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#i don't know precisely how things ended

smhalltheurlsaretaken · 2 months

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to that anon I got about my last posts: if you're hurt that I'm talking about antisemitism on tumblr rather than the Israel/Palestine conflict itself then you're going to have to make your peace with a star wars blog not being an effective platform for activism.

This is the point I've been trying to hammer home perfectly illustrated. I deviated ever so slightly from what's allowed on the subject to say that I can't participate in this website's idea of 'raising awareness' (distributing real facts and misinfo alike without a care and being a bunch of fanatic Jew haters in the process) and that I don't think I'm able to critically and accurately examine every piece of news that gets passed around here, and you're taking this to assume I don't care. So no, I'm not going to spend my time trying to prove that I do care to that particular crowd.

You're upset with me for not treating this like I did fandom and assuming I value fictional characters more than real people because of it, but it's precisely because this is infinitely more important that I'm not going to be doing real people the disrespect of giving my two cents on their suffering and deaths on the same platform I did STAR WARS.

#You don't know how I feel about the conflict and you can't claim to know #Because I made a point of not getting into it #I have tons of things I'd say and that I'm not saying #precisely because a bunch of sheltered western young adults (which I am) thinking they HAVE to speak out #about things they're primarily exposed to on social media #is how we ended up where we're at on this website #and by the way 'antisemitism is wrong' stands on its own and i don't need to say more no matter the context #and I won't be lectured about how I need to care about innocent people suffering and dying by a website full of raging antisemites #you were never upset about me shutting up on the war for months until I mentioned antisemitism and suddenly my not speaking out is wrong #why do you only care about my silence now and not before?#and why do you take me so seriously that my stepping away is matter of great disappointment to you?

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itwoodbeprefect · 1 year

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For the fic writing asks if I may be so bold: 🤡 / 🦅 / ✨ ???

you most definitely may!!

🤡 What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh?

ooh, the first thing that comes to mind right now is from a weird little superhero AU steve/danny (h50) wip. in it steve and danny only know each other under their superhero identities when they meet at a museum, and somewhere in the description (from danny’s pov) there’s an offhand line about a past fight with someone who was trying to take over honolulu with an electrified crab army, and then a few paragraphs later this came rolling out of the keyboard:

The stranger gives a short laugh. It’s more electrifying than a crab.

which is just. so stupid! so nonsensical! and yet in context danny has this thought very seriously, and that delights me. i’ve never before found a way to describe UST between characters in terms of little sea creatures who can probably shoot lightning from their claws.

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

most of them are short enough (and uncomplicated enough in structure) that creating an outline feels like it would be getting in the way of just writing the fic. for the longer stuff it differs, but that’s partially because i don’t always intend for the longer stuff to be the longer stuff, and then i just end up with so many words already written that i do my best to arrange them in an order that makes sense so i can fill in the gaps and smooth it all over until it’s coherent, so then in a way, i guess, the writing itself functions as an outline?

but i do also sometimes make bullet point notes for things that are supposed to get a little more complex than 5k of feelings discussion in a single room. i’m going to need to do that at some point for the starsky watches westerns fic, oof.

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it.

fjdkf after @sparrowsarus and @the-arya-silvertongue you are the third person to send me an ask for this game (thank you!) and also the third to send me this particular emoji, and i love all of you for it because it’s very sweet, but it IS getting hard to come up with different answers.

i think... my writing has improved, compared to a few years ago? when i read a fic from 2018 now, which is when i first really started posting to ao3 consistently, it’s fine, but i can definitely see ways that i would do it differently today, or even how i could do the exact same things but a little more effectively. which is really cool!

send me emojis (if you want)! 🌈

#thank you for playing!! 🎉#*#ask #and oh. to add to that last question. my english #i was fluent in 2018 but there's still a difference between 'fluent'#and 'so fluent that writing creative fiction in a style that heavily relies on subtle humor from very precise word choice is not a pain in t #*in the ass'#i genuinely don't know how noticeable that part is on the front end of things. but here on the back end. i notice. oh do i notice

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tizeline · 4 months

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Presenting: The AU I accidentally created OOPSIE!! 😬😬😬

And yes, I know, it's another Seperation AU, and yes YES, I KNOW, they're a bit overdone at this point, bUT LISTEN!! That's precisely how I ended up in this situation!!!

So there's a lot of Seperation AUs exploring a lot of different scenarios with the turtles being raised, well, seperately. I've seen quite a few of them at this point, and despite whatever the combination is when it comes to turtle + parental figure, I'm sure I'm not the only one who has noticed a pattern of specifically Donnie often being raised by a villain. Which makes sense, he has a tendency to put on this evil-mad-scientist-act in the show, so of course a lot of us want to see what Donnie would actually be like as a proper antagonist. But that just made me think think of the opposite possibility, of Donnie being the singular good guy while his brothers are all bad guys. Mind you, I'm sure SOMEONE must've thought of this concept before me, but I haven't seen it! So here we are!

In this AU (which doesn't have a name so don't ask!) Splinter only managed to yoink Donnie during The Incident™, so he ended up an only child, while Raph, Leo and Mikey were raised by Draxum. I also imagine Draxum being at least a decent dad considering the circumstances, so the kids he raised ended up with pretty similar personalities to what they have in canon.

Because of that we get Hero Donnie who acts all villainous cuz he's a total theaterkid, and Villain Raph, Leo and Mikey who act all heroic cuz they honestly believe they're doing the right thing in literally destroying all of humankind and as a result developed an intense case of main character syndrome.

Anyway here's some references-

I don't know how far I'll explore this AU. I fully intended to just make like one or two posts rambling about the basic concept, but when I was drawing these images my brain went into full Brain Blast mode and I started coming up with a bunch of other ideas so uh... we'll see how this turns out later I guess haha

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fullhalalalchemist · 10 months

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🚨🚨CONGRESS SECRETLY TRYING TO SNEAK IN EARN IT ACT COPYCAT INTO MUST PASS SPENDING BILL (PLEASE READ EXTREMELY IMPORTANT)

July 20, 2023 Congress is right now determining what is included in a must pass spending bill the NDAA. Often congress will sneakily add as amendments their bills that they can't pass in a normal setting.

If you remember, I made a previous post about EARN IT being reintroduced here.

The EARN IT Act and it's copycats are bipartisan bills that will greatly censor if not completely eliminate encryption and anything sexual and LGBTQ+ from the internet, globally. Anything the far-right doesn't like will be completely gone. The best way to stop them is to use https://www.badinternetbills.com/ to call your senators.

Following it's initial introduction earlier this year was massive opposition from human rights, LGBT, tech, political groups, and grassroots groups. Bc of this, the senators decided to remake the bill but give it a new name, so they can still pass Earn It without actually passing Earn It. Those bills are the Stop CSAM Act (yes really, they actually named it that), and the Cooper-Davis act.

The entire point of these bills is to mass surveil and censor everyone and I don't know why more people or senators speak out against it. There is a direct timeline from when the Attorney General Barr (under Trump) said he wanted to do this to it's initial introduction in 2019, and how the senators explicitly knew they couldn't actually say that so they lied and said it was about "stopping CSAM" or "stopping drugs" for Cooper-Davis Act.

These bills essentially do the following:

they gut encryption, the one thing actually protects you from having your data seen by anyone. Do you want republicans to know you're trans? that someone had an abortion? that they spoke out against the govt? to see your private photos you have uploaded to the cloud? to see what porn you watch? if youre a journalist, or an abuse survivor, any hacker or abuser can see your stuff and track you.

they gut parts of Section 230, the one thing that allows anyone to post online and birthed social media. Previous gutting into 230 gave us the tumblr nsfw ban and killed that site.

they create an unelected commission with some already established govt body (DOJ, FTC, etc) that will include law enforcement and people from NCOSE or other Christian conservative groups who will decide what is and isn't lawful to say. no citizen can vote who's on this commission, and the president gets to pick. it's like the supreme court, but for the internet.

lead to mass censorship and surveillance because of the above

We have until the end of the month to stop this, but this can be added literally any moment until then. It's literally code red. If this is added it goes into effect immediately. The BEST way to stop this is to drive calls and emails to the senate. https://www.badinternetbills.com/ connects you directly to your members of congress & gives you a call script.

It is ESSENTIAL to call the Senate leaders who can stop this. Here's a more precise call script you can use: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1huD5Ldd1lPTECYTEb9Gg2ZzrqW6Y9tryHT-MdjOl8kY/edit

All these people expressed concern over Earn It, so we need to press them hard to not allow it's copycats Cooper-Davis or Stop CSAM into the NDAA. This is URGENT and needs all hands on deck. Chuck Schumer (D-NY) (202) 224-6542 Maria Cantwell (D-WA) (202) 224-3441 Jon Ossof (D-GA) (202)-224-3521 Alex Padilla (D-CA) (202) 224-3553 Cory Booker (D-NJ) (202) 224-3224 Mike Lee (R-UT) (202) 224-5444

Please please please spread this message and blow up their phones.

TLDR; The Senate is trying to quietly push the Earn It Act's copycat bills into the must pass NDAA, which will lead to mass censorship and surveillance online by gutting Section 230 which is the entire reason you can even be on tumblr and why the internet exists, killing encryption which put everyone's lives in danger, and appointing far-right people to a supreme court-esque commission that the president has direct control over. They could be added in ANY DAY and we need to push hard to stop it before it gets to that point. CALL YOUR SENATORS **NOW** BY USING https://www.badinternetbills.com/ AND CALL THE SENATE LEADERSHIP AND SPREAD THE WORD!!!!

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canyourfavesurvivecastledracula · 3 months

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Would Rincewind from Discworld survive Castle Dracula?

I've got multiple asks apiece for Sam Vimes and Moist von Lipwig, but HECK YES I wanna talk about Rincewind!

If Rincewind knows one thing, it's when to run away from a bad situation. The Dead travel fast but Rincewind is faster. Rincewind does not want to be here. Nobody nopes like him. At the very first red flag Rincewind is RinceOUT.

...unfortunately Fate hates him. Inevitably, he ends up sheltering for the night... at Castle Dracula.

(Re: the crucifix, "for your mother's sake" is unlikely to move him, since she ran away before he was born. But Rincewind doesn't shave - he needs his beard, he has too little as it is!)

Rincewind is a coward by birth, upbringing and vocation. He is pretty good at convincing people not to kill him and he usually looks too pathetic to be worth the bother. He is not at all good at convincing people not to force him into heroic roles that he absolutely does not want. But staying alive is pretty much his speciality.

Rincewind is afraid of perfectly ordinary women - he is terrified of the Girlies, and is just as good at running from them screaming as Jonathan is. Better, arguably. I don't think anyone has ever said "I too can love" about him though, and I don't think anyone is going to. Dracula may not rescue him from the Girlies ... but he gets lucky and escapes them somehow.

Fate may hate him, but the Lady think he's her specialist little guy. Rincewind's luck is extraordinary.

And that's the clincher for me. Rincewind is Fate's chewtoy and DEATH's hobby, but he is the champion of an actual literal god, and She is going to pull him through kicking and screaming.

For anyone asking why he doesn't try magic, magic is not going to help him because he's real bad at it. Dracula is an objectively better wizard than he is, and I honestly don't know how this informs their relationship.

...oh man if Dracula takes his hat he's gonna be so mad. So mad.

His one biggest hurdle is going to be the wall due to his crippling fear of grounds. But I think the Lady will have his back on this one, so when he accidentally trips and falls out the window he'll have no choice but to climb. He'll hate ever second of it. But once he makes it down, the Jon-a-Thon is precisely what he's best at.

I sadly don't think Dracula's library is extensive enough to allow him to access L-space.

I do think Rincewind would try to fight Dracula with a half-brick in a sock over the baby steal. Rincewind loves kids and gets occasional bouts of heroism in spite if himself. But the door is locked and he can't get out of his room.

I am fudging this a bit, but I do not believe the Lady will let him die if it can be avoided through sheer dumb luck. And so therefore Rincewind the Wizzard can survive Castle Dracula, but would vastly prefer not to have to

#Rincewind #Discworld #wizards and spellcasters

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vaspider · 3 months

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Look. A little advice.

Once you get to a certain amount of Known on the internet or a subsection of it, or even in a subsection of a RL group of people, there are going to be people who will make up a version of you which exists only in their heads and which has absolutely nothing to do with who you are. It might better resemble who you were twenty years ago or it might never have had anything to do at all with who you were then or are now.

You cannot stop this. You cannot prevent this. Once you get a certain number of followers or a certain amount of attention, that's going to happen: people will make up stories about you which either look through a fun-house mirror at some small aspect of who you are and twist it and blow it up until it doesn't resemble you at all, or which just have absolutely no basis in fact whatsoever.

This is just another kind of parasocial relationship; it's the kind which really sucks to deal with, because it's so negative and so pervasive. It's very real, and the frustration you feel about it is very real. Nobody wants to be known incorrectly.

But. You can't control this. It's gonna happen. No matter what you say, no matter how precisely you say it, the people who want to misinterpret you will find a way to do so. This doesn't mean 'don't pay attention to what you say,' or 'don't be purposeful and precise with your language,' but it does mean 'don't obsess over the people who are determined to get you wrong.'

You can be the most anodyne, run-of-the-mill, unremarkable human being, and the people who are determined to hate you will find something that they can point to and say 'ha ha! I told you that Spider danced with the devil at midnight! I witnessed it myself!' (It will not help the situation if you are, say, self-admittedly stubborn as fuck, long-winded, and sometimes kinda fucking obnoxious, but please realize that in the end, it doesn't really matter. This is gonna happen no matter what.)

The people who matter will look at what's being said, wrinkle up their foreheads, and say, 'uh, man, it looks like Spider was actually playing with his dog at 9 am?'

That said, if you don't have elephant-thick skin from being a marginalized-gender human being who's been on the internet since before the web had pictures, there are some things you can do to make it easier when people making things up about you starts to get on your nerves:

Establish protocols for when it becomes too much: have someone read your messages, turn off your notifications, have time where you purposefully disengage.

Establish protocols for how you interact, period: "I will block people without guilt if they engage positively with the people who spread untruths about me." "I will answer everything in public so people can't lie about what I said, because it's right there in public." "I will not answer work-related stuff in DMs, that has to go to the work email." Whatever it is, create some boundaries for yourself. Stick to them. The people who push you to bend them aren't doing that for your benefit but theirs.

If you get someone who really hits your Weirdo Alarm, trust it. Yeah, block and report, but also, take screenshots and store them somewhere that isn't easily erased. I have an 'Internet Weirdos' folder, which makes it a little easier to deal with when people start doing things like 'making threats of physical harm to me and my family.' Don't fuss, just take a screenshot and chuck it in the folder. Having that record makes it easier to just forget that it ever happened, because you have a paper trail if anybody starts doing something Real Weird.

Spend time offline, with people who do actually know you.

Don't get lost in the version of you that someone else makes up in order to make up for the shit that's missing in their own life. You aren't required to play the part that someone else is trying to script for you. It is never to your benefit, only to theirs; you gain nothing by standing in that role for them, and you lose precious seconds of your one irreplaceable life.

You could be using those seconds to look at this video of how to pick up a duck, which I think we can all agree is a better investment of your time.

youtube

#internet #Youtube

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princess-stabbity · 1 year

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my mom has this tendency to assume, if i express a strong opinion on something, that i'm having a kneejerk emotional response, and haven't thought it through. and i wonder sometimes if other people do too, and it's just less obvious (because mom will try to counter with hypotheticals meant to challenge my statement).

the thing about me, tho, is when i let loose with a strongly-worded opinion, it's usually something i've been gnawing over quite a bit, actually. i have a deep-seated dread of Being Wrong, factually or morally, like to a clinical degree so usually when i say something, it's carefully couched in tentative language, and/or something i've thought about quite a bit.

this is not to say that i'm never acting or speaking emotionally, or that i never give in to kneejerk reactions. quite frankly, the people who brag they're perfectly rational tend to be the least, because they believe rationality and emotionality are inherently mutually exclusive. since they have assigned themselves the identity of A Rational Person, any reaction they have must be rational. So they conflate their emotions with objective reality, and at best work backwards to justify their initial emotional response, rather than examine and process it.

but despite the platitudes about missed opportunities, most of the regrets i've had in my life have been about shit i've said without thinking. times i've said something ignorant, or unkind, or just been confidently incorrect about something and embarrassed myself. so, in my dotage, i try very hard to restrain my impulse to shoot from the hip.

i'm still wrong sometimes, i'm sure. but at the very least, i can usually say i did the due diligence of trying to think it over thoroughly first. reading conflicting opinions, trying to get all the facts, investigating every possible counterpoint i see, consulting someone whose insight i trust, and finally just writing it down and coming back later to see if i still feel the same way. i literally have over 3,000 drafts on this site, in large part because that's the primary place i dump my hot takes. (as you can imagine, learning there's apparently a bug where sometimes people can see shit from your drafts on their dash was a fucking horrifying revelation.)

i guess i just wonder why she makes this assumption. like, is it just her (possible, she really prides herself on "seeing things from all sides")? or is it something about me: does the force of my expression alone makes it seem as though i'm working on pure emotion, because people instinctively assume that's incompatible with reason? or is it perhaps the contrast with the overly meek way i often express myself otherwise (for ex, i remember saying "i think we're out of those" once to a customer at work when i knew for a fact we were, and mentally kicked myself when they demanded i check to be sure). or is it something else entirely?

i don't know. all i can say is when i do actually post rants here, it's typically, like, the fourth draft on a topic that's been pissing me off for months, not something i threw out there in the heat of the moment

#i don't even usually argue with her anymore when we get pissed at each other #i leave. wait for us both to no longer be angry. and come back with 'here's how this made me feel' or w/e #which she's noticed and praised me for #so the assumption i can approach THAT coolly but not like. idk. the j*hnny d*pp thing. just feels a bit silly #and i think that's what annoys me about the whole thing: shouldn't she of all people recognize this by now?#dad does. when i express a strong opinion on smth he wants to know why #because he knows - even if he ultimately doesn't end up agreeing with me (tho he usually does) - that i have Reasons #and he's very open to learning new things and having his mind changed #whereas mom wants that in theory but i think part of her dislikes that coming from her own child even tho. y'know. she raised me this way #but i don't think all of this is mom. i do think some of this probably comes back to smth abt the way i express myself #which is frustrating bc. y'know. this is precisely the time i WANT people to listen and think about what i have to say #you'd think when the person who usually hedges and talks about the nuances says smth declarative for once it would hold MORE weight #but somehow i feel people listen less the more certain i am #even tho i usually try to approach with facts and carefully constructed arguments #and meet them where they're at rather than lecture from on high or pound the bully pulpit #perhaps the secret is most people would rather be gently lured to a conclusion so they can feel like they got there themselves

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lonicera-caprifolium · 8 months

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Body-swap theory!!

okay, just putting this all together for ease of access, since it's been spread out across several posts now--

The day after it aired I watched the ending like actually 30 times and I became fully 99.999999% certain they switched places. I was initially thinking during the kiss, cuz of how the camera angle changes, but after watching an additional 20 times a few days later, I'm personally leaning much more towards them stopping time in the instance after "no nightingales".

Before the kiss, Aziraphale is saying "nice" things about the Metatron, but his face and voice keep switching to broadcasting distress, and they make it a point to show in ep 1 that Crowley can read him just from tone of voice

As they're pulling away after the kiss, they lock eyes and "Aziraphale's" expression shifts in the teeniest tiniest way, like a confirmation glance, before they shift back (and Michael Sheen is a master, so no chance it's not on purpose)

---(Like really, go back and watch how Aziraphale's expression shifts literally *a second* before "I forgive you" cuz the change is SO minute, but entirely different emotionally.)

Also the way he moves his jaw right after he pulls his hand away from his lips, is a bit from MS's Crowley (you can see it in the very last two seconds of this vid- link)

Aziraphale's hands -stay by his sides- after that, he doesn't clasp them at all, and it's particularly noticeable while he's walking to the elevator with Metatron. The way he walks is very stiff and precise, similar to after the swap in S1.

We don't see the underside of Crowley's jacket collar after the kiss, at any point (it is for sure red at the beginning of the ep, you can see it right before he changes in Heaven)

The Bentley drives away SLOWLY, which is how Aziraphale drives, and we're specifically shown that it only plays other music for Aziraphale

the seats in the Bentley are black as it drives away. They're usually brown, and the only other time they're shown to be black is when Aziraphale drives (@picturesque-about-it broke down the times so you can see-link)

---extra pic for anyone saying it's "cuz Aziraphale is lighter"-- the seats are still brown behind Crowley when he wears white

there's people wearing yellow in -every- part of the scene showing the Bentley both before and while it drives away! (link for pics/credit)

Aziraphale's smile in the elevator looks more like MS's Crowley. It's very similar to the trial during S1, but also (link)

This also explains why they're on opposite sides than they're usually shown while the end credits roll

Extra points--

many good points made by other folks here, about cues and snakes in beehives and swap motifs throughout the season-- link

The clock! Someone mentioned how the scene is so quiet you can hear it ticking, so I watched the ending a further 50 times to double check----I need to preface this by stating, I don't think this is a working clock, mainly cuz the hands aren't 100% where they should be between the minutes and the hours, like -a person- moved them to that time manually

When they're talking, the clock is at approximately 9:25 (?, again the hour hand isn't precisely set), then they walk across the room, and kiss, and immediately after that the clock is set about 15-ish minutes later (link to timestamps)

thanks to these bts shots, we can see that the clock on the opposite side of the room registers the SAME time difference before and after the kiss (link)

the first time Aziraphale looks "towards the window", I'm petty sure he actually looks further back towards the clock, *focuses on it* as Metatron walks up to him, and then spends the ENTIRE REST OF THE EXCHANGE blocking the Metatron's view of the clock

we're shown earlier in the season that Crowley can localize his time-stopping to a certain extent, like when he stopped the doctor and the rest of the room kept going, so it is possible he only stopped everything -outside- of the bookshop

---I KNOW Neil said it's a continuity error, but he also fully said "No" about there being a season 2 just days before they announced it was already written and in production, so. Take him at his word if that's what you wanna do.

---also I DID go back and look it over, and the clock IS consistently specifically set the entire rest of the episode as far as I can see. From the shots when you have a clear view of the clock, the angels and demons enter the shop at around 6, Maggie and Nina leave at around 7, the Metatron comes in at 8-ish, Aziraphale comes back in at that approximately 9:25

(insight from someone who works in production- link)

the music right before the kiss scene is the same leitmotif (Life After Death) used when they originally started formulating the swap in season 1! (link)

the movie Stairway to Heaven (1946) is featured as a poster in both the opening credits and in Maggie's shop (link)

the climax of the film has one of the leads willing to "take the place" of the other in heaven

(they also used a time-stopping mechanic, and the chess book Gabriel tests gravity with also plays a key role in the film)

and one last mention, extra food for thought--- the season's focus on their trusting one another, their history of performing "death (and heaven/hell) defying" feats together, and how they always get the trick right when it truly counts the most

that's what I've got so far!

If I'm right, they're apart now, but are actually more together then ever, and I find that terribly exciting. (And if I'm wrong, that's okay too! I'm just here to have fun.)

I'm not particularly concerned with very specific reasoning (that's for season 3 to tell us!), but I do think this theory is extra fun cuz pretty much any of the others could be the "why" driving it.

I'm not trying to convince anyone, or put down any of the other theories, so if you're not feeling it, that's okay! I'm just sharing what clues I'm seeing, so you can check if you see them too. 💕

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2 spoilers #Good omens s2 body-swap theory #long post #a snake in a beehive but this time -properly- disguised #there's a lot of little things and possibilities that make sense too #but this is just the main points I can see from things that are actually shown or featured #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley

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inkskinned · 1 year

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i'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. and the truth is that i get frustrated with myself about it - again? we're like this still? again? it's not that i feel weak, precisely. it's just this sense almost like - i've already been pushing against this thing for years now, shouldn't i have gained more ground?

i get frustrated because i'm sick of picking up the loose ends every six months. i get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - i lose myself in a matter of months; spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. i stop taking care of myself and therapy gets hard and i let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off; start somehow both sleeping too much and not-enough. i panic-attack and cry in my car in a target parking lot, pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when i'm better, i'm embarrassed because how could i let it get that far?

it feels like - i already have done this so many times. isn't there a way out of it? isn't there a point where i've just... won? that it never happens again, that i just get to be done? maybe this is weakness, i guess - that i still (so often!) succumb.

i am used to it, so i forget exactly how hard it gets. do you even know how many times i've laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and listless and said - i can't anymore. i just can't. i'm not even really upset. it's okay. i've been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful.... i'm just... done.

do you know how many times i woke up and i said - i can't and put my feet on the floor and said i can't, i don't want to and took a shower and walked the dog and bought myself fresh bread and put a nice playlist on and said i really can't, there's no end to this and i went to work and i called a friend and i made myself cookies even if food tasted like ashes and decided that i really should wait for the new album from that artist i love and i thought i can't, it's not worth it and then i washed my hands and cut my hair and drank more water and wrote a poem and signed up for an art class at the local community college and said i can't, i can't, i won't do this again, and i paid my rent and let the dishes rot in the sink but still made myself eat anything fresh even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of plums just because they looked delicious and do you know how often i closed my eyes and thought this is it i really fucking can't, something has to give and i have nothing left that it can take and then i went to bed and i got up and i fucking survived anyway

yesterday the local ice cream place opened up for the first time this season and they were giving out tiny samples of their new dairy-free options and i tried a mango sorbet. three months ago i was positive that februrary was going to be my last month on the planet. i am teaching my dog a new trick and i just discovered a new band i love. i got a plant from the clearance aisle and repotted her and she's been perking up. i made salmon for alison and we ate it in her new house with her new beautiful baby girl. my manager told me he keeps recommending my work to others just because i always include a stupid number of puns. tomorrow i'm trying a new dance class. tomorrow i'm maybe going to buy more plums.

i forget, you know? it's not some bone-deep strength or some magical power. it's that some part of me knows - i need to stay. in all of this; out of all of this - i just want to choose love.

#writeblr #this is too honest and writing it made me cry #sorry #poetry

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iberiancadre · 2 months

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I've talked about this before but I have a deep dislike of sentiment like this within "leftist" circles, regarding unions. And it's practically always from USamericans, go figure.

(Before anyone interprets this post on bad faith, which is inevitable, I am not against being in a union and I am not telling people not to join a union, it's the most inmediate form of protection workers have and that is, in fact, good)

It's this overbearing insistence on joining unions, treating it like the best (and only) way of achieving workers' liberation, and I think that shows either a bad understanding of what unions are or a bad understanding of how capitalism works. Unions are bargaining bodies for workers, that's it. They aren't revolutionary, and they aren't going to kill your boss. And I want to really hammer in this point. They aren't revolutionary. Precisely because their role is to bargain, and to achieve better conditions within the system of salaried work.

You are never going to "liquidate the ownership class" by getting longer breaks, paid holidays and an excellent health plan. Keep in mind, bargaining with the capitalist is necessary, and that in itself isn't non-revolutionary, not necessarily. But the only purpose of a union is to bargain. I really don't think people get this. A union's only purpose is to bargain, it is to negotiate. Negotiations also necessarily imply compromises and unsatisfactory deals. Unions are not a magic key to not being exploited, and they especially are not the way to liberation.*

I think this is especially prevalent in the US because of two things:

Their labor movement is so fucked that any kind of opposition to capitalism is by default radical. And therefore some people feel it's enough to just tell people to join a union. However, this isn't unique to the US and many places have it much, much worse

Living in the imperial hegemon makes it very easy to ignore any other place outside of their little sphere. People can go years engaging in left-of-DNC circles but without ever leaving their USamerican community, they end up not knowing who James Baldwin is, to give a topical example. This affects the US labor movement by allowing them to ignore other places' struggles, so it's very easy to see anything they do as the horizon of political action. They only need to look to their own country for examples in action, and the truth is that the labor movement in the US has been largely very mild. In the cases when it has not been mild (notable exceptions include the Black Panthers), it's largely forgotten, demonized or revised in bigger circles.

So you get people who call themselves communists just for being unionists. But a communist is someone who identifies the core of exploitation to be the very structure of capitalism and work and attacks it. You are not a communist, however, for believing the core of exploitation is your shit boss who refuses to pay for dental.

And what's funny is that 90% of what people on here claim to be communist and anti-capitalist is just the norm on most of the world. People will hype up the DSA or VoteSocialist2024 as if they're breaking ground, and then you read their programs and they're just socialdemocrats. They are nothing more than reformists, just another manager of capitalism.

My father works for one of the biggest textile manufacturers and distributors in the world, and unionization is the norm, it's a "union job" but it's still shitty and exploitative. There are in fact 3 unions, and they engage in petty electoralism within the workplace, only sometimes actually protecting worker's rights, and that's a country-wide norm. This is what unions end up becoming when they become established, especially with a friendly government in place.

CCOO was a union created in the late fascist dictatorship in Spain, and they were genuinely fighting (with guns!) against the dictatorship. And the moment the dictatorship ended and they became the largest union in the country, they slowly became less and less radical, and more complacent. Last year they signed a labor reform that legalizes highly precarious and inconsistent forms of work contracts. That's not "liquidating the ownership class", that's just social-democracy when it doesn't need to be the opposition anymore

To wrap up, a note on syndicalism, anarcho-syndicalism, etc.

Unions are by their very nature an organization that only operates within one aspect of the life of the working class, the workplace. Sure, it's the main one and the part that defines us as a class, but it isn't the only one. In order to actually "liquidate the ownership class", you have to take power by force, and that will have to involve intervening outside of the workplace. What syndicalists used to claim is that unions can be the base of a socialist society and organize the entire working class to destroy capitalism. However, at that point, you have created a party and called it a union. And not only a party, but a myriad of them, each with their own characteristics and desires. So a multi-party system. I will not get into the viability of multiple parties in socialism in this post, but they are not unions in anything by name.

Footnote under the cut:

*I know I'm repeating myself a lot these days on this topic, but if you live in an imperial core country, there is no way to have prosperity (as the example above puts it) without some of that wealth coming from imperialism. It does not matter if your particular country never had colonies, it does not matter if your country is stereotypically nice (fuck the Nordic countries). And no, the expoliated wealth does not only remain within the capitalist class, there is always at least some circulation of wealth from the capitalist to the workers within any welfare program. If your workplace can afford to have long breaks, that is at least in part because your capitalist is profiting from the exploitation of the third world, and because the entire economies of imperial core countries uses the wealth extracted to support their deficits and to stabilize their currencies.

It's not a hard concept. If you can understand that it's basically impossible to manufacture batteries for renewable energy without exercising violence on places like the Congo, it's not that hard to understand the same is true for most things.

#real marxist hours #unions #finally got (mostly) all of my thoughts on this into words #accidentally posted before I completed it and now there's two posts :(

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bitchlessdino · 6 months

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take a seat (m)

Pairing: chan x afab!reader Genre: smut Word count: 2.9k tags: house mates au, couch sex, spitting, thigh riding, fingering, oral (fem. receiving) Summary: Who knew your favorite seat would someone else’s lap, let alone Lee Chan of all people. author note: hi. yall don't know how hype i am to see all of dino variety appearances, not only that. i am so proud of how far he's come. i only can say this was all him. finally his merit is being shown and appreciated. this is all so amazing. what an great time to be alive.

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch

It was the dead of night, long hours past hours of dusk and you were hitting the liquid fire too carelessly. You were starting to see things not clearly and started seeing people that you wouldn’t otherwise think about look more breathtaking than the rest. Every sway, every gaze, every lock of hair. He moved with both precision and ease, so effortlessly perfect in every light that hit him.

He even had you bewitched, probably the last person that would’ve ever thought these things about him. He’s charming—no doubt about it—but young and bright wasn’t your type. Lee Chan had to be the youngest and brightest. You knew one day you’d drown that brightness until that light would turn dim. That’s what you’ve always said, now you could feel your dribble coming from both ends.

You picked up remnants from your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes not once led astray away from his body that moved like shadows. Your legs stayed clamped together, twisting and turning in your seat. ‘Maybe it was the alcohol’, you thought, but that churn in your stomach and that shiver down your spine made it undeniable. Every time his eyes went as far as lingering in your direction, you’d flicker your gaze elsewhere in fear of being caught. You were ninety-seven percent sober at this point, and that mindset hadn’t changed.

“Okay, let’s wrap it up! 2 am. Time to get going. Uber everyone!” Seungcheol rounded up all his friends, pulling his phone out of his pocket to grab a ride.

You stood off to the side, silently observing as most of your friends tried animatedly convincing Seungcheol that the night was still young. He was still in your sight, so crazy mesmerizing that it made you claw up your own thigh. Your feet tapped anxiously against the concrete, pretending to think about anything else, and soon enough an SUV with a big logo on the windshield.

“Get in, children!”

“Wait,” you stopped them in their tracks, “there’s only enough for four extra people. We have five.”

Seungcheol shrugged, “I figured we could squeeze, or have someone sit on someone else’s lap.”

“We’re five fully grown adults,” Wonwoo interjected matter-of-factly, “There’s no squeezing. Any volunteers?”

You sighed, “I guess I will, since I’m a last minute addition tonight.”

“Alright, Chan will be the sacrificial lamb.”

The rest of your friends stared back at the young man expectedly, a puzzled expression on his face. “Uh, sure. No problem with me.”

You offered him an awkward smile before mouthing ‘sorry,’ to which he nodded, giving you silent reassurance that all was okay.

Everyone else made themselves comfortable and you made do with the painfully awkward situation, feeling Chan’s smooth and toned legs as you sat down. Like heaven underneath you, you almost melted into the durability of his thighs, nearly audibly moaning upon contact. You shifted your weight in his lap cautiously, attempting to find a less than comfortable position with no signs of success, having you internally curse to yourself. Like you were doing to your sanity, you gripped the bar above the car door to keep still, shallow breaths escaping your lungs. You glanced back at him apologetically; (1) for practically using him like a chair, (2) for enjoying it immensely.

“Am I heavy? I am, aren't I?”

He shook his head reassuringly, kindness in his eyes. “You’re fine. Don’t worry about it.”

One fast run over a speed bump and the lack of a seat belt caused a bounce against your fleshy seat. Chan instinctively found purchase around your waist, guiding you back to his lap safely as he locked his arms around you like an automatic safety net. His groan rose the hairs on your arms and the sensation of his toned chest hitting your back in his embrace made you swallow back audibly pleasure.

“Chan,” you softly moaned, sounding more sexually charged than you intended.

“Still good,” he repeated in a rasp, a subtle but noticeable flush on his cheeks. “Nothing I didn’t expect.”

Your other housemates chuckled like silent observers, keeping to themselves. The eldest passenger of all cleared his throat before making his announcement. “Sit tight, guys. We’re almost back at the sharehouse.”

No sworn word of Seungcheol could drop your elevated heart rate. Every passing minute you couldn’t stop thinking about how you were held for all those two seconds, feeling the pool of your heat dampen the thin fabric of your underwear. You avoided his eyes the rest of the trip, ignoring the burning churn in your stomach.

You couldn’t run out of that car fast enough when you reached the sharehouse lot. Your heart pumping out of your chest, you were ready to absolve all unchaste sensations to save face by locking yourself in your room for as long as you could. The others were quick to follow behind and you heard their footsteps a beat after yours up the stairs.

“Hey wait!”

Chan’s voice at the end of the hall could stop you from swinging your door for it to shut, sparing you a moment of peace. That moment didn’t last all that long before there was a knock on the other side of the door. Through the wood, you can hear the heavy panting of a man who ran too many flights of stairs too quickly to get there, you know because you were hyperventilating the same way getting away from him.

“You ran…so fast…barely caught up.”

You softly cleared your own throat, taking your time to speak through the door. “Sorry, Chan,” you croaked. “Really tired. Couldn’t wait to knock out. Maybe I can help you out with whatever you need tomorrow?”

“Oh, nothing like that. You ran away—I mean off—so quickly you dropped your wallet in the car.”

“Oh. Okay, uh.” You opened the door, viewing his relieved smile stretched across his cheeks. “Thanks, Chan.”

He handed it to you, his gentle touch slipped past yours and the sensation tensed against your skin. “No problem. Oh hey, are you coming to the event tomorrow too? Should be fun.”

You shook your head. “Oh, no. I mean tonight was great, but I’m probably just gonna recharge tomorrow.”

He nodded agreeably. “Ok. Sounds good.”

“Mmh,” you lingered at the door a moment too long, unsure of what to say next. “Well, good night, Chan.”

He politely smiled. “Good night.”

The door closed, shutting out the outside world, peace—finally—in its wake. That’s what you thought anyway.

The reality was that the following day took forever to come when you could hardly sleep, finding it in you only when the sun was an hour from rising. Most of the morning was spent in bed, listening to the rustle behind the very thin walls.

It was still the weekend but somehow the other people you lived with managed to keep themselves busy, probably because it was that much closer to Halloween. Even leaving your room, you see the house full of festivities from fake skeletons and sticky spiderwebs. They were nice to look at but not something you found a reason to go out for.

And for once, it looks like you aren’t alone. You weren’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing yet.

“You didn’t go to the party?” you plainly pointed out.

Chan shrugged from down the stairs, flaunting his Ironman tee shirt and sweatpants. “Thought it wouldn’t be as fun without you.”

“Yeah,” You smiled amused coming down the steps, “because I’m the life of the party, right?”

He chuckled, complexion somehow glossy and radiant in the darkness of the stairwell. “Those guys can be a lot and you’re chill. It’s a nice change of pace.”

The silence in the house was deafening. Had it been any other day before yesterday, this would’ve been fine—civil even—but the back of your head told you things. Things you wanted to do him from front to back, head to toe, sideways, all of the above. Chan had this vice grip on you that escape didn't even seem like an option.

“So we’re just like, the only people at the sharehouse right now?”

“That alright?”

“…sure.”

You ended up sharing the common room together, pretending as if inner demons wasn’t grinding your gears. The first thirty minutes went up in silence and silent chuckles while Halloween Town played, a healthy distance in between you both. Even if you didn’t celebrate the holiday that much, you enjoyed the movies.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much of a better time are you having than yesterday?”

You waved your hands defensively, laughing. “It’s not like that.”

He scoffed, watching you from his peripheral. “You were sitting at the bar all night just watching. You must’ve been bored.”

“I had fun, it’s just…staying home is nice sometimes. Not so suffocating.”

“Like that car ride, maybe?”

You let out quiet laughs, crossing your arms. “Ha. A little bit Kind of a bumpy ride.”

He looked for signs of any discomfort, memories of the night prior flashing in his head including the weight of your body against his. “If I startled you last night, sorry.”

“No, not at all. Your lap is actually comfortable.” The realization hit you like a bus and suddenly you had flying saucers for eyes.

He smiled at your expression, pressing it into a thin line to suppress the laughter threatening to erupt. “Really? I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I didn’t—I slipped. You kept me from flying out of my seat and out the window, you know? I just say dumb shit. Ignore it.”

“Noted, but since you said it…having you sit in my lap was an experience I didn’t think I’d enjoy as much as I did.”

You stared at him for a while, a thousand and one things running through your mind, one being the theory that he didn’t seem to hate what he was put through either.

“You can go ahead and ignore that if you want.”

Then your hand landed on his, wrapping around his digits as you lifted off the couch and in front of him. He quietly watched you turn around with your back towards his and slowly drop into his lap. You familiarized yourself with their warmth, your legs softly parted to embrace both his sides. Turning your head, you met eyes in sultry ponder, anticipating his reaction.

“Like that?” You asked, feigning innocence.

He gazed up at you in soft wonder, lightly shifting in his seat and pressing his back into the couch. “Yeah…just like that.”

You hummed contentedly, stabling yourself against furniture. Naturally, desire took a form inside you and you found yourself putting your full weight against him, causing the tension of his muscles. “It’s a lot more comfortable than yesterday actually. Maybe because I can—“you coughed before you let the words leave your lips.

“Feel me through my pants?” He finished cheekily.

You softly chuckled. “No comment.”

He matched your smile, teeth finding the flesh of his bottom lip and biting until he tasted metal. He cursed under his breath, hands finding purchase on your hips and ingraining your shape in every wrinkle of his brain. His moans vibrated against your skin, garnering every ounce of power in him to take things slow. These were the kinds of things meant to be savored.

Your body then moved like waves, crashing into him like a brewing storm. Your legs clamped around one of his thighs, rolling your heat at the girth of his leg and admiring the sensation of it flexing underneath you. Chan let out soft grunts, quietly expelling air through his nose. You mused back at him. “You like that? That feel good?”

He only moaned in response, to which you smiled. You let your back connect with his chest, grinding down his lap as the print of his cock hugged between your cheeks. “You’re so big, Chan…”

His hands ran over your thighs, finding the hem of your shorts before his fingers delicately hovered over your clothed arousal. He felt your breath hitch and he pressed a single digit before he dragged it through your covered folds. You moaned loudly in his ear—the TV not standing a chance of drowning it out—while your breath burned his skin and pebbled his skin. You spread your legs to give him more real estate, noticing already how the fluid layered on your inner thighs.

“I can feel how wet you are,” he purred, “how do you feel about taking these off?”

You swallowed. “Yes, please…”

He helped to lay you bare, touching you as his hips dug into the plush flesh of your ass. He only grew bigger under your touch all while you grew wet under his. Body and sweat fusing into one, your chest heaved as Chan’s fingers circled around your slit, squeezing clit between two digits.

Then he stopped himself, a thought popping ingeniously in his head, and he brought his hand up to your face, “Spit in my hand.”

You looked back at it hesitantly, seeing the film of your remnants on every single finger. Nonetheless, you did as he requested, noting the size of the splatter. His hand went down to find you again, rubbing the moisture in until you were coated all over. His fingers hooked inside and stretched your walls to split you open. He made room to plunge deeper between your molten walls at a practiced pace. You mewled like a feral animal, coming apart with your legs occasionally elevating off him in defeat.

Your legs hooked on either side of his thighs, shaking. You felt his breath on your neck, teeth grazing the skin, voice indicating his focus on your pleasure and how it came to fruition. You were transfixed on his moment, seconds away from cumming, and you weren’t afraid to let him know. “I’m gonna, Mmh, Chan, I’m gonna cum…”

“Do it,” he breathed, shuddering, “I wanna feel you cum in my hand.”

You cried when it happened, falling back against him to the point he held your thighs against your chest. He slapped the back of your thigh every time you jumped, oh well, his fingers jackhammered you into submission. You bucked around them, squirming for release and Chan’s encouragement was more than enough motivation. “Cum for me, hmm…”

Your face grew hot, your legs weak as they bounced in his grip. You clenched around his fingers, stuttering your hips as your vision of light turned into shooting stars. “Yes, yes, shit!”

Chan pulled out of you to look at their milky sheen, practically dripping liquid gold before they entered his mouth. His tongue swept over every finger, sucking them like milk from a bottle. He pushed them in knuckles deep and noticeably his eyes rolled back in his skull in response. His moans deepened into praises, licking every drop until they were nearly squeaky clean. He glazed over you in contempt, mischief on his lips before smiling sweetly as if not a dark thought in his mind, although that was far from the truth.

“Bend over for me.”

You blinked back at him in a daze. “Huh?”

He pushed you until your hands reached the ground and he buried his face between your cheeks. His tongue lapping up your climax, the hug of your flesh around his face bringing him to enlightenment. That time you screamed, screamed loud enough that if anyone were here at home they’d hear but no it was just the two of you, so you screamed louder. Your hand planted against the wood boards, buzzing, moaning as you felt the wetness from his tongue circle around your folds to then taste what was in between.

He sounded hungry. As If he hadn’t been let out of his cage until now. His hands spread you apart, the full length of his tongue fucking you stupid until you could taste ecstasy on your own tongue.

“The prettiest fucking pussy…” he sucked out every last drop as his thumb rubbed against your swollen clit, “I’ve ever fucking seen…”

Your heart was going at a million beats a minute. You felt tied to a post flinching in and out as he rutted you with his mouth. Sweat beading your already clammy body. Drool and cum running down your thighs. You convulsed around his tongue as tears brimmed in your eyes. “Chan, ngh, too much—fuck, you’re gonna make me explode—“

“Can’t,” he said between breaths. His fingerprints stained your flesh, gripping you so hard that he could see the marks he made into your flesh as he took you in rapid and needy strokes. “So good…you taste so fucking good…”

You whined helplessly, lifting your face from the ground. “Chan—oh fuck—please...”

Having you claw at the floor it wasn’t until he made you cum again that he’d stop, feeling you pulse around his tongue. A hearty moan escaped him tasting your climax in real time, savoring the release until what’s inside of his mouth was painted a solid white.

He came up to the surface with half his face covered in your arousal like a gold medal for the clean plate club, licking away whatever remained on his lips. He pulled you back up against him, resting against the sound drumming of his chest.

You took his clean hand, locking yours through it. You kissed his cheek, briefly tasting your salty tang. He glanced back at you, a soft gentle smile on his face before connecting your lips for the first time, the familiar taste now pungent and enticing from his lips. “You felt and tasted,” he added bashfully, laughing, “incredible. I hope you’re not too tired, I’d really like to know how it feels you riding me with my cock inside you.”

“We can have that arranged.”

#svthub #dino smut #seventeen smut #dino #lee Chan #seventeen #lee chan smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #dino x reader #dino x you #dino x y/n #seventeen fanfic #seventeen dino #svt x reader #svt x you #svt x y/n

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bindeds · 2 months

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[ DON’T BE SORRY. ] : 5.1k words. 𖤐 LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X FEM READER. — you’re dating the big boss of hell himself, but it’s a sticky situation when you’re also good friends with a tech-savvy overlord who believes the cause of your boyfriend’s daughter is absolute bullshit.

#tags. slight hurt/comfort, slight jealousy, nsfw (+18), fluff, smut, vox being a hell of a friend, lucifer being vulnerable as hell,

a/n. fuuuuck i forgot to post this under the request but this was the request that i wrote this for <33 didn''t even remember they wanted fluff which is lucky bc i suck at fluff so i don't write it too often but i ended up writing in fluff anyway bc it felt appropriate for the fic SO

masterlist. request something :>

“Sir, someone is here to see you.”

Vox growled. His office would have been pitch black if it weren’t for the multitude of tv screens that stared right back at him, boring holes into his screen. They buzzed and whined with a cyan glare bright enough to light the entire pentagram. Claw marks left the edges of his head unpolished, his bowtie askew as his teeth grinded so hard he wanted to encounter a system error.

“Tell Val I am not in the mood for sorting out whatever’s got his panties in a twist this time—”

“Someone else, sir.”

“Well don’t just stand there you useless fuck! Who the fuck is it?” Static shocks ruptured from the wires on his head as he jumped out of his chair fuming.

The employee pulled one of the handles of Vox’s grand doors. In pranced a sunlit woman with a grin that stained her cheeks red. On her arms were shopping bags lined all the way down their forearms, marking their weight on her flesh.

You pulled your rose-tinted sunglasses away from your face as you cocked a brow.

“What, are you not happy to see me Vicky?”

“When are you gonna stop calling me that, you absolute slut!” Vox beamed, and as if a new line of code had entered his program, he shedded his jacket off to peel your shopping bags off you as he set them on his couch.

“What brings you back here after all this time, whore? And whose money are you wearing because I know there’s no goddamn way that’s all yours,” Vox laughed through his clearly lighthearted remarks.

“Whatever. Whore is right because you’ll never guess who I’m fucking.”

On the edge of the pride ring resided halls and halls of vintage red wallpaper and intricate gold decor. Knocking frantically at her father’s door just to ask where his partner had gone was never how Charlie would have imagined her morning to go, ever, but here she was, knees wobbling with her hands clasped together as she waited no longer than a second before she had her fist in the air again to—

“Charlie?”

“Dad!”

When Charlie had asked of your whereabouts, Lucifer simply frowned, though a hint of terror struck his shrunken pupils.

“Uh—I thought she was with you? Don’t you guys have that trust building exercise thing on today—”

“Yes! Yes that is precisely why I am panicking—she’s not in her room and she never misses our gatherings! Dad, how do you not know where she is?” Charlie screeched anxiously.

“Relax, Charlie I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for—”

“For her not to tell her own boyfriend where she’s going?” Charlie seethed with dirt kicked into her tone.

“Let me call her, okay?” Lucifer pulled his phone out and speed dialed you.

Something in his room buzzed intermittently.

Charlie peered into her father’s room, only to find another phone rattling on the further bedside table.

Lucifer looked over his shoulder to the same view. His shoulders dropped.

“Ohhh no.”

“Face it baby, I got bigger bucks than daddy could ever conjure up.”

“Vox!” You punched him in the shoulder, unable to hold back laughs that pulled at the bottom of your stomach.

“What? Oh my god, you actually call him that in bed don’t you, you bitch? Holy shit, you really are a slut!” Vox cracked up after you both had left his building. “Where to?”

“A few blocks away I got something to show you in the ma …”

Your lips fell numb when your gaze fell on a certain man with a white overcoat tailing in the wind as he approached your direction with a storm in his steps. He had been looking at his sides—your hand moved to shove Vox even before your body could follow.

“Ow, what—”

“Go.”

“Babe, what’s—”

“Vox go GO! Back in now!” You spun him on his heel and elbowed him back into the glass doors of his building lobby.

“Honey?”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—”

He called your name, loud and clear as day that even the ruby skies of hell echoed it.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Vox deadpanned.

“Hey!”

Both yours and Vox’s heads turned to the sound, Lucifer just a few strides away from possibly opening a portal down a ring.

“You!” Lucifer barked, gaze locked with Vox’s. “The fuck are you doing calling my girlfriend ‘babe’?”

“Oh, that’s not—”

“Lie to me and I swear to fucking god I’ll make sure they’ll be prying you for parts.”

“Luci.”

“What?” His head snapped in your direction.

A silent gasp escaped you.

His shoes hadn’t nearly been dragged through as much gravel as his voice had been. It was something he’d dug up from the depths of his chest like it was nothing—and it brimmed with the filth of his own disdain.

Lucifer blinked hard as he shook his head. “Honey, I didn’t—”

“We’re just friends.”

“I know that but—”

“It’s an expression.”

Lucifer blinked a few times again, and with each blink he lost more and more tension in his brows, his shoulders—even his lips parted, perhaps to say something, perhaps not.

You and Vox were frozen halfway through the door so Lucifer kicked him in and shut the door quickly to leave you and himself out on the street.

“Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?” Lucifer asked, and it was like he placed a pillow to your head with the way his tone softened. His thumb had somehow ended up stroking soft circles on the back of your palm as he held your hand.

Vox stayed inside but his prying eyes stared through the glass nonetheless. He crossed his arms.

“Don’t look at him, darling,” Lucifer consoled with a lowered voice. He delicately took your chin and pivoted it back to him. “Look at me.”

“Look, can we talk about this back at the hotel?” You asked, but with the tone you used, you were teetering on the edge of pleading. “I’m … I’m sorry.”

“Oh, honey,” Lucifer cooed, tucking away any small pieces of hair that hung over your face. “Of course we can.”

All you could do was give Vox a weary glance before you ducked down into Lucifer’s car and disappeared in the distance.

The ride back had not been short of thick silences that hung in the air. Everytime you looked to him for some sort of emotion, there was nothing for you to read; his complexion was a still pond resting under the moon’s grace. Not even anger bubbled up the surface—and this is solely based on your assumption of what he must have been feeling, because he was a blank page. It’s only reasonable.

Lucifer stopped at the newly built hazbin parking lot but didn’t pull out the key.

He looked at you expectantly, turning even his upper body to face you.

You bit your lip.

“You don’t wanna go inside first?” A squeak of a voice was all you managed.

“I don’t want Charlie to see us upset,” Lucifer reasoned solemnly as he frowned at the floor before he returned his attentive gaze to you. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can work it out in here.”

“I’m … ashamed, okay,” you exhaled, folding your arms over your chest as you slouched forward. “I’m in hell for a reason. I know it looks bad but I’ve known Vox since he was alive. And I still believe in Charlie’s cause! I’m doing better … you know that, right?”

“Of course, I do, sweetie,” Lucifer blurted immediately, holding your arms like he was the glue to keep you from crumbling apart. “But why did you … did you think I wasn’t going to understand if you had told me?”

“Yes,” you admitted. “Even I wouldn’t have understood if I were in your shoes. I mean, I act like a completely different person around him. And I know what Vox has done, trying to send in Sir Pentious as a spy. It’s horrible. But he wasn’t always like that. Or, maybe he was but—never with me.”

“Honey, I trust you more than just about anyone in this hell. And fuck, that’s difficult in this side of the world, right? I mean—I just … you had me thinking the worst. Well, maybe not the worst but—”

“You thought I was cheating on you, didn’t you?”

“No, never,” Lucifer denied immediately as his eyes widened but his brows furrowed. “I knew it was some kind of mistake. I know you’d never do that to me. But you know … catching up with an overlord like it’s a regular tuesday still raises a few questions if—”

“I know that. I’m sorry. I should have told you. I’m sorry,” you repeated rigidly, curling into yourself so much that your head landed on his shoulder as he still held your arms.

Lucifer pulled back to hold your face by the cheeks, and you didn’t struggle against him as he pressed his forehead on yours, his hat tilting up to accomodate you.

“How about a kiss and we’ll call it even?” He smiled, and you felt his warmth spread to your cheeks.

You grinned back. “Okay.”

You tilted your chin up and gave him a kiss, and both of you had sustained it longer than either of you had expected. Your hand cupped his own over your cheek.

Your lips finally parted, but not much before you both reconnected again, then again, and the third time your mouth was a little more open—and Lucifer’s tongue slithered inside.

Your tongue met his, and they rolled over each other every time you kissed him. A few more kisses, and suddenly you were biting his lip lightly. He chuckled.

“I can see you’re eager to make it up to me, princess,” he said in that voice he knew drove you up the wall.

“I am,” you hummed, a little more innocently than you had intended.

“Well, what are you gonna do?” He asked, genuine curiosity brewing in a higher tone.

You slipped away from his flowerbud grasp and pulled the lever of your seat. The backrest declined all the way backwards, and you laid down comfortably while your thumb slid under your dress and hooked around something that was already mildly damp.

“I’m gonna sit back …”

You chuckled as Lucifer’s eyes followed your every movement like a moth to a lamp; he followed the way your underwear slid down your knees before you folded your legs up to your chest to fully rid yourself from the garment. You tossed your underwear in his face before he could get a good view of what he’s getting himself into.

He shook his head in a jolt, crumpling your panties and stuffing them into his pocket anxiously. But by then you were modest again, with your dress covering your thighs but still riding up dangerously high.

“And let you decide the rest,” you finished in a thin breath.

“Goodness, okay, woo! Okay—” Lucifer sputtered and fanned his overcoat as he averted his gaze. It didn’t last long when his gaze gravitated towards your core that had been concealed but outlined your dress.

You bit your lip. “Well?”

Lucifer’s shoulder emerged from his coat as he shrugged one side of it off, and your gaze magnetized to the view as it slipped down him like a snake traversing down a tree.

He planted his knee on the closer edge of your seat and it didn’t take long for him to shift your legs closer together, allowing space for his knees on either side of your thighs. Though, steadying himself naturally had his chest protruding as he held onto the car ceiling for support. His muscles peeked through the folds of his dress shirt, and the same can be said with his chest under his waistcoat. But that—that was no complaint.

He finally fell to you with only his forearms to keep him up. His eyelids sank, his gaze indecisive between your eyes and your dry lips.

He settled on neither when he ducked below your jaw and planted kisses along it before he strayed downwards.

The spaghetti string of your dress slid down your shoulder the more your squirmed at Lucifer’s nibbles. You knew the moment he caught sight of this because he hesitated for a tenth of a second.

He grinned. He took it between his fingers delicately and slid it down further.

“Whoops,” he grinned.

Glossy silicon mocked him as it peeked out from what had been peeled off you.

“Luci, careful with that, I’ll need to put it back on later—”

Lucifer tore it off you anyway, tossing it to the back with his overcoat. “I’ll give you my coat when we go in, you’ll be fine.”

“Luci!” You laughed as he did the same with the other, your nipples stiffened from the cold air of the car.

Lucifer sat on your pelvis, his hands traveling under your boobs to cradle them.

You both have had sex multiple times together, and yet every time he removes undergarments off you, he enters a dazed trance like it was something new. Something to bask in the wonders of.

He massaged your breasts gently, and it didn’t take long before he ducked down and had his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, one hand twisting and playing with the other.

A noise bubbled in your throat but you held your breath and bit your lip. Watching Lucifer hadn’t been any help; he cocked a brow at you, and a cheeky grin still made its way to the red circles on his cheeks as he quicked his tongue’s flicks against you. You gritted your teeth, a squeak making it past your lips.

His hand abandoned the other nipple, but before you could whine in protest a new sensation rose in your lower stomach as Lucifer shifted his entire body further down.

His fingers had already been deep beneath your folds, your clit sitting pretty between as he pinched it and rubbed it in his grasp.

“Luci … fuck …”

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. Hell, you hated just how raspy his voice gets when he’s worked up. That by itself had been a leg-opener all on its own. “That’s it. Let me hear you sing.”

Your legs flinched at the jolt of pleasure his fingers brought, and Lucifer took this opportunity to lift the hem of your dress for easier access—and perhaps, a pretty view.

Every so often, he’d bring the threat of pushing his middle finger past your walls, but through the haze of pleasure, it was impossible to read his intentions when he easily could have been using your juices to lubricate his ministrations on your clit.

It had been like the wave of a wand, the way his free hand undid his tie. It dangled loose below his collar that he used to straighten out so diligently; something once so clean soon turned into a crumpled mess in your name.

His wrist pivoted down to the buttons on his waistcoat. The faintest flick of his thumb and suddenly his waistcoat hung dead on his torso before he rubbed faster on your clit, making your squeal.

Cold air brushed past your arousal at the sudden absence of him, and your walls throbbed against each other in response; they bruised and ached and when Lucifer turned down the brightness of the car light, it was all you could feel besides the leather your nails were sinking into.

“Luci, please …”

“Please what, honey?”

“It hurts,” you whined. You didn’t mean to, and in fact a burning sense of shame rose up to your neck and cheeks as sweat tore through the pores on your forehead but all you could do was grab his hand.

“I’m coming, daddy’s coming.”

A slow zipping sound ensued and just as quickly, the head of his erection pressed into your folds and your dripping walls pushed back from the pressure.

You moaned and grabbed Lucifer’s shoulders out of raw instinct, which brought him closer to you.

“You want it all, princess?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” your mouth sagged numb from having to carry your writhing heart in your throat. The vulnerability of his skin on yours, the way his head was just so warm compared to the cold air earlier—your pussy throbbed once more.

“Are you sure?”

“Please please please Luci I can’t—oh! Fuck!”

He pushed his length into you, your neck arching back as you grabbed a fistful of his shirt from where your hands hung around his neck.

Your throat clogged with the embarrassing sounds you knew you would have let out if you had no restraint left. You closed your eyes, knowing well that they were halfway to the back of your head.

Your stomach seemed to make way for his size in you, tossing and spreading the ache to your limbs as your entire body steeled to accommodate him and the space he filled in you.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You nodded, and a hole punctured through your throat as you sighed shakily. “Yes, god—”

“Don’t say his name,” Lucifer breathed, his hand soft on your neck as he looked at your lips then back up at you. “If you have to say someone’s name, let it be mine.”

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing your brain conjured, and the only thing you could utter when all else in there had been undone.

Lucifer kissed your jaw. “Don’t be sorry baby.”

He took your lips in his, his forked tongue brushing past your teeth once more. “Don’t be sorry.”

It was barely considered movement when he pulled out less than half his entire length and pushed in gently, as if you were something fragile he couldn’t afford to drop. You bit your lip and hummed at how smooth he slid into you, how your juices coated him beyond what was needed.

He pulled out quickly but reentered languidly, like a wave finding its way to shore your core clenched at the nerves that tingled in you, the bruises almost sated in what it yearned for as he thrusted again, and your heart spewed.

“Fuck, if you make a sound like that again I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself,” Lucifer panted. “You’re so pretty, it makes me tremble.”

You reached up to give him another kiss, tilting your head along with the circles spinning in it. “Do whatever you want to me. You deserve that much.”

“Yeah? Well, I want to treat you like fucking royalty. Savor every inch if you,” Lucifer hissed through his pleasure. A choked moan left you, causing Lucifer to smile. “Yeah, see? Just like that princess. Fuck, taking me so well …”

With how soft his thrusts were, pressure subsided into more liquid pleasure that sloshed over your nerves. They lit up like christmas lights in your brain as you both moved in tandem to Lucifer’s pace.

A fire had started at your nape from the body heat that had nowhere to go, sweat dripping from your hairline and paving wavy lines of hair that caused your forehead to glisten. Your collarbones warmed up in a different way, Lucifer’s hot breath filling the space between the both of you.

His thrusts grew anxious over time, but his hips never once hit your ass which might have scalded your stomach further; the fact that this man possessed an iron grip over his control in his strokes, he had been careful not to taint you—he only took from places he knew both of you would be enraptured in—and absolutely nothing less.

“Honey, I can’t—” he hissed through gritted teeth as his fingers curled in your hair. His eyes wandered down to how your breasts bobbed to his strokes. He moaned your name, and if the car hadn’t been shaking from Lucifer’s rutting, it shook from the way he proclaimed your name and dropped his head like he was bowing to a god. “Holding me so tight—you worried I’m gonna let go, sweetie?”

“No—ngh! You just feel so good I c-can’t!” You yelped in time with each thrust that followed. “Luci, I—fuck!”

His head perked up, just like the bundle of nerves in that oh-so familiar spot. An old friend.

Lucifer gave a determined grin, sweat trickling down his cheek as he paused to wipe it away.

“Well, hello,” he greeted in a low sultry voice.

He resumed fucking you, but this time he had you screaming his name as his length rubbed up against that spot your body purred to. You shivered and your walls clenched, causing Lucifer to falter.

“F-Fuck, that’s it, good girl,” he grunted in between controlled thrusts that had your gut squeezing. He never once missed.

When your walls fluttered, Lucifer chuffed through his teeth and through the fog of your satisfaction, you indulged in the smell of cotton candy sweat.

“You’re close, princess, so close, I can feel it.”

You gritted your teeth with whatever strength you had left, even your hands had begun to slip from Lucifer’s shoulders.

“You?” Was all you could manage.

“Me? Baby, seeing you like this has me fucked out,” Lucifer huffed. “Shit!”

You squeezed his shoulders before he could pull out.

“In me, Luci!”

He froze, shaking his head to wave away his own daze to focus on you, the things your … request entailed.

“Darling, I don’t have a condom on,” he whispered as the inner corners of his brow quivered.

“You’d make beautiful fucking babies, Luci—I wanna carry them.” Your voice had been obliterated from the sounds Lucifer had fucked out of you. Wispy breaths was what it had become—but the red in your cheeks and your weakened yet felicious state made Lucifer smile.

“You’re not thinking straight,” he said your name and it was nearly enough to get you back down from the clouds. “C’mon, honey …”

“Luci …” you whined. “You’re so goddamn hot when you’re being responsible …”

“Yeah?” He laughed softly, cradling your cheek in his hand.

“Yeah …”

“Let’s finish you up, okay?” He reached up to kiss your forehead but you squeaked from the fact that his length slid deep into you in the process. “Ah, sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” you quoted him from last time, and his surprise melted into a warm smile instead. “Please fuck me.”

“As you wish.”

You screamed brokenly as he continued his ruthless pace from before, and he remembered the exact angle to hit. Your nerves were about ready to jump out from your body as you skyrocketed back into the clouds, your orgasm coming sooner than you could warn him.

“Cumming!” He gritted through his teeth as his horns shot up from his head and you both came together with Lucifer’s cum hitting your dress instead.

Your head hung off the car seat’s headrest. Sweat shimmered on the leather you laid on, and your legs trembled from how long they’d been held at the same position. The only thing you two shared now was open-mouth breaths. You thought of moving, but your muscles were well past its limit to even be lifted.

Lucifer twisted around to grab tissues from the passenger seat compartment. In just a few seconds, he wiped out most of the evidence of himself on your dress. By this time, his horns were long gone and his eyes had returned back to its original form.

“Fuck … I didn’t think this through …” Lucifer grumbled to himself as he hit his temple with his palm. He ran his fingers through his hair before he mustered a weak smile for you. “Wait here, I’ll grab your clothes from your room.”

You exhaled audibly as he vanished with a swirl of sparkling red smoke.

A few breaths of silence by yourself wasn’t ideal, especially when you felt the whine and ache of your limbs in the fact that you were as good as scattered leaves across autumn grass.

Just then, your phone buzzed from the cupholder.

You winced as you bent to take it.

Brat >:)

you better not be fucking him right now i swear to FUCKING GOD [ 13:06 ]

you disappear for years and suddenly you’re back and you’re telling me YOU’RE DISAPPEARING AGAIN?&2$:$$3;: FUCKING [ 13:05 ]

HELLO? THE FUCK [ 12 :57 ]

i’m not gonna let even the king of hell himself keep you from me [ 12:16 ]

because i am not done with you yet [ 12:15 ]

bitch you better show me whatever the fuck you wanted to show me earlier before daddy decided to whisk you away like some fucking fairy tale prince [ 12:15 ]

You chuckled as you swiped the notification.

You [ 13:06 ] : bitch you know the dick is good cmon now

Vox [ 13:06 ] : i mean this in the most platonic and murderous way possible, i will fuck you myself if that’ll get you to ACTUALLY BE A FRIEND AND VISIT ME INSTEAD OF DISAPPEARING FOR YEARS

Vox [ 13:06 ] : i already have to deal with the heartbreak of al

Vox [ 13:06 ] : ykw doesn’t matter THE POINT IS THAT YOU ARE THE SHITTIEST FUCKING FRIEND AND I MISS YOU IS THAT NOT REASON ENOUGH

You [ 13:07 ] : okay, okay, how about this sunday then lmaoo

Vox [ 13:07 ] : you better fucking believe i’ll be blowing a fucking hole through that radio prick’s hotel just to pick you the fuck up asshole

You [ 13:07 ] : if i didn’t know any better vicky i would have assumed you’re actually coming to pick alastor up HAHAHAHAAHAHAH

Vox : ( typing … )

Your phone levitated out of your hands and when you followed where it zipped off to—

“Luci!” You sprung up from the declined backrest in surprise.

Lucifer squinted at your phone as he swiped his thumb down on your screen.

“First of all, I’m honored that you’re telling people how well I pleasure you. Second of all,” Lucifer paused, leaning into you as he used his free arm to hold himself up to you. “Vox is in a world of hurt if he thinks I’m gonna let him lay a finger on you.”

“Yeah?” You copied the way Lucifer says it and watched as his face reddened.

You noticed your spare clothes on his lap and you lifted the dress over your head and discarded it on the floor of the backseat.

You held out your hand for Lucifer to hand you your clothes.

He simply looked at your hand, then back at your naked body, then back at your hand as took it in his own.

You laughed. Hard.

“What—what’s happening why’re you—”

“The clothes, baby!”

“Oh��Oh! Right! Shit!” He finally handed you an oversized shirt, fresh underwear and a pair of shorts you used to at-home wear. “I thought you were asking for another round or something, holy shit—”

“I mean …” you smirked.

“Honey …” Lucifer warned, as if trying to keep a predator from attacking.

“Oh? You don’t wanna? My bad,” you replied innocently. “I was just wondering if Vox was free tonight—”

“I know you’re trying to get a rise out of me but honey …” Lucifer trailed off as he flipped your phone and shoved it into his back pocket.

He crossed over to your seat once more and pinned you back down where you once were, one knee pressed on the side of your seat as his hands ended up on either side of your neck.

“I hate to remind you that I am the fucking devil,” his voice dripped with a poison much worse than what you’ve heard from Alastor’s static. His horns hadn’t sprouted out yet but with his eyes aching red, it wasn’t too far from reappearing. “And if you love me as much as I love you then there is no goddamn way in this realm I am sharing you with anyone else let alone some overlord who thinks Alexander is worth anyone’s fucking time.”

“It’s Alastor and—” you paused, combing through your hair idly. “Luci, Vox is only a friend from the living world—“

“A friend who thinks he can fuck you.”

“He’s in hell for a reason.” You crossed your arms.

Lucifer sighed and closed his eyes, the red dissipating from them once they reopened.

“Listen, honey, I—” Lucifer’s gaze lifted away from you for a moment, almost like he’d been overwhelmed with the words clogged in his throat. “You’re someone I can’t afford to … mess up … again. And I know that means simply letting you be. But also, I’ve just—I’ve lost so much, and I only just got Charlie back so I …”

You lifted your arm as your hand fell on his cheek, your thumb softly stroking him back and forth.

He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he placed his hand on yours.

“I know Vox is just a friend. And I know it’s insane to think I’ll lose you to him, but … at the end of the day, this is hell. He still mocks the very thing we’re trying to achieve and I get that you’re not like that and that you’re not easily manipulated but I just …”

“Luci …” you muttered. You sat up and kissed him chastely on the cheek.

“I think about losing you a lot. I think about it to an irrational degree. So it’s not actually something you can fix. It’s something I have to do on my own.”

“Even if that’s true, I can still do my best to be with you and make sure you feel loved everyday. I really was a dick today, I had no idea you were … I’m s—”

“It’s okay. We …” Lucifer chuckled weakly. “We made up, remember?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Luci … you know I love you, right?”

“Like the sun loves the moon,” Lucifer said.

And you knew where it came from, maybe not its exact whereabouts but just how deep it was embedded to him, that statement; he himself had witnessed the creation of the sun and the moon. He knew the tides the two shared, the way their yearning for each other’s pull had been the natural way of things, the only way the people could ever experience day like they do night.

I know you love me because we love like its fate.

You and Lucifer walked into the hotel, your back slouched with Lucifer’s overcoat hanging over your shoulders as you folded your arms beneath them.

“Hey Charlie,” Lucifer greeted, and he told her daughter who was already making her way to you that you weren’t feeling well and that you needed rest. Of course, Charlie nodded and resumed her activities with her other friends.

You retired to Lucifer’s room, the left side of the bed while he took the right.

“I love you,” your chest exhausted what it had been used to holding for him, until you saw him.

“I love you, too,” Lucifer hummed back, a sigh escaping him like cherry blossoms in the wind.

“I love you for the soul you are beneath your bones.”