tenure at RT, May Marigold and RWBY Fairy Tales included.
Handful of good people. Bad Company.
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undiscovered-horizon · 5 months
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(tw for self-harm -> literally hitting a tree with a bare fist)
[Tav has to carry the world on their shoulders. But when they begin to question this responsibility and the unfairness of it, they need someone to make sure their grief doesn't destroy them.]
Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?
Astarion knows that something is very off when you drop your bag and disappear behind the tree line, never even acknowledging his existence. The certain skip in your step, a bravado of "There's no mountain I can't move" is completely gone, nowhere to be seen. Now, something more sinister has taken its place - a darkness looming over your shoulder that makes even him shudder. Like you've switched places with another creature.
He notices Shadowheart and Gale watching your departure, both of them fidgeting in their stillness. Their hesitancy is all too obvious. Then, they exchange a look of both concern and inquiry. In awkward silence, Gale and Shadowheart part ways, simultaneously deciding to let you have your space.
Be it his curiosity or worry for you that he so vehemently denies, Astarion marches off in the direction he has seen you go, only to disappear behind the trees. He passes by Gale, who grabs Astarion's arm. The bruises on the wizard's face look almost black in the twilight of the campsite.
"I wouldn't do that, Tav is a little..." he hangs his voice as his eyes glance towards the dense forest, "beside themself."
The vampire wears his scowl like a crown. He yanks his arm from Gale's grasp and makes a show of straightening the fabric of his decorative shirt. "Wonderful advice. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to happily ignore it."
Without awaiting a rebuttal, Astarion continues his march towards the dense, dark forest where he hopes to find you.
The warm, yellow hue of the campfire quickly disappears as the man ventures into the woods. Low shrubbery keeps nipping at his clothes, almost making him more worried about the state of his pants than your well-being. He is about to call out your name when he hears a loud, muffled thud.
What in Hells is that?
Following the sound, Astarion finally finds you - beaten, bruised. Your clothes look like you haven't washed them since crawling out of the Nautiloid. The blood covering your knuckles glistens in the moonlight as you take another swing at the tree trunk. Another thud resounds in the empty forest. A dent behind to show in the wood where the bark has already been broken off. Just how long have been doing this? More importantly: why are you doing this to yourself?
No matter his confusion and burning worry, Astarion manages to pull himself together. He knows that the last thing you need right now is him blowing up at you, masking his fear for your state of mind with irritation.
"And what did this poor tree ever do to you, darling?" he finally calls out in a light-hearted tone. Truthfully, he couldn't be farther from playful jokes and jabs.
"Just leave me alone," you answer in a harsh tone as you punch the tree trunk once more. A whine escapes your lips as your tender, wounded hand meets the hard wood again.
He's taken aback - you don't normally talk this way. This unforeseen and much unwelcome, sudden change makes him all the more concerned.
Astarion stops close behind you, his arms crossed across his chest. He's unsure what to do. "Not until you tell me what's gotten into you," he states in a firm tone.
You growl in response. "It's so," you hang your voice to hit the tree, "fucking" you punch the trunk again, "unfair!" you scream out.
Your bloodied, trembling hand is about to land another punch but something, someone, stops you. Astarion lunges forward, pressing his chest against your back and grabbing your arms. His firm grasp forces you to keep your hands close to your body.
"Why do I have to decide who lives or dies?!" you continue yelling as you try to ineffectively wiggle out of the man's iron grasp. "I never wanted to be the hero who saves the world! I never asked for any of this!" Suddenly, your defiance disappears. Tired, hopeless and sore, you let yourself lean against his chest. "So why does it have to be me?" you whisper in a weak voice. Then you shudder as tears begin flowing down your cheeks.
The great hero falls and it is only natural that their fall must be of equal grandeur.
Astarion feels your hands shake but he's not sure whether it's because you've scraped their skin down to raw muscle or because you're crying out all the pent-up anger, grief and anxiety. No matter what's the truth, his undead heart breaks all the same.
"My sweet, sweet love," he whispers into your ear. His cold lips brush against the conch before he softly pecks your neck. "Anyone else would do it wrong."
Part of him wants to add 'except for me, of course' but he knows, deep down in his viscera, that even he would falter. So he remains quiet until your sobbing silences and your trembling comes to a stop. Astarion's grip never eases down until you've collected yourself, holding you tight against him as though you're fine porcelain that even a mere gust of wind could shatter into pieces.
__ Guys when I tell you I almost tripped running to my laptop to write this
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ellecdc · 2 months
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Hi!! I saw your requests were open and I’d love to take a shot with one!
So I have a partner that I’ve been with for almost a year and it wasn’t until the last few months that I’ve realized how toxic and horrible the relationship is. So- I was hoping that I could request a poly!marauders x reader (starting platonic and then romantic?) and reader has a partner that’s really toxic and the boys help the reader figure out how to break up and take care of herself (or themself/himself!) and then once the reader and the partner break up, the marauders take care of reader and then eventually admitting their love to reader and etc etc etc you take away the rest!!! Thank you so much!!!!!! I love love love your work!!!!!!
ok first of all: if you haven't already, please dump them? they're not worth it babes. if it costs you your peace - it's too expensive thank you for your request; hope you love it <3
poly!marauders x fem!reader
CW: brief mention of previously toxic relationship, grief over end of relationship
You knew this was for the best, but it didn't make it any less painful.
It'd been about a month and a half since you and your...ex broke up, and exactly 12 days to the minute of no contact. Your mind was still reeling from the previous few weeks since you'd decided to finally end things before you finally blocked their number.
It proved to you that you had done the right thing; they were not good for you, and they're behaviour only proved that.
So why did you still feel so incredibly wrong?
You felt a mixture of things. Overwhelming grief at not only the loss of someone that was a huge part of your life, but also grief over the loss of everything you ever hoped your life would be with that person.
You also felt guilty; guilty for ending things (even though it was the right thing to do), guilty for spending so long trying to force a relationship that wasn't meant to last, and guilty for falling in love with the potential that someone had - which only left both of you disappointed.
It was probably overkill to have turned your phone off completely, but after blocking their number, you couldn't help but jump every time your phone went off - thinking, hoping, dreading that it might be your ex. You also couldn't handle scrolling through instagram to see all of your other friends, happy, smiling, in love, and not feeling like their world was falling to pieces.
Your pity party was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. You were considering ignoring it when a less gentle knock followed which you recognized to be Sirius'.
"You don't have to bang, Sirius." You could hear James chide quietly as you unlocked and swung the door open.
The somewhat terse conversation ended abruptly as the three figures beamed at you: James widely, Remus kindly, and Sirius cheekily.
"Well hello, gorgeous!" Sirius cheered at you as he pulled you into a quick embrace.
"Uh, hi!" You said back, though your voice sounded higher than usual. When was the last time you'd used it?
"Mind if we come in?" Remus asked gently before James and Sirius were shouldering their ways into your apartment anyway.
"Uhm, yeah. Sure." You said as you followed them in.
James pulled you into his side as Sirius made himself at home on your couch and Remus sat at your kitchen table. "How've you been, sweetheart?" He asked.
You blushed at the nickname and ducked your chin to your chest. "I'm alright, James. How have you guys been?"
"Miserable." Sirius answered immediately. "Completely miserable without our favourite girl around. It's been too long."
"You don't have to apologize," Remus interjected as you began to defend yourself. "We just wanted to check in, that's all."
You smiled at the three boys, suddenly very self-conscious of your apartment and your outfit - neither of which had been tidied nor changed in the last few days.
"Come sit with me." Sirius said as he patted the couch beside him and then opened his arm for you to sit under.
You moved towards him obediently and he quickly pulled you in tight to his side and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.
"So, what can we do? Can I help you tidy?" Remus asked enthusiastically.
You immediately shook your head no as your eyes widened in horror. "Absolutely not, no. Thank you, but honestly, I'm fine."
Sirius groaned as he leaned to whisper into your ear conspiratorially, you startled and turned to face him, only to have your noses centimetres apart.
"Listen, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret: Rem here has been just sick with worry, and it would really make him feel better if you let him feel like he's helping you." He stage whispered as he motioned toward the said worried boy with his head.
Had you not been so shocked by the lack of distance between you and Sirius, you may have seen Remus gently roll his eyes at Sirius' theatrics.
"Help the poor sod out, give him something to do." He encouraged you with a salacious wink.
"I, uhm... I guess I've been meaning to catch up on the dishes?" You stated as a question, grimacing at the days worth of dishes in your sink.
Remus jumped up happily throwing a "Got it!" over his shoulder.
"What about me, gorgeous? Anything I can do? Maybe laundry?" James asked eagerly.
"You are not doing my laundry, James." You answered bluntly.
"Got it, got it. Okay, maybe I can clean your bathroom?"
Somehow, that was worse.
"Okay, you can do my laundry." You acquiesced.
James whooped, actually whooped, like a cartoon character before he started down the hallway he knew lead to your bedroom.
"See? Look how happy you made them." Sirius said as he kneaded at the flesh of your thigh with his hand.
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"What's your job?" You asked.
You suddenly felt like it was the wrong question when Sirius' grin grew exponentially. "Oh, I get to sit here with my favourite girl."
"We're taking turns, Pads!" James called from down the hallway.
"Semantics." Sirius muttered before he turned his attention back to you.
"Listen; I won't make you talk about this if you don't want to, but I need you to know that we're here for you, alright? Like really, really here for you; whatever you need. I know you've probably convinced yourself that you're all alone and unloved. But we need you to know that's not true. You're not unloved, never could be; not with us around."
Your sinuses filled painfully behind your eyes as you moved to hide your face into Sirius' shoulder.
"What did you do?" Remus asked Sirius, sounding (gently) horrified.
"Just told her we loved her."
James came out of your room at Remus' concerned tones. "We're supposed to be making her feel better, Pads." He sighed.
"You are." You muttered from your place in Sirius' shoulder.
It was true; you had convinced yourself you were all alone and completely unloveable. If even your ex couldn't manage to love you, how would anyone else?
But with Sirius' arms around your shoulder and his lips pressed into your hair, James coming up behind you two and giving your hand a comforting squeeze, and Remus running to put a pot of tea on for the lot of you like that might be what stitches your heart back together; you certainly felt loved.
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intynidad · 11 months
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YES MAKE A PART 2 OF SHAPESHIFTER
they’ve been living in my head rent free since i read the fic and i’m gonna lose it
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You guys really liked that fic huh
I tried my best at doing smut even though shapeshifter can change all o their body, hope you guys like it!
(I’m planning on making a new part that is more explicit??? But idk if you guys would like that)
Love has many forms pt 2
NSFW
warning: yandere tendencies?? (Not a lot but im gonna say it just in case), mention of female and male genitalia (not towards reader) minors DNI
Some people are like two perfect puzzle pieces, fitting together effortlessly and completing each other's picture. It's a beautiful connection that brings harmony and joy. However, your last relationship was different. You and your partner were more like two corner pieces of the same puzzle, belonging to the same game but unable to fit no matter how hard you tried.
In your current relationship, things were different. While you remained the same little puzzle piece, your partner was like water, flowing and fitting into every nook and cranny around you. Their ability to adapt to every situation and effortlessly surround you was one of the perks of dating a shapeshifter.
Their shapeshifting abilities added a thrilling element of excitement and adventure to your relationship. Witnessing their seamless transformations into different forms and their effortless blending into various environments was truly awe-inspiring. They made it clear since day 1 that they didn't mind changing all of themself to fit your likes. It sounds romantic or even a little comical but the way pure obsession dripped from their eyes made you believe them.
Their abilities were present even in the most intimate moments of your relationship
Sometimes their hands were small and delicate and sometimes where rough and full of scars, both of them made and excellent works on touching your body and having the knowledge that your partner could be anyone you ever dream of aroused you
At first you were shy about asking about using their powers in the bedroom, after all you told them you wanted to love them as they are, but they were their powers and they have told you that they didn't mind…
So the first time you ask them to change into a celebrity you had a crush on, you tried and tried to not moan the celebrity’s name but it slowly fell out of your lips, again they said that you could moan the name of whoever you wanted after all THEY were them in that moment
Then it was a supermodel you thought was hot, after that they even started to experiment with their different forms.
Sometimes they had a pussy dripping from arousement for you, sometimes they had a cock erect and hard ready for you to suck on
Sometimes they made themselves bigger while being inside you just to watch you squirm and your little please of “its too big” “i'm gonna break” just motive them to do it again
Sometimes they had small breast that you could fold with one hand and sometimes they had huge breaths that they loved to let you suck and squish
Your partner was very happy that you ask them about using their powers, after all the more they know about your body the better they can make you moan.
The fact that they just know that even if you break up with them, you will never have his pleasure with anyone else makes them smile, and even if you break up with them they just need to assume a new form for you to fall in love again and again and again.
Now that they know your preferences you won't be able to escape them, but since that wont happen they prefer to continue making you feel good.
The favorite moment was when the watch you ride them, since they started to add texture on their cocks you been cumming faster and faster, they think is adorable how you eager you are bouncing up and down on them, is so cute watching you bite the pillow of your shared home trying to stop yourself from moaning but they know exactly how to make you sing like a little bird for them
And believe me for them you sing like an angel
Their angel
And no one else
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carlyraejepsans · 5 months
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Technically speaking, he was a light sleeper.
Which was just hilarious for two different reasons. One, he topped at twenty pounds soaking wet—and that was after he'd reached for the towel. The joke basically wrote itself. The other reason was, of course, that nobody believed him. Honestly, he could kinda get it. It's pretty hard for irony to escape him, even on a bad day. The way he saw it, though, maybe he wouldn't take as many naps as he did, if he just managed to get one to stick.
...heh, nah. Probably not. Late to rise, early to bed, makes a man lazy or clinically dead, or however the saying went. Still.
The kid stiffened against his ribcage and that was all it took for his eyes to fly open.
The popcorn ceiling of the living room stared back at him through the darkness in all its tacky glory. Now that's another joke that writes itself. It wasn't a movie night at Tori's without some comment about her taste in decor. That always earned him a round of groans. Or a halfhearted pillow to the head. It was one of his favorite moodsetters.
His hand dangled in the air at his side. Not on the floor. Just a few months earlier, that alone would've told him he wasn't in his room, but oh boy, had things changed. He had a bedframe now, not to mention enough self respect for one. AND fitted sheets—that was a lifetime first. You had to be careful not to fall off, but all things considered, it was the fanciest bed he'd slept on since he'd tried using his worker bonus at MTT's. If he risked falling off the bed now, he'd risked never finding his way out then. Not to mention the guy in the other room calling for room service the entire night. He almost retired the midnight snacks bit on Undyne out of sympathy the next time she came over.
Almost.
The kid's head twitched.
Right. Popcorn. Living room. Springy mattress. He didn't need to smoke a pipe to realize he'd fallen asleep on the sofa. Didn't need a goofy hat either to see that someone must've thought he'd make a good pillow. Go figure. He'd gotten real good at making himself look softer under his clothes, but still, it wasn't exactly the kind of magic a guy could keep up with his eyes closed and a pillow behind his head. He just hoped they weren't too uncomfortable.
He must've dozed off sometime after Papyrus left the house and Toriel turned in for the night, 'cause nobody had stopped by to throw a blanket over him. Most nights that would've been fine. Nice thought aside, skeletons didn't really feel cold "to their bones", on account of lacking all the soft and fleshy stuff on top of 'em.
Yeah, well. Most nights. Most nights he didn't have a human kid sleeping on top of him, either.
Sans looked down. He resisted the urge to blow a strand of hair out of their face.
Most nights, skeletons didn't have hearts beating against their ribs.
Ba-dum—ba-dum—ba-dum.
He would've asked them if it felt any different, having it beat on the other side of their ribcage, if they hadn't already crawled their way inside his months before.
Heh. Not like they hadn't done the same with everyone else. Or ever asked for permission, the little freeloader. But he supposed that part came free with being monsters. The whole HOPE and compassion and everything nice kinda shtick. As a rule, they were, uh, very prone to attachment. It was hardwired into their SOULs or something. Of course, he knew better than anyone that compassion had its cost, and he'd ran low on HOPE for a long, long while, but...
There was a ray of light coming through the kitchen at night like he hadn't seen in an even longer time. The kind with a moon and stars hung at the other end of it.
Yeah. Maybe he could afford something nice for once.
Frisk stirred again. He kept as still as possible as they wriggled around, pushing themself off of him—trying, he assumed, not to shove their boney little knees somewhere unpleasant.
Then they flopped to their side and fell to the floor with a thud.
See, THAT'S the kinda issue you don't have when you have no self respect.
Slowly, the kid got to their feet again. They stood perfectly straight for a moment, then took an unsteady step forward. Then another.
To call it "walking" would've been an act of mercy. It was more of an ambling. Maybe a shambling. Sans watched their journey towards the kitchen mentally listing of adverbs. Stumbling. Fumbling. Trailing. That one didn't have a mbl in it, points for originality.
Mostly, he was ecstatic. Nothing made for fun breakfast stories quite like sleepwalking. And well, he hadn't had one of those since Papyrus turned fifteen and stopped sleeping entirely.
When the kid finally reached the fridge, they all but shoved their head inside it. He heard them do... something in there. There were definitely teeth involved. He was about to ask them to bring some goods back to homebase.
The door of the fridge clicked closed.
He didn't.
Then, he almost made a joke about forgetting their headlights on, but thought otherwise. He was glad he'd left his own off.
Besides, it was the taillights that were supposed to glow red.
Eyesockets dark and still pretending to sleep, he kept watch as the kid turned around and retraced their shambling steps to the living room like a miniature zombie.
Halfway to the sofa, they stopped, making a small sound like a grumbling of annoyance. For a second their eyes grew even more unfocused.
"Sleep," they rasped out in a low, halting whisper, "I saved you a crick in the neck."
It took him a second to register that the kid wasn't talking to him. Mostly 'cause Frisk didn't speak. To him. Or ever.
By the time they reached their starting point again, his excitement had died off into quiet confusion and quickly curdled into caution. They stopped at the edge of the sofa and fixed him with a stare, looking at where they'd been sleeping before. Sans waited.
"I am not doing that," they rasped to themself again.
Then they climbed onto the other end of the sofa and curled around themself as small as possible. So tightly it looked like they wanted to tuck their tiny body into a ball.
When they stopped moving, they didn't move again.
Sans didn't lift a finger. His brain whirred in his skull, ready to chalk up the past few minutes to the sleepwalking and forget they ever happened. Staring up at the popcorn ceiling again, though, he couldn't shake off a wave of uneasiness; like he'd seen something he wasn't quite supposed to put together.
Any man would've spent the night awake.
He cast a glance at the kid, huddled in their corner. There was no heartbeat against his ribs now: something about the silence felt foreboding.
Sans closed his eyes.
Ten minutes later, of course, he was out like a light.
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The Arcana HCs: M6 and Kisses
~ enjoy :3 ~
Julian
Kissing him is never unemotional
Heated moments aside, Julian gives you both planned and unplanned kisses. Depending on the mood and context, how that feels and how that progresses can change drastically
He loves "occasion" kisses, tiny little pauses of the day's etiquette where he gets to swoop in and leave a peck on your cheek. Hello kisses, goodbye kisses, thanks-for-checking-on-me-at-2-AM-because-I'm-still-awake-from-thinking-too-much kisses ...
... though that last kind is less likely to be on the cheek, and more likely to be the most tired, grateful "thank you" you've ever heard, whispered against your lips as he trails after your touch
Unplanned kisses happen whenever someone says or does something that reminds him of what you mean to him. Between his scholar's brain and bleeding heart is a vast sea of sentiment
Maybe it's seeing one of the South End vendors, stooped with age, quietly lighting up as their equally weathered partner walks by on the other side of the canal and blows them a cheeky smooch
He never thought he'd live long enough to look like that, but now all he can think about is how he can't wait to be that with you
Then he's making good use of that massive coat of his, catching up to you in two long strides, pulling you into one of those all-encompassing hugs before he swoops the cape of it between you and prying eyes so he can pour his soul into a heartfelt kiss
Asra
Never the same and always the same, somehow
They don't care to be publicly vulnerable, so you're not going to get any lingering kisses in the street, or the market, or the tavern
But considering the extent to which his love for you has completely consumed him, he can't not express affection for you
And besides, they've never been conventional. Why limit themself to your face when you've got a whole body?
Unexpected kisses peppered across your knuckles when you hold hands. A subtle peck to the pulse point below your ear when he leans in to whisper something to you. The briefest brush of his lips against the back of your shoulder as you stand and wait together
All this without ever expecting anything in return - doing anything similarly sweet and subtle back will result in a blushing, stumbling, zoned-out magician and a laughing snake
Privately, kisses aren't about a heated moment (though they have been known to play into them, when you were interested ...)
They're about savoring you, lingering on the gift of your warm, living presence, delighting in their chance to luxuriate in finally expressing every ounce of devoted adoration for you
For someone as playful and creative as he is, every moment your mouths meet is a little different, a little new, that childlike curiosity excited to find yet another way to feel you
All while that loyal, bone-deep love feels like coming home
Nadia
Kissing her feels like you're being blessed
Getting kissed in public is almost always a statement of some kind. Each brush of her lips against your skin carries the weight of an important message
Anything from a kiss to your wrist, telling you that you handled a tricky situation well, to a firm kiss on your mouth, telling everyone around you that you are her most important person
It could be easy to feel you're just another face orbiting her, with how naturally she commands the attention of a room and takes charge of any situation and brings it into line
But when every moment of contact is designed to honor you, to credit you with the leader she's become, you may find that not sharing the spotlight with her is almost impossible
In private, kisses are raw and unrefined
They're still purposeful, but there's no grand painting to be a part of. The woman next to you is not the Countess, but the person who trusts you wholeheartedly and expects no less in return
Dizzying intensity, feeling every emotion freely expressed against your lips, watching her thoughts flit across her open, unguarded face. She desires vulnerability and abandons ceremony in her rush to be close to you. If there's no walls between you, why hold back?
Being the sole focus of such a powerful, regal person feels a bit like taking the concentrated power of the sun. Except it's Nadia, and her neverending need to saturate you with her love
Muriel
Kisses with him are tender
Halting and awkward, at first, and a little lost as he gets his practice, and much more involved and intense as time goes on, but never lacking in gentleness and consideration
You can count the amount of times he's kissed you in public on one hand. He is not into PDA by a long shot
Luckily for you, you two live in the woods. Being in public requires planning ahead. Being in private is another normal day
Casual kisses take time. They're never thoughtless, instead being something you receive in a split second after about ten minutes of intense mental planning and preparation on his part
Over time, you find it's easier for him to give you casual kisses with his fingertips - brushing your cheek gently, pressing one finger to his own lips before lightly tapping it to your nose
He has accidentally kissed your nose when he was aiming for your mouth multiple times now. The only way to convince him to get past it and keep initiating kisses was to make it an inside joke
Kisses for him are a way to reaffirm every silent promise he's made you. Whether it be his commitment to sticking life out with you, to healing, to growing, to protecting, to nurturing with you
To him, it's the weighty comfort of building a new home and family with you. To you, it's safety and trust and security and gentleness beyond imagining. Not the most heated, but always warm
Portia
Kissing her is like bubbling over
She loves fiercely and without restraint. If you're hers and she's yours, there is no reason to hold back
Kisses are her extension of general physical affection. She'll stand with her arm around you, nuzzling into your cheek as she teases you in conversation and planting a kiss there while she's at it
She's also so openly affectionate towards anyone she cares about that there's next to no room for anybody to feel awkward
If it's in reach and she's happy you're with her for the hundredth time that day, she's kissing it. Shoulders, arms, hands, elbows, nose, cheeks, hair - there are very few limits
Kisses in private don't get outrageously creative, but they take on a whole host of meanings for someone as expressive as she is
Frustrated kisses when she feels like she's failed, excited kisses when she's got a new idea, flirtatious kisses that make you feel those new couple butterflies after decades of life together
"You're irresistible with flour in your hair" kisses, scattered all across your face in her sunlit kitchen before she pulls you in for something longer and deeper and sweeter
"You make life feel like a storybook" kisses, full of suspended disbelief and excited giggles and romantic embraces
"You make me the main character of my story" kisses, lingering long as she holds you to her chest and savors your companionship
Lucio
Kissing him is an adventure
He wasn't used to kisses meaning much more than a good time. At least, not before you. By the time he met you, the ability to feel warmth and basic touch was overwhelmingly precious
As easy at it is for casual affection to be simply casual for him, it's never unappreciated, and certainly not taken for granted
Has no issues with PDA. If he wants a kiss, and you want a kiss, then it's time to enjoy a kiss. Anybody who has a problem with it is free to look in any other direction (though he's not thinking that far)
From moment to moment, they're the added spice to a good life. Sudden, rushed, sloppy kisses on the road just because he can, and because he's about to disregard that "no trespassing" sign
In quieter moments, kisses become so precious that each one feels like a polished gemstone falling into your lap
He's been starving all his life for a true connection, for a reliable affection that tells him it's safe to believe you when you tell him that you love him. He may act entitled, but he's not oblivious
Holding such a rollercoaster of a man while he loses both himself and all of his emotions in the safety of your kisses is enough to get you a little lost too, if you let yourself get drawn in
As much as he might grandstand and monologue as he puts all that leadership charisma into charming you, the moment you hold his face in your hands, he's clinging to your soul and offering his own in return. Through his mouth. Into your mouth. Again, please -
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cityandking · 10 months
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oc asks: relationships edition
INNER LIFE
Self: How is your OC's relationship with themself? Does your OC like who they are? Is there anything about themself that they would change?
Know: How well does your OC know themself—their wants, their goals, their motivations? Do they engage in any sort of self-reflection? Is there anything about themself they willfully ignore?
Care: How does your OC engage in self-care, if at all? If they don't, why not?
For Good: Is there anyone in your OC's life who had an undeniable positive impact on who they are as a person? How did knowing this person improve your OC's life?
For Bad: Is there anyone who had an undeniable negative impact on your OC’s life? How did your OC deal with that change? Have they been able to move on?
Intimacy: Is your OC the type of person to engage in long-term relationships, or are they more casual in their intimacy and affection? How do they feel about intimacy and relationships in general?
OUTER LIFE
Family: What's your OC's family like? Is it a family of blood, choice, or something else? How does your OC feel about their blood relations? If they have a family of choice, how did they come together?
Mentor: Does your OC have a mentor? Have they ever reached out to anyone for guidance or teaching, or been taken under someone's wing? How does your OC get along with their mentor?
Friendship: What's your OC like as a friend? How are they at making new friends? What are the most important friendships in your OC's life?
Partner: Does your OC currently have a partner? Multiple partners? How did they meet, and what is that relationship like?
Companions: Is your OC part of an adventuring group? A band of travelers? A guild, a team, a crew? What's the group dynamic, and how does your OC feel about their companions?
Social Circle: What's your OC's social circle? Are they obligated to spend time with others in their circle, or are they happy to be there? Has their social standing and social circle ever changed, and if so, how did your OC feel about it?
HELLOS & GOODBYES
Fate: Does your OC believe in destined meetings? True love, soulmates, hearing the bells? Have they ever experienced this?
Meet Strange: What's the most memorable way your OC has ever met a new person? Was it a good experience? Bad experience? Just plain weird? How's their relationship with that person now?
Past: Does your OC have any past partners? How did the relationship(s) end? Are any of their exes still in their life, and if so, do they get along?
Exit: Has your OC ever had someone important leave their life in a way that was unremarkable, unintentional, or clumsy? How do they feel about it? Is there any chance they'll meet again?
First: Has your OC ever been the one to leave first? Why did they go, and who did they leave behind? Do they regret it?
Loss: Is there anyone important to your OC who has passed away? How did they handle the loss?
Future: Is there anyone your OC is looking forward to meeting or to seeing again? Who? What might that meeting or reunion look like?
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theriverbeyond · 8 months
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i'm thinking a lot about the permeability of the soul and really chewing on like, how this knowledge retroactively impacts and changes the way one can read characters' actions throughout all the books so far. and that's interesting to me, because I'm not sure it's as simple as character X's behavior being retroactively revealed to be due to the soul of character Y. because like...
of COURSE we impact each other. of course when we brush up against each other we bleed. we leave things behind. but at some point, when does that stop being someone else, and start becoming just another part of you? the body of theseus. the soul of theseus. are you the same person as you were when you started this, even though everything has changed? is the Augustine that entered the stoma the same as the Augustine that woke up on the first day of the Ressurection, when it was only the newly re-born sun, and him, and John?
and I mean, no, obviously. So much has happened since then. But Augustine has been Augustine-and-Alfred for thousands of years longer than he was ever only Augustine. Same for Mercymorn-and-Cristabel, same for Cytherea-and-Loveday, same for G1deon-and-Pyrrha, same for John-and-Alecto. and like. the soul of theseus, you know?
Is the Cytherea Loveday who died at Canaan House the same as the Cytherea Loveday who woke up that day after the Lyctoral Ascension, on the first day of the rest of her life? After 10k years are the actions of Cytherea Loveday truly dissectable as Actions-of-Loveday vs Actions-of-Cytherea, or is she just one person, being bled all over by another until they are no longer distinguishable? How much of someone taking on another's mannerisms is because of soul entangelment versus the human visegrip of grief, desperately holding onto anything and everything you can, remaking the person you love in your mind until they are more yours than they ever were themself?
and I'm thinking again about Paul, and how maybe they just skipped to the end. Maybe all lyctorhood is, is damped oscillation, in which the end point between two extremes will always trend to 0. and Paul makes it so obvious, you know? Pal and Cam DIED that day. they did it, it's done, Paul is risen.
but when Ianthe Tridentarius killed Naberius Tern, did she not also kill herself? when she ascended as Ianthe The First, she became someone new. Ianthe Tridentarius is as dead as Pal and Cam are. as dead as Naberius Tern. as dead as Alfred and Cristabel and Loveday and John and the entire goddamn earth. trending twoards 0. thinking.
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dark-and-kawaii · 2 months
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The Real Incubus
Haarlep x F!Tav/Reader
⋆˙⟡♡ Summary: You help Haarlep in recalling their authentic identity and their original appearance, prior to their glamorized transformation to mimic Raphael's visage.
⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: Haarlep is my ultimate comfort and I’ve been kinda down lately. Was in need of some sort of comfort, thus for bringing this to life. I hope you enjoy xoxo
⋆˙⟡♡ NSFW | Soft Haarlep | A Touch Of Malevolent Haarlep | Comfort | Minor Angst | Biting | Minor Blood
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As you straddled Haarlep in bed, you could feel their tail curling around your arm and pulling you closer. You leaned in, placing one hand on their hip and the other in their hair as your lips met. They were soft and warm, and you felt the tip of their tongue flicking across your lower lip.
“Haarlep,” you whispered, your fingertips exploring their- Raphael’s horns… The ridges and textures that should have been Haarlep's own. Each groove, each pointed tip, had been an echo of Raphael's form, “Try to remember your horns,” your voice a soft melody in the quiet room, “Think of how they curved or stood straight, unique to you, a crown suited only for you.”
Haarlep's eyes fluttered closed, their breath hitching for the first time ever as they concentrated on your fingers, on the words that were like keys to locked doors within their mind. The weight of Raphael's influence starting to lift, bit by bit, with each gentle touch.
Your hands glide down the wings which weren’t of theirs, the expansive red membranes that had been made to mimic Raphael's own; a cruel reminder of Haarlep’s captivity. “The shape of your wings were surely more magnificent than his…” your fingers caressing the inner part of their wings, “Remember their true form, the majesty that was stolen from you.”
Slowly, Haarlep's wings began to embrace you, wrapping around your entwined forms. It was a possessive gesture, one that hinted at the true nature of their being, a sign of what was hidden under the mask Raphael had forced them to wear.
Your hands slide up the sides of their chest, tracing the outlines of the veins. The tips of your fingers brushing over their skin. Haarlep arched their back, pressing into your touch. It was the most “human” motion they had made in a long time, a reminder that they were more than what Raphael had made them out to be.
Your hands moved to Haarlep’s face to pull them closer. Holding their face tenderly, you kiss their jaw gently, a touch filled with reassurance and an invitation to rediscover themself, “Try to remember your face, the stubble, perhaps?” You breathed between kisses, “Or maybe clean-shaven,” you mused, nipping lightly to elicit a moan from them.
With one last nip at their jaw, you let your hands slide down the muscular expanse of Haarlep’s chest, the body that had been used and abused for so long, even starved... “Remember your body…” you coaxed, your voice a velvet murmur, “The way it would move on its own as soon as it saw a pretty new victim. You were grace and temptation incarnate, not a mere echo of another.”
There was a shift then, a subtle change in the air as Haarlep's form seemed to waver, the imposed visage of Raphael's glamorized design quivering. The incubus’s eyes closed, brows furrowing in concentration, as if they were diving into the depths of their own soul to find what was lost.
You held them close, a beacon of belief and support, waiting for the moment when Haarlep would emerge not as the devil Raphael had shaped, but as the true incubus they were born to be, a creature of beauty and desire, of power and freedom. And in the intimate cocoon of Haarlep’s wings, you waited to see your unconventional lover's true self to awaken.
The warm brush of Haarlep's lips against your neck sent a shiver down your spine, and their hands, which had been resting on your thighs, now found your waist. There was a soft, amused chuckle as their fingers brushed against the hem of your nightgown.
“The scent of your arousal,” they purred, their hands moving down the front of your body, “And the taste of it running down my throat,” Haarlep’s mouth was hot, almost feverish against your neck, “is all I can think about, little dove.” You could feel their hands moving between your legs, could feel the pressure of their palms against you and the way their claws tore through the fabric of your thin panties.
As the remnants of the cloth were tossed aside, you could hear the faint hiss of their breath against your skin as the incubus took in the scent of your desire. The sharp edge of their fangs grazed against your pulse, the sensation sending a bolt of white-hot lust down your spine.
Their tail moved from your arm and curled around your leg, you could feel the tip sliding along your thigh before coming to rest against your entrance. Your hips bucking instinctively at the feeling of Haarlep’s fingers circling your sensitive little clit.
Haarlep’s eyes remained closed, lashes casting delicate shadows on the incubus’s cheeks, as if they were navigating through the darkness of their own lost memories. The sensation was foreign to them, this gentle encouragement to be no one but themself, to shed the layers of someone else's whims and reveal the core of their being.
"I- I want you to touch me how Haarlep would touch me, not Raphael…" You kissed their horns, a symbolic gesture to honor their identity, to coax out the soul of the incubus beneath the surface. "To feel your hands upon my skin, instead of his."
At your words, their breath grew deeper, a rhythmic pulse that resonated with the stirrings of their authentic self. The very air around you seemed to hum with the power of their awakening, the room charged with the magic of rediscovery. Each bite, each mark, they placed upon your skin was like a word in a long-forgotten language, now being spoken with tentative fluence.
The shadow of Raphael that had clung to Haarlep's form began to dissipate like mist at dawn's first light. A subtle coolness radiated from them, an ominous glow that seemed to come from within, illuminating the room.
As Haarlep's fingers delved between your folds, their true self emerged, and you were completely enraptured by such beauty.
“You belong to me, my fragile, little dove,” their voice, dark yet smooth like whisky as they hissed into your ear, "Entirely mine to claim, mine to savor, mine to ravage and shatter."
When Haarlep finally opened their eyes, they were not the eyes that mirrored Raphael's. They were deep and vast, eyes that could easily entrap someone. In those eyes, you saw the incubus Haarlep was meant to be; free from the chains of servitude, a creature of beauty and lust.
“Haarlep,” your voice barely above a whisper, “I’m all yours, please-“ your body was so eager to have them, to be filled, to be taken and ravished, by Haarlep’s real self your mind was dizzy with it. This was Haarlep, this was your incubus in all their glory, and your eyes pleaded with them to feast upon you.
The incubus released a chilling chuckle, a cacophony akin to the tolling of a death knell, "Have you fantasized of my true caress, of the ecstasy and torment I could truly bestow upon you?" Their talons, sharp and unyielding, traced a menacing path along the quivering flesh of your inner thighs.
This was them, the real Haarlep whom no longer existed under Raphael's or Mephistopheles’s rule. You were no longer protected by the devil known as Raphael, Haarlep was free to do as they pleased, to devour you, body and soul, until nothing remained. Yet you remained loyal to the creature, and your faith in them was unwavering.
Your back arched and a small whimper left your throat, and you found yourself nodding impatiently, “Y-yes, I-I- wanted this for so long, Haarlep. Wanted this for you for so long for you.” Your fingers were still cupped around their face, thumbs brushing the incubus's cheekbones, a touch that was more loving and tender than anything you had given Raphael.
Haarlep's smile twisted into a predatory sneer as they shifted you beneath them, their dominance undeniable. They hoisted one of your legs over their shoulder, the other imprisoned against their waist, "Then it shall be my dark delight to bestow upon you the agony you crave, my little dove.” Their tail wrapped around their cock, “until you're drowning in the very darkness you sought.” A fat member with ridges and veins that protruded, a shaft that throbbed, a thick head leaking precum, a weapon that had the capability to destroy your very sanity.
You gave a needy groan, and then gasped as they thrust inside, their cock spreading you open, forcing its way past the tight resistance of your pussy. Stretching and filling you so well, you felt beyond full. Haarlep was ruthless, driving themself deeper and deeper until there was nowhere left for them to go, and still, you yearned for more.
You threw your head back and gasped, moaning and biting back screams- they were so much bigger than Raphael’s cock.
"Do you think yourself safe, little dove?" They taunted, their sharp teeth leaving stinging trails across the tender skin of your throat, "Even if you scream, even if you beg, there will be no mercy, no escape."
In a single brutal movement, Haarlep bottomed out and you couldn't hold back the scream that ripped from your throat. You couldn't think, couldn't breathe, your whole body was burning up, the delicious heat spreading from your core all the way down to the tips of your toes.
You were helpless, writhing and mewling as Haarlep plowed into you, each thrust tearing your mind apart. The incubus was merciless, and all you could do was cling to them, nails raking down their back and wings as they pounded into you.
“You wanted this, you desired this, didn't you? To be claimed, to be ravaged by a real incubus- by the real me… Here I am.”
You could feel Haarlep's fingers curling around the base of your neck, their claws digging into your skin, the threat of a slow and excruciating death clear. Yet, they held back, their grip not strong enough to kill you, just enough to give you a taste of what could happen.
“H-Haarlep~” you moaned, their name the only coherent thought in your head. You couldn't take it, the pleasure was too much, the sensation of being so full, of being fucked so hard by the one you always wished to have to yourself.
Haarlep laughed, a cold and cruel sound, the sound of a predator about to claim its prey, a sound of a nightmare that had finally been realized. Their lips pressed against yours, a sharp pain blossoming where their fangs nicked your bottom lip. The taste of your blood lingering on their tongue as they kissed you, the kiss as violent as their thrusts.
Their grip tightened around your throat, their claws cutting into your skin, drawing blood causing you to wince. “Tell me,” they demanded, their voice a low, husky growl- their wings spread wide, “tell me that you belong to me, that you're mine.”
Haarlep was losing control, the walls around their consciousness falling apart with every thrust… Until you wrapped your arms around their head and pulled them into you, “I-i’m yours, I'm yours~!! Only yours, my love~!!” You could feel your heart quicken at the realization of what you were about to confess, “I've always belonged to you and no one else. My heart, my body, my soul, are yours… I-“ You could feel your tears welling, “I love you, Haarlep- my dear incubus, my Haarlep.”
You couldn’t see the way Haarlep’s eyes widened, their lips parting as their name fell from yours- or how their face softened… But you could feel the way their grip loosened, their claws retracting as they embraced you while pressing their face against your shoulder.
They planted a gentle kiss upon your neck before their tongue swept across the wounds they inflicted, lapping away the traces of your blood. The hand once constricting your throat shifted to support the back of your head, softly angling it to the side to grant themselves a clearer path.
Your fingers ran through Haarlep’s hair, and your hips rocked against theirs. It was a sweet moment, a moment where you held each other close, and the world seemed to fade away. You knew Haarlep would never say the words back, but this right here, their embrace, their soft thrusts- that was all you needed.
In the aftermath, Haarlep was fast asleep on your chest, their breathing deep and even. You gently ran your fingers through their hair, smiling when you felt them stir and snuggle closer. You watched the way their wings spread across the bed, almost like a personal shield, a blanket that enveloped you both in warmth.
They were a vision of perfection, their skin flawless, and their horns shone like polished ebony. Haarlep was perfect, everything about them was perfect, and you felt a sudden surge of pride and happiness knowing that it was because of you that they had reclaimed their true self.
Your hands trailed over the softness of their wings, and you couldn't resist pressing a kiss against the tip of their horn, “So beautiful," you whispered, “So very, very beautiful.”
Nothing was left of Raphael on them, it was just them. Before death's cousin known as sleep could consume you- you swore to yourself that no matter what, you would protect Haarlep from the world, and from the devils who tried to shape them.
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ramshacklerumble · 9 days
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can I see an ashi and gigi interaction <//3 look she even has an emote 🌺
KIDDING!!!!!! BUT HI I WANT MORE GIGI CONTENT 🫶 really curious about 🦐🦑🍄 octotrio? this is my attempt at more unagi crumbs BUT!!! I AM GEN CURIOUS ABOUT OCTO INTERACTIONS 🫣 don’t think I’ve seen gigi interact w the other two ssssso 👁️👁️
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in a nutshell?
if these three carked it right in front of them, gia would at long last repent and hole up in a nunnery like the good lord intended.
jk. (kinda)
on paper, gia is the octotrio’s personal henchboy as payment for a “favor” floyd does them a little prior/early into the events of book 5. (currently working on a one-shot that goes into this) originally gia’s tenure under the mostro lounge was only meant to be for a few weeks, but it’s made readily apparent once the octotrio finds use in something they are not about to let it slip through their fingers.
so begins the trio's pattern of finding even the smallest infractions on gia’s part as cause to extend their servitude under them. this is, understandably, why there's little love lost between them. i’d say gia prays for the trio’s downfall, but gia isn’t religious and far too proactive to wait around for that to happen.
they’ve made it their personal mission not to leave nrc until octavinelle is burning at their feet.
in reality, gia’s relationship with the octotrio is quite complicated.
they’ve been an absolute pain in the neck in every single encounter, but it doesn’t take gia long to realize the octotrio is their speedrun towards getting some REAL power in their hands. proud and hard-working they may be, gia is ultimately a pragmatist at heart.
though a bit of a showman, azul IS an undeniably powerful mage with many a tentacle in many a pie. the twins are nothing to sneeze at either.
as much as gia hates their guts, these three are their chance to make it not only to graduation but to actually make something of themself when staying at night raven is no longer an option.
and that’s not even getting into the growing familiarity between gia and the trio steadily murking the waters…
🦑 AZUL ASHENGROTTO: (tagging @thehollowwriter since you also sent an ask for azul)
perhaps the most subtle dynamic of the three (making it the hardest to explain) gia's view of azul can be largely inferred by their joke-title for him: boss.
if azul wants something done, then gia gets it done. gia proves themself an incredibly adept asset to azul and it's why azul pulls whatever strings he can to keep them under his thumb.
that said, while gia puts up with much of azul's overworking and respects they are indebted to the trio by not putting up much of a fuss-- azul is aware he occasionally has to sweeten the pot if he wants to keep it that way.
he'd be a fool to forget this was the same person who got all his original contracts turned to dust. and besides: what good, gracious employer doesn't reward his employees for their hard work?
so azul doesn't mind giving gia access to a few of his private merchandise channels, maybe even some of his more advanced grimoires and alchemy notes, etc.
this dynamic remains largely unchanged for a while, though if one were to squint they might catch a degree of casualness peppering their interactions over time. they indulge in subtle sniping-- even minor trolling-- namely from gia who finds azul an easy target.
they are not fully aware of how things have changed until @cyanide-latte's chrysanthos shroud makes quite a bitter impression on them both. in a low moment surprising even azul, he admits to gia that shroud makes him feel inadequate as a housewarden-- made worse by the fact azul knows it isn't shroud's intention. shroud, in his own way, truly embodies the spirit of benevolence an octavinelle housewarden should be and it's something azul wonders he'll ever be able to do himself. (you can read more on this in cy's post: here!)
gia, in an attempt to give azul the peace of mind that they won't try to use this moment of weakness against him (and bolstered by the knowledge this could come in as blackmail should he think to use what they're about to tell him), shares a bit of their own worries shroud managed to jar loose.
working for the trio is hard, however, it's also been the path that's given gia the most opportunities. but, with the trio being a year ahead of them, gia is well aware their time with them is limited. they can’t help but mull over what is to become of them when the trio leave for their senior internships. gia will likely never see them again and likely be nothing more than a footnote from the trio’s school lives. a strange, magicless weirdo from another dimension, wasn’t that a fun little story?
gia’s probably going to have a lot of free time as a junior and who knows how they plan to go about senior year, frankly, they’re a bit at a loss with themself…
anyway. if it weren't for azul """kindly""" giving them the chance to gain what they DO have by working for him (or whatever), they'd probably be even more lost than they are now. he's a pain and a half, but he's probably not the worst housewarden in octavinelle history.
at this, azul reminds gia he's made his plans to branch out the mostro lounge to the public quite clear. gia wouldn’t be bound to them anymore, but it'd be a shame to let their experience at the school's location go to waste, wouldn't it?
🍄 - JADE LEECH
gia's relationship with jade is probably the strangest because despite jade being the one that wigs gia out the most, he is also the one gia openly gets along with the best.
fun fact: gia opened up their own club. the biking club. they are the only person in said club because, for some reason or another, they reject anyone who tries to get in. it might have to do with the fact the reason the club exists is because they needed an excuse to have a bike on school grounds they are allowed to ride anywhere unquestioned-- such as for personal errands or scavenging for potion ingredients. this includes up in the mountains.
y'know who else is often in the mountains..?
because of this little coinkidink, jade found a very weak and fevered gia struggling to get off the ground because they'd stupidly decided to go out foraging while sick. and of course, what good, gracious vice-housewarden of octavinelle wouldn't lend a hand to a poor, unfortunate underclassman in need despite their fervent protests? they're obviously, deliriously ill and are unaware of what's best for them…
indebted to jade on top of the octotrio as a whole, gia lost what little personal time they had as president of their own one-man club. now the biking club is (semi-officially) affiliated with his mountain lovers' club-- meaning gia accompanies him whenever he goes and bikes him around trails whenever he feels like it.
in theory, being alone up a mountain with jade leech should be terrifying, but gia sincerely enjoys these outings. jade is not only incredibly well-versed in mountain flora but a skilled potionologist in his own right.
honestly, it’s not bad.
BONUS:
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BONUS BONUS:
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they're friends :)
@inmateofthemind @simons-twsted-children @tixdixl @jovieinramshackle @blithesharem @theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk (lemme know if anyone wants to be included in tags)
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officialspec · 2 months
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What do you think gay men are attracted to in men that they can’t be attracted to in women?
It can’t be anything about femininity or masculinity obviously. That’s both sexist, and cultural so can’t be what drives men-only attraction.
It can’t be anything about stated identity because someone could lie just as easily as they could tell the truth in such a statement, and it makes no sense because homosexuality and heterosexuality exists in other species with no stated identities. It’s not like other animals without gender are all pan.
Saying idk it’s the vibes or some indescribable trait men have that women can’t but “I can’t explain” is a nonanswer.
Soooooooo what is it? Or do you think any sexuality but bi/pan is just cultural performance or an identity rather than an inborn orientation?
- [ ]
first off i hate this ask and i think youre a freak. in any other world i wouldve blocked you for this but unfortunately for both of us i actually like this type of philosophy. dont send this shit to anyone else though
i dont think its right to compare human sexuality to the same thing in animals, to get that out of the way. im sure until a certain point it comes from the same biological impulses, but human beings have way more complicated social structures and reasons for coupling that just do not exist in other animals. our social behaviours are what make us unique in the animal kingdom and that definitely extends to gender and sexuality. so theres that
people love to tout 'gender is a social construct' around like its a criticism in and of itself, which i think betrays a misunderstanding about social constructs in general. theyre the foundations we build language on to better understand each other, and affected by a whole host of cultural and historical factors. just because theyre subjective and complicated doesnt mean they arent real. in terms of the effect they have on peoples lives they may be the most real thing that exists
for example, 'kindness' is a social construct. the definition and ways it is enacted differ greatly across personal and cultural lines. but no one would ever suggest a world where kindness doesnt exist or loses meaning, because its an essential part of the way we interact with each other (in the same way i dont really see a world where gender entirely ceases to exist, mainly just one where people have more fun with it. im not a psychic though so who knows)
similarly, sexuality in humans is another social construct. i think the driving biological forces behind it are very real, but the labels people attach to those impulses are subjective attempts to express their inner world to the people around them if that makes sense. and those same biological impulses are ALSO subject to social ideas of gender, because those ideas are established at birth and reinforced over a persons entire lifetime
to use myself as an example, im a gay trans man. ive identified as other things in the past, because i was trying to pick apart feelings i had and express them to others in an attempt to find community. my identity might change as i get older and experience new things, or it might not. i identify as gay because im not attracted to the social concept of women, and someone i would otherwise be attracted to might lose all appeal after i find out they fall under that concept (this has happened before w transfems pre and post coming out lol)
of course, the real REAL answer to this is that trying to give queer identities rigid and objective definitions is a fools errand, and also lame as fuck. someone might identify as gay and be more attracted to general masculinity than men as a social category, maybe they fool around with a couple of butch women without considering themself any less gay. two otherwise identical people might be a butch lesbian and a gay trans man without either of those identities coming into conflict. they might even be the same person at different times of the week
the labels people choose to use are communication tools, not objective signifiers. if you dont understand them, they probably arent talking to you
social constructs are everything. we as humans have the unique ability to interpret our own messy desires and impulses into words that other people can use to form an idea of someone else in their mind. its how we build connections, and of course it isnt perfect because trying to squeeze someones entire personal history and the centuries of context that defined it into a handful of syllables is going to leave some room for error. but its all we have, yknow? so we keep trying. and i think thats much more human than any imposed objective 'truth' could ever be
tldr we live in a society dipshit. get with it
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takeme-totheworld · 4 months
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You Can't Go Home Again
I'm someone who walked away from my childhood religion almost twenty years ago, and I'm very firmly at a place in my life now where I am very happy to be through with it and have zero lingering desire to go back. I've also been out as some kind of queer person for the same almost-twenty years, and I've been out as trans for almost fifteen of those years.
If you knew absolutely nothing else about me or my life except for those major plot points, and the fact that I'm a Good Omens fan, it would be reasonable to assume that I would identify with Crowley far more than Aziraphale. At least at this point in my life. And in fact, I've seen many fans with backgrounds similar to mine say that they used to be much more like Aziraphale when they were younger, but nowadays they see far more of themself in Crowley. Which makes sense, as a trajectory for people who grew up in controlling religions and then left!
I've been trying to figure out what it is about me that makes me so automatically take Aziraphale's perspective when watching this show, even though the most aggressively Aziraphale time of my life was literal decades ago now. And I think that's probably a very complicated answer, but I realized today that I see an emotional struggle happening in him that I still wrestled with for years and years after leaving the church before I was finally able to completely put it to rest—the struggle to accept that some things can never go back to the way they were.
I seriously suffered so much over this for so long after I left the church. Despite all the damage it had done to me, my entire life had been intertwined with the church and a lot of things that were good—or at least deeply comforting in their familiarity—had also been a part of that. I had plenty of genuinely happy memories all mixed together with the harmful ones (which, in case you were wondering, is confusing as hell). There were fundamental human needs that I had only ever gotten met through the church, and as double-edged as what the church provided was, it was all I knew. Learning to get those needs met in new ways was much healthier, but it wasn't what I had always known growing up and it was a loss.
And I spent a long time refusing to fully accept that going back to any version of Christianity or the church just...wasn't ever going to be in the cards for me.
That is in the cards for some people, I know. Some folks who leave or get kicked out of ultra-dogmatic and controlling churches eventually find new homes in much more progressive and nurturing ones. And that's great! But that was never going to be my path. The process of seeing my childhood religion for what it truly was, losing my beliefs, leaving everything the church was to me further and further behind, and gradually learning who I was without it, changed me too much for me to ever be able to go back again.
I am fine with that now. More than fine. I'm healthier and happier now than I've ever been. Over time I grew into a version of myself that no longer has a church/religion/faith-shaped gaping wound in my life I'm trying to fill. But it was hard and painful and it took a really long time for me to get there. I spent a lot of my twenties and even a bit of my early thirties trying to find something...some new church community that I could be connected to in some way, that would give me back some of what I'd lost when I left my childhood church. But none of them ever did. I was never going to get the same things out of belonging to a church again, because I wasn't the same.
You can't go home again.
I see Aziraphale on that same journey and that's part of what makes my heart automatically go out to him and hurt for him, over and over again. He's still desperately holding onto the idea of a hypothetical version of Heaven and being an angel that can be home again one day. One where all the good things he remembers are still there, and still every bit as good, and all the bad parts have been fixed or gotten rid of, so that being there will be like the old times, only even nicer.
Except that even if he actually succeeded at somehow making Heaven the exact flavor of like-the-old-times-only-even-nicer that he is imagining, it wouldn't matter. Heaven is not his home anymore. He's already changed too much to be able to go back. He just hasn't accepted that yet.
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ellieluvr420 · 2 months
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Change (Abby Anderson x reader)
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They had her, the love of your life, they had her and they were going to die for it.
Your actions weren't even conscious anymore, acting only on instinct, adrenaline-fuelled rage that drove you to the point of insanity. There was nothing in your way because anything that tried to stop you was slaughtered, infected dropping left right and centre until the horde that they had lured to you was laying in a pile behind you. Your clothes drenched in blood, slowly drying and staining your skin until a new layer covers it as the next wave flies at you.
People this time, but it made no difference to you. The only person your mind could register was her, so when the sharp edge of your axe dug into the poor man's neck that made the mistake of running at you, the squelching feeling only made you more exhilarated. You rip the axe out of his neck and the splatter of blood that paints you and the floor tastes as sweet as honey to you. Two men go down as your gun fires twice.
You keep walking, your pace never slowing, and as two more soldiers walk in front of you with their hands up a sick smile plasters itself onto your face as you dig the axe into one's abdomen as you shoot the other straight in the throat. Their time to surrender was over, they made their bed and now they can lay in it for all eternity.
The closer you get to her the stronger you feel as you leave a trail of bodies behind you, your path stained red. You swap from your handgun and axe to your assault rifle as you see a large swarm of soldiers running at you. When you had stumbled across the gun hiding from other passers by you felt like you had won the lottery and as the melody of screams fills your ears while you watch them drop to the ground like flies, you only felt luckier. You had never been violent, you were forced into training to be a soldier but now you understood how it feels, the bloodlust, you would never stop. Not when you've got her back, not ever, anyone that isn't her would die if they crossed your path from now. You would never lose her again and if your soul had to wither away for that to happen you would give it up in a second.
The thundering bangs of bullet after bullet leaving the chamber of your gun made you dizzy, faint almost, the power surging through you was enough to make you feel like you weren't human. A whole wave of soldiers down, just like that. Commotion sounds from behind you and without even glancing backwards you light a molotov that you had been saving for an occasion like this and chuck it behind you. There's that melody again, the harmony of shrieks and cries for help, the smell of burning flesh invades your nostrils and to you it smells like a freshly baked cake. They shouldn't have taken her but they learned their lesson too late.
You push forward further and further until you reach the building you knew they were keeping her in. She's yours and she'll be with you soon. "I'll be there soon baby." You mutter to yourself as you change the magazine of your gun to a fresh one before slamming it into the glass of the locked doors, another barrier between you and her demolished. You're barely through the shattered door when you hear the footsteps of countless soldiers running to their deaths. You imagine some of them being sure this would be the mission that set them apart, that made them a hero, and then you imagine their families being informed that the fucking idiot got themself killed because they underestimated you. You're a different person to who you were when you were a part of the WLF and Abby is too and they were too stupid to see that when they took her from you.
You both made the plan to run and you weren't prepared to give up the dream any time soon. You were leaving and she was leaving with you, even if you had to kill every member of the WLF and reduce their bases to rubble, so be it. They chose this. The thundering footsteps got closer as you took cover behind a wall and raised your gun, ready for the first wave. The continuous thud that accompanied the firing of your bullets was music to your ears and as the hallway goes quiet you advance further. A shriek fills your ears and your blood runs cold because even in a state of distress you'd recognise her voice anywhere. You're so close.
You follow the sound until you're outside the room you know she's being held in. You sling your gun over your shoulder and brandish your axe as if it's made bespoke for your hand. You slam the door open and before even looking at the love of your life you bring the axe down into Isaac's head, over and over again until he's unrecognisable. You stand from his lifeless form, breathing heavy and eyes crazed before they soften as you make eye contact with her. She's here, really here and you could feel her soft skin caressing yours as you undid her binds and gave her your handgun. "Ready babe?"
"Let's go." You raise your gun once again as the crashing of soldiers coming straight at you sends shockwaves through your body. The more blood you spilled in your escape, the more you wanted to stay to spill more but Abby's hand gently pulling you toward the gate that let you run to your fantasy rips you away from the carnage you had left in your trail.
You had wanted to leave to find peace but this feeling had a funny way of changing you.
If blood wasn't spilling, you would never be at peace. Abby watched you change right in front of her eyes, you became a blood-thirsty monster and all she wanted to do was help you get your fill. You left for peace and peace for you both ended up being bringing death and destruction to whatever crossed your path. Darkness overtook you both and you revelled in it.
Bloodlust had transformed you into angels of death, falling further from grace with every body that dropped before you.
erm idk i needed some female rage vibes rn and instead i came out with something minorly psychopathic, akneewayz
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